It was a very good year.

Yes, once again, I'm celebrating a birthday. Overnight, I went from being in my mid-thirties to my late thirties. My brother just called and asked if I was aging gracefully. I think a more appropriate adverb is "clumsily" or "painfully", but I'll take it. Thirty-five was good to me. I was blessed with a son who will be 8 months tomorrow. I hope 36 is half as gratifying as 35.

This is what Frank Sinatra crooned about being 35:

When I was thirty-five

It was a very good year

It was a very good year for blue-blooded girls

Of independent means

We'd ride in limousines

Their chauffeurs would drive

When I was thirty-five

If you replace "blue-blooded girls of independent means" with "blue onesies with spit-up on the sleeve", and then replace "limousines" with "mini-vans", Frank and I are on the same wavelength.

Here's a link to last year's birthday post, which features my mother's account of my birth (she was there). FYI: Mom's chicken curry is also on the menu tonight. Any dish with with mayo as the main ingredient will always be special to me.

Last year's birthday post

This has to be it, right?

Many times in the past few months, we've theorized that our son is teething. So far, we've been wrong every time. His gums are as bare as the day he was born. Along the way, many people who've been through this child-rearing process have said to us, ominously "you'll know when he's teething... you'll know -- bwahahahahaha."

Late last week, the pediatrician said for the first time that he is, indeed, teething.

Now, there's more evidence that supports that.

The boy has developed a very loud scream, which I can only describe as blood-curdling. It's my brand new, least favorite sound in the world (overtaking the sound of metal flatware scraping against a terra cotta dinner plate).

Unfortunately for us, his puffy-eyed parents, he seems to enjoy the sound of his own terror and has gotten in the habit of doing it just for the sake of good theater. Each morning we wake up and approach his mouth, hoping to see a few new white caps popping up. None so far. It's sometimes difficult to get to his mouth while he's practicing his new horror scream (not unlike turning off a smoke alarm when it's been activated, or trying to move a lawn sprinkler without clamping the hose first).

Baby Orajel seems to be working. I hope he's actually teething, because I'd hate to think we're numbing his mouth for no other reason. Although I've experimented with this myself, for the sake of science, and have found that it's harder to scream when I have no feeling in my bottom lip. I'll keep you posted.

In other baby news, his first word is officially "up". He said it late last week, one day before he said "da-da" and meant it. Mama is still number one on his favorite people list, but "Dada" is much easier to pronounce.

Wondermutt

I just saw an interesting story on the Today show about how to tell what kind of breed your mutt is. Here's an article about it.

I followed the link and it turns out, the test is $71. Expenses are tight, so I'm not sure this is the wisest investment, but it would be good to know what kind of dog we have. The vet identifies Wrigley as a "hound". We've always thought she was corgi mixed with something else (maybe yellow lab). Is it worth $71 for an answer to the dog's question "Where did I come from?"

Drive-thru on the Horizon

As a man who is both equipped with Tivo and very handy with a remote, I rarely see commercials anymore. However, last night, something caught my eye that made me hit the reverse button very quickly and watch. As good as the Heroes finale was, this 30-second advertisement was the highlight of the evening for me.

It seems that KFC has a new product. From what I can gather, here's how it's done.

Take a small bucket
Layer of mashed potatoes (KFC mashed potatoes are quite good)
Layer of corn
Layer of fried, boneless chicken
Layer of country gravy
Layer of shredded cheese
Served with a buttermilk biscuit (and a diet coke, of course)

I know I've said this before, and I'll probably say it again, but sometimes I think that Colonel Sanders can read my mind.

Good Morning

Doolittle too late
Kind of a shocker on American Idol last night. Even though there is no evidence that she has a neck, I believe Melinda Doolittle was the best singer in the competition. But, as we know, that's not what it's about. I'm not a big fan of pop music, but I'm pretty sure Jordin Sparks has the potential to be one of those big pop stars. I would be shocked if Blake won. He's a good showman, but is clearly the worst singer to ever make it to the finals. If not for beat-boxing, he would have been voted out a month and a half ago.

Baby Latest
Our son is now 7 1/2 months old. He is babbling a lot and instead of "Mama", he says "A-ma". Instead of "Dada", he says "A-da". So you can probably guess that his first word is officially "Abba" (a Swedish Disco band). I'm not sure yet where he leans politically, but he's very close to saying "Obama".

Other TV thoughts
The Sopranos is winding down. This season started a little slow, but has been entertaining throughout. Now, it's really heating up and I expect the final 3 shows to be epic. If you've never watched the show, you have 7 seasons of DVD's to fill your time in the future.

Survivor is over. Like most people, we were rooting for Yau-man. Too bad he got screwed. I assume there will be another All-Stars season in the near future and Yau-man will be the first one chosen.

Heroes has one more episode. This show is tremendous and just keeps getting better. If you haven't watched this season (the first season), wait for July or August and buy it on DVD so you're ready for season two. The show is so fast-paced and satisfying, that it ruined Lost for us for awhile, although Lost has significantly picked it up over the past few weeks leading up to their own finale.

Lunch Lady

I switched it up a bit for lunch this week. Inspired by my wife's endorsement, I've been microwaving Panini sandwiches on a "revolutionary grilling tray".

The sandwiches are low in calories and delicious, and I'm not left feeling hungry all afternoon, for a change. Unfortunately, after I eat one, I have the overwhelming urge to go shopping for shoes and then watch Grey's Anatomy.

Yes, the brand name on these microwaveable miracles is "Lean Cuisine". It's a brand that is historically marketed to women. I'm not sure what to do about this. I once ate a "Luna" bar that my wife had bought, only to look down at the wrapper and read "nutrition for women". What? Was a simple granola bar going to raise my estrogen levels to dangerous heights?

Bottom line is, I like the paninis. However, I'm not sure I want to deal with the self-consciousness involved with microwaving it in front of others at work. They make it impossible to be discreet, since the cardboard box itself acts as the cooking platform. I've considered making a quick-switch and sliding a "Hungry Man" box under the grilling tray, but I'm not sure I want to go through all that.

The other day, I made stupid small talk with the woman using the microwave in front of me. It was brought on by my gender confusion. She happened to be cooking up a lean cuisine of her own.

"So, let me get this straight, you put the whole box in the microwave?" (clearly I knew this already, as I can read the box)

"Yes. Southwestern Chicken. They're good," she answered. (I'm sure she was doing a double take at this point to confirm she was, indeed, talking to a man).

"I figured I'd try it because my wife raves about them." (If you consider 'they're pretty good' to be a rave review)

I can't do this every day. I despise small talk. I could buy a microwave for my office to avoid the public scrutiny, but I'm not sure that's a wise investment.

Does anybody have any contacts in the Lean Cuisine marketing department? Maybe they can make a commercial aimed at men and run it during football games or something. I don't want to be the one to blur the gender line. I don't think I'd want my son to have a Barbie Dreamhouse, so I'm not sure how he'll feel about his father eating like a woman.

Insane Little Piggies

This little piggy went to market,
This little piggy stayed home.
This little piggy had roast beef,
This little piggy had none.
This little piggy went wee, wee, wee, wee, wee,
All the way home.

This is a rhyme I’ve known all of my life. I don’t remember when I first heard it, but I'm pretty sure I was barefoot at the time.

Now, my wife is sharing the same rhyme with our son.

As a youth, I accepted the words as truth, and never really broke them down for analysis. As a father, I think it’s wise to take a close look at the things my son hears.

This little piggy went to market,
This little piggy stayed home.

A piggy went to a market. That could certainly happen. I was just at a market yesterday, and I saw countless brands and cuts of bacon and other pork products. The rhyme is presented in a way where it sounds like the first little piggy (or the big toe) got the better deal, while the second piggy, who stayed home, got the short end of the stick. Based on my experience, I would think that a pig would be happy to stay home if the alternative was going to the market.

This little piggy had roast beef,
This little piggy had none.

Here’s where this composition gets weird in a hurry. What kind of pig eats roast beef?

I perused the internet, and here’s what I found (courtesy of the Alberta Pork Congress):

“For the first 3 to 4 weeks of life, piglets get milk from the sow. Then they are weaned, and for the rest of their life, pigs mostly eat cereal grains, such as corn, barley and soybean meal."

There is no mention of beef here. It goes on to say this:

"Wild pigs eat fungi, roots, tubers, bulbs, fruit, snails, earthworms, reptiles, eggs, young birds, small rodents and carrion."

That last bit supports the rhyme's premise that pigs can be carnivores. However, I don't think the pigs featured in the rhyme are wild. Wild pigs would be even less likely to shop in a market. Also, it is mentioned twice in the poem that these pigs have a home.

I could understand the "roast beef" part a little better if it was used out of necessity to rhyme with something like "toast thief" or "coastal reef". Not so. In this rhyme, "roast beef" comes out of nowhere. Any phrase could have been inserted, while still maintaining the beat and the flow of the nursery rhyme.

For example:

This little piggy went to market,
This little piggy stayed home.
This little piggy had chips and salsa,
This little piggy had none.
This little piggy went wee, wee, wee, wee, wee,
All the way home.

I've convinced myself that I need to speak to Mrs. Undaground about this. In our family, the third line of this famous rhyme will be different. I don't want our boy growing up thinking that on the food chain, pigs eat cows. That's ludicrous.

This little piggy went wee, wee, wee, wee, wee,
All the way home.

This fifth and final pig, the pinky toe, is clearly suffering mental anguish from the whole ordeal. Two of his closest pals, family members, sty mates (whatever they are) have gone berserk. One is pushing a shopping cart and the other is eating red meat (clearly a no-no among domestic pigs).

Any suggestions on how to make this poem more suitable for my son? We will consider any and all rewrites.

Guest Column from THE UNDAGROUND MOM

The long-awaited return of the Undaground Mom is here! For those of you who check this site every day, sifting through the usual drivel and waiting for the occasional gold coin, here it is. As usual, her prose will be presented in her very own font and text color (verdana and blue #2).

"Blue #2", incidentally, is also what a Smurf makes after eating Indian food.

Take it away, Undaground Mom:

It’s the little things in life.

Happiness: Using the ladies room early at work. I am delighted when I enter a stall and find the toilet seat up. This would annoy me at home because it would indicate a lazy male is nearby. At work, the same discovery assures me the bathroom has been recently cleaned and I am the first user. There will be no contact with any surface, I will flush with my foot as usual, but the fact remains that Lysol was recently involved.

Skepticism: Entering the stall in the morning and finding the toilet seat up. What if the cleaning crew had neared the end of their shift and needed to take some shortcuts? What if they just scurried around the building and lifted all the seats and chuckled all the way home as they replayed the deception in their heads?

Unnatural fear: A dryer fire. I will not leave the dryer on when I leave the house. This may be normal not unnatural, but I’ve never asked anyone their thoughts on this subject. To those I know and love – please, please check your lint screens after every load and only run the dryer when you’re nearby.

Disappointment: I wonder why I look forward - with great anticipation - to checking the mailbox every day. I feel like a kid expecting a birthday card from grandma that has a loving note written in a shaky hand and $5 enclosed. Instead, I walk back to the house with a handful of bills, political pleas, some stupid envelope with a big green thumb on it and (on a good day) a Costco flyer. Who do I think is going to actually write and mail me a letter? I use email and I’m out of stamps so it’s not as if I’m waiting for a response to some letter I’ve sent. Still, I’ll go home again today hoping the mailman has been there already and eagerly grab whatever he leaves me.

Discovering new tastes: I have been eating Bing Cherry preserves for several years but it just isn’t the best mate for peanut butter. Bing stands on it’s own and is best enjoyed as the solo topping on toast or a bagel. Grape jelly seems childish to me. Strawberry preserves are a step up from grape but once in a while you bite into a little seed not quite small enough to go undetected. This interference is more prevalent in raspberry jam. I run the risk of teeth staining with blueberry. So, after an exhausting search – my new favorite pal of peanut butter – PINEAPPLE!

Living on the edge: When I’m 3 houses down from my driveway, I unbuckle my seatbelt.

Secrets: Secrets make you sick so here goes mine. Sometimes, around 2 in the morning I hear a lapping sound. I open my eyes just a little and see my cat drinking out of my water glass on my nightstand. I wake up parched between 4 and 4:30 and take a sip anyway. Now that it’s out I realize it’s not the secret that makes me sick, it’s the thought of the cat’s backwash.

Dreams: I started buying lottery tickets on Fridays. It’s been 3 weeks since I started. I am convinced I will win. I wouldn’t buy a ticket if I thought any differently. As soon as I come out of the Friendly Food Mart with the ticket, my brain gets busy with the litany of my charitable works and earthly desires. By the time the numbers are picked, I have decided once again that I will quit my job and not sell my house to replace it with a mansion. I won’t announce my windfall right away. I’ll invest wisely and not make any hasty decisions. I promise my Maker I will be humble and generous. I’m not sure why this hasn’t happened yet so I’m prepared with my end of the week request, “Five quick picks for the Mega-million please.”

How about you? What little thing in life is worth noting?