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The latest Penny Arcade made me roar. It’s semblance to reality is uncanny. The mess of wires that run behind my television form a maze of incredible proportions. Only the Matrix itself rivals it in its complexity.

It didn’t start that way. At one point, there was a simple TV. There were no video ins, no video outs. The VCR, a most complex addition in its day, began the cycle. Game consoles, DVD players, a new TV, and a surround sound system later all hope is lost. The last time we had our carpet replaced it took me hours to set up. It’s a jungle in there. Little electronic monkeys swing to and fro on the cables that connect this to that. There are only 5 consoles hooked to my television. You’d think it would all be better organized.

In truth, my cable traffic jam is a badge of honor. Every device within 3 feet of my television can be activated by following a couple of easy steps, most controlled by a handy universal remote. And the remote glows blue. You just can’t help but be impressed.

Still the comic rings true. Let’s use the example in the comic and judge its merit:

If you were to play Mario Party at my house – besides the fact that you would have to stop by Best Buy or Blockbuster and pick up a copy – here’s the steps you’d have to take:

1. Turn on the TV.
2. Put the TV on video.
3. Turn on the Receiver.
4. Put the receiver on Video 1.
5. Put the console switch box (that would be the first console switch box, found on the left above the receiver) on Input 1.
6. Turn on the GameCube.
7. Insert disc.
8. I’d suggest the WaveBird controller. The fact that it is wireless is just cool. Don’t forget to turn it on.

See? Simple.

I can assure you all that these steps make perfect sense. Men, particularly men with a geekly slant, will nod knowingly. Most women roll their eyes. You do what?

My setup leads to confusion when I leave my wife alone with the TV (though, I must admit I’ve never seen a woman more able to work a remote – you work it girl). It creates anarchy for babysitters of the grandparent variety. You want to watch a DVD? All you need to do is put the TV on video. Power up the receiver and select the DVD input. Now open the second cabinet on the left and turn on the Xbox within. Load the DVD on its tray and you are off. Keep in mind that every device can be controlled with the remote, except the Xbox power. For that you need to hit the button on the big black box. Oh, and only the volume of the receiver will work with DVDs. I’ll be back in a couple of hours.

The last time we came home we found the grandparents right where we expected them to be: watching TV upstairs. It’s the one TV in the house that has only a single remote. What’s the fun in that?

Astute observers – astute in the sense that they can tell the difference between April and May – may have noticed that my blogging has dried up more than a little over the past couple of weeks. The days have been flying by as of late and, while I’ve found the time to keep up on my favorite blog sites, I’ve haven’t had time to update my own. You see, I’ve been spending a large portion of those last two weeks at a location you can rarely find me blogging: work.

It’s not that I haven’t had thoughts. They occur on occasion. Some of them even include subjects outside of HttpServletRequests and “why the hell isn’t this working now”. It’s just that when you arrive at home at midnight, all you really want to do is sleep. And play NBA Street Vol. 2. You have to play some Street.

Lately I arrive home well after the house is asleep. The wife has retired for the night. I normally find her in bed and remind her I’m still around. Yesterday, I found her on the floor of the baby’s bedroom murmuring something about teething. It seems that working late isn’t hard on only one of us anymore.

Cam runs off to grandmom’s before I wake and is well asleep before I arrive home. Spending the week essentially without him has been a bit tough. He’s at that tender age where he changes at a incredible rate. Blink your eyes and he’s different. Spend a week at work and he’s all grown up now. Remember me? I’m daddy.

The whole overtime episode sadly reminds me of Hawaii, my location the last time I put in this much overtime. I imagine that there’s a ocean just miles away (both down and off to the side) that eludes me from behind the walls of my cubicle. If only I had the time to sightsee.

Now that things have settled down a little bit, I’m looking forward to seeing more of the sunlight and more of my son. I even hope to visit my own blog site a little more often. I can’t make any promises, though. A busy workday always seems to lie ahead.

Two weeks ago, I took a day off work and went to the zoo. I had the time coming – a couple of late nights meant my storage closet was full of unused overtime hours – and the forecast was beautiful. It couldn’t have been an easier decision.

The trip itself was notable for a couple of reasons. For one, it was the first real family outing of the new Woottons. Second, it was shared by not one family but two. Two close friends of ours and their lovely child accompanied the wife and I. I don’t think I’d be incorrect in saying that fun was had by all, children and adults alike.

My early morning found me navigating the twists and turns of downtown Baltimore, rather than the dusty haze of I-95. What greeted us was a parking lot simply bubbling over with minivans. Strollers lined the walkways as anxious parent after parent awaited their turn at the ticket counter. Our wait, while reasonably long, was pain free. There’s something about good company and the fact that I wasn’t sitting behind a desk that can make a wait tolerable, even pleasant, especially when accompanied by the morning sun.

I’m happy to report that our little tike was a little angel. He started his visit with hunger in his eyes and, after a little incident where we realized his nipple was clogged, he turned his focus from the tigers we passed to the bottle in his mouth. He soon settled down for a nap. A nap that lasted the entire length of our visit.

Their tike was similarly well-behaved. She, being about a year older than Cambell, was happy to take in the sights and sounds. Those right there are birdies. That’s a prairie dog. Go ahead and pet the goat. You know you want to.

It was great just to get out – both out of the house and out with friends that we’re always happy to spend time with. It certainly marks a transition. They were our couple friends. Now they are friends of the family. Heck, they are part of our family. Come on kids. You are coming with us.

Today is my birthday. I know, yea me. One more year has passed.
Your kind wishes about my fading vitality are very much appreciated.

The idea of mortality won’t be breached today. It’s not that I don’t occasionally think about it, it’s just that, why bother do so? The inevitable is something we can’t escape and time is short. I’ve got better things to do.

I’d rather leave philisophical wrestling matches to things that amuse me. Today, I’m 71. I may not look it – thank you very much – but I am. I have a goal of 100 and I’m working my way back from there. Countdowns seem like a much more cheery subject than getting older. They bring to mind images of the space shuttle or Wile E. with some TNT – subjects that are much more appealing than say Metamucil and Depends undergarments.

Counting up is fraught with uncertainty. When do you stop? Counting down feels natural. It’s sort of like playing 99 bottles of beer on the wall except that a gravestone waits at the end of the long, song-filled journey home. And I’m not starting at 99.

Sleep is something you take for granted until you have children. It’s not like you don’t know you take it for granted; horror stories lurk behind every parent’s corner. It’s just that you don’t really think about it. Why should you? A good night’s sleep does wonders to clear up the haziness.

You don’t realize how much you appreciate a good night’s sleep until it’s a rare occurence. To a new parent, a good night’s slumber can feel like a distant memory. It’s something you used to have, like training wheels or recess. You’re a big boy now. Sleep is for the kiddies.

My personal sleep schedule has changed quite a bit. I’ve been in the “stay up late, get up early” camp for a long while. College only solidified the habit. Parenthood has made my schedule a bit more honest. Late has transitioned to midnight, not 3 am (heavens, that’s almost time to wake up). I often find myself up several times a night for a quick bathroom visit and a Cambell check. He’s breathing. Shew.

Early now has new meaning. I knew life had changed when I woke one Saturday morning at 6:30 am. I was thrilled! I got to sleep in.

To be honest, we’ve had little to complain about. When he was very young he ate about every three hours, day or night. After a couple of weeks, he transitioned to a better schedule, upping the ante to every four hours and then to just a morning 4 am meal. Some nights were better. Some nights were worse.

Lately, sleep has come in more regular intervals. Ten hours is now more the norm than the exception. Occasionally, he’ll wake and take a bottle in the very early morning but most of the time, mom and dad get a little time to ourselves and a little shut-eye too. These little early morning episodes remind us of our blessings and keep us prepared for teething – something that is just around the corner. We never forget how fragile a little extra sleep can be.

Just tonight, the wife spent some time in Cambell’s dark room packing his bag for the next day. Cambell was down for the night, sleeping quietly in the bed beside her. Something woke him, causing him to stir and look up at her. The wife, in a fit of sleep desperation, ducked beneath the crib and slinked silently from the room. Someday he’ll approach me about the little monsters hiding in the corners of his bedroom. I’ll have to explain that it’s just his mom. She doesn’t bite. Much.

Oddly enough, one of my first chores of the spring is to throw away something that I may have trouble convincing the trash man to take. That’s right. I need to throw away our trash can. Take our garbage and, while you are at it, please take the container too.

If that were my only chore. As the snows of winter melt into the past, they seem to reveal a myriad of things that must get done around the house, both inside and out. That right there could use some repair. Could we touch that up a bit? The washing machine is making a funny noise. The list seems to go on and on.

Here’s some of the big tasks and purchases on my way in the next few months.

Grow Some Grass

Our yard has a myriad of problems. Unfortunately, it doesn’t seem that paving it over is a realistic option so I’ve decided to go with plan two. The side yard has some holes that need filling. The front yard has a giant bare spot where a pine tree stood before tumbling onto our home. The yard as a whole could use some weed killer and some patching. To top it off, our mower no longer wants to go backwards. I always thought that grass just grew, you only had to wait. I was only partially right.

Light up my Life

Both front lights sit in the dark, their bulbs long blown out. I’d swear that they only last a week but swearing doesn’t seem to get me anywhere. Looking at the big picture, it hardly matters. We’ve purchased a new light for the front of the house I’ve yet to install. The voltage/continuity tester we purchased last week has rid me of my last excuse.

The people who delivered our beautiful new armoire took it upon themselves to decorate the light pole in our front yard with their truck. Depending on the wind, it now sits at an odd 45 degree angle and waits for its replacement. We now must get an estimate of the damage. Thankfully, that is one task I don’t have to worry about.

Cling, Clang

I wasn’t joking. The washer is making a funny noise. Perhaps a sock has discovered it cannot escape and has begun to wail in frustration. The real problem is that some folks (meaning my wife) seem to think that the washer and dryer come as a set. I’d resist but the dryer never seemed to work properly anyway and well, resistance hasn’t gotten me much in the past.

Paint by Room Numbers

The walls of the bedroom could use something to hang over their fresh paint. The walls of the living room, dining room, and basement need to be touched up. The kitchen walls are about to feel the wrath of my wife, who is finally sick of diarrhea yellow.

Draw those Curtains

The curtains in the bedroom need to be replaced. They are too sheer and I’m tired of entertaining the neighborhood. Something has to be done about the computer room curtains as well. They block too much of the sun – something I don’t get enough of anyway. And I haven’t even mentioned the living room curtains. I never liked them anyway.

Sadly, I’m sure I’ve missed all sorts of stuff. The warm weather on the horizon can be a bit of a mixed blessing on the home front.

In fact, just the other day I was walking through the yard early in the morning. A warm breeze greeted my bare legs. Dew glanced upon my toes through the slits of my sandles. I looked down and thought, “Crap, I need to mow.”

The other day John Scalzi used his Whatever column to ask his readers what is happening over there in Iraq. More specifically, he asks is it a war and muses that Iraq could be only a single campaign in a larger war.

If this is the case, he wants to know why the current administration doesn’t tell us more about it. Is it being patronizing? Does it really know what it is doing? This led me to chime in.

His response, of which only an excerpt is provided below, makes a very good point.

Certainly the citizenry’s ability to debate what may or may not be next is something our government and constitution hold in high regard. It’s something we undoubtedly want but when can we be allowed do this? When should we be privy to the plans of our government?

In times of war, I don’t know if the answer is as obvious as I wish it was. I want to know it all. I’d like the scholars to chime in with their opinions so I can better form my own. What I don’t want is Syria to realize that they will be served for dessert.

Further complicating matters, the current administration hasn’t really had the chance or inclination to debate its current position and plans. Some of reason is timing; we didn’t schedule Sept. 11. Some of it was the necessity of swift action. Much of it, I fear, is that when the voting booth seems so very far away, well, what’s the rush?

I should note that, to this point, I don’t believe I have a whole lot to complain about. Whatever your qualms about the politics behind our current situation, the military actions of our government seem just, even logical. We knew Iraq was on the hot seat. We had plenty of advanced notice. It’s just that there’s something about having the choice to pull that lever that gives me a warm fuzzy.

The mystery of our future may lead to a type of preminition politics. If I were a protester today, I’d get my ass up off the street and start preparing my views on the possible wars of tomorrow. Your chance to debate the war on Iraq is long past. Don’t want us heading to Iran? Fine, but your time to speak of it is now, not if or when the Bush adminstration points out their evils. Want to call the adminstration on their actions? You better get one step ahead.

Depending on your state of agreement with the current administration, this might sound like a harrowing proposition. Deal with it. It will be a while before the next election day. By then, I have a feeling we won’t be discussing Iraq. We’ll be discussing the economy.

The pictures of this war have settled deep into my memory. The images of this day are more hopeful than I could have expected. This day – the day that Bagdad fell.

Amid the celebration, the looting, and, not so very far away, the continued fighting I can’t help but notice the shoes. Iraqi men are shedding their footwear and slapping Saddam’s likeness with them. His picture meets the sole of one man. The head of his statue meets the soles of many.

This supreme insult is a welcome act of defiance to an oppressed people. Many images usher in this historic moment. The image above is definitely one of them. Somehow a simple shoe can be just as telling.

The Iraqi people will remember Saddam as a ruthless dictator. He was their oppressor – their personal devil. I’ll remember him as the man who was repeatedly hit with a shoe. He deserved it.

Information Minister Mohammed Saeed al-Sahaf is a funny little fellow. His statements would border on hilarious if they didn’t involve the slaughter of Americans. His outright denial of the obvious is shameful and a perfect indicator of a regime that’s on the way out. Really, who does he think he’s kidding?

I suppose he’s kidding the general populace of Iraq. Those folks who have spent their lives being force fed a load of crap from the television in the living room and radio on the mantle. Those folks who cower in their home as each bomb drops, hopeful or maybe even fearful that he’s telling them the truth.

I can’t help but liken him to a character of a Monty Python skit; denial of the obvious is a regular staple of their comedy.

Public appearances of Mr. Saeed al-Sahaf come off in a very similar manner.

Sometime soon a US soldier will tap him on the shoulder and, in no uncertain terms, let him know the ruse is up. Now that will be an interesting interview.

I’m astounded by the pace of the war. I have to say that I’m more than a little surprised that US tanks are already cruising through Bagdad.

I really thought we’d leave our ground troops in Kuwait for a month and pound Iraq into submission from the air. It certainly worked last time. I expected history to repeat itself. But that wasn’t and isn’t the plan.

Instead we’ve dashed into Iraq, overwhelming their military and meeting relatively small pockets of resistance in our rush to Bagdad. The army and marines are on duty and have been very busy for the past couple of weeks. I can’t argue with their success but I might argue that our mad rush may have put more US lives at risk than I originally thought necessary so early in the war.

To be fair, the circumstances are very different. The Iraqi military isn’t spread as thin now as it was in 1991. The bombing of the last two weeks can’t cut their supply lines as effectively as it did then, starving their troops of both food and ammunition. In 1991, many Iraqi soldiers were glad to see coalition forces. There was a chance that one of them had a hamburger. In 2003, we’ve found it more difficult to coax the fox from their hole.

This time around Shock and Awe replaced the need for a drawn out bombing campaign. It did its damage, both in the mind and body of the Iraqi army. However, I’m not convinced it can really match two months of constant barrage.

Still, there’s little to complain about. The press may be unhappy about the pace of the war. I am not.

Dennis Miller told Jay Leno that he’s never been more proud to be an American. I have to agree. Our troops are doing us proud. And it’s not just their recent success. Their selection of targets and concern for the innocent is unprecedented. Iraqi troops fire from sacred mosques. Our troops respond with patience and precision. They win battles on the field and gain victory through their mercy.

They travel the streets of Bagdad now. The easy part is over. Heaven help them. The war is far from won.