The institutional mouthpiece of Kjel.org

For the couple of people who asked me about baby due dates for certain gentlemen (or, more accurately, their wives) at the Miles Ct 4th of July Fest last weekend, please consult the following graphs produced by the Kjel.org CTO during his spare time. He most certainly did not create them while he was at work. Take a look and admire — that’s why he is the CTO.

Maximum chance of baby convergence on November 12 it looks like. If all three manage to be born on the same day it may well be some sort of sign. Sign from who or what though is really the interesting question . . .

Less a narrative and more an excuse to post a bunch of pictures taken by the Man from The Dalles. A couple of mine too: you’ll know them by their cellphone camera suckitude. On to the story:

On our way to Neskowin this last weekend we took a slight detour in Tillamook. “I wonder if there is an air museum around here?” It turns out there was.

I forget how much I like the Tillamook Air Museum and what a great collection of planes they have. The lads went into every single trainer that they were allowed to; the Junior VP is now very possibly qualified to pilot an A-6. A few pics of various boys in various cockpits:

The view from the deck of our beach house. The house was very nice and in a perfect spot, but once all of us (including four lads under the age of five) moved in it was not too big. Giant deck though, and a great view. Wait, what is the deal with that guy standing on the beach?

Oh yeah. It is just the Chief Educator, flying his new Spiderman kite. The Jr. VP was very impressed.

Here is a selection of the beach house crew. A pre-trip memo went out that all of us were to wear red. I didn’t get it; apparently neither did Mrs. Aki. Everybody else did what they were told.

Another couple of members of the crew. Or would that be Crüe? Either way, the lad made a new friend this weekend.

Kjel.org on the beach.

Still more. Wait, I know those two from somewhere?

We didn’t know it at the time but there were some historic low tides at the coast while we were there. Petrified stumps that normally never see daylight were exposed out in the sand. At the lowest point I saw the waterline was at least 100 yards past Proposal Rock, the island between Neskowin and the open water. Not normal. So what did everyone do as soon as they saw the stumps? Practice their kung-fu of course. Crane Style with Beer is very powerful kung-fu, and not for the timid or weak of mind.

The Jr. VP displays his fine form. Now if I could only get him to paint the fence and wax the car too.

Of course in the evening we had a fire on the beach in front of our house. While the other kids had to go to bed, Junior was allowed to stay up past his bed time and hang out with the big kids, at least for a while. He held his own and was a fun person to have at the campfire. Well done little dude.

He loved feeding driftwood to the fire; this is my attempt to prevent a Stinkboy faceplant into said fire. It worked.

This was one of the ‘big kids’ Jr. was trying to keep up with. Mental ages? Similar.

Earlier in the day we’d played some golf at the fine Neskowin Marsh golf course (their motto: “No Shoes? No Shirt? No Problem!”) and someone perhaps neglected to put sunscreen on their neck. The only way that neck is getting redder is if I take up the banjo and move to Kentucky.

The trip was a success and thank you to everyone who went and put up with the occasional toddler screaming. See you at the Edumacators on the 4th of July.

It is now a certainty: my little AK has the Devil in him. The CFO’s Mom called it a few weekends ago and I think she is right. Evidence:

When the Jr VP does something bad he tries to hide it, and then is sad and ashamed when you call him out on it. The AK? He will make sure you see him do whatever it is he is doing, with a huge grin and a devilish gleam in his eye the whole time. An example: the other night he kept stealing dishes from the dishwasher as the CFO was trying to load it. After several rounds of this the CFO was fairly irritated with the AK and closed the dishwasher. At this, angry at being thwarted, he walked in the other room and grabbed a (thankfully) soft baseball bat, walked past his Mommy, looked her in the eye and smiled, and then raised the bat above his head and brought it down onto the head of his brother. The AK didn’t care about his brother; he was trying to punish Mommy. He got in serious trouble for that one, but really, how do you punish a not-quite-two year old? We put him in “time-out” and he just sits there and smiles the whole time. I hope it is just a stage. Demonic possessions go away on their own, right?

Not that the Jr VP is an angel all the time either, but a problem (one among many) with him is that on occasion the CFO and I will disagree on what is appropriate behavior for the lad. The other afternoon when some kids were walking behind our property to get to the street below us they were spotted by Stinkboy. He rushed to the open window: “GET OFF OF MY LAWN!!!. His parents were respectively aghast/angry and amused/impressed. I will leave it to you, Gentle Reader, to guess to whom to assign those particular responses.

If you think that mommy’s little unborn monster will only need (or will only be able to earn) an associate degree, let me offer you this: Give him or her the middle name of Swearengen and I will pick up the tab for two years of college. This offer only stays on the table for another week or two, so you two fuckers better make your call soon.

That is the deal, take it or leave it. In the words of the great man himself: Here is my counter-offer to your counter offer. Go fuck yourself.

1. Kjel.org went to Bellevue a few days back for my padre’s retirement party, my birfday, and just a general g-parents get to play with the lads type of weekend. Awesome of course, but just one more reason the CEO didn’t answer or return any of your calls last week. Sorry.

Some fun stuff from the trip:

a. Me, the CFO, both kids and the CEO’s mom were at the clubhouse pool early Saturday afternoon. The Jr VP was in the kiddie pool holding court. Some other little guy got in with a supercool USS Missouri-looking-pool-toy. The second the kid let go of it and looked away Stinkboy snagged it and started re-enacting portions of WWII. The kid noticed and was pissed:

Kid: “Hey! Give me back my ship!”

Jr. VP: [looking at Mommy and pointing at Kid] But he has to share!!

Mommy: “No, he doesn’t! We don’t even know that boy so give the ship back to him!”

Jr. VP [thinks a moment] Hello, what’s your name? My name is Sor__. Let’s be friends!

Bravo. It didn’t work out for him, but at least the lad is thinking. Nice try amigo.

b. In the car the Jr VP started chanting a certain ‘cheer’. I’ve no idea where he got it from but it must have been one of the other little dudes at ’school’. It got stuck in my head and for 72 hours all I could hear or think about was:

We will, we will
ROCK YOU!
SHOCK YOU!
And FLUSH you down the TOI-LET!
Don’t forget to ENJOY IT!

The “Enjoy It” part I just couldn’t get over. On Saturday in my parents back yard I gave my sister a chip out of a snack bowl and said “Don’t forget to enjoy it.” Stinkboy heard and the both of us totally cracked up; no one else had any idea why the two of us were completely overcome with laughter. That was fine though.

c. Trees are 90% air my ass. “What clubs do you want to hit?” Just give me the pitching wedge. It is the only club I need at my preferred Portland area course other than my old Billy Baroo, so I should work on that one. “Uh, OK.”

At the practice range by my parents house a certain black hole was masquerading as a tree. I sent four dozen golf balls into that ‘tree’; I recovered 6. I’ve seen Tin Cup too many times: I did not accept the fact that I could not clear that ‘tree’ until I was out at least 40 balls. “No, no, no, this time I’ll find my swing . . . ”

2. I would like to expand upon an offer conveyed to the Chief Educator the other day. I hereby promise to pay for the college education of the Chiefs Bride and Educators first spawn if said child is named thusly: If the tyke is a boy? Kjett or Kjevy is acceptable. A girl? Kjelley or M’Kjel (bonus points for the apostrophe). The middle name shall be any of the following: Wayne. Jo-Jo. Kjel-Kjel. Ronrico. Make it happen, Chief. Make it happen.

3. I realized after the fact that I missed Flag Day this year. Dammit.

4. I am moving toward an all Dri-Fit wardrobe for summer 2009. Additionally I have a sweet new pair of Adidas that I am rocking, funky fresh and yes cold on my feet. Sorry Aki. My new collection of Dri-Fit shirts has a lot of Nike Golf in it though so don’t feel too bad.

5. Clark County Amphitheatre. Def Leppard. Cheap Trick. Poison. Friday September 11 2009. It feels a bit wrong to go to a show on 9/11, but the way I figure is that if I don’t get to see Def Leppard and friends play that day, the terrorists have won. And abso-no-fucking-lutely way am I gonna let that happen on my watch. Terrorists fuck off. Def Leppard on the other hand, I want you, to want me!

6. I am little bit worried that certain things I’ve dreamt about have come to pass. Hopefully tonight I do not dream about Godzilla or a meteor hitting the earth or an epic robot apocalypse of some sort.

7. Our city is in the very best of hands:

PORTLAND, Ore. - Portland Mayor Sam Adams could lose two homes in north Portland after falling behind on his mortgage payments. The homes in question sit side-by-side on North McClellan Street in the Kenton neighborhood and both are now in pre-foreclosure. KATU obtained a copy of two notices of default against the properties, showing the mayor has not paid a mortgage payment on either home for five months. With late fees, that adds up to over $10,000 in back payments. Adams said Tuesday his financial problems stemmed from the fact that he had to pay up front for legal bills in connection with an investigation into his relationship with Beau Breedlove. While two of his properties are now at risk, the mayor vows he will get caught up.

8. Finally, is the CEO really some sort of right-wing nutjob? I may well be, since as we all know online quizes NEVER LIE:

My Political Views
I am a right social libertarian
Right: 6.29, Libertarian: 5.65

Political Spectrum Quiz

This morning the CFO gets out of the shower, puts on a robe, and checks in on the Jr. VP. There is a large lump in the middle of his bed under a blanket where he normally is; the lump is obviously him still asleep. The CFO says “sweet” and goes back to her room to brush her teeth and comb her hair and whatnot. A bit later she hears the Intern laughing and laughing from his crib across the hall. “Wow, Señor Bebé is in a good mood today. Awesome!” The CFO finishes up her morning rituals and heads over to the AK’s room to grab him from the crib, get him dressed and take him downstairs to feed him some grub. She stands in front of his crate and leans down toward the boy. “Why is my baby so happy today!!” she says while watching the lad laugh and laugh and laugh. She soon learns. At the height of the baby’s laughter a certain four year old reaches out from under the crib and grabs his Mommy’s bare ankle with authoritay. Hello Mommy!

AHHHHH!!!!!!!!!! said the CFO. The Jr VP then needed a paper bag to defeat hyperventilation as he was so proud of himself for grabbing Mommy. Good Lord I love that little dude. At least until he really does give Mommy a heart attack, then our relationship will be a little more complicated.

Some slimy scum-sucking bag of pus out there made himself a new enemy on Saturday night. I went out to the car on Sunday to head to the grocery store, and some miscreant had thrown an egg at it and connected. No other cars I could see in the neighborhood had been egged, just mine. I suspect teens and am currently plotting revenge. Plotting more fervently than usual, I mean.

Scene: in car with family, driving to the grocery store. Daddy slightly fuming.

Jr VP: Mommy, why is Daddy so mad?

Mommy: “Because some bad person threw an egg at Daddy’s car.”

Jr VP: We should find that person and BURN DOWN THEIR HOUSE!!

Mommy [rolling eyes and groaning], to Daddy: “This is your fault you know.”

Daddy: I know.

Jr VP, warming to his topic: AND THEN WE WILL MAKE THEIR CAR BLOW UP AND THEY WILL BE COVERED IN FIRE!!

Daddy: That is going a little too far Stinkboy, but if we figure out who did this we’ll get them somehow. You up for a late night flaming-bag-of-poop delivery if we can figure out who to deliver it to?

Mommy: “Please stop talking. Both of you.”

If you are between the ages of 14 and 19 I would recommend not coming by the HQ for a while as you will be viewed as a suspect. Sorry.

1. Last weekend Kjel.org went to Bellevue to visit the ‘rents, and let them have some time playing with the boys. It had been several months you see and the CEO’s parents were overjoyed to get some boy-time. They went to the pool and to the park and read and played and in general had a good time. Grandma bought the Jr VP six bottles of chocolate milk; he drank them all in a 48 hour period. Also he got to sleep on a top bunk in his own bedroom one night, an then slept in the room with his GP’s the other night. He stayed up several hours after bed time watching TV with them. We paid for it in the car on Sunday but that is neither here nor there.

It is only today that my right arm is no longer sore. I spent the majority of Saturday whipping a ball around with Cousin Chuckles, and rubber-armed I am not. I really need to limit my pitch count in any future outing and remember to stick with the soft stuff.

We visited the new home of Sister E and M-Poo. Too cool. Expect a goat for your birthday this year — he’ll help with the weeds.

2. The AK has been permanently wounded for several weeks now since he adds a new one as soon as an old one can heal. I need to rename him Danger Boy, as he has no regard for his own personal safety. On Sunday afternoon he did a giant running faceplant in the kitchen and banged his face on the ground. Blood? Oh yes there was blood. At least Danger Boy knows enough to stay on the hardwood when the claret makes an appearance.

3. The CEO is in Scotsdale right now for a work thing. Son of a bitch it is hot here. I know everywhere is air-conditioned, but hell, I cracked a pretty serious sweat getting from the plane to the airport terminal. From the airport to the hotel though? Me and a collegue pimped it in style. It only cost $7 more than a regular cab ride would have. I think it was worth it.

4. Upon arriving at the hotel I took inventory of all of the things that I’d failed to pack and/or had taken from me in the PDX security line: toothpaste, hair treatment, dress socks, a computer cord, and my cell phone. Poor packing on this trip by the CEO. Amateur mistakes, but I was able to fix everything (except that damn phone) and within an hour or so I was back in business. Otherwise it was going to be dress shoes with white socks and messy hair to match today.

5. I won’t comment on the business at hand except to say this: the CEO has broken many, many laws in his life — it’s one of my goals, sort of like eating one of every animal on the planet. Today I think I can scratch off another law from my list. See you in Hell, Sherman Act!

6. After a bbq a weekend back the craziest thing was found at the HQ. A hat that looks like it was designed for a Sasquatch (or perhaps Jack-in-the-Box) was found on our couch. It was a Seahawk hat after all so there might be something to the Sasquatch / Pac NW connection. Maybe he’ll come by and get it sometime?

7. Dinner shortly with our whole crew at this place: Pepin. I am a little bit worried, as this crowd has been rambunctious in the past. Please forgive anything posted here at midnight.

File this one under “Brothers don’t shake hands. . .”

The AK isn’t actually that tall. The pic is not clear on this fact but the Jr. VP has him a few inches off the ground here.

A new ongoing feature here at Kjel.org: What is the Jr. VP’s favorite song right now?

I’ll provide updates as it changes, unless of course the current leader remains his favorite forever. Possible I would say. Past leaders have included Ring of Fire by both Mr. Cash and Social Distortion, Rambling Man (Allman Brothers), Waiting For My Ruca (Sublime) and Unchained (Van Halen).

The current favorite? Werewolves of London by Warren Zevon. Ahhoooooo!

I hope that this anecdote is not cited 10 years from now by the court appointed psychologist. As the CFO may be quoted in the paper at that time: “The signs were there, but we just didn’t see them. Or maybe we were in denial. Or maybe I was still listening to the CEO.” On to the story:

On the drive home today it was just me and the Jr. VP; his brother stayed home today at the HQ because it looks like he has pinkeye. Again. Awesome.

Scene: CEO and boy in car on the way home after ’school’.

Jr.: Daddy, when we get home what if there are monsters at our house that want to eat me?”

Daddy: “Don’t worry about it. I will jump in front of you and tell those monsters to leave and never come back. Nobody takes a bite out of Stinkboy on my watch. Nobody.”

Jr.: [seeming slightly displeased] But what if the monsters still try to eat me? Will you kill them? Big emphasis put on the word kill.

Daddy: [a little bit alarmed] “Not at first anyway. I reckon I will tell the monsters still there that any monster that don’t wanna get hurt better clear on out the back. Whoever is left after that has declared their intentions.”

Jr.: Then what will you do?

Daddy: “Well, I’ll fight the monsters and you can help if you want. We’ll push them all outside and then we’ll lock the door. And maybe afterwards we’ll commemorate our victory over the monsters with the mixing of chocolate and milk.”

Here is where I got a significant bit more worried:

Jr.: NOOOO!!!No pushing! You should grab the monsters and take a very sharp knife and cut off all of their skin. Then you should break every single one of their bones! And then we both should shoot them until they are DEAD!!! Do that!!!

Daddy: [where the hell did that come from?] “Oh my. Umm, I think harsh language is probably what I am going to try first but I will certainly keep your suggestions in mind. Is there anything else you want to talk to me about little buddy?”

Jr.: No Daddy. Tell me a story about Spiderman . . .

I am little nervous. This is normal right? I hate monsters as much if not more so than the average guy and I admit to fostering an anti-monster atmosphere at the Kjel.org HQ to a point that is probably prejudicial. Still the details regarding the violence the lad wants to visit on the monsters is troubling. Kjel.org may need to enroll the Jr. VP in some sort of monster outreach program or something. I’m sure we could all get along if only we just better understood each other. Or if those goddamned monsters could just leave us alone.

On Saturday morning me and the boy headed down to McMinnville. Our first stop was the Evergreen Aviation Museum, home of the Spruce Goose and quite a few other cool planes. Junior loved it. Daddy! Daddy! Look at all the shooters! He, unsurprisingly, liked the planes with guns the best. “Probably good your Mommy isn’t here with us.”

Along that same vein he absolutely loved the B-17: it has a lot of ’shooters’ poking out of all sides. Below is the lad peeking inside the rear hatch.

The museum has an excellent kids area. It is great because it is right in the middle of things. I could leave the lad playing on the flight simulator and still see him while I walked around a bit looking at stuff. Both of us respectively had our fun. Below is Junior ‘flying’ his helicopter.

We left the museum and headed out for “cheeseburgers on top of a skyscraper” as I had sold it him. We went to perhaps my favorite of all McMenamins, the Rooftop Bar at the Hotel Oregon.

Two cheeseburgers, two chocolate milks and one Ruby later we climbed down off the roof, fat full and happy. We then headed home and the lad slept for hours. Not a bad little Saturday.

Ladies and Gentlemen,

It is my great pleasure to announce a promotion in the Kjel.org organization. The Chief Bride had a good run, but the wife of the Chief Educator shall no longer be known by that title. Henceforth she will have multiple titles that all can and will be used interchangeably. Some you should expect to see in the near future:

Chief Mommy-To-Be
Director of BeingKnockedUp
Concierge at the Fetus Hotel
Product Manager, Bun In Oven Division
Senior Director of Gestation

I’m sure there will be others as they occur to me.

Big Kjel.org congratulations to the happy parents-to-be. I talked to the Educator earlier today and I’m not sure if it all has fully sunk in for him yet. I recognized the feeling; it didn’t really feel real for me until the little tyke was actually born. Then it is real. All too real at certain times.

Holy crap this is going to be fun. 2009 just got one hell of a lot better than it was shaping up to be. El Jefe de Bebé, you lay off the heroin and the paint thinner huffing now you hear? The CFO had a real tough time with that during her pregnancies. And Chief Educator, what doing Saturday night? The end of your ‘I go out regularly’ lifestyle is approaching with a speed you might not realize, and we got ourselves a designated driver after all . . .

I foresee a Kjel.org baby naming contest in the not too distant future. Start thinking people.

Good Lord this is going to be awesome in all respects. I am going to really enjoy watching the changes occur at the Edumacator’s pad. Frankly I am having a hard time imagining them. For some reason I am reminded of this older Kjel.org post. This kid might be very, very tough.

8 trillion kinds of awesomeness here. Seriously.

1. Kjel.org drove to Seattle Saturday morning. I don’t know what sort of weird aura I was spewing that day, but more than 2 dozen people either purposefully or by accident tried to use the Red Suby as their instrument of suicide. I thwarted their plans. I was a little tense by the time we dropped off the heir and the spare at the CFO’s parents house, and tried to relax while the CFO’s dad drove us to our hotel downtown. No dice. Three passengers in a car were rubbernecking at some police action under the Convention Center. I happened to look up and notice that I was the only one watching the road of the three of us, and traffic was at a dead stop 50 feet ahead. We were going freeway speeds. I hope the CFO’s father does not think less of me for screaming like Ned Flanders, but it alerted him in time to put on the breaks. Can’t argue with results and all that. Anyway, I avoided cars the rest of the day.

Me and the little lady walked from our hotel through Pike Place, along the waterfront, and then through Pioneer Square toward the stadium. We stopped at the Pioneer Square Saloon for refreshment, a place I spent many a summer night in the early and mid 90’s. As we were getting our pints at the bar a dude walking past slaps me on the back and says Jay! Man, how you doing!? “Pretty good dude, pretty good.” He keeps walking and I go back to ordering my pint. What the hell was that about?the CFO asked. I said nothing and simply turned around, allowing her to see the glorious word BUHNER on my back. Ah, crap, are we gonna have to deal with this sort of thing all night? “I hope so.” Sadly, that was the only piece of BUHNER love I received.

As we approached the stadium through Pioneer Square, a strange thing happened. All of a sudden everyone around us just seemed like a chump. Imagine the worst sort of person that might live in Enumclaw or Estacada maybe. Now imagine 10,000 of them, all moving toward the stadium. These do not look like baseball fans commented the CFO. As we made it Quest Field, the chumpery reached its apex, and now we knew why: Supercross! Quest Field was hosting a day of dirt bike racing, and there were hundreds and hundreds of fans outside the stadium tailgating. A lot black T-shirts with logos I’d never heard of; a lot of bad tattoos; a lot of Busch lite. As we got past Quest and moved toward Safeco the Supercross and baseball crowds started to mix. The CFO and I played a fun game called ‘Mariners or Supercross?’ while we walked over to Pyramid. It was not hard and I am almost certain we batted 1.000.

2. The boy is getting creative with his insults. On the drive back from Seattle I refused to play Stinkboy’s requests on the radio. He was displeased. Daddy you’re mean, I don’t like you! When we get home I am gonna steal all your money and put it in jail, and then put you in jail and lock it from the inside! Then I am gonna put all your money in a rocket ship and shoot it into space where it will never, ever, ever come back for a very long time! Then the rocket will crash and blow up and all your money will fall down to all the people in the real world* but you!” Jeez Stinkboy, relax, here, have some Van Halen already. It’s like he’s been reading my recent dream journals or something.

* the “real world” is anywhere not animated and/or inhabited by Imperial forces and Rebel scum.

3. The CEO had a physical today. The good doctor found no physical defects beyond the obvious. After he tested my reflexes and found them freakishly powerful, I insisted that he use the term catlike on my chart. I am not certain he did. I am still waiting for the results of the EKG and blood tests to come back, so I might not be fully out of the woods yet. At worst I’m hoping for some variant of this:

I’ve been there before.

I would also like to take this opportunity to throw my thanks up to Jebus for the fact that a) The CEO is not yet 40, and, b) prostate cancer does not run in my family. The doctor seemed pleased by these facts too. That is all.

4. Today was Take the kids to work day. I wasn’t asked to participate this year, I wonder why. Was it the NOW GET OFF MY LAWN!! I yelled that made he little kids cry last year as they were leaving my office?? Could have been now that I think about it.

5. I wore business shorts to work for the first time in 2009 this last week. I can do that now. It’s good to be the King! Or at least have your liege keep his throne in another state. From my office on Monday:

6. Me and a couple of boys were rolling around on the floor playing rough the other night. I do not remember how it came about (perhaps the lack of memory is a defense mechanism against even more PTSD?) but somehow the Jr. VP was on his back and I was on my belly and he managed to raise his foot up high and bring it crashing down on my skull, right behind the ear. It felt like I’d been hit with a ball peen hammer; not sure why I didn’t lose consciousness. If I gave him an allowance it would certainly be docked this week.

7. At lunch today I saw the guy who should play Mr. Incredible’s boss if they ever make a live-action The Incredibles. The similarity was almost eerie. My urge to throw the dude through a couple of walls ala Mr Incredible was nearly unstoppable, but then I remembered that I am not a Super. Or more accurately my super power isn’t super strength, anyway.

7. The final domino falls: The middle sister, the Kjel.org rep for southern Cali, the one known as Annannannanana! to a generation of Kjel.org kids is finally engaged! Yay Annnanananana!!! Congrats to your lucky beau as well. I better start marinating another batch of “Engagement Jerky”. A secret special recipe where the jerky chef must walk a high-wire; if you succeed the meat is transcendental. I’ve screwed up a couple of batches over the last month or two but I’m getting closer. Sometimes you gotta swing not just for the fences, but for Edgar Martinez Drive.

I believe this article spoke to me because of something psychologists call “confirmation bias.” I don’t care.

Are boys natually violent?
You don’t have to thrust a plastic gun into the hand of a toddler to teach him about violence. He is perfectly capable of fashioning, and deploying, his own weapons from the stuff around him. Branches become swords, remote controls are transformed into death sabres, saucepan lids are magicked into trusty shields. In fact, a toddler intent on waging war, often against an invisible enemy, is an awe-inspiring vision of energy, resourcefulness, creativity and imagination. And yet, to my reckoning, such behaviour is in danger of becoming pathologised. Several mothers at my daughter’s school have stopped going to the local playground because the play has become a bit rough. This includes waving broken branches around (“it could poke someone in the eye”), tearing around at high speed (“someone could get knocked over”) and shouting at younger children (“bullying”). When a parent explained this to me, I returned an analysis of the situation: yes, there is one boy in this gang of terrors that might have behavioural problems, but they are just young boys letting off steam after a day in the classroom. Boys are a bit more rough and tumble than our girls, I shrugged, and we can always intervene if things go awry. . .

1. The CEO owes a belated thank you to the Man from the Dalles and the D-O-G-G for coming over to the HQ the other weekend and helping me to move that hide-a-bed couch. Either it was really damn heavy, or I am turning into even more of a wuss than I used to be — for about three days afterwards I felt like someone had kicked my ass. The Dogg and I tried to do it ourselves, and almost could, but we couldn’t figure out how to get it through a certain doorway. The two of us tried for about ten minutes but were stuck. After he arrived it took the engineer among the three of us 15 seconds to solve the problem. Stupid liberal arts majors.

2. I have tentatively started the process of car shopping: the CFO needs and deserves a new ride. I immediately looked at the Nissan Armada. It turns out that the Armada is way more car than we need or want which is really too bad. I was so looking forward to saying certain things when the CFO (who was going to be retitled The Admiral if we bought it) was piloting her new car. The CFO is coming to pick me up? “Behold, the Admiral approaches with her Armada!” The CFO takes a loop around SW Portland doing errands? “All hail the Armada and the Admiral for her successful circumnavigation of Garden Home!” If she wrecks it? Good Lord! The Admiral has dashed her Armada upon the rocks!” You get the idea. Anyway, the early front runners I think are slightly used versions of either this Mazda (zoom zoom!) or this Volvo (bork bork bork!). I’ve never actually driven or even ridden in either of these cars, so if you have please let me know what you thought.

3. The foulmouthedness continues for the Jr. VP. As does the obsession with Star Wars:
The other morning he was sleeping in and had to be woken up. After a few shakes he was sort of awake, but still had his eyes closed. Out of his mouth: Where the hell am I?”. His mom was not impressed. “Uhh, honey, were you having a dream, I hope?” Yeaaaaahhh. “What were you doing?” I was at Jabba’s house. He did not elaborate further.

4. The CFO has been out of town for a bit, and the boys are all alone at the HQ. I don’t have to tell you what that means. Daddy: Son number one, what do you want for dinner? Jr. Vp: Cheetos and beef jerky!!! Daddy: You’re the boss. You want a beer with that too? Discipline can be difficult to maintain when the CFO is not at the HQ.

5. On Sunday morning the Jr. VP said I want to eat cheeseburgers and go to the old park and visit Han Solo and Princess Leia and play video games! In pretty short order I figured out that Leia and Han were aka the Chiefs Educator and Bride. I am not one to deny the boy, so away we went on our big day out. Things started off well enough, with the three of us picking up neccesary supplies (like Cheetos and beef jerky) at the Thriftway. We then continued to Solo’s pad where Stinkboy got to play old school video games (he learned how to play Dig Dug) and the AK managed to break very little. As is our wont when the CFO is away, three boys then went for cheeseburgers and a vist to the park. Yet another sign that the lad has watched way too much TV: when I asked him if he wanted a hamburger or a cheeseburger, he laughed and said No! I want a Krustyburger! I had to stop the car and give him a hug at that one. The trip went downhill quickly from there.

The ‘old park’ that we went to is on the side of a hill. It might have been sunny on Sunday, but at that park it was also windy and cold as hell. I was of course wearing shorts. Eight steps from the car the little AK did a total faceplant on the sidewalk, so of course we had to deal with that first. Finally we sat down on the park bench to eat our lunch. I was seated next to the AK, helping him to eat since the concept of a “McNugget with dipping sauce” was new to him. About three minutes in the Jr VP spilled all of his chocolate milk all over himself. He of course started wailing; not because he had spilled, but because he realized that now he had no chocolate milk. A gust of cold wind then blew an unsecured napkin off of the table; it was quickly gaining airspeed and altitude. It was the only clean napkin left and I needed it to wipe off the boy so I jumped up and ran for it. At about the 10 yard mark I turned around when I heard both boys scream: two crows were on our table, fighting over my Big Mac. As I yelled and ran back to the table, the winner flew off with my lunch in his mouth. Three freezing, two crying and one swearing boy decided that maybe today wasn’t a good day to go to the park. Home we went. I am going back to that park with a shotgun in the near future. Or at least daydream about doing so.

6. Finally, and most importantly, huge congratulations to the CEO’s littlest sister on her recent engagement. The destination wedding is a good idea and sounds like it is going to AWESOME, and I can’t wait to bring the kids to Mexico. I plan to walk around Puerto Vallarta with my own little six year old interpreter. Mi padre querría otro por favor.

A few of you have asked for more detail regarding the Jr. VP’s recent operation, but sorry, even thinking about it makes me woozy. The following haiku is the best I can do:

Surgeon wields scalpel
Testicle on lad repaired
Why do my nuts ache?

The Jr. VP had his operation on Monday. He did great and everything went well and the lad is fine. His parents perhaps are not so fine, but we are maybe starting to come around.

I know what I am doing tonight:

After the last day or three I think I’ve earned it. I might give one to Stinkboy too. As for the CFO? She gets as many of these as she wants.

Note to self: if in Arkansas do not put the boys in ’school’:

LITTLE ROCK, Ark. (AP) - Ten children at a day care center drank windshield wiper fluid after a staffer served it from a container mistaken for Kool-Aid and placed in a refrigerator, authorities said Friday. The day care owner surrendered her state license Friday. Doctors estimate the children, ages 2 to 7, drank about an ounce of the blue fluid late Thursday afternoon before realizing it tasted wrong, said Laura James, a pediatric pharmacologist and toxicologist at Arkansas Children’s Hospital in Little Rock.

Smart kids there in Arkansas.

“What a good parent am I” by the CEO.

Scene: Kjel.org eating dinner a few nights ago.

Jr. VP: [Has empty milk glass in front of him. Tries to take a drink but gets nothing] Ahhh, what the hell?

The CFO and I look at each other. She decides to take a run at it.

CFO: No, no, don’t say that, we say ‘what the heck’.

Jr. VP: You say ‘what the heck’. I say ‘what the hell.’

The CEO had to excuse himself, as the lad’s logic was unassailable. Also I didn’t want him to see me laugh. I mean really, what the fuck else was I supposed to do at that point?

Ah, the sweet relief of baseball — might allow me to relax a little bit and forget everything else now going on in the world.

Griffey’s first game as a Mariner (2nd time around version) on TV tonight. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t excited. The Jr. VP is a lefty too, so I need him to watch the other Jr. a little bit and see if he can’t imitate that swing — he’ll be a lot better served by that instead of watching his old man take cuts with a bat. First pitch is at 6:05 on Fox Sports Net.

You can’t really see it here, but all day Mt. Hood sat there smirking in bright sunlight, mocking those of us (or at least me) in Portland under the clouds. I’m sorry the picture shows only the clouds; I am still working with 2004 photographic technology here (ie a cheap Razr cell camera). Trust me, Mt. Hood is there if you squint a little bit. Time for a new phone soon I think.

This is the view from my office down Market toward the river for those of you who know downtown Portland. Put my head against the glass and I can actually see the Willamette. If I am standing on a chair.

The CFO is out of town this weekend on a work thing. Of course that means a lots of DVDs for the young lads. Here they are settling in to watch The Empire Strikes Back, one of the Jr. VP’s favorites. The pizza will be here soon, and I’m sure we will stage an AT-AT battle before bed. Yet another reason why the CFO should never leave.

The Jr. VP likes to show you what he is eating . . .

1. Behold, Fort Chewbacca! The Jr. VP also refers to it as Fort Mulkie. The VP is in charge of naming it, not me. He can call it whatever he wants.

Nothing like taking some blankets and a small tent and creating a “fort” in the living room. The Jr VP spent last night defending it from all sorts of attacks from Daddy and the AK. It remains standing; me and the Intern are still probing for weaknesses and should have this thing defeated soon. Our siege engine should be completed any day now, and we are just now finding the range with our catapults.

2. When I picked up the boys from ’school’ today the owner made me sign a document acknowledging that they had informed me of an injury the AK sustained earlier in the day. Apparently the little dude got too excited and ran off some stairs, planting his face into the corner of a wall at the bottom. He had a big bump on his forehead and a black eye, but he seemed fine otherwise. The daycare ladies seemed more upset than I thought neccesary, so I have a feeling that the injury itself was worse than they let on. The Jr. VP backs me up on this one: he says that there was quite a bit of blood involved, but the ladies at school didn’t mention that. Not sure who to believe on this one. Probably the ladies — the VP can be quite a storyteller at times.

3. There are coyotes that routinely move around in the woods behind our house — I heard them again today when I got home from work. Coyotes have a very distinctive call, and it drives the neighborhood dogs absolutely batshit insane. Are coyotes dangerous? The woods I am talking about come right up to our back yard, and my kids like to play in the back yard. Can a coyote eat a 4-year-old? I might set some traps out just in case. Anybody need a coyote pelt?

4. At certain times the Jr. VP decides he is no longer human and can only speak in “puppy”. Oddly enough, “puppy” can be either English or Spanish, but must be spoken in the following convention: “Ruff ruff, Daddy, ruff, turn on the, ruff, ruff, TV. Ruff”. Similarly “Ruff, ruff, neccesito comer, ruff, ruff.” He will not listen unless you respond in kind. The ‘word’ Ruff has been said quite a few times at the HQ in recent days. Ruff ruff, I’m tired, ruff, of this game! Jr. doesn’t care.

The Jr. VP and I played a game tonight where he was “The Cannon Ball Shooter” and I was “Daddy-Homer”. We recently watched a portion of a DVD containing this scene:

Yes, I was wearing goggles and shirtless. No, the CFO was not home at the time. Why do you ask?

The CFO got home last night after a long day at work. The boys had been home all day. The scene she arrived to:

1. “I Wanna Rock!” by Twisted Sister blaring over the stereo.

2. A one year old running around in a circle screaming, occasionally hitting a wall.

3. Daddy (on his knees) and the Jr. VP in the living room both holding blocks, trying to poke each other with the block while dodging the other guys efforts at the same.

CFO: What game are you guys playing?

CEO: Knifefight.

CFO: No. God no. This is not OK. Stop. Please, stop.

CEO: I actually thought you’d prefer this. What he really wanted to play was “Gunfight”.

Jr. VP: Mommy, watch! I am going to cut Daddy with this very sharp knife! En garde! At this point I parry a thrust from Stinkboy’s “knife.”

CFO to the CEO, mournfully: Why are you doing this? How did this get started? Did it not occur to you that this might not be a good idea?”

CEO: You know, you and I are really very different people.

The Jr VP said to me last night, and I quote, “Daddy, let’s play rock music and fight.” I gave him a little hug, told him I loved him, put on Twisted Sister, and then we started our game. Was it really so wrong?

Quick notes from the last week or so:

last Monday: The CEO went to work no problem. I do not count fishtailing in various parking lots and almost killing the lot of us (sans CFO) Hazzard County style at the bottom of our hill as a problem.

Tuesday: Me and the CFO both took the day off. Getting out of the HQ was treacherous but we made it. We went downtown and did Santa pics at Macy’s with the lads. Santa pics on a Tuesday morning is the best thing in the world — we were second in line when we arrived at Santaland. After the pictures were done we dropped off the smaller half of Kjel.org at ’school’, went shopping, stopped at Red Robin for drinks and burgers, shopped some more, and then finally picked up the youngsters and headed home. Barely. During that particular journey back to the HQ I put the red Suby into the guardrail at the bottom of my street. At least it was close enough so that the rest of Kjel.org could walk up to the house and I could sit in the car and swear by myself. I prefer to not speak of it further, except please know that it was only paint, and some quick work with a shovel allowed me to in fact park in my own driveway. Tuesday was a continuation of Monday’s “learning day” with the Red Suby: I’ve never actually driven it in serious snow. I know now very well exactly what it can (and definitely can’t) do in these kind of conditions.

Wednesday and Thursday: These days have blurred together. Typically I would go to work, it would start to snow, I (or more accurately the CFO) would freak out and then I’d leave the office early. One day I swung by the hardware store on the way home and bought 100 pounds of gravel which I then applied to the curve below my driveway. I think the neighbors were impressed. Maybe next year I’ll get a plow attachment for the Suby.

The CFO and the boys for the most part stayed home and played in the snow and watched videos and played games inside. The Jr. VP has been watching a lot of Star Wars and Simpsons videos lately. Yesterday he told me that he wished we had an AT-AT to drive in the snow. I told him that is was impossible for me to more completely agree, and that we would get that rebel scum yet. Kjel.org cabin fever level? Moderate.

Friday: I was unable to speak for several hours on Friday, since at 4:00 PM on that day I did the unthinkable: I went to Fred Meyer. Insanity of a high order, and I blame the elderly (as I do for most things). I came as close as I ever have to shoving a 75 year old woman into a display of canned goods. Along with the rest of us normal folk engaged in garden variety panic buying, there were dozens and dozens of old timers that seemed to be treating the Fred Meyer as a social club. Us young’uns were in a hurry to get our supplies and get the hell out. They blue hair set was not. Seriously: Gram, don’t park your cart in front of the cheese selection to chat with Ethyl and Murtice when the CEO is trying to shop and then get home. Sorry about your foot.

Saturday: It snowed. A lot. There was no way in hell we were getting out of our driveway over the weekend. Thanks to my Friday sacrifice we had plenty of people food, baby food, beer, and “projects” as the CFO calls them: one project was her and the Jr. VP making homemade ravioli. That took a good three hours or so. and other necessities, so we just hunkered down. We tried to play outside a few times but it was just too damn cold, and the snow was now layered with ice and impossible for the kids to play on without constant faceplants. That made it a little bit less fun.

Sunday: Repeat. The Jr. VP and I watched quite a few Simpsons dvd’s. One we watched (Lisa the Vegetarian) contained the following exchange:

People sitting everywhere, eating. Homer fills the grill with lighter
fluid and prepares to grill.

Lisa: Wait Dad! Good news, everyone! You don’t have to eat meat!
I’ve got enough gazpacho for everyone. [Crowd murmurs.] It’s
tomato soup, served ice cold! [Crowd laughs out loud.]
Barney: Go back to Russia!

I made the mistake of laughing at the “Go back to Russia!” line and the Jr. VP picked up on it. Later that day the CFO pointed to Jr. and said Hey, pick up your coat please! Jr. looked her in the eye and exclaimed Go back to Russia! The CFO was not amused. I am an absolutely outstanding parent.

The CFO spent the day packing and preparing for our trip north to Bellevue, and then our trip west to Maui on Christmas day. I think if we hadn’t have had those type of preparations to make the insanity levels at the HQ would have been even higher. Kjel.org cabin fever level? High.

Monday: This day shall be remembered as “The Day the CEO Saved Christmas (2008 edition)”. It snowed overnight again and was snowing when I got up. After watching the news and looking at our road the CFO and I realized that there was no possible way, even with shoveling, that we were getting out of our neighborhood without chains. I made some calls. Unsurprisingly, most places nearby were out chains. Then on a whim I called my mechanic, hoping that maybe Metro Car Care might also stock chains. The owner Kirk picked up on the first ring, and within 30 seconds we established that he has chains in stock that fit the Red Suby. I tell him that I can be there in an hour. He says that they are not really open and that he is just there with his son collecting mail and making sure the building is OK, and that they are leaving in five minutes. Where do you live? Can I deliver them to you?. Oh Kirk. You had me at “I have chains that fit your car.” Anyway, 15 minutes later I met him down at the Papa Murphy’s and got my new chains. I’m connected in this town, what can I say? Seriously, Metro is the best auto shop in town and I cannot recommend them highly enough. And they are by the Old Barn so you have somewhere to wait while your car is being worked on. I had my chains. Awesome.

The walk back up the hill returning to the HQ? Misery. I considered laying down a few times to rest thinking I could attempt the summit later in the day, but I am not sure I would have woken up from that rest. About 3/4 of the way to the top I collapsed I thought that it might be curtains for the CEO, but a friendly St Bernard showed up and licked my face a few times and woke me up. And you would never believe the tasty beverage in the cask he was carrying around his neck . . .

I may have hallucinated that last part. During the walk I am certain that I did see a dog and drink from a flask though.

I pretty much spent the entire day acquiring chains, shoveling snow (the CFO did some shoveling too), moving the Suby into the garage and then figuring out how to get the chains on. I am optimistic that we are getting out of the neighborhood tomorrow. Really the only question now is how much damage does the Suby sustain during the trip to Bellevue. I’m gonna hedge and go with minimal.

Kjel.org will do Christmas in Bellevue on Wednesday, then on Thursday fly to Maui with the CFO’s family. We’ll be back home in January, with obligations behind us and ready to party. Ask Aki about the plans for early January. Karaoke anyone? Also, a warning for certain gentlemen: I’ve begun thinking about bacon. Three times more than I usually do during on an average day during the rest of the year. There might be something special this Superbowl, stay tuned.

So, to you and yours from Kjel.org, however it may apply, please have a: Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, Kwazy Kwanzaa, Fine Festivus, and/or a Happy New Year. See you in 2009!

The CEO should absolutely not be at work right now. Risking my own life out on the roads today just to get to the office is bad enough. It is my life to risk after all, and in certain situations (say, punching out a shark that is trying to eat the CFO, or, like last summer when I had to fight that family of badgers that was trying to kidnap the Jr. VP. What is it with him and badgers?) I’m happy to pays my money and takes my chances if need be. Getting to the office shouldn’t be one of those situations.

What is most uncool about this morning is that not only did I nearly buy it out on the road, but I nearly took the Jr. VP and his Intern with me. After walking up and down the street below my house, I got the idea in my head that the ice was crunchy enough so that the red Suby could maintain traction. The Jr VP was in the front seat (the back door where his kid-seat was frozen shut. Perhaps I should have viewed that as a sign of some sort?) when we pulled out of the driveway. We went down the hill as slow as absolutely possible. Everything was fine until about 30 feet from Garden Home at the bottom. The Suby broke loose at this point and was going to slide across Garden Home and into the woods below, that is, unless we were hit by someone driving on Garden Home first. “Was going to” being the key phrase there: the CEO knows that if your brakes don’t work you really oughtta try the gas. The result? A Dukes of Hazzard style power-slide from 49th onto Garden Home, and the Jr. VP learning to yell “Yee-YEE-YEEHAH!”

I really should have turned around but there was no way to make it back up that piece of hill. Plus, since we were all dressed and committed to school and work I thought I should press on. School is normally a 5 minute drive. Roughly 20 today, since on hills I normally drive 50 mph down I instead kept it in 1st gear. I finally arrived at the office to learn that I was one of three people who made it in today. It’s not like I am impressing the boss or anything since my boss is in L.A. — I should have stayed home.

I’ve got a lot of stuff to write about (the aftermath from the Ale Fest, crazy kids, the CFO’s Birthday Jamberoo, Kjel.org’s response to Arctic Hellstorm 2008) but can’t seem to get it done. Maybe tonight.

The pumpkins represent where the various members of Kjel.org felt they were at on this last Sunday. My own personal orange gourd shaped avatar (the biggun, of course) is decorated like a pirate jack-o-lantern, with fangs, a hoop earring and an eye patch.

I would appreciate it if there were no follow-up questions. Thank you.

The other night the Jr VP woke up at about 10:30 with a scream, and then started sobbing. The CFO went in to see what the matter was. Mommy! Mommy! There is a ghost in that closet! He woke me up! He said [cue monster sounding voice] Hello Soooorrrrrrrren! It was scary! The boy wasn’t the only one scared at this point. I’ve got a feeling that Mommy might have paused a second before opening that closet. At least she didn’t come and get me to do it. I mean really, what the hell am I supposed to do with a ghost? I’m fairly well equiped to deal with other sorts of monsters but a ghost? Attack it with a shop-vac maybe? Anyway, turns out the ghost was gone by the time Mommy investigated. Definitely something to keep an eye on though.

I wonder if this is related: the Chief Educator just got one of those fancy new phones that makes my Razr look like a relic from the distant past. I have been getting calls from it but not because the Chief is calling — someone (or something) else initiating the connection. When I answer I sometimes can hear the Chief talking to his students, but usually it is just silence. It is a little bit eerie. AS IF I WAS BEING CALLED BY A GHOST!
I always yell back into my phone hoping that I’ll be heard on the other end, but no luck so far on that one. As far as I know.

Why am I starting to feel like a character in a Japanese horror movie?

The CEO has been slow with the content lately, mainly because of work. You’ve perhaps heard of the recent financial turmoil that has befallen our great nation? Well, it is causing some high levels of stress in my office, and frankly with me too on a personal level. People in certain jobs (ie college administrator, teacher, itinerant handyman) might not get too rattled; the CEO on the other hand is rattled.

By Friday night all the CEO wanted to do was have some peace and quiet, but instead the wife and I headed out to the Old Barn. We had babysitters (the CFO’s parents) and felt like we had to go do something. I was the least motivated to go out that I have been in a long time but once we got there (and I got a few beers in me) things were fine.

By Saturday afternoon my tolerance for screaming kids was absolutely exhausted. Lucky for me the Chief Educator and Sniper were doing a little construction project over at the Edumacator’s place and neither of them cry too much. I went over to, uh, help. I helped the Educator to watch TV by periodically going outside and screaming at the Sniper: Knock off that goddamned racket! We’re trying to watch the game in here! That asshole kept up with the pounding and the sawing anyway. I had to go out and badger him several times.You look pretty sharp in those kneepads. Oh, a caulk joke! Hilarious! Now get back to work! Break time is over! I thought I was being helpful.

Caulk. Kneepads. Low hourly rates. That paragraph above could have gone in an entirely different direction, one where the jokes practically write themselves. Too easy.

The Sniper didn’t realize that he had authorized me to act as his union delegate when I went back inside to watch TV. The Educator was only too happy when the union offered to exchange the dental plan for certain contents of the Educator’s fridge. The Sniper better hope his kids don’t need glasses either: during the extensive negotiations it was agreed that the union would take the vision plan off the table if ownership agreed that the union delegate could have some mustard and mayo for his sandwich. I drive a hard bargain. Now I need to go remind the Sniper that his dues are late. I don’t want to have to send the goon squad after him again.

A new feature will be coming soon to this website, one that should help me out a bit if I am not feeling inclined or simply don’t have the time to write much. In the course of moving I came across a box of old pictures, from back in the film era. The pictures mainly look to be from the mid to late nineties. There are some excellent ones. If you were around the CEO back then be afraid. Be very afraid. As soon as I figure out how to use the scanner here at my office the dark secrets of the past will be revealed. Some of the pictures will be one-offs, but occasionally I’ll do a series. The first such series will be entitled “People doing stupid things at the Edumacator’s house.” I’m looking in your direction, Lieutenant Dan . . . stay tuned.

My entire lower back is covered in bruises caused by a combination of these two things:

1. There has been a lot of playing rough in the last 48 hours, even by our rowdy standards. The Jr VP doesn’t believe that he can actually harm me, so in his mind pretty much nothing is off limits when it comes to abusing Daddy. His new signature move is one he calls the Flying Monkey: he will run at and then jump on you, screaching like a monkey the whole time. Since I am already on the ground at the time (usually trying to shield the AK from the Flying Monkey), this one hurts. It’s very possible that last night he reinjured a rib I cracked at the coast a few months back. The shooting pains would seem to indicate that possibility.

2. The Jr VP came into my room at quarter to six this morning and crawled into bed with me. It was nice. For about 5 minutes. At 5:50 he was ready to get up and start the day. I was not and told him that I was going back to sleep and that he should too. He didn’t like that answer. For about an hour he laid there and harassed me while I tried to sleep. Part of the harassment was the occasional kick or punch in the back. Thanks a lot son.

This is what happens when the CFO leaves for a few days. I am damn glad she gets home tonight. A few more nights like these and I am going to end up in a wheelchair.

The Jr. VP learned a new phrase this weeked. Overheard at the zoo on Sunday: “Daddy are you wearing underpants? I’m not — I’M GOING COMMANDO!!!! Hahahahahahaha!!!!” And he was.

The Jr. VP sits on my lap before bed time and we watch TV and snuggle and joke and generally have a good time. We do it most nights; it is nice. We play games that sometimes make Mommy mad, like last night when we agreed that if he ever gets lost at a store he will tell the clerk that his name is Joey Jo-Jo Shabadoo and that he’s looking for his daddy, King Awesome. We laughed and laughed at the CFO’s response to that one, and then it was hugging time. There is nothing better in the world than hearing the lad say I love you Daddy, although I love you Mommy is an extremely close second.

Now please read this, by an infinitely better writer than the CEO will ever be. I read it in 2002 before either of the boys joined Kjel.org and it struck me then, but perhaps for different reasons. Now? Oh man.

Every year I think that this is going to be the September 11 when the sadness finally keeps its distance. The year that the rage doesn’t boil over quite as hot. The year that the dread doesn’t peek out from its ugly little hiding spot. That could have been this year. But then a perfect laughing little three year old boy sat in my lap and made some jokes and then asked me about what we were doing tomorrow. Fuck. I can’t help thinking about things that could have been and might still be.

I still feel the same feelings, but perhaps even stronger than I did 7 years ago. Dammit. Fucking terrorists.

The CFO worked all day Saturday. The boys had themselves a big day out:

1. Appliance shopping with a one and a three year old was surprisingly easy. One played with the other (sample dialogue: “Watch this Daddy! Baby in a dryer!“) while I employed Jedi mind trick price negotiation tactics on the very, very old salesman. The force was strong in that one, but even so the new dishwasher arrives Thursday.

2. Grocery store cart racing is always fun — until it isn’t. The Jr. VP is at a stage where something can be the most fun thing in the world before a switch is flipped and it becomes terrifying. We flipped that switch several times while tearing-ass around the Thriftway with the lad hanging on to the front of the cart for his dear life. He screamed bloody murder a few times but no one looked at us twice, let alone ask us to shut up and/or leave. I wonder what you have to do to get kicked out of that grocery store? I know for a fact that if you show up drunk, kick a few twelve packs down the aisle, all while screaming in Spanish, they still politely serve you. No really, I am certain of it.

3. We got lunch at The Cheeseburger Store. This is how the lad refers to any fast food place selling burgers.

4. We took our lunch to the “old park”, the one close to the old HQ. Kids ate and played; Daddies ate and watched. And played. And drank. I have discovered the perfect park beer: Caldera IPA.

Unless someone is close to enough to actually read the label, there could be anything in that yellow can.

5. Then it was home for naps and football. If this last weekend was any sort of a guide, the CEO is in for a long season this year. I’ve come to accept that basically, if I like a sports team that team will not win. You’d think I’d at least learn to use that knowledge to improve my gambling results, but no such luck yet.

When the Jr VP asks you to play rough and you say “no”, it is very important to make sure that he doesn’t then conclude Hmm, if Daddy doesn’t want to play rough I bet the baby does!

A certain AK was not happy last night. He’d never had a bloody nose before and I think it frightened and confused him a bit. I was just happy it happened on the hardwood and not on the carpet.

No offense to the Chief Edumacator, but if I was a parent in Bellevue right now I would be royally pissed off:

BELLEVUE, Wash. - No school again Wednesday for 16,000 Bellevue School District students as teachers strike for a second day. Talks Monday and Tuesday failed to yield an agreement; the Bellevue teachers union and the school district return to the bargaining table Wednesday afternoon. The nearly 1,200 teachers union members are striking over issues of compensation, curriculum and benefits. While salaries vary depending on experience, the average Bellevue teacher earns $58,000. The district has offered a 1.5% raise the first year and a 1% raise the second. It’s important to note, this is on top of the state’s cost of living adjustment which in 2009 will be 5.1 percent.

If I was a high school student? During the teacher strike of 1992 my friends and I all went camping in Cle Elum for a few days during our unscheduled vacation. And we all somehow managed to make it home alive. Awesome.

Not awesome: cousin Chuckles was all geared up to start the first grade on Tuesday. His mom was geared up for it too, but no dice. Thanks Bellevue teacher’s union.

If the 2008 CEO could somehow travel back in time and converse with the 1987 CEO, that poor bastard of a 14 year old’s head might explode. Or, if he could find the the wherewithall to accept me and my red Japanese made time machine as actual reality, he could be completely and serenely happy like a Buddha. He’ll develop the belly later.

Scene: 14 year old CEO walking toward his house. Suddenly, flaming tire tracks appear on the pavement next to him and from out of nowhere a red Suby materializes, smoking and hissing, fresh from its journey through a rift in space/time.

CEO: Kick ass! 88 mph! That flux capacitor and the plutonium that the Ohio rep FedEx’ed me worked like a charm! 1987!! Whooo-Hooooo!!!!!

1987 CEO: What in the motherfuck just happened here? Where did that car come from? [removes Sony Walkman headphones from head; loud punk rock still audible] Who is that fat douchebag in the weird red car and why does he look oddly familiar? Why is he looking at me and smiling? That car is pretty damn sweet, but if he offers me candy and asks me to take a ride with him I am gonna kick that dude square in the nuts and then run.

CEO: Hey! You, in the Vans and the Gotcha shorts! C’mere!

1987 CEO: Uhh, no thanks. [takes step back, prepares to either run or kick some pervert ass as the situation warrants]

CEO: Whatever. Stay over there if you want — it’s all good. I’m you, here from the future. I just wanted to let you know that everything turns out OK, and that you should keep on doing whatever it is that you are doing.

1987 CEO: [internal monologue] I wonder if this guy is on PCP? [out loud] Awesome! Thanks future dude! I’m gonna get on home now I think!

CEO: Hold up, don’t leave — let’s catch up a bit. What are you listening to there, amigo? If I remember right it is probably Black Flag? or maybe the Dead Milkmen?

1987 CEO [thoroughly confused, in brain] Whoa. He couldn’t have heard that from my headphones yet I do have “Wasted Again” in the Walkman. What the hell is going on here? [out loud]. Uhh, Black Flag?

CEO: Awesome. Sorry I can’t say much more than this, as the rules are the rules after all. But I can tell you this: On August 28th, 2008, you will spend a good portion of your evening in the unfurnished living room of your beautiful Portland mansion, cranking the the exact same music you are listening to now, ‘dancing’ with your two boys. They will both laugh and laugh and laugh for several hours before falling dead asleep. Your lovely wife will be home soon. You will have rarely been happier.

1987 CEO: [stands there with mouth open for a while, slightly catatonic]

CEO: Well, gotta go. That 2006 Kentucky Derby is not going to bet on itself. You be cool, and be careful: remember, you’ve got, if not a bright future, at least a fun and interesting one. Hasta! [Red Suby peels out and disappears once 88 mph is hit 6.2 seconds later]

1987 CEO: I really need to stop sniffing glue.

Even though Kjel.org has been at the new HQ for a week and a half, we’re not really fully moved in yet. Mainly this is because I am a lazy bastard: once the move was about 80% done I threw up my hands and said I’m spent. This is bad, and unfair to the CFO, so I am going to make a public promise: by the end of Sunday I will have powered through a significant portion of the remaining move-related tasks. How’s that for a rock-solid commitment?

I blame my lethargy in part on Post Traumatic Stress Disorder:

Some number of weeks ago I suffered an accident. The incident in question resulted from a particular melange of factors: uneven ground outside of a beach rental home, a stairwell missing a railing that I was therefore unable to grab, and a heroic intake of cocktails by yours truly earlier that evening may even have played a role. Suffice to say, I took a nasty fall. I was able to shake off* the resulting concussion, sprains, and other injuries for the most part. The CEO’s thick skull can be a blessing in addition to a curse sometimes. What I didn’t do correctly though was to adequately clean up the injury on my ankle and over the course of the next few weeks I think it got infected. It is finally healing now but I still have an ugly looking owie about the size of a nickel on the outside of my left ankle. And the debillitating flashbacks.

And the Current Traumatic Stress:

Fast forward to last night. The CEO is giving the two lads a bath. The Intern is done, and is crawling around the bathroom while I work on his brother. The bathtub has no non-skid and is really pretty slippery, so when the Jr VP is standing to get washed I keep a hand on his side to make sure he stays vertical, while my other hand scrubs away with a soapy washcloth. The Intern sees an opportunity to strike while I am otherwise occupied. He picks up a bath toy resembling this little fellow

and proceeds to stab the hard plastic tail into a certain healing (had been healing, anyway) wound on my ankle. I screamed like a 10 year old girl at a Hannah Montana concert, all while trying to avoid having the Jr VP slip and trying to evade additional thrusts from the Intern’s improvised shiv. It was touch and go there for 10 seconds or so, but I got the Jr VP seated in the tub.You’ll do well in prison I told the AK as I picked him up and sentenced him to his crib. He’s lucky that the head warden (aka the CFO) disagreed with the solitary confinement and sprung him. The kid is only a year old I guess but still, he drew first blood, not me. Added to the list of rules at the HQ: No Stabbing Daddy. Gonna have flashbacks about this one too I think.

* Shaking off the concussion took a minute or two. I jumped up right after hitting the ground and but was not at all solid on my feet as I climbed up the stairs. Big thanks to JPink in NoPo for preventing an instant replay of the previous unpleasantness when I reached the top.

The Jr VP is sitting on the couch next to Daddy. Everything is calm. Not for long.

Jr VP: “Daddy, let’s play rough!”

CEO: “Huh,wha-”

Daddy’s ability for speech leaves him when the first flurry of blows land. Jr punches Daddy repeatedly, laughing like a maniac the whole time.

Jr VP: “Daddy! Daddy! We’re playing rough! Yay daddy”

CEO, able to speak again: Ow! Stop! Ooof! Ah! Don’t hit me or anyone else there ever again!

The lad stops his abuse and goes back to reading his book.

Jr VP: OK. Sorry Daddy!

CEO: Just don’t do it again. Dear God please don’t do it again.

Daddy unsteadily rises from the couch to get advil and some ice.

Last night I watched the Intern experience an emotion that I haven’t seen in him before: blinding white-hot soul-searing rage. It made me smile.

The boy had crawled up to our wine rack and reached in and grabbed one of the bottles. The door to the cabinet was latched closed from the inside, so the boy could grab a bottle but then not pull it out. This infuriated him. The Intern is generally a smiley, happy baby, so it was great to see something different from him: black hatred for that wine rack door. I am pretty sure now that the lad is not blessed with pyrokinesis, or else that rack would have certainly burst into flames already. I was also happy (and a little bit sad) that the rage didn’t turn him into a small Incredible Hulk and he didn’t just rip the offending door off the rack and break it over his knee. Oh well, I’m sure he’s got something going for him, we’ll just have to figure out what.

When it finally happened the deal went down quick. There were offers and counter-offers; the CEO was required to rapidly research certain aspects of tax law and then do a few back of the envelope (back of my left hand with a sharpie, actually) time value of money calculations and what not. Turns out it all made sense. Kjel.org accepted an offer to sell the current HQ this last Friday. Not the price we wanted, but in this market we are happy to get it done at all. It looks like my plans for faking my own death were perhaps a wee bit premature, but I won’t actually exhale until the closing documents are signed. And I get paid.

Why am I praising the 21st century (and Jebus)? : I did the majority of the above negotiations while standing ankle deep in Lake Chelan helping a certain three year old build an annex to the giant sand castle we’d constructed earlier that day. “Daddy, more mud!” Ring! “Sorry Stinkboy, gotta take this.” Hello? Hmm. Okay. Tell them no on #1, no on #2, and yes on #3. When they come back we’ll bend on #2 if need be but not on #1. “Where was I? Oh yeah: Stinky, here comes the mud!!”

Not much later I was knee deep in the lake chasing ducks with the Jr VP when I had to actually yell “sounds good — do it!” into the phone: the other kids playing in the water were very loud and my people in Portland couldn’t hear me otherwise.

Years ago this sort of deal would have required six people around a conference table for several hours at least. The deal for me the other day? No table. Sun, water, sand castles, harrassed ducks, lime flavored alcoholic beverages, the prevention of drowning for certain small boys, and modern mobile phones. Advantage, 21st century.

The sale of the current HQ closes Aug 11 if everything is found to be in order. If anyone should contact you asking about the HQ or for details regarding certain members of Kjel.org you just say “no comment” and then call me. Gracias.

The CEO learned an important lesson last night: if you are going to serve up leftover General Tsao’s chicken to a three year old and call it dinner, it is extremely important that you remove every single chili pod from the good General’s delicacy. Daddy, fire emergency in my mouth!! I kept his milk glass full. The lad kept eating it and asked for more, so it couldn’t have been too bad.

Upon finishing our chicken we then tucked in to two big pieces of leftover birthday cake. A good dinner, but cheeseburgers and more cake tomorrow night will trump it I think. The CFO is in Arizona for a few days in case you didn’t know.

AC/DC onesie? Check. Camo shorts? Check. Useless baby shoes that makes him unable (or at least less likely) to cause injury when he kicks Daddy? Check.

“Look at me! I can stand! The world shall soon be mine!”

The only thing surprising to me about this story is that I’ve never done the same thing. It’s good that the CFO accompanies the Kjel.org boys whenever they travel:

Forgotten toddler found wandering Vancouver airport after family boards flight
VANCOUVER, British Columbia — A family left a 23-month-old boy in the Vancouver airport and learned he was missing only when contacted during the next leg of the trip. Jun Parreno, the boy’s father, told The Vancouver Sun the mix-up occurred Monday as he, his wife and two grandparents of the child, J.M., were scrambling between their arrival in Canada and a connecting flight to Winnipeg on Air Canada. Running late after having to unpack and repack all their luggage, “we had 10 minutes before boarding,” said Parreno, who was emigrating with his family from the Philippines. “We were running for the gate.” He said he thought his son was with the three other adults, who were running to the gate ahead of him, and they thought the little boy was with him.

I was reminded this afternoon that tomorrow is “Bring the Brood To The Factory Day” or some such nonsense. No biggie for the CEO, I thought, mine are too young and even if they weren’t I’m not bringing them in anyway. I gots me some work to do . . .

As I left work today I was informed that the dozen or so kids visiting the office tomorrow are going to go around and meet the managers in different departments to try to get a sense of what we all do. “Oh and by the way, have something ready for the children tomorrow — they’re coming to see you at around 10:30.” So, uh, these youngsters are like what ages again? “Looks like a range of 6 to 16.” Oh. I’ll do my best to make it quick.

What 6 year old doesn’t want to discuss the intersection of Federal trademark law with the retail domain name aftermarket? Or discuss fascinating developments in DNS and/or domain name related jurisprudence? Also, contract drafting strategies and compliance task force formations are interesting as all hell I’m sure, but even more so if you’re between ages 6 and 16. Don’t even get me started on the unalloyed joy of a nice technology license renegotiation. I’m not sure I could get that across to the kids so I hesitate to even try.

Anyway, 10:30 in my office tomorrow is going to consist of a one minute puppet show for the younger kids trying to explain what is a trademark, featuring diners eating at Baba Fresh in SW Portland and discussing why they are there in the first place (hint: the name had something to do with it), followed by a 90 second talk about if, why, and how my ownership and use of HannahMontanaIsHot.com could be problematic from a trademark point of view. The discussion will be strictly limited to considering the question from a trademark law standpoint. I think the kids will be glad to be done with my part of the manager talks. The smart ones, anyway.

Kjel.org has made an offer to purchase a house in the Garden Home area of Portland (SW 49th, property more or less abutting greenspace and then Woods Creek) and said offer was accepted. We had a professional home inspector tour the proposed facility last week and he prepared and submitted a report to the Organization. Fortunately nothing too earth-shattering was contained in that report, but we have amended our offer slightly because of it. It’ll be a cold day in hell before the CEO again lives in a house without a fully optimized central AC system. Get that fixed and we got ourselves a deal.

If you own property in town Portlandmaps.com is one of the most useful websites ever; use it to learn all kinds of interesting things about your neighbors and your neighborhood in general. A few days back I learned that a certain property owner lost a zoning battle with the city back in the 90’s, and is now stuck with several undevelopable lots that just so happen to sit between the new HQ and Woods Creek. Short of the City deciding to rescind the conservation district it has already formed and then decide to build some roads over a wetland, the woods behind the new HQ will never, ever be developed. City of Portland, I hereby apologize for any previous slights that may have appeared on this website. If you can keep that land next to the new HQ undeveloped you can change the name of the street where I work to FucktheCEO Parkway and I still won’t complain.

Trust me: as a former 11 year old boy, there is nothing better than having your own patch of attached ‘wilderness’ to explore and play in. The lads will get the area between our house and 45th. The CEO also plans to stock our little beat of Woods Creek with fish so that should be fun too. Our own private trout stream. As far as I can tell from looking at the topo maps Woods Creek starts at about the Castle Superstore, or possibly the Starbucks. Prime salmonid habitat I’m sure. Blinky, is that you?

A portable storage unit is being delivered to the current HQ on Friday. That’s when things are really going to get serious. I anticipate seeing parts of my garage that have gone unseen since 2004 or so. I’m hoping for no surprises. If anyone wants to come over for a little while on Saturday afternoon and help me move some of the heavy stuff, feel free. I can’t be held responsible for what you may or may not see however. And there is an outside chance that I might ask you to sign a non-disclosure agreement before the fact. Let’s just hope that we don’t find, er, anything weird. I’ll just leave it at that.

Overheard tonight at the (current) Kjel.org HQ while waiting for the CFO to get home:

Intern: [on ground, being sat on by Stinkboy] EEEEEE!!! Ahhhhhhhhh!!!! EEEEEAAAAAhhhhhhhhhh!!

CEO: [glances over at the pair, notices the AK’s predicament] Stinkboy! Get off your brother, you’re smashing him! Remember, be gentle — he’s just a baby!

Jr VP: [with a have you always been this stupid Daddy? look on his face, very calmly] But Daddy, I’m a Baby-Smasher.

I think that part of him fully expected me to respond with Oh, sorry to intrude. Go about your business then. Good day sir. He’s an official “Baby-Smasher” after all. Who am I to judge?

I judged; with some effort the lads were separated and no one ended up getting injured. It’s only a matter of time before a member of Kjel.org has one or more bones broken after that person is jumped on/trampled by/body slammed/hit with a bat/kicked/and-or pegged by rocks thrown by another Kjel.org member. I just hope that when it happens the CEO is not involved in any way.

More dialogue from today. Keep in mind that to an extent we try to limit the Jr. VP’s movie watching to times when the lad is extra stressed (like if a babysitter is at the HQ) or times when the CEO is extra stressed (such as when I have to watch the boys solo at the HQ for an extended period of time). Neither was the case this evening:

Jr VP: [3 boys in a car pulling out of the parking lot at ’school’] Do you like movies Daddy?

CEO: [Daddy preoccupied with trying to take a left on Vermont without killing the lot of us, not really listening] Sure, whatever.

Jr VP: [hoping to sell me with his enthusiasm] Great! You’re right Daddy! Let’s watch a movie when we get home! Yay Mr. Incredible!

I almost let him watch one just to reward his effort at strategery. I didn’t though — he’s got to actually out-strategerize the CEO before he gets to watch the random weeknight movie that I caught him angling for tonight. The over/under on Stinkboy actually succeeding with such a gambit is 5 and one half months. Smart money is on the under.

The CFO gets home tonight. I know three boys who are going to be quite pleased. And I hope my instructions to Stinkboy to just keep his big mouth shut about certain things have sunk in.

Alright, what the hell? At some point today I’d hoped to go outside and play with a certain couple of lads. However, despite the fact that it is less than 30 hours away from April 1st it is currently snowing hard (and sticking) at the Kjel.org HQ. Not enough snow to go out and play in mind you, but enough to keep us indoors. Damn you Al Gore! So many empty promises!

In other news three boys are still alive. One is presently asleep, one is on the internet and wondering what the hell to do about dinner, and the other is watching Mr. Incredible and Frozone battle a giant spider-robot. I hope the Jr. VP chooses something good for dinner; when this movie is over I am gonna be hungry.

Number of boys wearing PJ’s at the HQ right now? 3. Boys wearing matching PJ’s? 2. Boys wearing night-time diapers? Also 2. Number of boys presently, and, finally asleep? Again, 2. Boys sitting on the couch enjoying a Battlestar Galactica DVD, leftover pizza and a, shall we say, generous measure of single malt? Just 1. So far, so good.