So we went to my parent's house this weekend to celebrate three family birthdays.

My Dad and most of the men folk were hanging out on the back porch, grilling, drinking beer, telling manly-men tales.

I was farther out in the backyard with the three-year-old, Puddin'. She wanted to swing. Then, she wanted to climb in the tree house. While she was climbing up the ladder to the tree house, I noticed a bumble bee floating around the door of the house. I pointed this out to her. She decided she did not want to play in the tree house, she’d rather swing.

While the climbing and not climbing were taking place, my five-year-old neice, LoMay, wandered out to the playset and firmly planted herself in the "big girl swing." The only other swing is one of those molded-plastic, infant swings. Puddin' is still small enough that I think we could probably squeeze her into it if she really wants to swing. She says "yes." So, I wedge her in and start pushing.

I notice a large, flying insect out of the corner of my eye. My initial thought is, "that damn bumble-bee followed us over here." Then, I notice two, three, four buzzing things. And I take a closer look. WASPS!!!!!

Don't panic, don't panic.

Puddin', Mommy has to stop the swing. Don't move, stay very still, DON'T MOVE! I manage to stop the swing without anyone getting stung. But it seems more wasps are circling, so I take a couple steps back. I say as calmly and as firmly as I can, “Don't move.”

LoMay asks, "Can I move?" I answer, "No, I think you need to stay still, too."

The wasps finally disappear. In my panic, I don't think to look to see where they fly away to. I tell Puddin' that I'm going to take her out of the swing. I explain to both girls that we need to move away from the swing set until someone figures out where the wasps are coming from. As I'm trying to dislodge Puddin' from the swing, the wasps start swarming again.

Fear strikes the heart of me. I know where the wasps are coming from...the plastic rim of the swing.

I let go of Puddin' again and take a few steps back. She's still trying to wiggle out. I tell her she has to sit very, very still.

My sister, MayLay, has walked onto the back porch. She's looking in our direction. I can tell by the tilt of her head that her mommy-radar as gone off. She knows something odd is happening over at the playset. I wave her over.

Once she's close enough I tell her my wasp nest theory. We decide that she will hold the swing as still as possible while I lift Puddin out.

We encounter problems. Puddin is wedged in and the slightest movement sets the wasps in motion.

MayLay and I both step away, again screaming the matra, "stay still, stay still."

I try to control my fear. How the hell am I going to get my child out of this situation without getting her stung? I look little Puddin Britches in the eye. I'm amazed she isn't crying at this point. I'm even more shocked by the expression I find on her face. There is no fear, no look of doom. Just an expectant, almost curious expression. She simply has no clue. I'm scared shitless. Remarkably, I'm managing to NOT frighten my little one.

So, as the wasps settle down again, MayLay and I decide we need another person to help hold the swing still. MayLay uses her banshee-wail-of-death to summon her husband to us.

We decide MayLay will hold the swing still, my brother-in-law will lift Puddin out, and I will guide her legs through the plastic holes.

Success! RUN!

Lefty is my hero. She's responsible for fixing the header. What would I do without her?

In case you haven't noticed, I've also add the site navigation to the red bar above. The code for it is a total hack, so please don't look at it. I'm embarrassed by it. Hopefully I'll have some time next week to code it correctly. This will have to do for now.

So the comments issue is resolved. Of course it would be that way. The much more complicated issue is the first one to be resolved.

The fact that the header works in every browser that I have running, except Windows IE, really chaps my hide.

I just want you to know, if you're looking at this page in Windows IE right now, I'm harbouring a great deal of animosity for you at the moment. Go get Firefox or Netscape so I don't have to fret over my stupid header not showing up in your stupid browser.

I hate Windows IE and coding comments. My header doesn't show up in Windows IE. The comments don't show up in anything.

Today is the day I'm taking the plunge. I'm going to begin switching the site over to the new look. I'm sure things will be breaking in all sorts of new and unusual ways. I'm keeping my fingers crossed that it will be a fairly pain free experience...the synical side of me, which is most of me, says that's a pipe dream.

I'm attempting to redesign the site again because, let's face it, my current design is probably the ugliest thing ever created.

I've actually started mocking up a new look, so maybe it will actually happen this time. I have a rough idea in my head of what I want things to look like. I just cannot make it happen.

Honestly, though, I'm really not sure if what I've managed to produce looks like total crap. It could be that it is equally as horrifying as what I've currently got going on. At least is will be something new. New ugly is better than old ugly. Right?

I have several friends who are designers. And I work in an office full of designers. I've probably made their eyes bleed with some of the things I've created. None of them have offered to help me stop making their eyes bleed. If I were good at something, I could probably work out some kind of trade-off thing. My only talents are complaining, yelling, and eating chocolate. Not really the types of things one can barter with.

I think I must be suffering from OJ-itis or maybe it's better to call it Cochran-itis.

I kind of follow the Jackson trial, mostly through what I read on the BBC and BoingBoing RSS feeds. I don't seek out the information, however some of the teasers are too intriguing for me to pass up.

I'm actually beginning to think that Michael should get out of this one.

Do I think he's a sick man? Yes.

Do I think he has an unnatural, perverted attraction to children, particularly little boys? Yes.

Do I think he's capable of being a sexual predator? Yes.

Do I think he's guilty in the context of the current criminal trial? No.

This is where Cochran-itis comes in. The defense attorneys have me questioning the motives of the accuser.

To me, the accuser looks like he's been coached by his mom. They're really looking more and more like a bunch of money hungry, lying theives. I think the family saw an opportunity to take advantage of a mentally ill celebrity and came up with a pretty good scheme. I mean, who are the jurors more likely to believe? A poor, cancer-striken child or a wack-nut that already has a questionable reputation?

Don't get me wrong, I think Jackson is a sick man. I just think he is going to be found not guilty at this trial. I think it's truly unfortunate. Someone who is a danger to children will still be out on the loose. And there will still be enough star-struck parents out there who allow their children to be placed in a comproming situation. And when he hurts the next child, there will be an even greater burden of proof for the victim to bear.

I'm breaking everything I touch today.

My Mac unexpectedly shut down while I was working in the most tempermental software program I have. Now I can't get back into the program because of a damaged "resource fork." Now I have to wait until someone from computer support can come re-install the software.

There is one electric pencil sharpener on the floor I work on. I use it maybe once every few months. I went to sharpen a pencil today. It started to sharpen and then it started making a funny noise. My pencil is not sharpened. The pencil sharpener no longer works.

The check oil light came on in my vehicle. The owner's manual says if the light comes on and the oil level is okay level that the vehicle should be taken immediately to an authorized service center. My vehicle has oil in it. The fine print in my manual says to stop by the bank on my way to the mechanics and take out a large loan.

I'm not awake yet. I don't think I'll be fully awake at any time today. Two hours of sleep just doesn't do it for me.

We all know the reason I'm short on sleep, Revenge of the Sith. Is my deprived state justified? Yes. George did not let me down. The three-hour queue to get into the movie was not spent in vain. Here is my list of reasons why I am not at all disappointed in my late night/early morning Star Wars experience:

1. We—meaning the office crew plus the ten-year-old—were able to snag some decent seats together.
2. No one in my immediate vicinity got up during the movie to pee— a plus at any movie.
3. I did not sit in a state of utter discomfort the last hour because I had to pee.
4. I bought the large tub of popcorn, and actually got the free refill.
5. ClonedHotdog smuggled in candy and kept my child in constant supply of sugar.
6. The opening scene was awesome.
7. Hayden Christensen did not blow. I actually thought of him as Anakin in this one and not as the guy who replaced Jake Lloyd.
8. Ewan McGregor is Obi-Wan Kenobi.
9. All the questions I needed George to answer, were answered. I didn't like one of the answers, but at least I know now.
10. Hayden Christensen did not blow. The Anakin/Padme scenes worked this time for me.
11. The final scenes weren't cheesy.

Nap time starts now.

Well, today is the day. Actually, tomorrow is the day. But it feels like today. After years of waiting, finally it comes to an end. At midnight I will see Revenge of the Sith. But it isn't only about the movie.

I was nine when my Dad took me to see Star Wars. I know, I know, we're supposed to refer to it as A New Hope now. But back in the day, when you said Star Wars, everyone knew exactly what you meant.

Attending that one movie transformed me. I remember the excitement surrounding it. I remember being completely overwhelmed by the opening scene. The monstrous ships, battling in outer space. I recal thinking, "But we've only put a man on the moon. How did they does this!? It was completely awe inspiring. I remember the fear I felt at the first site of Darth Vader...not completely understanding if he was man or machine, but knowing he meant death. I remember thinking Princess Leia was the most beautiful, most brave woman I'd ever seen. I knew I wanted to be like her when I grew up. The geek was born. The love of science fiction and fantasy blossomed in my heart.

I've been told by some that I'm a late bloomer. That the sci-fi geek-gene usually surfaces at a much earlier age. I don't know. I don't really care. What I do care about is finding other geek souls of this world. I care about gathering with my brethern to revere and line the pocketbooks of our geek gods. But what I care most about is knowing that I am not the last of my line of geeks.

So, tonight, tomorrow is more than just the final Star Wars movie for me. It is a rite of passage. The official confirmation of geek-dom from one generation to the next. I was nine when the torch was handed to me by my father. Tonight, tomorrow, sometime after midnight, the flame will pass to my ten-year-old son.

There was a time, not too long ago when I would not have believed this night would happen. You see, my child fought the transformation at first. He refused to play with his Star Wars action figures. His first passion was dinosaurs. Yeah, occassionally he would take out a light saber and attack something of value, usually the dog. I think his Jurassic Park T-Rex with a working digestive track ate Yoda or C-3PO on several occassions...but we can't really call this playing Star Wars.

But something happened. About a year ago, a transformation began to occur. He started asking questions. The sort of questions only hard-core, fanactics like my self would care to ask. The sort of questions only George can answer. And so, as THE day grew nearer, I found myself toying with the notion of taking my son to see the movie on opening day. And then on a whim, I decided, no, my boy needs more. This will be his one real opportunity to really see it. Because, lets be honest, its not only about the movie. It's about the movie and its people. My boy needed the opportunity to watch THE movie with ITS people.

The wait is over, the circle is complete...

First of all, get your mind out of the gutter. It isn't that kind of hump. It's a noun not a verb.

Crazy things are happening at the office. My entire unit could be eliminated. At the very least, it looks like we will be broken apart and scattered to the four winds. The only thing we know for certain, there will be significant changes.

My stress hump is up to three cups of coffee a day.

Link.