Christmas Card 2008

I'm not sure who's reading this chronicle any more -- I know that I get about 100 "hits" each week, but that could be the same 15 people reading it each day.  (I doubt that...)  It's still enjoyable to write, so I'll keep it up.  And I promised to post the contents of this year's Christmas card -- see below.

I'm rather proud of getting the cards finished and out the door (mostly) on time -- this was Rachel's job in years past.  One difference is that she used to print them all on our printer at home to save a little money, and she would print a set of address labels from her Outlook account for the envelopes.  This year I composed the card at home and then sent it to FedEx/Kinko's, and a box of 150 of them were ready to pick up the next morning.  And I couldn't figure out how to do the labels, so I just printed out a listing of all the addresses marked "Xmas", and hand-addressed the envelopes as I watched that Thursday night Bears game against New Orleans, checking them off along the way.

I also went back through our saved stack of cards we'd received in previous years, to make sure I hadn't missed anyone.  There were a dozen or so addresses in Outlook that I suspected were outdated, so I conscientiously looked those up using other sources.  Somehow it seemed like an important thing to do.

As I did all of this I realized there were a few people on the list who probably hadn't heard the news about Rachel -- old friends, often living farther away, whom we just swap cards with each year.  Each of them got a short note from me, of course.  That's tough news to receive at Christmastime, I suppose, even from someone you've generally lost touch with.

So for those of you not on the Christmas card mailing list (old friends, new friends, curiousity seekers), here you go:

_______________________________________________

Yes, they really said it in 2008...

I went to my room twice without the lights on and I didn't think of monsters.

Is spontaneous human combustion possible?

If I was ever on Survivor I'd put a blanket in my pants.

You know, if we had 6 fingers we wouldn't have a middle finger.

Do my ears feel hot to you?

I already told you, I don't like people.

Can I use the giant pork fork?

Dad, why are you trying to spend “quality time” with us?

You can never have too many geckos.

Every night I tell all of my stuffed animals they’re the best.  Then I tell them don't go braggin’ about it.

I'd hate to be a plane and afraid of heights.

When I burp upside down it makes me barf.

If our shoes had a fight mine would totally win.

It sounds like something is cooking in my mouth.

I can make myself look stupider.

It's the “Pink Mouthguard of Shame”.

This would have made Mom really happy.

 

Despite everything this year, we still recognize and give thanks for our many blessings.

We hope you do, too.

Merry Christmas

Pat, Fiona, Conor, and Emmet Harrigan

 

Pat

Elvis Story #2: Namin' Nuts

When Elvis was coming up on a year old we got a call from the owner of his sire, "King Ralph". (That's the dog's name, not the owner.) Ralph was a big-time show dog -- one of the best vizslas in the country, a competitor at Westminster, etc. These folks were really into it, and they wanted to know if we'd be interested in showing Elvis. My reaction, obviously, was "Huh?"

I met them one evening at this dog training place in Libertyville, and they gave Elvis some practice runs around the ring. He looked really good, and I figured, "Why not?" So I took Elvis to a few classes at there, and practiced with him every night in the backyard or in the alley. I got a couple of "How To" books as well, since I really didn't know what I was doing.

At this point the kids were 6, 4, and 2, so it was pretty indulgent of Rachel to let me take on a new hobby. Our agreement was that I would only go to shows within an hour's drive, and that meant it was usually just a Saturday or Sunday morning committment. The other thing that made it possible is that vizslas require very little grooming; a long-haired dog like a golden retriever would have been impossible.

Our first show was in December of that year, at a high school in the south suburbs of Chicago (Palos-something). There were about 1200 dogs total, but only 20 or so vizslas. I brought Fiona along for company.

The interesting stuff started right in the parking lot -- it was full of RV's, with lots of Michigan, Iowa, Missouri, and Wisconsin license plates, in addition to Illinois. This was also just when the movie "Best in Show" came out, which has a lot of truth in it, as it turns out. (When Rach would call me at a show asking for a progress report I'd tell her I was "namin' nuts!") Inside there were rows and rows of tables where people were washing, drying, trimming, brushing, and polishing their dogs. Cages, crates, folding chairs, tackle boxes of grooming stuff -- it was quite a scene, and also reminded me of Dave Barry's quote, "There's a very fine line between 'hobby' and 'mental illness'".

We found the ring where we were supposed to be, I put on my numbered armband, and when our time came I trotted him around, let the judge examine him, had him come to a stop-and-pose (a "free stack"), and took him through whatever other paces the judge asked for. We left with a ribbon as the best male 12-18 month vizsla. This was repeated as he won "Best Dog", and finally he went in against all of the already-champion vizslas, including his own sire King Ralph -- and Elvis won! Best in Breed! He didn't go any further that day, losing in the "Sporting Dog" group, but it was still a thrill. Whatever skill I lacked as a handler he made up for as a specimen of the breed, apparently.

At that point I was hooked, and it was clear I'd have to keep doing these shows until he earned enough champion "points". It took about a dozen shows over 6 months, in glamorous locales like the Lake County or DuPage County Fairgrounds, but he "finished" as a champion. He never did go "Best of Breed" again, though -- he peaked early.

We only did one show after finishing, since we had other things to tend to, but the whole thing was still good, clean fun. And long ago I also stopped giving impromptu demonstrations -- the last time I did, with Elvis on his show leash and using my special "Dog Show Dorky Run", I nearly gave Evan a heart attack laughing...

Pat

Altar Serving

Last night's 5pm Mass was Conor's first turn as an altar server. He did very well, aided by big sister Fiona.

Fi has really enjoyed doing this for the past couple of years; if we're 10 minutes into a Mass and she sees that there's only one server, she'll leave the pew, head to the back to get robed-up, and jump in. It's easier for a kid to be a participant and not a spectator this way, rather than actually listening to the service and thinking/praying...

I never signed up for altar boy (just boys back then) training when I was young, but somehow got drafted into serving when I was a freshman in high school. We lived in Ashland, Ohio, and I started serving Masses with my brother Rob, who's a year older. We took pride in doing it well, moving in unison and being as unobtrusive as possible. The most fun was probably ringing the bells during the Elevation of the Host; I miss that sound during Mass, to this day.

During my sophomore year we were asked to do readings at the Good Friday (Tenebrae) service -- Rob and me, our friend Steve Moore, and a few adults. This was a bigger deal, of course, and we were in suits, not cassocks/surplices.

The traditional service varied a little from parish to parish, but it included a gradual darkening of the church, and the end of the service was marked by a loud noise, to symbolize the earthquake at Christ's death. (My father told me they used to drop stacks of heavy books from the choir loft in his church growing up.) Somehow we didn't get prepped on this, as we were focused on getting our parts right.

The readings went just fine.

So at the end all of us up on the altar were kneeling, facing the congregation, who were kneeling and praying in the darkened church as well. Someone from the high school band came from the back behind the altar, with a big pair of cymbals, stepping silently on the plush red carpet. Everyone was watching and anticipating, except for Steve, as the percussionist was right behind him, and therefore unknown. Until the tremendous "CRASH!" of the cymbals...

I've never seen anyone before or since jump so high in the air from a kneeling position. Poor Steve also let out a short but loud "AAAAH!" shout as he whipped around, and there were a few guffaws from the pews. He quickly settled and kneeled again, but the mood was really broken. I could hear people chuckling as they walked out -- "Well, Christ has died, and that kid on the altar almost joined Him!"

We moved a few months after that, so I don't know what Steve went on to do with his life. I hope he doesn't wake up too often in the middle of the night, in a cold sweat, with a crash of cymbals in his ears...

Pat

Harrigan Christmas Card Quotes

I don't know whose bright idea it was, but in 2000 or 2001 we started writing down all of the goofy things the kids said during the year, or their current obsessions, and our Christmas card showed the "Best Of".

This was a big hit, so we've continued it every year. This might be the last year, as they're getting older and less goofy -- we're down to very few Fiona quotes. But in the spirit of Christmas reminiscing, here's a compilation of all previous years except the first one or two, which I can't find. If anyone has them...

2002 Fiona (7yrs), Conor (5yrs), Emmet (3 yrs):

Jinx! * Sharks. * Let’s cuddle. * Stop copying me! * I’m a giant cicada! * Don’t ride on Elvis! * Look, it’s microscopic. * Fiona is the bestest sister! * Can we run around naked? * SpongeDaddy Squarepants. * Can Emmet sleep in my room? * Sharks, sharks and more sharks. * Mom, Elvis is eating my popcorn! * Let’s go to the requarium (aquarium) * More jackal aps, please (Apple Jacks) * Point and knee and one, two, three, four. * Wouldn’t it be weird if we didn’t have feet? * I just love you, love you, love you, love you!

2003 Fiona (8yrs), Conor (6yrs), Emmet (4yrs):

I win! * Isn't Elvis cute? * Stop copying me! * It is tomorrow yet? * Can chickens burp? * Yeah, the babysitter! * Elvis! * Get off of me! * Look, it’s microscopic. * Do I have school today? * Jinx, you owe me a soda! * Is this breakfast or dinner? * Mom, Conor's in my room! * Raise your hand if you love gravy! * When I grow up I want to be a shark. * Why can't I wear my pajamas to school? * I love squid. I even like the word squid. * That was the second best day of my life! * I just caught the biggest frog in the whole world! * I know why penguins waddle...they don't have any knees. * One-hundred pleases, may I please have some more candy?

2004 Fiona (9yrs), Conor (7yrs), Emmet (5yrs):

Jinx! * Wrangler! * Punch Buggy! * Daddy's home! * I caught 12 fish! * Can I get a snake? * I'm a frolicking penguin! * Can we have a babysitter? * When will it be tomorrow? * Does maybe mean yes or no? * I've been alive for 2,555 days! * Mom, the boys are in my room! * May I have more broccoli, please? * After I'm 5 will I be 7 in two days? * Do I have to wear underwear today? * Elvis is the best dog in the whole world. * I win, you lose, can't change it or say it! * My favorite things are sharks and romance. * When I grow up I want to be a scuba diver. * Rock climbing must be really hard for midgets. * Did you know that flying squirrels come out at night? * When Fiona is a mommy & you're in the retirement home...

2005 Fiona (10 yrs), Conor (8yrs), Emmet (6 yrs):

Watch this. * Conor bit me! * I love Sparkles. * Sushi, sushi, sushi. * I don’t want to move. * I lost a tooth at school! * Elvis! Come here boy! * Let’s go climb the tree! * Sparkles is on the roof!! * We're in the Cretaceous period! * Mom watch me … no that’s not it. * Look! Bank One has free chicken! * (No Emmet -- Bank One has free checking.) * I’m 6 now. I can make my own decisions. * Why don't they have blankets in restaurants? * Look! I made a meatloaf garage for my fork. * Once there was an old man older than mom... * Did you know that my hands and feet never go to sleep? * I can whistle, snap and cross my eyes all at the same time! * I love my new room. It’s like we never lived in that other house! * There are lots of things people can't stop - like tsunamis, volcanoes and tripping. * If you ate a whole gallon of wasabi, in the Antarctic, naked, would you be hot or cold?

2006 Fiona (11 yrs), Conor (9yrs), Emmet (7 yrs) :

I’m a gecko! * I’m a penguin! * Sparkley! Why? * I'm not stubborn! * Our family is so weird. * Elvis! Come here boy! * Can you afford it for me? * Daddy, put on your “eatin pants”! * When I hit my head I feel better. * Mom watch me … no that’s not it. * Daddy, you should sand your face. * Say “Apes Hate Grapes” three times fast. * I get the hiccups when I burp the ABC's. * When I want to relax, I just think about geckos. * I was so sick I even regurgitated buttered toast! * When my dad was probably in his 30's he had a job at Six Flags. * If you hold your breath and plug your nose you can breathe out your ears. * Everyone in our family has an obsession… mine is reptiles and amphibians , Fiona's is cats, Emmet's is penguins, Dad's is lightbulbs and Mom's is martinis.

2007 Fiona (12 yrs), Conor (10 yrs), Emmet (8 yrs) :

Elvis! * shocker * Just a second! * Can I play Gameboy? * Use your gecko voice! * You can't tame a moose! * Can I have a cell phone? * Let’s make ourselves dizzy. * Let's play the "fighting game". * I got dog slobber on my eyebrow. * Can I get a puppy for my birthday? * This was, literally, a dinner for an omnivore. * When it comes to cheese, anything can happen. * Let’s hang upside down until our faces turn red. * Ever notice how Sparkles acts like she's perfect? * I don't want to do any sport that requires wearing shoes. * While the bath is heating up I'm going to spin in circles. * If someone needs a kid with good penguin knowledge, I'm all over it.

Well, that was fun! I promise I'll post this year's later in the month.

Pat

One Comma

Thanksgiving might be my favorite holiday. There's a nice reason for its existence, no associated shopping season, minimal decoration, a great meal, and the opportunity to spend quality time with friends and family. People worry about joining you for a Christmas event, for fear of intruding; they'll happily come to Thanksgiving dinner. The only downside might be having to watch the Detroit Lions attempt to play football each year.

When Rach and I got married we had to negotiate the holiday schedule with the in-laws and local family; we claimed Thanksgiving, and hosted it every year until recently. We'd have 12-20 people over, often including friends who weren't traveling "back home". It was a great opportunity to be generous, and we got all of the leftovers.

The last few years we've traveled to Michigan for the holiday. Rachel's brother-in-law Rob has a family cottage on Lake Michigan, way up north in Pierport (near Manistee), and we get together with Kathy and Rob, Rachel's mom, neice Sheila and nephew Rob, and a rotating selection of sisters and cousins. It's called the "Villa Cecille", or "Villa" for short, and has been in Rob's family for 100 years or so. It's a fantastic place -- right on the lake, surrounded by woods, on a still-unpaved road. For groceries you have to drive to the IGA in either Bear Lake or Onekama.

The latter town's name is also an inside joke: it's pronounced "Oh-NECK-uh-ma", but apparently too many visitors have called it "One-comma" over the years. So you can get a t-shirt or hat in town that just has "1," on it. Pretty dry humor, I think, especially for northern Michigan.

The house has a low beamed ceiling, comfy old furniture, and a great view of the lake over the dunes. The Harrigans stay in the guest house, a converted garage 30 feet from the main house. The heart of the Villa is the hearth, a beautiful stone fireplace that provides most of the heat to the house. There's a fire going from 8am to midnight or later; the hearth never really cools down while we're there. We go through a lot of wood over Thanksgiving weekend.

As remote as Pierport is, I'm sure the beach isn't crowded in the summer -- but in the winter it's desolate. Every day I take Elvis for an hour-long walk on the beach, and don't see anyone else the whole time. Sometimes the wind is really blowing, though, and that cuts us short. The drab greys, browns, and greens, the sound of the waves, and nothing else -- it's great thinkin' time.

The kids love it there. In the morning they roll out of bed at the crack of whenever, put robes on and scuttle from the guest house to the Villa for breakfast. Pajamas are worn until the afternoon, and sometimes all day. Despite an initial warning each year the boys always manage to get their shoes and/or boots wet in the creek or the lake, limiting their clothing choices for a while. There's no internet connection, or even cell phone coverage. We don't watch much TV, either -- sometimes a movie at night, but indoors it's mostly reading, playing cards or board games, and doing jigsaw puzzles.

It occurred to me this year that doing jigsaw puzzles is the ultimate vacation activity: it's enjoyable while being absolutely useless. It's not educational (like reading), or good for you (like exercise), or even mentally stimulating (like many games). When you're doing a jigsaw puzzle you're reveling in true leisure time.

So we had a very nice Thanksgiving, thanks for asking -- generally happy, with a little sadness in the background. I've stopped expecting any drama from the "first ___ without Rachel", like her birthday, the return to Lake Geneva, Thanksgiving, etc. The kids are some combination of well-adjusted, well-supported, too busy to dwell, in denial -- I don't know, and I can't obsess over it. We'll just press on, together, enjoying the good things and dealing with everything else as it comes.

Pat

Business Ideas

I admire people who can start up a business -- a restaurant, a website, a clothing line, whatever. I'm too risk-averse and too "9-to-5" to make that happen.

I have my ideas, though. Here are a couple I've been mulling for a while -- comments and refinements welcome. Maybe one of these will be a big hit.

1. A new line of self-help books
(I've run this by a few people, with mixed reviews so far.) The two very successful self-help series over the last 10-15 years are the "for Dummies" and "Idiot's Guide" books, like "Microsoft Word for Dummies", "The Idiot's Guide to Chess", and so on. That's all well and good, but a key market segment has been left wanting: morons. If you're a dummy or an idiot you can get all the instruction you need, but if you're a moron? Nothing! The possibilities are endless: "A Moron's Book of Gardening", "Pay Your Taxes, You Moron", etc. And the beautiful thing is, you could charge whatever you want per book, since the people who'd buy it -- well, they're morons!

2. Health club equipment
People will avoid almost any form of exercise, and then happily do a simulated version at a health club. Walk or run a few blocks at home, or a mile or two? No way -- but let me at that gym treadmill! Take the stairs instead of the elevator at work? Nah, but I'll put in my time on the StairMaster. We'll hire someone to lift and carry stuff from the basement to the garage, and then lift and carry weights ourselves two days each week at LifeTime Fitness.

I'm designing a new gym machine around a 4-foot rod attached to a series of cables, pulleys, and weights, which simulates snow shoveling. Snow shoveling is a renowned strenuous exercise -- it's known for giving old men heart attacks -- but we avoid it at home at all costs. The "SnoMaster" could have a video screen showing you the length of sidewalk you have ahead of you, and the depth of the snow on the screen could vary based on the resistance level chosen. Nike and Reebok could make special SnoMaster gloves and hats to wear. Maybe boots, too. I can picture a whole row of people at the gym, listening to their iPods, wearing their gear, happily shoveling their way to fitness -- especially in warm places like Florida and Arizona, where there's no outdoor opportunity at all.

I'll let you know how these progress. And the "RakeMaster" is not too far behind.

Pat

Adaptations

It's been two months now since Rachel's passing, and a little over a month since I've been back at work. I'm taking care of the basics at home (food, clothing, and shelter) pretty well. Having dinner delivered every other night helps, as does the yardwork and dog-walking assistance. Meaghan's working out great for after-school care, and the every-other-week house cleaner does a good job.

I still think of some things as "Rachel's" (the Honda Pilot, the left-hand nightstand) and others as "ours" (the house, the place in Wisconsin). That's slowly changing -- I was bold enough to re-set the radio station buttons in the Pilot to my preferences, and to move my clothes into the bigger bedroom closet. Crazy, huh?

Making the kid's lunches in the morning is enjoyable, and not yet drudgery. I've made more sandwiches and used more Ziploc bags in the last month than I have in a long time. I also know who eats what, which I was oblivious to before.

I went to the parent-teacher conferences last week; in 8 years at St. A's I've only been once or twice before. I actually liked it, as the kids are all doing just fine in school (except for one bad math grade, from an unexpected source.)

One chore we used to fight about at home was laundry. Rachel was constantly doing laundry, and constantly complaining about constantly doing laundry, and mad at me for not pitching in. I would get mad at her when I did help, because we had no system, and I'd wind up folding a basket of dirty laundry, or re-washing a load that was already clean. As an engineer and naturally organized person it drove me nuts, and I can't count the number of times I offered to just take the whole thing over. She would never let me -- I'm not sure if she was afraid I'd screw it up, or that I wouldn't...

Now I make the kids bring their laundry baskets to the basement Monday and Thursday mornings before school, and sort their stuff into the white-dark-colors baskets. I start a load before leaving for work, and Meaghan keeps it moving when she comes in the afternoon. We fold on the counter downstairs and put everything back in the kids baskets, and make them take their own stuff back upstairs and put it away in their rooms. Was that really so hard?

There's often satisfaction in being an engineer, although I'm not sure I'd want my daughter to marry one...

Pat

Favorite Sayings

I've got a few favorite sayings that I use all the time. Some are from movies, some from TV shows, and some are just inside jokes among a few people.

Why do we quote movies and TV shows? Sometimes it's the right saying at the right time, and everyone understands and smiles. Other times it's already worn down to a cliche, and the listener groans at the lack of imagination. (Remember "Where's the beef?") I suppose it's generally a speaker's attempt to make a connection with the listener, which is usually (but not always) succesful.

A story many of you know is that Rachel quoted from "Caddyshack" when we first met, and I was duly impressed. Any quote from "Caddyshack" is OK by me, no matter how many times I've heard it -- I think the same goes for "Seinfeld" and "Austin Powers". Together that's a rich trove of sayings, to cover almost any occasion.

A couple others I use are inside jokes. I try not to grin too much, or expect the listener to get it, but I still use them for my own amusement. As I think about it that doesn't seem cruel to me, just a little odd.

So without further delay...

1. "Well, anyway..."
We had an engineering professor, Dr. Soo, whose English was just OK when he taught us for the first time. (It actually got pretty good, although heavily accented, and he was a pretty good instructor.) He started every lecture with the words "Well, anyway..", as if he had just stopped talking, instead of our last meeting being several days ago. This got picked up by us clever engineers right away, and we said "Well, anyway..." all the time. Somehow it stuck with me, and I still use this saying -- especially with my brother Ed, a fellow Dr. Soo student.

2. "Where will this madness end?"
In the episode of "Laverne and Shirley" when they moved from Milwaukee to California, Lenny and Squiggy came bursting into the apartment (they were great apartment bursters long before Cosmo Kramer). They were lamenting the girls' departure when one of them noticed the suitcases by the door. After these were explained Squiggy cried out "Their luggage is leaving too? Where will this madness end?" I normally leave the luggage reference out, and find this phrase is useful in all sorts of ironic ways.

3. "Haben sie kartoffelzuppe?"
A German friend of mine from years ago, Rudy, had befriended an American G.I. back home in Dusseldorf. This poor soldier had only learned a few phrases of German, and the only thing he could order in a restaurant was potato soup (kartoffelzuppe). If he sat down and asked for it and they didn't have it, he'd get up and go to a different restaurant. Rudy and I thought this was so funny that he and I used to use this as a greeting, with the response always being "Ja, ich habe kartoffelzuppe!" This one's a little harder to work into general conversation.

4. "Oh, the humanity!"
I'm not the only one who uses this quote from the radio broadcast of the Hindenburg disaster. It's saved for a minor pile-up of some kind, when you know everything's OK -- like a collision at a little kids' soccer game that briefly leaves a few players sprawled out.

5. "Whaddaya whaddaya?"
A New York expression with no specific meaning, as far as I know. I picked it up from Tom Wolfe's novel "Bonfire of the Vanities", and my college roommate and I used to use it as a telephone greeting, just for fun.

6. "Sentence enhancers"
In the SpongeBob episode "Sailor Mouth" SpongeBob and Patrick innocently start using profanity, or "sentence enhancers" as they call them. To quote Patrick: "You just sprinkle it on anything you say, and.. Wham-O! You've got yourself a spicy sentence sandwich!" I think "sentence enhancers" is my current favorite euphemism.

There are others, of course, but this is a nice sampling. I suppose a final reason for using these in conversation is that I always have something ready to say, instead of having to think of it on the spot.

So I've got that going for me. Which is nice.

Pat

Kid Conversations

Kids are naturally selfish, and one of a parent's jobs is to train them to be less so. Sharing with their brothers and sisters, not bullying (just because they can), doing nice things for others -- these are learned behaviors.

One order I give at home that's always ignored is "That's enough!" If Conor's telling a story at dinner that belittles Emmet, I give him a "That's enough!", but he seems physically unable to stop until the cruel point is made. Repeating the order, ever louder, has no effect. I haven't decided yet if I have to ramp up the consequences, or let them outgrow it (it's not just Conor). It's frazzling.

Another one: My kids are almost to the point where they don't automatically interrupt a conversation just because they've got something to say or ask. Almost. But I remember the early years well, when one of them (any of them) would interrupt with "Mom?" or "Dad?" regardless of who was already talking, and repeat this every 1-2 seconds until he was acknowledged: "Mom? Mom? Mom? Mom? Mom? Mom? Mom? Mom? Mom? " It was like a dental drill without anesthesia, especially at the end of a long day. I can find it a little amusing now when it's someone else's beloved child, but the memory still gives me a toothache.

Revenge can be had, though. Here's a conversation non-starter we've had a hundred times at home, and we'll have another hundred, since it never gets old -- at least not to me:

(Whichever Kid): "Dad, d'ya know what's weird?"
"Flying monkeys?"
"No!"
"What, you don't think flying monkeys are weird?"
"DA-AD!"

I get bonus points if Whichever Kid forgets what he/she was going to say in the first place, although there's a little guilt, too. But that fades well before the next opportunity...

Pat

The Murphys

My father is as big a dog lover as we are, so when the kids were about 6, 4, and 2 he got each of them a different stuffed animal dog. Fiona's was sort of a Bernese mountain dog, and she named it Tulip (since shortened to "Tullie"). Conor's was a beagle, which he loved since we had a real beagle at the time. He gave his the same name: Murphy. Emmet's was a golden retriever, dubbed "Ruffie". (Originality in pet naming was not our long suit, as our first fish "Bob" would attest.)

Conor lost Murphy one time while running errands with Rachel around town. He was distraught, and Rach quickly found and provided an almost-identical replacement. But a week or so later when they were on Central Street they walked by the north branch of the library, and there in the front window was a sad-looking stuffed beagle watching out for his owner: the original Murphy. He was reclaimed, and Con now had a set of dogs, the Murphys.

One punishment Rachel would use with Conor when needed was to take the Murphys away for a while, sort of a beagle-free time out. Wherever she put them, though, as soon as Rach was distracted Conor would find and recover them, regardless of the consequences. One place he'd never look was the oven, so she started using that as the Murphy time-out box.

When pre-heating the oven one night for dinner (you can guess where this is going) there was an odd smell in the kitchen, and then some smoke: the Murphys had been forgotten about, until almost too late. They were singed all over, and had grill marks across them from the oven grate. With some delicate trimming and a good washing they were cleaned up pretty well, but retained their oven scars as badges of honor.

I don't remember how/when the third Murphy joined us, but it was years ago. He's a little smaller, therefore "Junior Murphy". And he's never been lost on Central Street, or cooked in the oven, so I suspect the other two still look down on him a little. ("Wimp!") All three are showing the typical signs of stuffed animal wear and tear, but are holding up pretty well.

The kids are pretty good with "alone time", usually reading or playing some computer game. None of them needs to be constantly entertained or engaged. But Conor's never really alone, as his pack of beagles is always close by.

Pat

Office Move

As part of a major reorganization at work I just moved my office. It's still in the same building, but I had to pitch what I didn't need anymore, box up everything else, and then unpack and arrange the new place. (Same size, roughly the same layout.)

While unpacking I noticed I had all of the usual office stuff, but I'd also accumulated an interesting assortment of decorations, mementos, knickknacks, tools, toys, etc. over the past 20 years. Here's most everything, in no particular order, with apologies to Umberto Eco:

• Bank deposit slips and envelopes


• Teflon tape


• Wall hook shaped like a finger


• Baseballs (3, with one signed by my old department)


• Old magnetic door name plates (4)


• Multi-vitamins, aspirin, ibuprofen, eye drops, comb, band aids, contact lens case


• Small hand lotion bottles from hotels (5)


• A variety of business card holders. A metal one is engraved with my name and the saying "ZAPP!", and the desktop holder has an engraved brass plate with "JUST REMEMBER, TEMA IS THE ONLY PRODUCT!"


• Lava lamp


• Mensa "Puzzle of the day" calendar


• A collection of pocket protectors, plastic templates for drawing chemical processing vessels, and a slide rule. Really.


• A porcelain "saddle ring" from a distillation column


• A small vial with several blue glass chips in it, labeled "from g.l. portable agitator shaft 5/24/90 PJH"


• French-English dictionary


• Webster's dictionary, a prize from a high school TV quiz show I was on in 1978


• Dilbert books (5)


• Cheap sunglasses


• Hardhat, custom-painted with my name and a shamrock


• A coconut carved into a monkey, with wire glasses


• Geode bookends


• "Learn Japanese" audio CD set


• Fancy commemorative pens in cases (4)


• Red plastic mugs (2): "Industrial and Specialty Chemicals - Abbott Laboratories"


• Framed pictures on display (6)


• Glass desktop trophy with inscription in Chinese


• Glass desktop trophy with small clock, and an etched picture of the people who attended a certain meeting


• Door magnets (2) with the image of a brain, labeled "PROACT"


• Strunk & White's "Elements of Style"


• Eyeglass repair kit


• Empty drug product display bottle of Zyflo (zileuton)


• Headphones


• Tiny tool set: Screwdriver, crescent wrench, measuring tape


• Pocketknives (2)


• TAP tie pin


• Various management books (17)


• Mardi gras-type bead strings (2)


• Pictures from a team outing in 1999


• A bottle of the Korean soft drink "Yellow Life"


• A desk clock engraved for Abbott's 100-year anniversary in 1988


• Custom plaque from 1988 from Department 884 in building C-10, with a centrifuge and a pump


• Various small plastic signs from building C-10, removed before its demolition


• Books: "Just Enough German", "Culture Shock! Korea", "Berlitz Japan", "Astronomy 365 Days"


• Chemistry/engineering textbooks from the early '80's (10)


• Maps of: Macau, Hong Kong, Seoul, National Museum of Korea, Washington D.C., Eli Lilly facilities in Indianapolis, Mannheim (Germany), North Carolina, Newark, Madison, San Francisco, Puerto Rico, San Antonio (2), Frankfurt Airport, Burgenstock (Switzerland), Tokyo, Katsuyama (Japan), Osaka, Fukui, Osaka Castle. (I like maps.)


• A fake movie clapboard labeled "Project Office, Director Pat Harrigan, PBR, Take 2"


• Plant food and insect repellent


• Shamrock plant

I don't know what this all means -- I've never considered myself much of a pack rat, but that does seem like a lot of stuff. My office is still pretty tidy, though, so I suppose I've got room for the next 20 years...

Pat

Fitness

I have always liked being fit, for a variety of (mostly obvious) reasons.

I was in my best shape ever in my senior year of high school, at the end of wrestling season. For the last few weeks of the season we added a 45 minute before-school running session to our 2-1/2 hour after-school practice. In addition I had gym class each day; it happened to be when swimming was being taught, so I passed on the varsity-athlete exemption and went ahead with the lifesaving class. And I recall being aware of my state: "Gee, I'll probably never be as conditioned as this again."

Wrestling was an interesting sport, especially for someone with more of an academic bent. Having moved to a new school right before my senior year, my new friends in my AP classes were surprised at this activity: "You do what?" (Of course the guys on the wrestling team had the opposite question: "You're taking what classes?") But through hard work and my innate athletic ability I managed to achieve mediocrity on the mat. It's the kind of sport you leave behind in high school, but with a few fond memories.

During college exercise was mostly fun -- intramural and pick-up sports, especially basketball, etc. My conditioning throughout varied with the ratio of exercise to beer consumption, semester to semester. Later on I did get into running a little, but found it pretty boring. (No iPods back then, remember?) But it was a start: Fitness for fitness' sake!

A favorite quote at the time was from John Irving's novel The Hotel New Hampshire, from the football coach Iowa Bob: "You've got to get obsessed and stay obsessed!" I had that written out on an index card, taped to my dresser mirror.

In 20+ post-college years my workouts have come and gone, depending on how busy I was at work, or how many squealing babies we had at home. But I always come back to a routine like "Run on Monday-Wednesday-Friday mornings, lift weights on Tuesday-Thursday at lunch." I suppose that's pretty tame as obsessions go -- no drinking raw eggs, or punching meat in a freezer, or running up the museum steps. But it has worked for me, generally.

For at least 10 years now I've been dogged by exercise-related injuries: tendonitis in my shoulder from lifting weights, a partially-torn Achilles and later plantar fasciitis from running, etc. After the second of these my doctor diagnosed the root cause as "You're getting old." I have to be extra-cautious when starting a new routine, and extra-conscious of any joint aches or pains. I have no desire to run a marathon, or bench-press a certain weight; just maintain a reasonable level of fitness.

There have always been at least two other motivations at play:

• I'm a cheapskate, and if I get too pudgy I'll have to buy all new pants.
• Like everyone else, I look better when I'm in shape. (I'm more vain than I appear...)

Moving from adulthood into middle age, a final motivation is: I should stay in shape for my health, for the sake of my loved ones. If I can put off that heart attack until my 70's, it'd be good for everyone involved. Especially now.

A quote that describes my current fitness approach is from Gandhi: "Everything we do is futile, but we must do it anyway." It's this attitude that would keep Gandhi from being a personal trainer today. That, plus his unorthodox ideas about "healthy sports drinks."

So if you go by the house early in the morning and look up at the 2nd floor porch you may see a slightly flabby, grey-haired guy huffing and puffing on the elliptical machine. And you'll know why, if you didn't already.

Pat

Elvis Story #1: Coming Home

Business first: All is going pretty well on the home front, and I just hired someone for afternoon care. Her name's Meaghan, she's an Evanston native, and I think she'll work out great. More on her later.
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A few people have asked, "How's Elvis doing with all of this?" Well, he's still being fed, and he's got most of his pack around him, but I think he misses the lady who used to give him treats and let him snuggle in bed when Daddy wasn't around.

For those of you who don't know, Elvis is our 9 year old vizsla dog, and a neighborhood celebrity. There's a rich trove of Elvis stories, but I'll just start with the beginning.

Rach and I had a beagle named Murphy (there's another set of stories), who had to be put down in the summer of 2000 when he was only 7. At that time our kids were just shy of 5, 3, and 1, so I felt we had plenty going on in the house and no need for a new dog, but Rach disagreed. After a few months, guess who won?

We researched a few different breeds, with our main criteria being:

• Big enough to run with, but small enough to pick up and carry if needed
• Good with kids
• Not too much shedding
• Reasonably trainable

That brought us to the vizsla, a hunting dog which is also great with people. In general we found vizsla breeders to be very protective, almost annoyingly so: "What makes you think you're good enough for one of our dogs?" One of them had told us, "Oh, I'd never sell a dog to a family with a kid in diapers!" (I don't remember what her exact logic was.) Ultimately we found a more accomodating breeder out in Winnebago County (just west of Rockford) who had a couple of puppies left from a recent litter, so a few days before Christmas 2000 we packed up the kids and drove out there.

It was a clear, very cold day, and we had a decent amount of snow cover -- more of a pre-global warming Chicago December. We'd called in advance to make an appointment, and the farm wasn't too hard to find. The main dog kennel was a separate building, but the puppies were inside the house, confined to the kitchen. (One surprise was that the breeder's "indoor" dogs were a couple of shi-tzus, just about the foofiest little toy breed there is.)

We played with the puppies and talked with the breeder for a little while, and then picked what we thought was the calmer of the two dogs. (Vizslas are very high-energy, so we were a little wary.) Rachel drove home while I held the dog on a blanket on my lap, and we brainstormed dog names. We chose Elvis as something of a play on the breed name, and ultimately gave him the AKC name "Harrigan's El Vizsla Elvis".

One complication we had is that we'd already made New Year's travel plans with several other families to a resort in Elkhart Lake, Wisconsin called The Osthoff, which had a "No Pets" policy. Could we really leave Elvis with someone after only a week? Or cancel our trip? Neither of those was palatable, so we decided to try to sneak him in.

The afternoon we arrived (a couple of days before New Year's) we got one of the luggage carts, and then took Elvis's travel kennel and stealthily zipped it up in a duffel bag. He went up on the cart along with the rest of our bags, and didn't yap at all. We'd already started to housebreak him at home, so we set up some papers on the balcony, and took him out right away. Every couple of hours we'd do the same, and this wound up working really well -- over the course of four days I think he only had one or two accidents. And we solved the maid service problem by not having any, just requesting fresh towels each day.

Elvis was already comfortable with people -- there was nothing timid about him. In our suite we had 3 couples and 5 young kids, so there was a lot of running and squealing. (The kids did, too.) I remember the kids standing on the furniture to avoid his sharp little puppy teeth, which they got tired of after a while. But in general it was a great, raucous vacation. After New Year's we packed up, put Elvis back in his travel kennel and zipped him up in the duffel, and sneaked him back out to the car.

That January we really settled in at home with our new dog.

Pat

Hold your horses

I'll write something soon enough...