Amaryllis sillyramA

On the Effectiveness of Aluminium Foil Helmets: An Empirical Study

Here she is! (She’s not really a cat.)

I love her little feet up there.
Due to come out mid-September! :) :) :)

11am Sunday: I accidentally leave my camera (sans case) on the table of one of our favorite restaurants. There are many many pictures on the 2GB SD card inside the camera. Like, 1100 pictures and 40 little videos. That are not backed up or copied anywhere else yet.

8am Monday: I realize the camera is missing, know immediately where I left it. Drop off the little one at my parents’ house and head off to meet M. for appointment.

10am: M. reaches someone at the restaurant. They say they don’t have the camera and they will ask the server from yesterday.

11am: Appointment done. I go to the restaurant. Yesterday’s server is there, is very sweet. No camera. Now they are trying to reach the busser from yesterday, who is new and might not know where to put lost items.

11:15am-12:00pm: I sit in the car in the parking lot and FREAK OUT. So mad at myself (why do I lose things? why do I wait so long to deal with my pictures?), and so mad at the bad bad person who took the camera. Really way more angry than I would have expected. (Seen the movie Shallow Grave? Remember the scene near the end, with her in the car? This is kind of like that.) Talk with M. via text and phone; he suggests I post a reward for the SD card. Brilliant!

12:05: I go back into the restaurant and ask for a piece of paper to make a sign. Sign promises $100 for the return of the card with pictures, no questions asked. Staff in restaurant is extremely kind and accommodating. I love everyone there that I talked to. They are awesome. They promise to call (M.’s cell) with any new information.

12:20: Calm enough now to continue with my day. Lots to get done — getting ready for weekend guests.

~3:00: M. calls. Restaurant called! Camera is returned! Wooooo! Suggests I bring the cash reward when I go to pick it up.

3:15: Restaurant manager is happy to return camera, absolutely refuses to accept reward even though I insist several times that it is for everyone at the restaurant. Everyone except the busser, that is, who claimed that she found it on the table and accidentally put it in her pocket and accidentally took it home. Management and owner didn’t much like that and terminated her employment. Manager says they got a bad feeling about her explanation of what happened.

3:25: I go to the car, put a fresh battery in the camera (strange, battery was full yesterday) and find that all the pictures are gone. Proceed to freak out again. This time my bilious rage has a target.

3:27: I go back in the restaurant to let the manager know that her instincts were correct, the camera had been messed with and the pictures are all gone. I want to make sure the busser’s bridge is thoroughly burned. I do not feel charitable.

3:30: Back in car. Text M. to let him know the pictures are gone. He replies: don’t do anything, there is a slim chance he can recover the pictures. I get my hopes up. But not enough to prevent me from continuing to be very very upset.

3:30-5:00: Try to think about other things. Leave the camera & card at home for M. to work on.

5:20: Arrive at parents’ house to have dinner and pick up the little one. Tell my tale of woe. Parents can relate — they once lost 2 years worth of travel photos (and negatives) in a stolen checked bag at Heathrow.

7:30: During dinner, a text arrives from M.: Got all the pictures and movies back.

And there is much rejoicing!

7:55: Another text arrives: It didn’t save the filenames but that’s no big deal. Couple pictures of the jerks who took it :)

Ha! LAME. So we figure the busser panicked, thought oh no, how do I get this picture of me off of here, and just deleted all of them. Or so she thought!

8:22: Another text: Went to [restaurant] and told them the good news, the nice server lady and the manager were there and so happy for us :)

What I am hoping is that the busser saw the reward sign as she was heading inside, and felt very sad that she had no way to claim that $100.

Anyway, once again, M. is my HERO!

====

Now it’s about a month later. We were back there for breakfast a few days ago, and the owner — we’d never met him before — stopped by our table. He said hello, how are you. Then a slight pause, and then: “Hey, do you mind if I borrow your camera?” Hahaha! He was really nice, said some things about how his wife (the manager mentioned before) and everyone had told him about what happened, and he thanked us for being so understanding. It was cool. I love that place. And I love leaving a $20 tip — that time, and the next four times we go (at least). We’ll give these lovely people the reward money one way or another! :)

Well, she’s not really a baby any more. She’s two! And two months! Plus some weeks! And walking and talking. She still gets a few things mixed up, in grammar and pronunciation, of course.

Pronunciation: esses at the beginnings of words somehow end up at the ends of the words. Snow is noe-s. That’s the most common one — we’ve seen a lot of snow this year — and right now I can’t think of any other examples of the moved S.

Grammar (and the reason for this post): she hasn’t completely sorted out what you and me mean, and sometimes just says it as she hears it. So if you ask her, “Want me to read you a story?” She’ll say, “Read you a story.” Or if you ask her, “Want me to carry you?” She’ll say, “Carry you.” And in fact, now when she wants to be carried, or really just to go where I am going or go where her daddy is going, then unprompted, she’ll hold out her arms and say “Muriel carry you.”

Except it doesn’t come out sounding like “Muriel carry you.” It sounds much more like “Muriel kill you.” And with the outstretched arms… it makes us laugh every time.

All part of the ninja baby training.

From The Sneeze:

February 13, 2009
Stevie’s Home! (My Traditional Valentine’s Love Tip)

A long time ago when my wife was my girlfriend and we were LIVING IN SIN, a tradition was born. I’d like to now share it with you all.

I came home from work one day and found her in front of the computer. I said “Hello,” and she barely grunted back. I don’t even think she looked up.

Half-jokingly I responded, “Okay, we’re gonna try this again.” I walked out the front door and came back in a few moments later…

“STEVIE’S HOME, STEVIE’S HOME!!! YAY!!!” was the new over-the-top cheer I was greeted with. It was accompanied by a hug and kisses. And I loved it.

What began as a joke quickly became an ongoing practice that continues to this day in our house: The person who is home first must make a small fuss when the other person gets there.

Does it sound silly? Yes. Do I promise that it will set the tone for a nicer evening just about every time you do it? Yes.

The world is full of douchebags, guys. Take 3 seconds out of your precious day to make a fuss over each other. Do it like you mean it. Do it as a goof. Just do it a lot.

I’m promise you’ll be glad you did.

(For those who’d prefer to cleanse their palette of the preceding sweetness, the following profanity has been provided for your convenience: [your favorite swear here].)

OH. We are so doing this.