This may cost me some presents, but it needs to be reported: Santa is incompetent. Particularly so when it comes to contingency planning.

Yesterday, some miraculous combination of hydrodynamic forces combined in just the right way so that when I flushed the toilet, and the water was about to go down, a teaspoon full flew out and hit me in the shirt.

A few people caught me on the 6:00 news the other day. I finally had a chance to find the segent online, but it's the version from the 10:00, and I didn't make the cut for late-night. I didn't see it myself, but I've heard from a few who did.

In the case of lost luxuries, there are substitutes, and one learns to make do. For example, instead of movies, there are television shows with plots that have conflict and resolution all wrapped up in a tidy hour. Instead of exercise, there's getting winded from hauling toys up and down one's own staircase.

A few updates on my posts from earlier this week. First of all, the pics from the September tailgate and Halloween are up...

We started our Halloween morning with a trip to New Orleans. The main destination was the bug museum, but first, we made a stop by Café Degas. Who would want to go look at bugs without a belly full of jellied goose liver? In attendance were Mrs. theskinnyonbenny, Vanya, my two nephews Sam and Caleb, and my sister Sarah.

On Thursday of last week, I ran by the bank and put in a couple of deposits. It took forever, but by and by, I got my receipt and moved along. I eventually picked up Mrs. theskinnyonbenny, and we headed to the airport for a weekend trip to the Boston area. (More on that in a future post.)

Vanya really enjoys relaying messages between his parents. He will often do it even as we try to converse. His construct is to start with a question that asks if the listener knows what the other person said. Then, he repeats the person's name and what they said. So, for example, if I ask Mrs. theskinnyonbenny to turn down the television and she doesn't jump to it right away, he might get her attention and ask...

"She has two speeds: slow, and stopped." That's the quote that an ex-husband of a mutual friend said about Crystal. We've taken hold of that quote, and we repeat it regularly every time we have to wait for her to get ready to go somewhere.

Last night, we were sitting inside, listening to the rain, when there was a loud pop, followed by no power. Vanya had been running around wild, and every light in the house had been on, so the sudden dark and quiet was disconcerting.

If you go into Hemingway's Tobacco on Jefferson Highway on any given weekday afternoon, there are a group of old out of shape dudes, shooting the shit and smoking cigars. Despite the fact that they smell bad and have yellow teeth, I'm more than just a little envious of them. Sitting over source code while shooting the shit and drinking coffee in one's necktie just isn't the same.

A buddy of mine -- coincidentally one named Craig -- forwarded me a link to this Craigslist post.