Dear Kid,

You’d best sit down for the News of The Day.

Yesterday, Dad dented the new car with his butt. Inevitably, this caused Pi to discuss Buns of Steel in great detail (and much hilarity).

Apparently, Dad used his posterior to close the car door, and somehow his muscularity cause such force as to dent the Imprezza.

I don’t know how one non-hulk-like human can butt-close a door and leave a dent. I wonder if a butt-dent would be admissible in court (the way fingerprints are)….

In other news, he also broke my iron yesterday. It’s not like the iron gets a lot of use in our house, but I’ve had it longer than I’ve had Dad, so it was a little sad.

In other breakage news from yesterday, Pi’s phone turned on but refused to light up the screen. Since actually being able to see the screen is important for sending and receiving communication, she didn’t think this was such a fab idea.

I will spare you the details of failed cell phone resuscitation (you’re welcome) and skip right to the “we went for new phones today.”

Replacing our phones mostly wasn’t voluntary. Cincinnati Bell decided they no longer wish to be in the cell phone business. So we knew we were going to have to switch carriers, but hadn’t planned to do it quite yet.

Pi and I drove up to the Verizon store, walked in, and were greeted with “Hi Pi.” It was the general manager, and he didn’t call her Pi, but he did greet her by name. The general manager of that location is the father of a football teammate and proudly introduced Pi to our sales dude as “our kicker.” Being “our kicker” gets you pretty darn good treatment. Still doesn’t make buying new phones phun.

Several years later, we walked out with enough to technology to compute pretty much everything we might ever want—and even the ability to phone home. Dad is displeased with the cell case we chose for him and has gone back to See About Alternatives (my money says he’ll come back with exactly what we got him).

I still can’t believe he dented the car door with his butt.

Hope you’re having a good Saturday.

Love, Mom

Dear Kid,

For the record, the Verizon store is not a fab place to try to write a blog. Partly because I’m keeping an ear open for a Helpful Person, partly because the music is bass-heavy and I’m old, partly because I find decisions that will impact life for two years somewhat stressful, partly because phone stores are fairly boring places, and partly because I don’t have an actual topic to write about today.

Then again, Jerry Seinfeld created an entire TV series about nothing, so one blog shouldn’t be that surprising.

In fact, that’s what I generally do—spin nothing into something.

Duh.

I’ve been thinking about the expression “duh” as in “what else could I possibly mean by that” or “you’re just figuring that out now?”

Once Upon a Time, I read the Jungle Book to you (the original Rudyard Kipling version not the Disney version [which I love but is not what I’m talking about at the moment]). I’m reasonably sure you remember most of the story. I’m also reasonably sure that you don’t remember the poems at the start and end of each chapter.

When I was growing up, Grandpa often quoted part of Kaa’s Hunting at me (and yes, I do mean at me).

If ye find that the bullock can toss you, or the heavy-browed Sambhur can gore;
Ye need not stop work to inform us: we knew it ten seasons before.

(Full poem below for your reading pleasure.)

Once I was sufficiently familiar with the lines, he didn’t even have to quote the whole thing. Yeah, Dad. Got it. It was quite a nice way of him saying “duh.” Actually, it was a really nice way of saying “duh” especially since “duh” hadn’t been invented back then.

Eventually, Brandon the Helpful Verizon Person got around to making himself helpful in my general direction. We discussed plans, we discussed pricing, we discussed how funny I am.

And I made no decisions.

Duh.

Love, Mom

Kaa’s Hunting by Rudyard Kipling

His spots are the joy of the Leopard: his horns are the Buffalo’s pride.
Be clean, for the strength of the hunter is known by the gloss of his hide.
If ye find that the bullock can toss you, or the heavy-browed Sambhur can gore;
Ye need not stop work to inform us: we knew it ten seasons before.
Oppress not the cubs of the stranger, but hail them as Sister and Brother,
For though they are little and fubsy, it may be the Bear is their mother.
‘There is none like to me!’ says the Cub in the pride of his earliest kill;
But the jungle is large and the Cub he is small. Let him think and be still.