A Letter to Santa

Zipadelli is up to no good. Go to his blog to read his letter to Santa.

What has habit been doing to you?

FATHER FORGETS
W. Livingston Larned
condensed as in "Readers Digest"

Listen, son: I am saying this as you lie asleep, one little
paw crumpled under your cheek and the blond curls stickily
wet on your damp forehead. I have stolen into your room alone.
Just a few minutes ago, as I sat reading my paper in the
library, a stifling wave of remorse swept over me. Guiltily
I came to your bedside.

There are the things I was thinking, son: I had been cross
to you. I scolded you as you were dressing for school because
you gave your face merely a dab with a towel. I took you to
task for not cleaning your shoes. I called out angrily when
you threw some of your things on the floor.

At breakfast I found fault, too. You spilled things. You
gulped down your food. You put your elbows on the table. You
spread butter too thick on your bread. And as you started off
to play and I made for my train, you turned and waved a hand
and called, "Goodbye, Daddy!" and I frowned, and said in
reply, "Hold your shoulders back!"

Then it began all over again in the late afternoon. As I came
up the road I spied you, down on your knees, playing marbles.
There were holes in your stockings. I humiliated you before
your boyfriends by marching you ahead of me to the house.
Stockings were expensive-and if you had to buy them you would
be more careful! Imagine that, son, from a father!

Do you remember, later, when I was reading in the library, how
you came in timidly, with a sort of hurt look in your eyes?
When I glanced up over my paper, impatient at the interruption,
you hesitated at the door. "What is it you want?" I snapped.

You said nothing, but ran across in one tempestuous plunge,
and threw your arms around my neck and kissed me, and your
small arms tightended with an affection that God had set
blooming in your heart and which even neglect could not wither.
And then you were gone, pattering up the stairs.

Well, son, it was shortly afterwards that my paper slipped
from my hands and a terrible sickening fear came over me. What
has habit been doing to me? The habit of finding fault, of
reprimanding-this was my reward to you for being a boy. It
was not that I did not love you; it was that I expected too
much of youth. I was measuring you by the yardstick of my own
years.

And there was so much that was good and fine and true in your
character. The little heart of you was as big as the dawn
itself over the wide hills. This was shown by your spontaneous
impulse to rush in and kiss me good night. Nothing else matters
tonight, son. I have come to your bedside in the darkness, and
I have knelt there, ashamed!

It is feeble atonement; I know you would not understand these
things if I told them to you during your waking hours. But
tomorrow I will be a real daddy! I will chum with you, and suffer
when you suffer, and laugh when you laugh. I will bite my
tongue when impatient words come. I will keep saying as if it
were a ritual: "He is nothing but a boy-a little boy!"

I am afraid I have visualized you as a man. Yet as I see you
now, son, crumpled and weary in your cot, I see that you are
still a baby. Yesterday you were in your mother's arms, your
head on her shoulder. I have asked too much, too much.

What has habit been doing to you?

Poor Zippy

Poor Zippy had to go and meet Santa. They even put reindeer antlers on his noggin. He's in deep depression now. I hope he snaps out of it.

Go here to see the video. Warning. Pitiful images.

Motivated to do Nothing

Lots to do and I don't feel like doing any of it. Ever feel that way?

With Heather working a second job, I'm bringing a lot of work home. I have to complete a Department of Commerce survey, and I have to review the new warehouse standard, all 33 pages of it, and write a report on where we are currently compliant, and where we aren't. I also started a new team to do a deep dive on every late order we ship, which requires a weekly meeting that lasts about 2 hours. The meeting is for decision making only, so a lot of prep goes into it. We spent three hours working on a flow chart for ONE late order reason code. There are 15 codes. We did this so we have a systematic approach to doing a root cause investigation. Lots of pain in the ass work in the beginning, but I think we will end up with a document that we can share around the business when we are done. The plant manager is back from China, so he'll probably blow it to hell anyways. He goes back in January for 2 more months, so I just need to get him to give me some space to develop the team.

It just occurred to me that nobody cares about this...

I have to write a 2500 page paper due on Friday for Art. Ick. Haven't started that one yet. I need to find time to learn to play the new guitar I just purchased.

I had started running a few months ago, but had to stop after the cough became too much. Glad to say that after a little over three months that the cough is gone. I had been doing the cart instead of running, but I found I was still eating poorly after that. The cart is walking at a 10% incline while leaning into the handles...like pushing a cart uphill. Burns lots of calories, but after doing this for 30 mins, I feel fine after 1 minute off the treadmill. So I didn't feel like I had worked that hard, so it was easy to get back into the habit of heading for the fridge. No soreness or weak muscles to remind me how hard I had worked. Gonna have to start running again, which I hate. Hated it it in the Army and still hate it.

I think this qualifies as boring now.

I don't think we'll be heading to New York on Christmas eve like we did last year. That's kind of a bummer. We're going to have to figure something else out so we aren't sitting at home alone. Can't go home, so to the family reading this, don't expect a surprise visit.

I get to go to Los Angeles in January for work, and I may also get to go to GE in South Carolina to help with a root cause investigation. Time out and about on work is always good. Gotta get that name out there.

We're going to yet another Keith Urban concert on Valentine's day. This time he is with Carrie Underwood at Hershey, Pa.

Should I get this tattoo on my inner forearm? I'm thinking no. Like the style, but not sure I want to cover it up sometimes. As I try and climb the corporate ladder, I think people will judge me by having a tattoo on my arm. Decisions. Decisions.