afrojet

In a world ruled by bat-shit crazy, gun-toting, neo-con sea monkeys, will a persecuted and misunderstood cat rise to the task of uniting our nation and lead us to the promise of a better tomorrow?

That’s my pitch for the as-yet-to-be-realised movie: “Goliath Goes to Washington”. It’s based around the shenanigans of the fun loving yet seriously heavy cat Goliath (aka Hercules), whose story has held the rapt attention of the Skelton household this week.

The short version of the story goes like this: cat gets away from owner, cat tries to steal food from neighboring house, cat is caught red-handed – stuck in doggy door – no means of escape, cat is taken to the Oregon Humane Society. The story has a happy ending tho, and Goliath has now been reunited with his owner.

I’m busy trying to obtain movie rights to this miraculous story.

See video of Goliath.

When we crossed over the Columbia Gorge from the Oregon side to the Washington side Friday night, we were chasin’ John Coltrane over the impossibly named ‘Bridge of The Gods‘. And wouldn’t you know it, there’s a one dollar God tax to get across the bridge! With a name like that, expectations were running high as we paid the toll and crossed over the bridge to Washington and onto the resort destination of Skamania Lodge (throughout the one-hour road trip to the lodge, I could be heard making terrible jokes about “Ska Mania” lodge: “Will Madness be playing in the piano bar?”). Fortunately for us, the lodge’s aesthetic favors third wave Frank Lloyd Wright 100% more then it does third wave Ska.

We had a grand time at the lodge which included an open bar and a seafood bar – oyster shots followed by whiskey chasers. The misses made it all the way till midnight Friday night before the weight of the day demanded 40 winks.

We were at Skamania Lodge as part of a Holiday party thrown my the misses’ job. We were also surprised with a baby shower by her work mates. Very nice, that. The kid is going to wreak havoc in his Pirate Hoodie.

Saturday we had a nice leisurely day in the Columbia Gorge. Although rigorous hiking was out of the question, we took in some nice sights from the road and other vistas. It really is a beautiful part of the world. Mostly, it was nice to take a bit of a break from working and baby prep.

Happy belated new year one and all. Things are coming along at the Skelton Ranch. Took in the new year with the amazing new double drumming line-up of the Melvins at the Roseland. I was happy to see a mom at the show holding a 16-month old (I asked) in her arms. Baby’s first Melvins show!

We brought a vegetarian tatter tot hotdish over to Brian and Corinna the other night and met a two-week old baby Declan. Corinna gifted us one of her famous handmade baby hats and Brian held court with many tips and tricks for surviving delivery. Useful.

Last night before the misses went in to get her hair cut & styled, we popped into a little boutique store that sold various nick nacks. While browsing, the misses picked up a neon green bottle of scented air freshener, looked it over and then put it back down. About twenty seconds later another women swooped in and picked up the same bottle and proceeded to spray herself down like she was at the perfume counter at Nordstoms. This delighted the misses to no end.

I was reminiscing with AJ yesterday about this killer game we used to play on the Amiga called Defender of The Crown. That was 1986. Twenty years ago. Damn. As is the case with just about everything now days, there is an exact replicated shockwave version of the game you can play.

More nostalgia: Naked Raygun reunion video playing ‘Suspect Device’ with Jake Burns from Stiff Little Fingers on surprise vocals.

This weekend, bearing any early arrivals, we are heading up to Skamania Lodge for a little R&R.

Time: 36 weeks.
Current Estimated Weight: 6 Pounds, 8 Ounces
Current Dilation of Mom: 1.5cm
Current Effacement of Mom: 80%
Average Number of Potty Runs Mom Makes Per Night: 3
Number of ‘Oh Craps’ and ‘Holy Shits’ Uttered by the Expectant Father in the Last 48 Hours: 30+
Number of 16 ounce Pabst Blue Ribbon Beers Needed Last Night to Comprehend and Make Sense of These Numbers: 4

Big week as we learned that the boy has flipped in the chute and is now bearing head down; ready to shoot into the world. All of mom’s parts are in working order and calibrating themselves for the big event. And it could be a big event as the boy is already six and a half pounds. If mom goes to term the doc said we might be looking at a nine plus pound kid. Everyone seems to think the boy will arrive sooner than the expected January 27th due date. Place your bets.

And check out those lips! So cute, like a little Mick Jagger floating underwater.

It’s getting to be go time here at the Skelton Ranch. Lots of nervous energy and giddy happiness as we anticipate His majesties arrival. It’s like getting ready for a house guest that you’ve never met. The baby room has started to come together quite nicely. The cats christened the room this morning by barfing on the new rug, which is shag, and a bitch to get cat puke out of. I guess we’ve already lost the function over form battle.

I should probably note here that Gabby is feeling much better after her surgery. The stones were removed without incident and sent to the crime lab for further investigation. After a few days of general lethargy on her part, she seems to have made a full recovery. She did come home from the vet with this sweet Elizabethan collar that she was supposed to wear so she wouldn’t lick her stitches away. She didn’t seem to dig the new fashion statement tho. And just to prove a point, she lounged out like Jabba The Hut and with great ease was able to get at the wound. It was as if she was just letting us know, “Hey, this collar thing? Stupid. Look here: I’m licking the the wound just fine. So how about you remove the collar and I’ll leave the wound alone?” So we removed the collar and she stuck to her end of the bargain.

We had to go to Target last night to exchange a baby mattress that had arrived via UPS with a huge puncture in it. I was dubious about entering a Target store on the day after Christmas but luckily the return line was non-existant. Cruising the Target isles, I had one of those benchmark, ‘Hey, I’m a grown up adult who thinks about the future’ moments. Far back wall. Holiday section. All Christmas lights 50% to 70% off. Now, I’ve always heard about those frugal ‘Bargain Bettys’ who get their holiday flair after a holiday is over, but I’ve never joined those ranks. That all changed last night as I stockpiled lights like they were going to be our home’s sole source of illumination in 2007. I won’t lie tho, it was tough to pull the trigger. The thought of buying something that I would not use for 11 months was unconscionable. Maybe I’ll just have to break ’em out now and become That Guy who has lights up on his house all year long.

Bonus: My friend Kim has turned me to the highly addictive Oregon Surplus Site. It’s like Christmas all over again. In fact, I’m thinking of taking this New Responsibility thing to a whole new level by winning this bid which would take care of all my Christmas shopping for the next year.

Here is a picture of our cat Gabby. It’s not the cutest picture I’ve ever taken of her. Shit, I didn’t even take the picture, the vet doc did. As you can see, there’s a cluster of four foreign elements that shouldn’t be in that picture. These are bladder stones. Gabby has been very vocal as of late about these troublesome stones.

About a week ago, we noticed that she was crying when she went ‘pee pee’ (the vets terminology) and twice she went pee pee in a spot that wasn’t a family designated cat pee pee outpost (aka the litter box). Clearly something was up so we raced her off to the vet. Unfortunately, our normal vet doc, Dr. Sarah Silverman was on vacation. I call her Dr. Sarah Silverman because she looks similar to the real Sarah Silverman and talks exactly like her. So another doctor took blood and urine tests and said it was probably a urinary tract infection. She said she would call us in a few days with the lab results.

A few days pass, vet calls to let us know that Gabby has blood in her urine but no crystals, which she then uses to diagnose Gabby as having a virus and not a urinary tract infection. Basically not much we can do, Gabby has to ride out the virus.

More days pass and now Gabby is starting to puke all over the place several times a day. She’s very lethargic and sleeps in our bed most of the day. Things seem to have gone from bad to worse, so we call the vet back. Now the first doc is off on vacation and Dr. Silverman is back on the job. This is good news for Gabby.

Over the phone, Dr. Silverman immediately hypothesizes bladder stones. She tells us to to bring Gabby in for x-rays. We rush off to the vet again. Gabby, who normally gives a vocal fuss over going to the vet, is silent all the way there.

Gabby goes under the x-ray. The results you can see pictured above. Dr. Silverman is giddy to see her hypothesis proven true. The rest of the vet staff gives her a round of applause, as do we.

While looking at the x-rays on the big monitor, one of the vet techs asks me if I would like a CD burned with “JPEGs” of these x-rays. I wanted to say, ‘No way dude! Do I look like the kind of guy who would want JPEGs of my cats x-rays so that I can rush home and blog about them?”

Actual response: “Man, that would be so cool! Thanks.”

Ok, so bladder stones, what does that mean? Dr. Silverman explains that these stones are particularly nasty. They are each about a 1/4 inch in diameter. and are jagged and pointy, “it’s like she has glass inside her bladder”. Ouch! Solution = surgery.

So, yesterday morning I brought Gabby in to the vet to go under the knife. Got a call from the vet about midday yesterday. The surgery went well and Gabby is recovering. The stones have been sent to the Kitty CSI lab for further investigation. Should be able to pick her up tonight.

Got to work on the nursery in earnest this weekend. Put up some new lighting. Really wanted to get one of these Nelson Bubble Lamps but couldn’t really justify the price tag. We got a very nice dresser/changing station from an unpainted furniture store. Of course the misses would like the dresser painted to match the white crib. Unfortunately, matching white paint tones is a next to impossible mission. You really don’t know how many ‘white’ paints are out there until you’ve gone completely mad looking at hundreds of paint sample chips. I wish I had kept all those chips so I could list all the different names folks have come up with to describe their whiteness.

I’ve received much much joy over the years from the creative output of J. Robbins and Janet Morgan. To read the latest about their son Cal brings great sadness. Please consider a donation.

From Pitchfork:

Callum Robbins, son of J. Robbins (Jawbox, Burning Airlines, Channels, plus a slew of producing and engineering credits) and Janet Morgan (Channels), is in need of your help.

In September, the now-ten-month-old Cal was diagnosed with genetic motor neuron disease Spinal Muscular Atrophy (Type 1), an often-fatal disorder; most children with Type 1 SMA will die before the age of two, as it affects their ability to crawl, walk, breathe, swallow, and control their head and neck. At this point in time, it does not have a cure.

SMA-stricken babies who live past the age of two are likely to be wheelchair-bound for life and probably require scoliosis surgery. The condition is an expensive one, especially for parents looking to test out its experimental treatments, which is something Robbins and Morgan hope to do.

As you well know, indie rock godfathers don’t usually pull in the big bucks. Thus, DeSoto Records (Jawbox, Burning Airlines, Channels) co-founder Bill Barbot has set up a PayPal account to raise money for Cal and his family. Donations can be made to the PayPal account of bbarbot@gmail.com or via the link on Cal’s page.

For more information on Spinal Muscular Atrophy, please go here.

When talking with folks about the imminent arrival of Baby Skelton a lot of playful speculation gets tossed around on the idea of what the kid will do when he’s all grown up. It’s a fun game to play, mostly because a) I don’t really care what he’ll do as long as he’s happy (right?), and b) most likely the “job” he will have hasn’t been invented yet nor will it for some time. Take my profession, Web Designer; the term (the idea!) wasn’t even in the pool of considered vocations when I graduated High School. Upon graduating College it was still just a fun little hobby with Netscape 1.0. I don’t think anyone ever thought about it as a career back then. So for me to even begin to project what the kid will be doing in twenty years is total science fiction if not downright futile. I can almost see the day, 25 years off on the horizon when the kid comes home and says, “Dad I got a job doing ______”, and all I can do is shake my head and laugh because I will have no idea what he’s talking about.

For now tho, when people do ask the question, my stock answer is that he’s going to be a Virtual Architect for high-end MMO avatar clients. Building ultra-mod structures like this guy.

Hopefully, he’ll be kind enough to build his mom and dad a nice vacation home on some choice virtual ocean front property.

The Kleenex box has been my constant companion over the last few days. I’ve been in the grips of a cold that I just can’t shake. I hate being sick. I’ve got no time for being sick. I keep trying to rest & sleep but I get too antsy and feel like I should be doing something. I think I would rather have the flu. At least with the flu you know where you stand. Or rather, you know you can’t stand and you should be in bed. A bad head cold just slows you down but fails to deliver a knock out punch.

They need to put warning labels on those wordless instructions for assembling IKEA furniture. “WARNING: Do not attempt to build our furniture if you are under the influence of strong cold medication. You will lose.”