I gotta get some gas. I pull off the freeway — Shell or Chevron? They’re right next to each other. I check the price for regular — $2.93 either way. It’s a tossup. Then my son notices on a sign that the Shell gasoline is “nitrogen enriched.” “Nitrogen enriched!?” I say. “Are you kidding me?! Fuck Chevron . . . what is nitrogen, anyway?” “It’s an element.” “Yeah I know, but who can tell me why it’s a good idea to put it in gasoline? What are we, chemistry professors?” “It seeks out and destroys engine gunk.” “What? How do you know that?” “I read it on the sign.” “Oh . . . OK then, we’re going Shell!” Read more →
EppsNet Archive: Parents
The Angels Wanna Wear My Red Shoes
I’ve got the dog all hooked up for a walk but I don’t have shoes on . . . Look! Right here by the front door are my son’s prized possession — his red sneakers! He notices me slipping my feet into them and says, “Hey! What size are your feet? You’re not going to stretch them out, are you?” “Actually,” I say, “they feel a little loose.” “OK,” he says grudgingly. “Don’t step in any puddles.” Read more →
Keeping the Magic Alive
I went to a 50th wedding anniversary mass today. Normally I wouldn’t be caught dead at such a thing but in this case the husband and wife also happen to be my parents so not only was I there, I was there bright and early to hand out programs. Fifty years! How do a man and a woman celebrate with each other such longevity and perseverance? Honey, I want to say something to you tonight that I’ve never said before, although I’ve had it in my heart for many, many years. Three little words . . . . . . let’s try anal . . . Read more →
Women and Solitaire
We’re driving home from the hockey rink in Corona . . . my son’s playing solitaire on his iPod. As we’re pulling off the freeway in Irvine, he says, “I just won my first game the entire trip.” I say, “When I play it on the computer, I lose most of the time, but once in a while I’ll get like a three-game winning streak.” “Yeah, me too.” “It’s like women in that respect. The overall goal is to make you feel bad about yourself, but they throw in just enough positive reinforcement to keep you from giving up completely.” Read more →
Finding the Dragon
My son and I walk into Trader Joe’s . . . there’s a big sign that says “KIDS! Find the hidden dragon and win a prize!” “I’m going to find the dragon,” the boy announces. “I bet it’s at the free sample stand.” Not surprisingly, it’s not at the free sample stand, but while we’re there we’re able to drown our sorrows with some free baked beans and hot dogs . . . Read more →
Learning to Drive
My son’s learning to drive . . . pulling out of a parking lot, he turns right and clips the curb a little bit. I ask him, “Did you look left to make sure no one was coming?” “I saw no one was coming.” “How did you see that if you didn’t look?” “I saw it in my peripheral vision.” “Did you also see that curb you just hit in your peripheral vision?” Read more →
Twitter: 2009-05-23
Automaker bankruptcies: A success of the market system – http://bit.ly/1BgH7 # At Wingnuts w/Casey. For wings. # At Corona rink for AAU Nationals # Read more →
Shopping for Watches
I’m at Target shopping for a new watch. My son is with me. He’s 15 years old. “Bah,” he says, sizing up the display. “Where’s the platinum stuff?” “Look,” I say, “all I need here is an inexpensive watch that’ll tell me what time it is.” A guy behind us chortles. He knows what I’m talking about; he’s browsing through a rack of $19 Ray-Ban knockoffs. “Buy what you want then,” the boy says. “But my watch is very attractive to the ladies.” “What kind of watch do you have?” He’s not wearing one so I have to ask. “I’ll give you a hint,” he says. “It starts with an ‘R.’” “Very funny. What kind of watch do you have?” “OK, it’s a Casio. But it’s got a really cool band.” Read more →
The Secret Sharer
The joys of parents are secret, and so are their griefs and fears. — Francis Bacon Happy Mothers Day to my wife, who shares my secrets . . . Read more →
I Can’t Read The Sign
I’m driving my son to hockey practice . . . at Barranca and Culver, an Asian kid is holding a sign with an arrow and something written in Chinese. Or Korean maybe. “Wow,” I say, “that is racist. I’m being totally excluded from the activity, whatever it is. If he had a sign saying ‘No Whites Allowed,’ it couldn’t be any more racist.” “Maybe that’s what it says,” my son suggests. “Good point.” Read more →
Microblog: 2009-04-26
At the rink for NARCh qualifier. At midnight? Yes # Read more →
The Sad Life of the Goalie Parent
Spring season just started for high school roller hockey. My son’s team has two goalies, one who’s really good and a backup who’s not ready yet to play at this level. The coach started the backup goalie at this week’s game. He gave up eight goals and the team lost. His mom was sitting next to my wife during the game. “I wish they’d take him out,” she said. She was almost crying. I am so glad my son doesn’t play goalie. Every kid makes mistakes and every kid has bad games but the highs and lows for goalies are too extreme. Read more →
Getting Pissed Off
My son tells me that when he has a hockey game, he’s now going to start getting pissed off as soon as we leave the house so he’s in the right frame of mind for the game. I can’t see how being pissed off is going to help anyone play better, but I think he’s sort of kidding. Anyway, we’re leaving for the rink . . . his mom made him a bowl of beans and rice to eat on the drive over. He takes one bite and says, “This meal SUCKS!” “Is this part of your new ‘get pissed off’ strategy?” I ask him. “The rice is SOGGY!” His phone buzzes. “Who is sending me a friggin’ TEXT message?” Read more →
Rated M for Mature
My son and I are watching a TV commercial for the Resident Evil 5 video game. “Rated M for Mature,” the commercial says. “Is anyone who plays video games really ‘mature,’” I ask, using finger quotes to emphasize “mature.” No reaction from the boy, a video game player himself. “You see what I mean?” I ask him. “No,” he says. Read more →
My Kid Gets a New Nickname
The counselor also stressed that colleges are looking for well-rounded kids, not just academic standouts. “If you’re talking about well-rounded kids, you’re talking about Casey,” I said. “He’s like a sphere, that’s how well-rounded he is.” “That can be his new nickname,” she said. “Sphere.” “I like it!” Read more →
The Best Counselor Ever
We were at Northwood High today for an academic planning session with my son and his counselor. One of the things the counselor went over in the college prep handbook was a section on interview tips. “At a private school like USC,” she told the boy, “you can schedule an interview with them if you think that will help your candidacy.” “UCLA won’t let you do that,” I added. “They don’t want to talk to you.” I went through the application process at both schools so I know all about it. “None of the UC schools will do an interview with you,” she said. “It’s very impersonal,” I said, “like if the DMV ran a university.” “It’s worse. At the DMV, eventually you’ll get to talk to someone.” “By the way,” I said, pointing to a “Joey Ramone, 1951-2001” poster on the wall, “do you think Joey Ramone is a… Read more →
Metacognitive
My son’s got an assignment to write a “metacognitive” for English — basically a short essay describing the thought process he went through in writing a longer essay. “Let me know if you need any help,” I say. “You know my motto: I never metacognitive I didn’t like.” Read more →
At the Dinner Table
My son looks at his plate . . . “What’s up with these little tomatoes?” he asks. “They’re cherry tomatoes,” I tell him. “I don’t like cherries,” he says. “They’re not cherries. They’re tomatoes.” “The flavor is different than regular tomatoes.” “They’re concentrated. They pack the maximum flavor per square inch. Or since we’re talking about volume, I guess I should say the maximum flavor per cubic centimeter. That’s why Mom bought them.” “Actually,” his mom says, “I bought them because they were on sale.” Read more →
Imagine Finding Me
Visual artist Chino Otsuka has created composite images of her past and present selves, like a digital time machine. This is so good. Otsuka’s work has restored my faith in humanity, which was pulverized a couple of days ago by the news that Ashton Kutcher has a million followers on Twitter. I have a rule of thumb about art and artists: If a normal person has no hope of seeing the point of your work without an accompanying explanation about you and your artistic “theory” — you suck. I look at Otsuka’s photos and with no words at all I’m immediately transported, I’m weeping with joy at the possibilities of life . . . If, again I have a chance to meet, there is so much I want to ask and so much I want to tell. — Chino Otsuka If you could go back and meet yourself as… Read more →
A Father-Son Day
Everyone’s got armbands and 3-D glasses . . . — Elvis Costello Irvine schools are on spring break this week. I took a day off for father-son activities with my boy, age 15. As we were driving back from lunch at Wingstop, I said, “You want to see Monsters vs. Aliens in 3-D IMAX?” “Not particularly,” he said. I’d already decided that I did want to see it so I got off at the Irvine Spectrum exit. “I guess this means we’re going to see it,” he said. “You know what they say: Regret for the things we did can be tempered by time, but regret for the things we didn’t do is inconsolable.” “Oh shut up, Sophocles. It’s a movie for two-year-olds.” “No it isn’t. There’s a giant girl in it. It looks cool.” “I’ll be the combined age of everyone else in the theater.” We got there a… Read more →