<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5594591477308773775</id><updated>2011-07-30T20:51:50.142-04:00</updated><category term='Parking'/><category term='MacWorld'/><category term='Twitter'/><category term='Gilbert and Sullivan'/><category term='Cheese'/><category term='Steve'/><category term='Bikini Cole Slaw Wrestling'/><category term='Pittburgh'/><category term='Clone Wars'/><category term='Pirates'/><category term='Steeler Kitty'/><category term='Primanti Bros.'/><category term='Fireworks'/><category term='rivers'/><category term='Freddie Sanchez'/><category term='Donut'/><category term='Santa'/><category term='Soccer'/><category term='Killer Rabbit'/><category term='Sidney Crosby'/><category term='T-Ball'/><category term='Grinch'/><category term='rescue dog'/><category term='jagoff'/><category term='Silk House'/><category term='PittGirl'/><category term='Pentagon'/><category term='Optimus Prime'/><category term='Popcorn'/><category term='Halloween'/><category term='family'/><category term='Clay'/><category term='Prius'/><category term='free stuff'/><category term='Steelers'/><category term='PNC Park'/><category term='Poopie pants'/><category term='George Lucas'/><category term='Zero the Hutt'/><category term='H1N1'/><category term='Stickcam'/><category term='Pittsburgh'/><category term='Giant Robot Octopus'/><category term='WTAE'/><category term='OBX'/><category term='politics'/><category term='Christmas'/><category term='Terrible Towel'/><category term='Space Chimps'/><category term='45'/><category term='Ambridge'/><category term='Soviet Union'/><category term='Drew'/><category term='Hulk'/><category term='Chipped Ham Sam'/><category term='school'/><category term='dog'/><category term='Penguins'/><category term='4th of July'/><category term='Marc-Andre Fleury'/><category term='St. Nicholas'/><category term='Chautauqua'/><category term='Black and Gold'/><category term='Sonic'/><category term='drivers'/><category term='anniversary'/><category term='John McCain'/><category term='Snow'/><category term='tires'/><category term='The Strip District'/><category term='hockey'/><category term='Star Wars'/><category term='shots'/><category term='Barack Obama'/><category term='Oram&apos;s'/><category term='traffic'/><category term='Fall'/><category term='Lewis'/><category term='911'/><category term='Pittsburghese'/><title type='text'>Magnus Patris</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Magnus Patris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06083516729662909069</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>84</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5594591477308773775.post-8426722615247152029</id><published>2010-04-16T14:38:00.006-04:00</published><updated>2010-04-16T14:57:08.322-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Pirates'/><title type='text'>Baseball and Beer</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/S8izAHR2tHI/AAAAAAAAAMc/GzLyeZB_-Dw/s1600/2834529833_d0b4264fff.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 147px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/S8izAHR2tHI/AAAAAAAAAMc/GzLyeZB_-Dw/s200/2834529833_d0b4264fff.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5460811362722034802" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got a call from the school nurse today saying that my oldest son wasn't feeling well, and could I come to get him.  He's been a little sick the last couple of days.  On the ride home I told him I bought Pirates tickets for Sunday's game near where his best friend's family will be sitting.  That cheered him up.  He asked if he could get something to eat and drink at the game.  I told him we would be doing a little pre-game tailgating, but I joked that I'd buy him a beer at the game.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Dad! I can't have beer until I'm like 20 or something," he said.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Well actually, 21.  That's just about 14 years from now.  When you're 21 I'll buy you a beer at the ballgame."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Well", he said, "I might just want some ice cream then!" he laughed.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"It's a deal!"  Then I said, "Do you think you'll still want to go to baseball games with me when you're 21?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Sure, why not?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Oh, I don't know.  Maybe you'll say 'Sorry dad, I can't go to the game.  My girlfriend wants to go dancing' or 'She says there's a sale on duvets at Pottery Barn'."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Nooooooo!" he screamed.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Or maybe you'll say, 'Can't go dad, I'm hanging out with my friends'."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;He said, "No dad, I'll always want to go to baseball games with you.  Why would I ever want to do anything else?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I hope that in June of 2024, he and I will be sitting together in PNC Park, and I will buy him that beer... or ice cream.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5594591477308773775-8426722615247152029?l=magnuspatris.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/feeds/8426722615247152029/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5594591477308773775&amp;postID=8426722615247152029' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/8426722615247152029'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/8426722615247152029'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/2010/04/baseball-and-beer.html' title='Baseball and Beer'/><author><name>Magnus Patris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06083516729662909069</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/S8izAHR2tHI/AAAAAAAAAMc/GzLyeZB_-Dw/s72-c/2834529833_d0b4264fff.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5594591477308773775.post-5409570775472080761</id><published>2010-01-12T21:58:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2010-01-21T08:29:41.306-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Drew'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Optimus Prime'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Hulk'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Clay'/><title type='text'>Wakey-wakey, puny human!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/S006sAu_WOI/AAAAAAAAAMU/-ylY1ik8Q_E/s1600-h/Optimus.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/S006sAu_WOI/AAAAAAAAAMU/-ylY1ik8Q_E/s200/Optimus.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5426057653837060322" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This morning, Drew was up early.  He's always up early.  Every night around 4 A.M. we hear, "Is it daytime yet?" from what sounds like a disembodied voice in our room.  No it's just Drew either in a sleeping bag on the floor next to our bed or in our bed (which means kicking me repeatedly until I move to where I have about 14 inches of our King Size bed to myself). As long as he's comfortable.  Right.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Lately, he's been taking great joy in waking up Clay, who still gets his 11 hours in most nights and is usually only awoken with promises of french toast sticks, or threats of buckets of cold water being poured on him.  The boy like his sleep; except of course at bedtime.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So this morning I hear "I'm Optimus Prime!" coming from Clay's room.  I go in to find Drew in his Transformed state, shaking his brother's bed with the menacing, electronically processed voice of a 3 year old screaming, "I'm Optimus Prime!  Wakey-wakey Clay!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;For a moment, in the half-darkness, Clay wasn't sure what was going on.  Then he let out a little yelp and threw the covers back over his head.  After a second, he realized what was going on and got up and started telling Drew that this was not funny.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Maybe tomorrow, I make sure Drew finds the Incredible Hulk Smash Hands before he goes in to wake Clay.  Wake up, puny human!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;UPDATE&lt;/i&gt;:  He came into our bedroom this morning as a pajamaed Darth Vader to wake us up.  And so it goes.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5594591477308773775-5409570775472080761?l=magnuspatris.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/feeds/5409570775472080761/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5594591477308773775&amp;postID=5409570775472080761' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/5409570775472080761'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/5409570775472080761'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/2010/01/wakey-wakey-puny-human.html' title='Wakey-wakey, puny human!'/><author><name>Magnus Patris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06083516729662909069</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/S006sAu_WOI/AAAAAAAAAMU/-ylY1ik8Q_E/s72-c/Optimus.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5594591477308773775.post-7959548215800550522</id><published>2009-12-24T10:28:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-12-24T11:12:28.361-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='St. Nicholas'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Christmas'/><title type='text'>Christmas Eve</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/SzOStrliwOI/AAAAAAAAAMM/PJh0QHqu_BE/s1600-h/Saint-Nicholas.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 143px; height: 200px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/SzOStrliwOI/AAAAAAAAAMM/PJh0QHqu_BE/s200/Saint-Nicholas.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5418836090148798690" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For the first time since Clay was one, we will be waking up in our own house on Christmas morning.  Clay doesn't remember that and Drew wasn't even thought of, so for all practical purposes, this is our first Christmas at home.  When I was a kid, we went to my &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Baba&lt;/span&gt; and &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Gigi's&lt;/span&gt; (grandparent's) until I was about 6 or 7.  That was only in Carnegie, so just a 20 minute trip from home.  I remember when I was 6 sleeping on their couch, being awoken by a noise.  I opened my eyes and I saw someone coming out of the basement door.  It was&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt; Sviate' Nikolai&lt;/span&gt; (St. Nicholas; we Ukrainians were visited by Santa dressed in his golden bishop's robes, mitre and staff).  I saw his beard, I saw his golden robes.  I shut my eyes, because I was excited and terrified at the same time.  If he knew I was awake, would he leave without leaving presents for me, my brother and cousin?  I heard hushed whispers in Ukrainian.  I think I heard my Uncle John.  Did he help &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Sviate Nikolai&lt;/span&gt;?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before i knew it it was morning and I was awake.  I heard my mom, aunt and baba in the kitchen.  I saw the presents under the small tree in the tiny dining room.  He was there and he didn't know I was awake.  That year, I can still remember some of my presents; my first Mickey Mouse wrist watch, which I think still runs; Major Matt Mason, Astronaut along with his lunar jet pack (which needed 20 feet of black thread which was tangled beyond repair in about 10 minutes); and my Scooby Doo movie projector, which only showed cartoon stills on the wall. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The presents weren't important. I will always remember that Christmas.  I can picture all of us sitting around my grandparents' tiny table in that tiny dining room for &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Sviate' Vecher&lt;/span&gt; (Christmas Eve Holy Supper).  I remember the yellow bowl full of pierogies, I remember those who were there who are gone; Baba, Gigi, Marisha, Marish-Mama.  I remember listening to everyone sing Ukrainian carols; but most of all I will always remember that I did see St. Nicholas.  Years later, I was told, it was probably my older brother, my dad or my uncle with a yellow coat on.  But I know that he was there in the little house on Logan Street on Christmas Eve 1969.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tonight 40 years later, Clay and Drew will have &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Sviate' Vecher&lt;/span&gt; with their Baba and Gigi, cousins and family.  Tonight they will await Santa sleeping in their own beds.  Maybe one of them will hear a noise in the night or wake up and see a figure walking through the house with presents.  Maybe they'll tell us they saw or heard Santa.  Maybe they'll keep it secret.  But the best present I'll ever have is 30 or 40 years from now, them telling their children about that first Christmas at home in Pittsburgh; when Santa came and they believed.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5594591477308773775-7959548215800550522?l=magnuspatris.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/feeds/7959548215800550522/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5594591477308773775&amp;postID=7959548215800550522' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/7959548215800550522'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/7959548215800550522'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/2009/12/christmas-eve.html' title='Christmas Eve'/><author><name>Magnus Patris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06083516729662909069</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/SzOStrliwOI/AAAAAAAAAMM/PJh0QHqu_BE/s72-c/Saint-Nicholas.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5594591477308773775.post-7670857478116999216</id><published>2009-11-11T13:23:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-11-11T13:41:24.557-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='shots'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Steeler Kitty'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='H1N1'/><title type='text'>Steeler Kitty</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/SvsFSkPPRAI/AAAAAAAAAME/hysdKACk8tg/s1600-h/SteelerKitty.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 178px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/SvsFSkPPRAI/AAAAAAAAAME/hysdKACk8tg/s200/SteelerKitty.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5402917994484417538" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This morning I took the boys to the doctor's office to get their second H1N1 shot.  Since this was our second shot, I knew Clay was nervous about it.  OK, nervous is not the right term.  Maybe TOTAL FREAKOUT MODE would be more like it.  He doesn't like shots; as he told me about 500 times today before during and after the shot.  Drew on the other hand doesn't care.  He looks at the nurse all, "Yea, c'mon, gimme your best shot.  I'm not gonna give you the benefit of seeing me cry, lady.  What that was it?!?!  Pffft!  I'm outta here!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This must be more common that older siblings freak out more.  Across from us a little girl, not more than  three was waiting for her shot with her two older brothers.  She got her shot with out a peep.  But big brothers reacted from "That really hurt" to "OH MY GOD, I THINK THEY USED A JACKHAMMER TO PUT THAT THING IN!"  The little girl looked at her brothers and at Clay and I could hear her saying to herself, "Men!"  Then she looked at Drew and and probably thought, "Dude, call me when you need a prom date."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I calmed Clay down enough to get him out of the exam room without making the people in the waiting room think Civil War surgeons were back there amputating limbs off of first graders.  As we passed the "sticker bin" which usually makes all things better, I noticed all that were left were pink stickers with cute kitties on them.  The nurse said, "Wait, I have some dinosaur stickers here."  Clay took a dino sticker and plastered it on his rugby shirt.  Drew pushed the dino sticker back, took a pink sticker, slapped it right on the "7" on the front of his Ben Roethlisberger Steeler shirt, looked up at me with a smile on his face and shouted, "STEELER KITTY!"  Thankfully "Steeler Kitty" was gone by the time I picked him up from pre-school.  Maybe one of the girls swiped it from him.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5594591477308773775-7670857478116999216?l=magnuspatris.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/feeds/7670857478116999216/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5594591477308773775&amp;postID=7670857478116999216' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/7670857478116999216'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/7670857478116999216'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/2009/11/steeler-kitty.html' title='Steeler Kitty'/><author><name>Magnus Patris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06083516729662909069</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/SvsFSkPPRAI/AAAAAAAAAME/hysdKACk8tg/s72-c/SteelerKitty.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5594591477308773775.post-4723428902668835400</id><published>2009-09-23T23:00:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-23T23:05:28.704-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The Pirates of the Allegheny</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/Srrh8uEITZI/AAAAAAAAAL8/VXM6HY9nO-c/s1600-h/bridgeb0923anner-x.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 162px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/Srrh8uEITZI/AAAAAAAAAL8/VXM6HY9nO-c/s200/bridgeb0923anner-x.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5384864737748602258" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today is the eve of the G-20 Summit here in Pittsburgh.  It's also the eve of my 46th birthday.  We're also fast approaching the end of the monumental record breaking 17th straight losing season for the Pittsburgh Pirates.  So to protesters and delegates alike, get the hell out of my town as quickly as you can and don't leave your crap laying around; Pittsburgh Pirates, you suck and you break my 6 year old's heart every day; and happy birthday to me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5594591477308773775-4723428902668835400?l=magnuspatris.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/feeds/4723428902668835400/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5594591477308773775&amp;postID=4723428902668835400' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/4723428902668835400'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/4723428902668835400'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/2009/09/pirates-of-allegheny.html' title='The Pirates of the Allegheny'/><author><name>Magnus Patris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06083516729662909069</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/Srrh8uEITZI/AAAAAAAAAL8/VXM6HY9nO-c/s72-c/bridgeb0923anner-x.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5594591477308773775.post-8650256136904396679</id><published>2009-06-12T23:51:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2009-06-12T23:52:49.126-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Penguins Win the Stanley Cup!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/SjMii-wo2QI/AAAAAAAAAL0/zzIYk4lKd_U/s1600-h/061209_DET_PIT_teamCup.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 119px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/SjMii-wo2QI/AAAAAAAAAL0/zzIYk4lKd_U/s200/061209_DET_PIT_teamCup.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5346655166976809218" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Way to go, boys!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5594591477308773775-8650256136904396679?l=magnuspatris.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/feeds/8650256136904396679/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5594591477308773775&amp;postID=8650256136904396679' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/8650256136904396679'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/8650256136904396679'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/2009/06/penguins-win-stanley-cup.html' title='Penguins Win the Stanley Cup!'/><author><name>Magnus Patris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06083516729662909069</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/SjMii-wo2QI/AAAAAAAAAL0/zzIYk4lKd_U/s72-c/061209_DET_PIT_teamCup.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5594591477308773775.post-3490252206154222374</id><published>2009-04-18T10:56:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-18T11:31:01.439-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dog'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Killer Rabbit'/><title type='text'>I Guess They're More "Cat" People</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/Senx-fZZTJI/AAAAAAAAALk/AqBtY2AUtiQ/s1600-h/D1209~Holy-Grail-Killer-Rabbit-Posters.jpg.jpeg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 156px; height: 200px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/Senx-fZZTJI/AAAAAAAAALk/AqBtY2AUtiQ/s200/D1209~Holy-Grail-Killer-Rabbit-Posters.jpg.jpeg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326054090224520338" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The other day I noticed there was a large rabbit sitting in the street in front of our house.  I didn't think much of it until I came back from dropping the kids off at school and it was still there.  I went over to it, got about 5 feet away and it hissed at me.  It's neck and head was moving but the rest of the body was lying still.  Well, I don't need to be hissed at twice; and I remember the killer rabbit from "Monty Python and the Holy Grail" and "Spamalot", so I bravely shouted, "Run Away!!!" and ran inside. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After a few minutes, I started feeling guilty because, after all, we just had a visit from this guy's cousin, the Easter Bunny, last week.  So I looked out side and I saw a couple of crows approaching the rabbit.  By the time I got to the door, they had started pecking at him.  The sound of the door scared them away.  I'm not a huge fan of birds in the first place, but I really hate crows so I thought I'd better do something.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I called the local animal shelter; got a recording.  I called the Humane Society; I got the number for a company that would come and remove the rabbit on my dime.  No thanks.  So then I called the local police and explained the situation.  I turned the police scanner on and heard the dispatcher make her call.  Somehow it got turned into a "rabid raccoon" call.  After about 5 minutes the officer pulled up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I explained to him that it was a rabbit and not a raccoon.  He looked at it and said that there have been a couple of reports of rabid raccoons that he'd "taken care of".  He got out his snare and hooked the rabbit.  It immediately freaked out and let out a squeal like a hungry newborn baby.  Then he said, "Well, I have to shoot it". &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"OK", I said stupidly, "Where?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Here"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The officer said, "Well is there a place to do it in the back yard?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Sure".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Do you want to bury it?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;What?!?&lt;/span&gt;  No! Hell no!  We just got a new dog.  I don't want him getting into that.  The garbage truck is coming this morning.  Can we put it in the trash?" I asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Sure, you get a bag and I'll meet you in the back", the officer said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went inside and retrieved a garbage bag and got out to the backyard just in time to see the officer unholster his weapon and BAM!  He brought the corpse, still in the snare, over and we shoved it in the bag.  Meanwhile I notice many of our neighbors peeking out the doors to see what the hell was going on.  I shot them a smile and a little wave.  They, mostly, shut their doors or blinds.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It wasn't until later, after the rabbit was safely in his 45 gallon Rubbermaid sarcophagus, that I thought what must the neighbors be thinking; seeing me standing there with with a cop, the smell of gunpowder wafting through the air, shoving a bloody animal (which was about the size of our new dog) into the trash.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;"Well, so much for their new dog."  "Didn't even make it a week."  "I thought you could take them back to the shelter."  "Let's never ask them to watch OUR dog."  "Maybe they're more 'cat' people."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lewis was at the vets for the day.  I think a couple of our neighbors were relieved to see him come home.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5594591477308773775-3490252206154222374?l=magnuspatris.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/feeds/3490252206154222374/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5594591477308773775&amp;postID=3490252206154222374' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/3490252206154222374'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/3490252206154222374'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/2009/04/i-guess-theyre-more-cat-people.html' title='I Guess They&apos;re More &quot;Cat&quot; People'/><author><name>Magnus Patris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06083516729662909069</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/Senx-fZZTJI/AAAAAAAAALk/AqBtY2AUtiQ/s72-c/D1209~Holy-Grail-Killer-Rabbit-Posters.jpg.jpeg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5594591477308773775.post-883288449807012362</id><published>2009-04-15T13:17:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-15T13:53:12.489-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='rescue dog'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lewis'/><title type='text'>Lewis, the Rescue Dog</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/SeYe6luUVzI/AAAAAAAAALc/aIRjxqxNvhU/s1600-h/super-Lew.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 187px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/SeYe6luUVzI/AAAAAAAAALc/aIRjxqxNvhU/s200/super-Lew.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324977601319819058" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On Good Friday, we loaded the family in the van (or as I've started calling it "Jughead") for a trip to the wilds of Northwestern Pennsylvania to the Pekingese Rescue that Nancy found.  She has decided that for her ##th birthday (I'm not allowed to divulge the exact number under penalty of death), she wanted a dog; a little dog.  Everyone else in our family has dogs that resemble Shetland Ponies more than dogs, so almost any dog is a small dog.  My criteria is a bit different and cruder.  If the dog's poops are bigger than mine (and that's saying something), I don't want it .&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, we get the dog from the rescue; which is a whole other blog post; and make it home.  He's a sweet, quiet dog (except for his snoring) and he's checked out "A-OK" with the vet, had a bath and a trim.  After close to a week, I'm happy we got the perfect dog for us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Clay has been telling everyone he knows that Lewis is a "rescue dog".  We told him how another family had Lewis who's new baby was allergic to him and that he was given to the Pekingese rescue.  We then found him and brought him into our family.  Then yesterday I heard Clay telling our neighbor about Lewis being a "rescue dog".  It wasn't until I did a double take and really started listening to him that I found out what Clay thought a "rescue dog" was.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Lewis is a Rescue Dog!", says Clay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What does that mean?", asks his friend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You know, a Rescue Dog.  He helps people and other animals and he can talk to them." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What?!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well, you know, he talked to the Easter Bunny the other day.  He told him that he liked his new family.  The Easter Bunny wrote us a letter and told us", says Clay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Cool!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yea, so whenever an animal needs help, Lewis the Rescue Dog will be there."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, I think we need to get a cape and a mask for Lewis to protect his identity.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5594591477308773775-883288449807012362?l=magnuspatris.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/feeds/883288449807012362/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5594591477308773775&amp;postID=883288449807012362' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/883288449807012362'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/883288449807012362'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/2009/04/lewis-rescue-dog.html' title='Lewis, the Rescue Dog'/><author><name>Magnus Patris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06083516729662909069</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/SeYe6luUVzI/AAAAAAAAALc/aIRjxqxNvhU/s72-c/super-Lew.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5594591477308773775.post-1647265642883674723</id><published>2009-03-27T12:15:00.006-04:00</published><updated>2009-03-27T15:50:15.377-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Donut'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Twitter'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Soviet Union'/><title type='text'>Twittering in the Soviet Union</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/Sc0H3gucFwI/AAAAAAAAALU/RPJbOhw5JBI/s1600-h/Tveeter.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 154px; height: 200px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/Sc0H3gucFwI/AAAAAAAAALU/RPJbOhw5JBI/s200/Tveeter.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5317915385253336834" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's been a while since I posted anything although I've been Twittering a lot.  Twittering is easier; 144 characters at a time to spew my brilliance.  Also, as I told Nancy, it's kind of like the ham radio of the 21st century (and that comes from me, a ham, K4MTS).  So I can either go downstairs and fire up the Kenwood and chat with a bunch or random strangers or I can open up the iPhone and pretty much do the same thing.  It's always kind of funny to see people comment on the the same things you are watching or doing; Like Julie Balogna's electric wardrobe, Evgeni Malkin's latest goal, your hatred of pigeons, or your love of Sonic Diet Cherry Lime-aids.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Twittering is a nice distraction and it even helps helps me learn something every now and again.  Occasionally I get on a tear about something I find hugely amusing.  My latest was, "What would it be like if they had Twitter in the former Soviet Union?"  I know, what the hell's wrong with me sometimes.  Anyway, I blame it on my muse.  You know that unseen spirit that guides poets, musicians and other creative types.  Well, my muse can be seen and it looks like a jelly donut from Kuhn's Grocery.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I blame my ramblings on a sugar high I get from these delectable delicacies.  So in case you missed it on Twitter the other day here's what it would have been like if the was Twiiter in the CCCP.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;ComradeWiper&lt;/span&gt;  #Soviet Tweetup: Bulgarian Toilet Paper distributed tonight at 22.30 on the corner of Marx and Engles. Maybe Czech blue jeans too!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;LeoLaporteski&lt;/span&gt;  I get my new Soviet laptop today. Only weights 42Kg! Runs on 2 Lada batteries and blood of the proletariat. But hey, it have Vista on it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;IHeartStalin&lt;/span&gt;  @ComradeLenin still looking good in glass box.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;CCCP-1 TV&lt;/span&gt;  What fits into Russia? You think Texas big?!? Puny Texas fit into Russia!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;LonelyInIrkutsk&lt;/span&gt;  @EastGermanFemaleWeightlifting Team look H-O-T! Helga Brundenwalder need a little shave, tho.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;SteveJobovich&lt;/span&gt;  CentralComputerPlanning group announce BelongsToTheStatePhone. 30,000,000 Rubles and 20yr. wait list. Party members only. Sorry dissidents!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;KGB_GuyKawasaki&lt;/span&gt;  Decadent Imperialist Twitterers invited to Tweetup at Lubianka Prison. Tell wife to no wait up for you. Bring winter coat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;KGB_Guy&lt;/span&gt;  Krap, no 3G in gulag, only EDGE. I bet no FiOS here either.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;MiG_Pilot63&lt;/span&gt;  Today is birhtday of Soviet brothers Arvill &amp; Vilber Aeroplansky, inventors of airplane.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Pravda_CCCP&lt;/span&gt;  Everything invented in Russia; telephone, car, Windows Vista, electric light, despair, wheel, identical concrete apartments. Everything!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Pravda_CCCP&lt;/span&gt;  OK, not everything. Imperialist Al Gore invent Internet.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5594591477308773775-1647265642883674723?l=magnuspatris.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/feeds/1647265642883674723/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5594591477308773775&amp;postID=1647265642883674723' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/1647265642883674723'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/1647265642883674723'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/2009/03/twittering-in-soviet-union.html' title='Twittering in the Soviet Union'/><author><name>Magnus Patris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06083516729662909069</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/Sc0H3gucFwI/AAAAAAAAALU/RPJbOhw5JBI/s72-c/Tveeter.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5594591477308773775.post-5985342778601152369</id><published>2009-02-21T09:21:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-23T21:53:41.513-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Pirates'/><title type='text'>7 Reasons why being a Pirates fan won't be so bad this year</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/SaAS8hrKxDI/AAAAAAAAALE/PR-vUzCR4QQ/s1600-h/images.jpeg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 116px; height: 116px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/SaAS8hrKxDI/AAAAAAAAALE/PR-vUzCR4QQ/s200/images.jpeg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5305261192083326002" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;#7  Suck has a shelf life.  Let's hope our expired 10/1/2008.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;#6  Bringing back the goofy "pillbox" hat.  The other teams won't be laughing at us, they'll be laughing with us.  OK, so, they really will be laughing at us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;#5  Since Xavier Nady was traded to the Yankees, we don't have to put up the annoying chick down the first base line who waved her pirate flag and crossed her arms into an "X" every time Nady was on the field.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;#4  Won't have to remember how to spell &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Mientkiewicz&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;#3  Still have that 6th Super Bowl "high".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;#2  Pirates applied for Federal Disaster Assistance Program and were accepted.  President Obama to tour area of devastation (PNC Park) by air this spring.  Reportedly will call this "The worst disaster in our nation since the 1977 Tampa Bay Bucs".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;#1  If by some miracle; and by miracle I mean a sure sign of the apocalypse; the Buccos make it to the World Series, our boy-Mayor won't have to change his name to "Piratestahl"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5594591477308773775-5985342778601152369?l=magnuspatris.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/feeds/5985342778601152369/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5594591477308773775&amp;postID=5985342778601152369' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/5985342778601152369'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/5985342778601152369'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/2009/02/7-reasons-why-being-pirates-fan-wont-be.html' title='7 Reasons why being a Pirates fan won&apos;t be so bad this year'/><author><name>Magnus Patris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06083516729662909069</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/SaAS8hrKxDI/AAAAAAAAALE/PR-vUzCR4QQ/s72-c/images.jpeg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5594591477308773775.post-6719910570167175318</id><published>2009-02-19T15:05:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-19T15:16:21.564-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Twitter-ific</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/SZ2-AOekwaI/AAAAAAAAAK8/_p3H9uoHCbs/s1600-h/twitterbird.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 128px; height: 128px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/SZ2-AOekwaI/AAAAAAAAAK8/_p3H9uoHCbs/s200/twitterbird.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304604847207924130" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I haven't posted much lately.  Why? Laziness, sickness, taxes and Twitter.  If you don't know what Twitter is; Google "Stephen Fry BBC interview".  That'll give you an idea.  Recently, after feeling un-Twitterific for about 7 months, I've started Twittering again.  It's a great way to share my worthless ramblings, 140 letters at a time.  It allows me to vent, be a smart ass and share things without having to set aside a time to blog.  Half the time, by evening, I forgot what I was going to blog about.  Sometimes, I feel that I should expand on my "tweets".  But for now, I'll split my musings between blogging and twittering; so please feel free to sign up for a Twitter account, if you haven't already, and follow along.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5594591477308773775-6719910570167175318?l=magnuspatris.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/feeds/6719910570167175318/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5594591477308773775&amp;postID=6719910570167175318' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/6719910570167175318'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/6719910570167175318'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/2009/02/twitter-ific.html' title='Twitter-ific'/><author><name>Magnus Patris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06083516729662909069</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/SZ2-AOekwaI/AAAAAAAAAK8/_p3H9uoHCbs/s72-c/twitterbird.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5594591477308773775.post-3775040858661558526</id><published>2009-01-13T22:27:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-13T22:46:32.245-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Cheese'/><title type='text'>Must have been some damn good cheese</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/SW1fw9xhuPI/AAAAAAAAAKM/fF416en_Xuw/s1600-h/180px-Emmentaler.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 180px; height: 152px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/SW1fw9xhuPI/AAAAAAAAAKM/fF416en_Xuw/s200/180px-Emmentaler.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5290990432050854130" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OK, I think this story is hilarious, especially since it happened at the grocery store where my folks have shopped for almost 50 years.  Here's the story:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;CR and her 23-year-old daughter fought two &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;MyHomeTown&lt;/span&gt; men trying to steal her purse after she had loaded groceries into her pickup and left the door open in the parking lot of the local Mom &amp; Pop Grocery.  CR screamed out, “Give me my purse back!” and before Loser #1 could shut his door, she had jumped into the passenger side to get it back. Loser #1 sat on the purse refusing to let go, but CR, hanging halfway out of the vehicle, said she had a good grip on the straps. Loser #2, who was driving, began backing out of the parking lot, dragging CR's feet along the pavement.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;CR’s daughter had left the store a few minutes after her mother and heard her mother’s cries for help. Her daughter then jumped into the car and began tussling with Loser #1, who bit her finger. Daughter bit Loser #1’s ear.  The mother and daughter fought with the losers until police arrived."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's the best part of the story, in my opinion; even better than biting the dude's ear.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;"Loser #1 was most recently charged with possession of drug paraphernalia and theft after attempting to leave the same Shop ’n Save with $13.47 worth of cheese in his pockets."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not sure I could fit $13.47 worth of cheese in my pockets.  Maybe it was a fine imported Gouda or Edam or maybe Jarlsberg.  Either way, it must be some damn good cheese.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5594591477308773775-3775040858661558526?l=magnuspatris.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/feeds/3775040858661558526/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5594591477308773775&amp;postID=3775040858661558526' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/3775040858661558526'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/3775040858661558526'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/2009/01/must-have-been-some-damn-good-cheese.html' title='Must have been some damn good cheese'/><author><name>Magnus Patris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06083516729662909069</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/SW1fw9xhuPI/AAAAAAAAAKM/fF416en_Xuw/s72-c/180px-Emmentaler.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5594591477308773775.post-8688769965024847370</id><published>2009-01-12T09:19:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-12T10:01:02.380-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Black and Gold'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Pittsburgh'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Steelers'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Terrible Towel'/><title type='text'>Black &amp; Gold</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/SWtZE4K24rI/AAAAAAAAAKE/FETCIoD1ZEY/s1600-h/terrible-towel-.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 138px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/SWtZE4K24rI/AAAAAAAAAKE/FETCIoD1ZEY/s200/terrible-towel-.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5290420127609053874" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday was the day for the Steelers first playoff game against the Chargers.  We planned our own little watching party here at Magnus Domus.  I made a huge pot of chili, Nancy made cookies and we fired up the old Philco HD.  Last August, we bought our own Terrible Towel at the one and only Steeler game (I prefer HD to "being there"... my bathroom is cleaner at home and there is less of a line).  After we bought ours, my mom said, "We could have given you ours.  It's packed away in the garage somewhere".  Just a side note.  Their Terrible Towel was the one that was hung up in their bar from 1975 until they sold the place 8 years ago.  I remember sometime around 1984 climbing up a ladder to take it down and clean it.  It was like &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Towel Jerky&lt;/span&gt;; completely inflexible, saturated with nicotine and not anything near yellow.  I would have taken it down then, if it weren't for the towel shaped "shadow" left on the wall.  So there it remained for another 15 years. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I thought our investment in a new Terrible Towel (TT) was worth it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I hang up the TT and the inflatable "Steeler Hammer" which remained inflated exactly long enough for Drew to beat Clay over the head with it twice.  After recovering, Clay decides that he need to help "decorate" too.  He roams around the house looking for anything and everything black and gold.  He then lines them up on the  fireplace next to the TT.  First a yellow pen; then a Pirates baseball; then a SpongeBob Etch-a-Sketch; then various Tonka trucks; then the remote controlled Wall*E; then every black or gold piece of the Batcave play set. I had to put a stop to it when he wanted to complete this homage to the Steelers by bringing in the yellow folding chair and lean it up against the hearth.  I appreciate his team spirit, but enough already!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was a great game; the Steelers scored; the boys screamed; cookies were eaten; victory is ours.  Today, Clay is wearing his Willie Parker shirt to school today.  For the first time this year, he's all, "Yeah, I see your #7's and #86's, but today it's all #39 baby!"  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SpongeBob, Batman and Wall*E are still guarding the Terrible Towel and I guess they'll stay there until early February when their job is done.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5594591477308773775-8688769965024847370?l=magnuspatris.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/feeds/8688769965024847370/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5594591477308773775&amp;postID=8688769965024847370' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/8688769965024847370'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/8688769965024847370'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/2009/01/black-gold.html' title='Black &amp; Gold'/><author><name>Magnus Patris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06083516729662909069</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/SWtZE4K24rI/AAAAAAAAAKE/FETCIoD1ZEY/s72-c/terrible-towel-.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5594591477308773775.post-5788256546676160807</id><published>2008-12-23T23:16:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-23T23:20:30.631-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Twas the night before...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/SVG4h0BMG1I/AAAAAAAAAJ0/ZWrOhU6k-hY/s1600-h/stamp-wmaster.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 141px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/SVG4h0BMG1I/AAAAAAAAAJ0/ZWrOhU6k-hY/s200/stamp-wmaster.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5283206728921127762" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;... the night before.  Tomorrow is Christmas Eve.  All is right with my world.  I hope the same for you.  Merry Christmas!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5594591477308773775-5788256546676160807?l=magnuspatris.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/feeds/5788256546676160807/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5594591477308773775&amp;postID=5788256546676160807' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/5788256546676160807'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/5788256546676160807'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/2008/12/twas-night-before.html' title='Twas the night before...'/><author><name>Magnus Patris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06083516729662909069</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/SVG4h0BMG1I/AAAAAAAAAJ0/ZWrOhU6k-hY/s72-c/stamp-wmaster.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5594591477308773775.post-7055309573617002755</id><published>2008-12-23T00:22:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-23T00:43:27.580-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poopie pants'/><title type='text'>Pants 'n'at</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/SVB6W63HYeI/AAAAAAAAAJs/-4QcBqmOkls/s1600-h/IMG_0480.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/SVB6W63HYeI/AAAAAAAAAJs/-4QcBqmOkls/s200/IMG_0480.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5282856897081729506" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Drew has really enlarged his vocabulary the last few weeks.  Unfortunately, for the last few days, he's concentrated on a few that I wish he wouldn't.  Today, he held court in the back of the van; a toddler Shecky Green; the pre-K George Carlin; a diaper-wearing Dane Cook.  His routine is simple.  He likes to stick with the classics. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Mr. Stinkerpants!"  then he laughs uncontrollably.   "Poopie pants!"  He laughs.  Clay laughs.  He has won over his audience.  "Poopie poopie".  The two little goofballs are rolling on the floor (*they're safely in their government mandated child safety seats and not really ROTFL-ing).  He makes his big finish, "Hello Mr. Stinker-Poopie pants!"  Finally, I've had enough.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Alright, alright.  Drew, knock it off!"  Nancy says, "Just ignore him.  Clay stop laughing at him".  Drew tries a few encore "Poopie pants", but fails to get the ovation he wanted.  Finally, thankfully, we sit quietly listening to Christmas music when Clay says, "Well, at least now he knows how to say the word &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;pants&lt;/span&gt;".&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5594591477308773775-7055309573617002755?l=magnuspatris.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/feeds/7055309573617002755/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5594591477308773775&amp;postID=7055309573617002755' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/7055309573617002755'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/7055309573617002755'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/2008/12/pants-nat.html' title='Pants &apos;n&apos;at'/><author><name>Magnus Patris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06083516729662909069</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/SVB6W63HYeI/AAAAAAAAAJs/-4QcBqmOkls/s72-c/IMG_0480.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5594591477308773775.post-468493356348979612</id><published>2008-12-22T23:43:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-23T17:43:34.430-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Santa'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Christmas'/><title type='text'>The Amazing Mr. Claus</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/SVB1CKPQalI/AAAAAAAAAJk/ShIpeV7EN7Y/s1600-h/santa-fire-engine-03a.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 127px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/SVB1CKPQalI/AAAAAAAAAJk/ShIpeV7EN7Y/s200/santa-fire-engine-03a.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5282851042874124882" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On Sunday, we had Christmas: Part I.  Part I is "Baba and Gigi Christmas".  If you don't know, Baba and Gigi is the anglicized way of saying Grandma and Grandpa in Ukrainian.  We also have "Home Christmas" (Part II), ""Uncle Pete &amp; Aunt Karen Christmas (Part III), "Papa Duke and Grandma Rose Christmas" (Part III, which is usually &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;actually&lt;/span&gt; December 25th), and "Gran Christmas (Part IV).  By December 27th, I'm usually ready for some Easter eggs.  I'm Christmas-ed out.  Not to say I don't enjoy every minute of it.  I just goes on longer than my self proclaimed "Mike's Birthday Week Celebration", which comes around every fourth week of September or so.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway... after Christmas Pt. I, we decided to go look at some Christmas lights.  As we were heading out of my parent's driveway, I heard the local fire trucks blaring their sirens.  I knew that it was Santa's night to ride the truck.  We drove over a block pulled over, and waited for St. Nick to drive by.  It was 14°.  It was windy.  He was riding on top of the fire truck.  For a guy who lives at the North Pole, he looked pretty damned cold.  The kids loved it as he drove by and they waved and screamed.  What could be better; fire trucks, sirens, flashing lights &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;and&lt;/span&gt; Santa.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We decided we'd check out the local Griswald house and drove to the other side of town, which took all of four minutes; maybe.  You can find it because the amount of electricity it uses make an audible hum as you get within four or five blocks.  We've driven past this place before; in previous years and earlier this year.  The kids were excited and we slowly drove up the the house.  Then a very un-Christmasy thought went through my head. "&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Oh, shit!  It's Santa! ...and Mrs. Claus!&lt;/span&gt;"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, as we pulled up in front of the house Santa himself and the lovely Mrs. Claus came up to great us.  I immediately hear the gears turning in Clay's head, "Hey how did he get here so fast?  Where's the fire truck?  Why wasn't she with him on the truck?  Why doesn't he have glasses like he did four minutes ago?!?"  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Quickly, I jump out and say, "Santa!  Wow, those firemen really got you here quickly!"  Santa looks at me like, "Dude, have you had too much eggnog tonight?  Should you really be driving?"  Before he can say anything I say, "Man, we just saw you riding on the fire truck on the other end of town and you beat us here!"  Santa suddenly remembered that he had just arrived.  I also reminded him that he needed to drop off the boys' presents in Virginia.  Luckily, he regained his memory about that too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That Santa, a little forgetful but awful fast.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5594591477308773775-468493356348979612?l=magnuspatris.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/feeds/468493356348979612/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5594591477308773775&amp;postID=468493356348979612' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/468493356348979612'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/468493356348979612'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/2008/12/amazing-mr-claus.html' title='The Amazing Mr. Claus'/><author><name>Magnus Patris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06083516729662909069</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/SVB1CKPQalI/AAAAAAAAAJk/ShIpeV7EN7Y/s72-c/santa-fire-engine-03a.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5594591477308773775.post-3732565488222515626</id><published>2008-12-19T10:43:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-19T12:40:15.666-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='MacWorld'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Steve'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='free stuff'/><title type='text'>Adieu, MacWorld</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/SUvceXuiDzI/AAAAAAAAAJU/niooQk706_M/s1600-h/Steve.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 129px; height: 111px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/SUvceXuiDzI/AAAAAAAAAJU/niooQk706_M/s200/Steve.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5281557402345410354" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;.... and I want to go to MacWorld in New York&lt;/span&gt;."  April 1999.  That was the final request I made when negotiating for my new position at work.  I was pretty happy.  I received a raise; I got to work in a funny looking five-sided building;  I was being paid to buy cool stuff and play with it and tell someone what I thought; but best of all, I was going to MacWorld.  For someone like me this was a dream come true.  It was my Haj; my pilgrimage to Lourdes; my quest for the Northwest Passage.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For three days the Jacob Javitts Center would be turned into Apple Xanadu; a glass domed Macintosh pleasure palace, full of wonders.  Printers.  Scanners.  Graphics cards.  Free stuff!  Ahhh, free stuff.  My reward for my journey through the maze of Microsoft reps, software vendors, magazine subscriptions and electronics vendors.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After making my way towards the giant Apple "&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Think Different&lt;/span&gt;" banners; there she was.  Her siren's song as powerful as those who called out to Jason and Odysseus.  She, in her white Apple polo shirt, beckoned me to hear her seductive song.  "&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Would you like an Apple sticker?&lt;/span&gt;" she sang.  This was the song I had waited so long to hear.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was struck dumb.  She blinked then finally, I replied, "C-c-can I have &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;two&lt;/span&gt;?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Sure.&lt;/span&gt;"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was like I found the Holy Grail, The Ark of the Covenant, and the Golden Fleece all at once.  What more could I possibly ask for?  Wait! "Where did you get that cool orange digital clock?" I asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Over at the EarthLink booth, aisle 6, I think.  They have a whole box full and their giving them away.&lt;/span&gt;"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"There's &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;more&lt;/span&gt; stuff?   &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Free!?!&lt;/span&gt;"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's when my quest for free stuff at MacWorld really started.  I got pens, pencils, clocks, stickers, books, silly putty, cups, lanyards, candy, food, calendars and every other piece of wonderful Apple-related crap you could think of.  Every night I would take my treasures back to my hotel room, lay them out of the bed and gaze upon them.  This was the best job ever!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2001 was the pinnacle of my free stuff orgy.  In addition to all the normal booty, Apple gave away a free mouse to everyone at the keynote speech.  This same keynote, that through some clerical error, I was given a VIP badge and was allowed to sit right up front to worship at the altar of Steve.  Steve's keynote speeches were part rock concert, part liturgy, and part Christmas morning.  If you've never been to one, you'd never really understand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It got even better when later that day as I was on my quest for free stuff, Steve himself walked right toward me on the exhibition floor.  As he passed he game me that little knowing "&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Get the f*@# out of my way!&lt;/span&gt;" look.  I did.  The air was electric for a moment and was then gone as he went on to be annoyed by the several thousand others who were in his way.  It was the best day &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;ever&lt;/span&gt;!* &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(*of course not including our wedding day, birth of children, romantic dinners or other days my wife would be upset about)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My last Macworld was 2002.  It was cancelled in New York soon after.  And now, 2009 might be the last MacWorld in San Francisco.  Nancy and I thought it might give us an excuse to visit San Fran in the next year or two, but it looks like now the Bay Area can only entice us with mild weather, good food, beautiful scenery, and cable car rides.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's the end of an era.  I still have lots of pens, posters, a few stickers, my orange EarthLink clock and even an egg or two of Microsoft's silly putty.  But a world without MacWorld will be a little emptier, at least for me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5594591477308773775-3732565488222515626?l=magnuspatris.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/feeds/3732565488222515626/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5594591477308773775&amp;postID=3732565488222515626' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/3732565488222515626'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/3732565488222515626'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/2008/12/adieu-macworld.html' title='Adieu, MacWorld'/><author><name>Magnus Patris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06083516729662909069</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/SUvceXuiDzI/AAAAAAAAAJU/niooQk706_M/s72-c/Steve.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5594591477308773775.post-4245512861724028021</id><published>2008-12-04T08:09:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-04T09:55:33.377-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Grinch'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='WTAE'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Christmas'/><title type='text'>How WTAE Stole Christmas</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/STfayhlVn-I/AAAAAAAAAHc/IXMMqJGCCss/s1600-h/grinch_WTAE.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 188px; height: 140px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/STfayhlVn-I/AAAAAAAAAHc/IXMMqJGCCss/s200/grinch_WTAE.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5275926050031116258" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Christmastime is here and there's nothing better than sitting around the old HD LCD and watching family Christmas programs.  I especially like the classics; "A Charlie Brown Christmas", "Rudolph TRNR" (which is kind of disturbing on many levels) and "How the Grinch Stole Christmas".  Through the Christmas magic that is the FiOS Digital Video Recorder, we can even watch them a second or third time.  Joy to the World!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The other night "How the Grinch Stole Christmas" (HTGSC) was on our local Pittsburgh ABC affiliate, WTAE.  The story is a little hard to follow for a 5 year old and impossible for a 2 year old; especially since ABC cuts to a commercial every two and a half minutes.  That's not WTAE's fault, but I'd rather have someone sponsor the show with limited commercial interruptions.  However, WTAE does control their news tease; you know the "Snow's coming, the world is doomed; film at 11" thing. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We watch as the Grinch starts stealing the Who's; not The Who's; Christmas.  (If he tried to steal The Who's Christmas, Pete Townshend would beat him over the head with his guitar and Roger Daltrey would kick his Grinch-ass six ways to New Year; but that's a different story).  So during a commercial break, Clay asks why the Grinch is doing this and all the other million questions a 5 year old has at Christmas.  The commercials end and we turn our attention back to the screen.  But first, channel 4's Wendy Bell comes on with a very important new tease: "Santa's Helper mugged outside a local mall, film at 11", she says almost cheerfully.  Try explaining that  to a five year old. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; It's already bad enough that I can't watch a football game with Clay without him singing "Viva Viagra", but what were the people at WTAE thinking?  I wrote them an email asking exactly that question.  So far, no reply.  Tonight we watch "Santa Claus is coming to Town".  What will they tease tonight? "Local man bags 12 point Rudolph, film at 11".  "Police crack down on Ho Ho Hos in Hill District, film at 11."  "Global warming melts North Pole, 247 elves unaccounted for; presumed dead, film at 11".  Merry Christmas.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5594591477308773775-4245512861724028021?l=magnuspatris.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/feeds/4245512861724028021/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5594591477308773775&amp;postID=4245512861724028021' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/4245512861724028021'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/4245512861724028021'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/2008/12/how-wtae-stole-christmas.html' title='How WTAE Stole Christmas'/><author><name>Magnus Patris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06083516729662909069</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/STfayhlVn-I/AAAAAAAAAHc/IXMMqJGCCss/s72-c/grinch_WTAE.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5594591477308773775.post-1789255529721983378</id><published>2008-12-03T23:00:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-03T23:42:37.616-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='PittGirl'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Pittsburgh'/><title type='text'>Goodbye PittGirl</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/STdflix4uKI/AAAAAAAAAHU/K2QytUipzTI/s1600-h/images.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 70px; height: 70px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/STdflix4uKI/AAAAAAAAAHU/K2QytUipzTI/s200/images.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5275790587083667618" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After living in Virginia for 22 years, I was really excited to move back to Pittsburgh last year.  Even though we came back to visit several times a year, Pittsburgh had changed a lot since I left.  Where was Joe DeNardo?  What the hell happened to nighttime radio on KDKA?  The Parkway &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;North&lt;/span&gt;?!?  My wife saying she was going to work on Liberty Avenue would have had a whole different meaning 25 years ago.  And don't even get me started on the Pirates; &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;the Buccos of Succitude&lt;/span&gt;.  How was I, a stay-at-home dad, going to rediscover my hometown?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then Nancy discovered a local blogger.  She was funny, smart, hip and she made us see Pittsburgh through her eyes.  We'd get on the phone and the first thing we'd say was, "Did you read &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;PittGirl&lt;/span&gt; today?"  Her's became one of our favorite sites to visit.  I shared her hatred of pigeons, her love of local media and her hope that this would be the year the Pirates would finally have a winning season.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A couple of weeks ago, she had to quit abruptly.  She had her reasons and we respect them, but are still sad.  But I'm glad that we had a friend to show us what a great place the 'Burgh is, even if for a short time.  Thanks PittGirl!  We'll miss you!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5594591477308773775-1789255529721983378?l=magnuspatris.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/feeds/1789255529721983378/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5594591477308773775&amp;postID=1789255529721983378' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/1789255529721983378'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/1789255529721983378'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/2008/12/goodbye-pittgirl.html' title='Goodbye PittGirl'/><author><name>Magnus Patris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06083516729662909069</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/STdflix4uKI/AAAAAAAAAHU/K2QytUipzTI/s72-c/images.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5594591477308773775.post-8523065752531917131</id><published>2008-11-10T09:41:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-10T10:03:46.416-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Snow'/><title type='text'>Snow</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/SRhNAj4EfiI/AAAAAAAAAHE/kYTF0wFt8oQ/s1600-h/Snow.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/SRhNAj4EfiI/AAAAAAAAAHE/kYTF0wFt8oQ/s200/Snow.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5267044436235550242" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We've had a very nice stretch of Aboriginal American Summer (P.C. for Indian Summer) here in western Pennsylvania.  But the last few days have started to feel more like November is supposed to.  This morning we woke up to our first snow.  Actually it was more like a light dusting; enough to frost the roofs of houses and whiten the mulched planting beds.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But when the boys looked out the window, they acted like it was the Great Blizzard of November 10th.  They jumped up and down yelling, "Snow, Snow Snoooooooooowwww!!!", until their throats were raw.  I could see the wheels turning in Clay's head; "&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Can we go sledding?  Can we build a snow man?  Where is my scarf and gloves?&lt;/span&gt;"  Drew had a look like he was thinking, "&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Does that stuff taste like ice cream?  I can't wait to try it!  Where are my crayons?  I want to color on daddy's iPhone; again.&lt;/span&gt;"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nancy even looked at me said, "Do you think there might be a school delay?"  Even after being here for most of last winter, old Virginia habits are hard to break.  In the Old Dominion, a "storm" like this would elicit at least a 2 hour delay, if not a day off.  In Virginia the threat of snow is enough to cancel school.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I write this approaching 10 AM, the snow is starting to melt away.  Actually it's more like it is evaporating.  By the time we pick up Clay from Kindergarden, it will most likely be gone.  No sledding; no snowmen; no snowball fights with the neighbor.  Not today, but soon.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5594591477308773775-8523065752531917131?l=magnuspatris.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/feeds/8523065752531917131/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5594591477308773775&amp;postID=8523065752531917131' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/8523065752531917131'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/8523065752531917131'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/2008/11/snow.html' title='Snow'/><author><name>Magnus Patris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06083516729662909069</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/SRhNAj4EfiI/AAAAAAAAAHE/kYTF0wFt8oQ/s72-c/Snow.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5594591477308773775.post-9076985136470447909</id><published>2008-11-04T22:23:00.007-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-04T22:52:26.095-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Star Wars'/><title type='text'>A New Hope</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/SREXWRo05iI/AAAAAAAAAG8/E_staOXJIaM/s1600-h/star_wars_movie_poster.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 126px; height: 200px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/SREXWRo05iI/AAAAAAAAAG8/E_staOXJIaM/s200/star_wars_movie_poster.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5265015110832023074" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll warn you this post will be kind of geeky, so if you don't know where Tatooine is or the name of the bounty hunter who was shot by Han Solo, (Greedo), or the difference between Bantha and a Dewback you may want to stop reading now. This morning Clay woke up sick.  It screwed up our plans for our usual "Election Day Breakfast" which has become a tradition for us.  Alas, it was not to be.  One of the things I promised him was that we'd watch "Star Wars Episode IV: A New Hope" or as I like to call it, "Star Wars".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Clay has been on a huge Star Wars kick ever since we rented Episode 1 or as Clay calls it, "The Jar-Jar Binks Movie."  Bleeeaaack!  He also got "Lego Star Wars" for the Wii and he and his friend beat the crap out of each other in the back yard with their Lightsabers.  That was the extent of his knowledge of Star Wars.  So I thought it's time to introduce him to what Star Wars was before George Lucas lost his marbles. (See &lt;a href="http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/2008/08/day-george-lucas-lost-his-marbles.html"&gt;this post&lt;/a&gt;).  I put in the DVD, read him the opening credits and settled in for the movie.  Immediately the questions started,  "Is that Earth?"; "Who's that guy?"; "Why did Darth Vader throw that guy against the wall?";  "Who's that girl?"  "How does C3PO understand what R2D2 is saying?";  "How many eyes does that guy have?"  "Hey, look it's like the place in Lego Star Wars!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I never realized how boring the first 80 minutes of the movie might be to a 5 year old.  Lots of talking, not much shooting, no Jar-Jar Binks.  But he really started to get into it during the lightsaber battle between Darth Vader and Ben Kenobi and was shocked when Ben was killed.  "Is he dead?  Is he coming back?!?"  I told him he'd have to wait until the next movie.  But what really got him was the climactic Battle of Yavin.  He stood up and was glued to the TV for the 15 minutes of the battle.  He was mesmerized! That's when I started getting choked up watching him watch the movie I saw over 31 years ago as a kid; getting drawn into the action as I did; wishing he had his own X-Wing fighter as I did.  After it was over he said, "That was cool!  When can we watch the next movie?!"  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hah!  Take that Jar-Jar Binks!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5594591477308773775-9076985136470447909?l=magnuspatris.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/feeds/9076985136470447909/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5594591477308773775&amp;postID=9076985136470447909' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/9076985136470447909'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/9076985136470447909'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/2008/11/new-hope.html' title='A New Hope'/><author><name>Magnus Patris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06083516729662909069</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/SREXWRo05iI/AAAAAAAAAG8/E_staOXJIaM/s72-c/star_wars_movie_poster.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5594591477308773775.post-770521394480931494</id><published>2008-11-04T10:50:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-04T11:34:02.242-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Halloween'/><title type='text'>Halloween</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/SRB3mjEDTHI/AAAAAAAAAG0/_iAcMA-3bnw/s1600-h/pp-casper.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 178px; height: 200px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/SRB3mjEDTHI/AAAAAAAAAG0/_iAcMA-3bnw/s200/pp-casper.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5264839468527078514" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last Friday was Halloween.  I've never been a big fan of Halloween and I wasn't looking forward to it.  The first costume I remember wearing was "Casper the Friendly Ghost" when I was 5 or 6.  Trick-or-treating in my hometown was a little different.  There was about a one block area I was allowed to roam around in near my parents' bar.  This included about 15 houses, a grocery store, 2 bars, a pizza shop and a bakery.  A raspberry filled jelly donut was my favorite treat.  How many kids get &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;that&lt;/span&gt; these days?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I was older, like 10 or 11, I was given the "job" of passing out candy at my parents' bar.  It was &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;loads&lt;/span&gt; of fun {insert sarcasm here}.  I sat there with a box of Clark bars or Milkshake bars and waited for the kids to come in (back in the day kids did go to neighborhood bars to trick-or-treat; at least in Pittsburgh).  Occasionally, I'd get the scary costumed unknown kid who'd come up to me and rather than shout a playful, "Trick-or-Treat!", I'd hear in a low, menacing tone, "You better give me 2 candy bars or I'm going to &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;kill&lt;/span&gt; you tomorrow!"  Happy Halloween! {insert sarcasm here} As my wife says, "Well, at least you're not bitter at all."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In college, I went to some interesting Halloween parties.  The Sigma Nu parties were the best.  Unfortunately one included an image permanently burned into my brain.  I looked on the couch of the house I was in and there was Gilligan making out with a nun with a scowling clown sitting next to them, staring at them.  At that point, I gave up on Halloween.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When the kids came along, I got back in the spirit of Halloween a little.  But this year in our new house, I think I had the best Halloween since I was Casper.  The kids were both really excited.  I think Drew had more fun giving out candy than getting it.  I had a great time taking the kids out hanging out with the other parents and even having our own "goody bag" with a 6-pack of Labatt's Blue in it.  For the first time in years I can honestly say, I can't wait for next Halloween!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5594591477308773775-770521394480931494?l=magnuspatris.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/feeds/770521394480931494/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5594591477308773775&amp;postID=770521394480931494' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/770521394480931494'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/770521394480931494'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/2008/11/halloween.html' title='Halloween'/><author><name>Magnus Patris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06083516729662909069</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/SRB3mjEDTHI/AAAAAAAAAG0/_iAcMA-3bnw/s72-c/pp-casper.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5594591477308773775.post-1316300891305372827</id><published>2008-10-12T22:35:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2008-10-12T22:50:47.335-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Fireworks'/><title type='text'>Fireworks</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/SPK3W6d9MtI/AAAAAAAAAGs/1rX-4mf-G_U/s1600-h/0626Fireworks.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/SPK3W6d9MtI/AAAAAAAAAGs/1rX-4mf-G_U/s200/0626Fireworks.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5256465319374697170" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In Pittsburgh, we love our fireworks.  Just last week there was a building shaking display in downtown for Pittsburgh's 250 birthday.  This week in our community, there were fireworks because, well, we're really not sure, but any excuse for fireworks and we're there.  So last night we pack up the boys and our neighbor, grab some snacks, and set out for the big display.  As we approach the launch site, I notice a distinct lack of activity.  I mean there is no one there.  No cars, no people, no band, no &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;nothing&lt;/span&gt;. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then we see a sign, telling us that we're 24 hours early.  &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;S#@^!!!&lt;/span&gt;  Who has fireworks on a &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Sunday&lt;/span&gt; night?!?  I guess we do.  So fast forward 24 hours later; we pack up the kids again and thankfully, today there were fireworks.  Not like the "shock and awe" of Pittsburgh 250, but a really nice 20 minute local fireworks display.  I enjoyed it, Nancy enjoyed it, our two year old on my shoulders enjoyed it.  Our  five year old and his buddy enjoyed running around in the dark screaming "&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Happy Birthday America!&lt;/span&gt;" hardly casting a glance at the sky.  But I guess they enjoyed it too.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5594591477308773775-1316300891305372827?l=magnuspatris.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/feeds/1316300891305372827/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5594591477308773775&amp;postID=1316300891305372827' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/1316300891305372827'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/1316300891305372827'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/2008/10/fireworks.html' title='Fireworks'/><author><name>Magnus Patris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06083516729662909069</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/SPK3W6d9MtI/AAAAAAAAAGs/1rX-4mf-G_U/s72-c/0626Fireworks.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5594591477308773775.post-1775722520930856168</id><published>2008-10-08T22:39:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2008-10-08T23:33:31.128-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='45'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Fall'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Clay'/><title type='text'>Forty-Five</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/SO17glFhS8I/AAAAAAAAAGk/OGIcbjx1C5Q/s1600-h/images.jpeg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/SO17glFhS8I/AAAAAAAAAGk/OGIcbjx1C5Q/s200/images.jpeg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5254992139852532674" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't believe it's Fall already.  So much has happened in the past month.  Last weekend,  we saw the most impressive fireworks display celebrating Pittsburgh's 250th birthday.  It was the largest display ever; and Pittsburgh's a fireworks crazy town.  This was a more impressive display than any I ever saw in Washington, D.C.  Baseball has finished (thank goodness); the Pirates are in last place... again.  Football has started; more importantly Hockey has started.  I love the Steelers, but I love and admire the Penguins.  Drew turned 2 and I turned 45.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;45.  It doesn't really bother me, except I'm no longer in that 35-44 year old demographic.  I received an invitation to join AARP.  Doesn't the "R" stand for retired?  I also fill out surveys for the Harris Poll.  I don't get any money, but I earn points that I can exchange for gifts.  (So far I earned a radio and a crock pot; it took two and a half years of surveys for that).  Last month I was getting surveys like, "Tell us about your online music purchases" and "Help us develop the next great electronic gadget".  Now I get ones like, "Tell us about your favorite men's hair coloring product" and "Adult diapers; function or fashion?" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The other day I heard a commercial playing "Mr. Blue Sky" by the Electric Light Orchestra; one of my favorite groups during my high school years.  I started singing along and told Clay that was one of my favorite songs.  He said, "Who sings that song, daddy?" "E.L.O.  I used to have all their records."  Without missing a beat, he says, "What's a &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;record&lt;/span&gt;?"  Nancy giggles.  I start, "Well, before their were CDs, you used to have to buy music on these big plastic discs and spin them on a table and put a needle on it."  As the words come out of my mouth, I already see Clay's expression start to change,as if he's thinking, "&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;What the hell are you talking about old man?&lt;/span&gt;"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, and phones didn't have &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;buttons&lt;/span&gt;, and milk was &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;delivered&lt;/span&gt; to the house, and we had 13 channels on TV and 11 of those were in &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;color&lt;/span&gt;; Car seats?  The back seat was my &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;playground&lt;/span&gt;; my &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;internet&lt;/span&gt; was 24 volumes of the World Book Encyclopedia and my &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Facebook&lt;/span&gt; was a Radio Shack walkie-talkie that reached my friend Billy's house on a good day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe I am getting old.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5594591477308773775-1775722520930856168?l=magnuspatris.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/feeds/1775722520930856168/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5594591477308773775&amp;postID=1775722520930856168' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/1775722520930856168'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/1775722520930856168'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/2008/10/forty-five.html' title='Forty-Five'/><author><name>Magnus Patris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06083516729662909069</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/SO17glFhS8I/AAAAAAAAAGk/OGIcbjx1C5Q/s72-c/images.jpeg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5594591477308773775.post-6192407530819644426</id><published>2008-09-11T09:59:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-11T10:19:56.249-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='911'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Pentagon'/><title type='text'>Seven years later</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/SMkov3-C2UI/AAAAAAAAAGc/o9VlDFJPmcA/s1600-h/american-flag.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/SMkov3-C2UI/AAAAAAAAAGc/o9VlDFJPmcA/s200/american-flag.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5244768043992799554" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I always feel strange on this day.  This year it sneaked up on me.  I didn't think about it until last night at Clay's baseball game.  I'm still angry about what happened and I'll never forget the smell as I looked at the Pentagon burning from the parking lot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One story I'll always remember is how one of my co-workers, Robin, and her husband, organized a group to get drinks and sandwiches to the kids who were at the Pentagon's day care center.  With everything else going on that day, the kids could have been so easily overlooked.  At times, I feel bad that I was safe at home in front of my TV by 11:30 that morning while she and others were still there helping.  Maybe she did this because she had kids or because it was just in her nature.  Either way, when I think of today, the only memory that makes me feel good is that of her and others thinking of those kids.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5594591477308773775-6192407530819644426?l=magnuspatris.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/feeds/6192407530819644426/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5594591477308773775&amp;postID=6192407530819644426' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/6192407530819644426'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/6192407530819644426'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/2008/09/seven-years-later.html' title='Seven years later'/><author><name>Magnus Patris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06083516729662909069</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/SMkov3-C2UI/AAAAAAAAAGc/o9VlDFJPmcA/s72-c/american-flag.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5594591477308773775.post-1134318075669648894</id><published>2008-09-07T22:25:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-07T22:45:53.032-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='John McCain'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Barack Obama'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='politics'/><title type='text'>I'm Five, and I Approved This Message</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/SMSRgA9ix7I/AAAAAAAAAGU/MeYZfqT5dzU/s1600-h/images-1.jpeg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/SMSRgA9ix7I/AAAAAAAAAGU/MeYZfqT5dzU/s200/images-1.jpeg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5243475845366073266" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can tell that there are way too many political commercials on TV and radio lately.  Clay's been asking "Daddy?  Who are you rooting for; John McCain or Barack Obama?"  I said I'm not rooting for anyone, I'm trying to decide who I'm going to vote for for President of our country.  It's a very important decision.  "Oh, so who is mamma rooting for?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The other day we were driving around and an Obama commercial came on the radio.  Drew immediately started saying "Bwaak Abama, Bwaak Abama!" Clay immediately replies with, "I'm John McCain and I approved this message".  This goes on for four or five minutes until I scream "Enough!"  A few minutes later Drew says, "Jah McCaay, Daddy, Jah McCaaaaaay!"  Clay starts with "Bah-Rock-O-Bama!  Bah-Rock-O-Bama!"  Ah, the fickle nature of American politics.  I'll be so glad when November gets here.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5594591477308773775-1134318075669648894?l=magnuspatris.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/feeds/1134318075669648894/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5594591477308773775&amp;postID=1134318075669648894' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/1134318075669648894'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/1134318075669648894'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/2008/09/im-five-and-i-approved-this-message.html' title='I&apos;m Five, and I Approved This Message'/><author><name>Magnus Patris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06083516729662909069</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/SMSRgA9ix7I/AAAAAAAAAGU/MeYZfqT5dzU/s72-c/images-1.jpeg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5594591477308773775.post-430957106185627237</id><published>2008-09-07T11:41:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-07T11:45:20.690-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Steelers'/><title type='text'>Here We Go Steelers!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/SMP3DJ6GemI/AAAAAAAAAGM/3b4L-2UOeDo/s1600-h/images.jpeg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/SMP3DJ6GemI/AAAAAAAAAGM/3b4L-2UOeDo/s200/images.jpeg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5243306024760670818" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The flat panel HDTV is warming up, the Terrible Towel is hanging over the fireplace, the nachos are in the oven and the beer is cold.  It's Sunday in Pittsburgh!  It's our first Steeler game in our new house since the move.  Here we go Steelers, Here we go!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5594591477308773775-430957106185627237?l=magnuspatris.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/feeds/430957106185627237/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5594591477308773775&amp;postID=430957106185627237' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/430957106185627237'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/430957106185627237'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/2008/09/here-we-go-steelers.html' title='Here We Go Steelers!'/><author><name>Magnus Patris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06083516729662909069</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/SMP3DJ6GemI/AAAAAAAAAGM/3b4L-2UOeDo/s72-c/images.jpeg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5594591477308773775.post-1813747463308494282</id><published>2008-08-28T21:19:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-08-28T21:28:16.434-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='school'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Clay'/><title type='text'>School Days</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/SLdQnCR4K5I/AAAAAAAAAGE/QzVTiCzaht4/s1600-h/IMG_3106.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/SLdQnCR4K5I/AAAAAAAAAGE/QzVTiCzaht4/s200/IMG_3106.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5239745323025836946" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's hard to believe, but the first day of school is here already.  Clay didn't look back; he was so looking forward to school.  All day, flashes of my time in school have been coming back to me.  The good memories and the bad; the excitement; the angst.  It seemed that time dragged.  Every school year was a lifetime; every month a decade.  It seemed like summer was always so far away, and then it was gone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To Clay, the next 13 years will see like an eternity, with milestones like first grade, middle school, junior high, driver's license, graduation and college.  To me it will fly by much too quickly.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5594591477308773775-1813747463308494282?l=magnuspatris.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/feeds/1813747463308494282/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5594591477308773775&amp;postID=1813747463308494282' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/1813747463308494282'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/1813747463308494282'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/2008/08/school-days.html' title='School Days'/><author><name>Magnus Patris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06083516729662909069</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/SLdQnCR4K5I/AAAAAAAAAGE/QzVTiCzaht4/s72-c/IMG_3106.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5594591477308773775.post-4799159105861532649</id><published>2008-08-25T08:28:00.009-04:00</published><updated>2008-08-28T21:15:32.371-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='George Lucas'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Clone Wars'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Star Wars'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Zero the Hutt'/><title type='text'>The Day George Lucas Lost His Marbles</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/SLKuLy2xE4I/AAAAAAAAAF8/c3I_A6rcJJ4/s1600-h/ghutt.png"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/SLKuLy2xE4I/AAAAAAAAAF8/c3I_A6rcJJ4/s200/ghutt.png" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5238440834238583682" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ewoks.  I hate the Ewoks.  I will always remember sitting in the theater at the Beaver Valley Mall on a the first Sunday in June 1977.  Seeing the opening battle scene in Star Wars (before it was called "A New Hope") made a lasting impression on me that still give me goosebumps.  I think I saw that movie a dozen times that summer.  Three years later, "The Empire Strikes Back" came out.  It was dark and I didn't like it as much as the original, but is till saw it 5 or 6 times.  Then in 1983, "Return of the Jedi", which I had high hopes for, until... Ewoks!  George Lucas must have lost his marbles.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fast forward to 1999.  By then "Empire" had become my favorite movie and I looked forward to the new prequel series.  That all changed when we were all introduced to Jar-Jar Binks, possibly the single most annoying character in recorded history.  He made me long for the days of Ewoks.  George Lucas must have lost his marbles.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;August 2008; "The Clone Wars". This story takes place between "Attack of the Clones" and "Revenge of the Sith".  It uses a weird animation process that makes everyone look like they just popped off some bizarre Byzantine fresco.  Normally, I would already know to stay away from this movie, but I have a 5 year old and between the media blitz on TV and the equally bizarre Happy Meal "toys" from McDonald's, we had to go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The movie revolves around Anakin getting an (annoying) apprentice and the search for the son of Jabba the Hutt, who has been kidnapped by Count Dooku.  Still, this might have been a salvageable idea for a story, but alas, no.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, after watching this movie, I give you the following 8 reasons why George Lucas has finally, truly lost his marbles:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;#8 Battle Droids who act more like "Laurel and Hardy" than "Stallone and Schwarzenegger"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;#7 Anakin's apprentice calls him "Sky-guy"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;#6 Numerous plot holes you could drive a Star Cruiser through.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;#5 Jabba's son, who is called "Stinky"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;#4 There was no iconic "opening crawl" that has been a staple of the movies and even the video games.  Instead there was a narration done in the style of manic, annoying 1930's radio announcer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;#3 Endless battle scenes.  After 6 or 7 minutes of clones and droids shooting constantly at each other, you get kind of numb, especially when it does not move the story forward.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;#2 Being constantly reminded that "We have to find Jabba the Hutt's son.  He's been kidnapped!"  Alright already.  We know.  My 5 year old with the attention span of a , well, a 5 year old gets it already.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And #1, worst of all, Jabba the Hutt's flamboyant, apparently homosexual uncle Zero the Hutt.  I kid you not.  Zero is a purple Hutt with gold paint, flower tattoos, wears a gold headdress with feathers and speaks in the manner of Truman Capote with a Louisiana accent.  A horrible stereotype.  Again, I kid you not.  Why not just get it over with and call him "Pizza the Hutt".  At least that would have got a laugh out of the audience.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;George Lucas has truly, finally lost his marbles.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5594591477308773775-4799159105861532649?l=magnuspatris.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/feeds/4799159105861532649/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5594591477308773775&amp;postID=4799159105861532649' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/4799159105861532649'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/4799159105861532649'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/2008/08/day-george-lucas-lost-his-marbles.html' title='The Day George Lucas Lost His Marbles'/><author><name>Magnus Patris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06083516729662909069</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/SLKuLy2xE4I/AAAAAAAAAF8/c3I_A6rcJJ4/s72-c/ghutt.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5594591477308773775.post-4098020234619994895</id><published>2008-08-21T09:44:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-08-21T10:04:40.265-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Wishing Well</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/SK117zT8tnI/AAAAAAAAAF0/m0TBMFsCWho/s1600-h/IMG_3033.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/SK117zT8tnI/AAAAAAAAAF0/m0TBMFsCWho/s200/IMG_3033.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5236971611948365426" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last Friday we took the kids, along with their cousins to Idlewild Park and Storybook Forest in Ligonier, PA.  It's a park that caters to younger kids, but there also a bunch of rides to keep older kids happy.  I haven't been there since I was about 5 or 6, but I remembered Story Book Forest more than the rest of the park.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Story Book Forest is a walking trail where you meet Mother Goose, Raggedy Ann, The Three Little Pigs and all the other characters you remember from childhood.  I really wanted to take them here this year because Clay now likes SpongeBob more than Thomas and I was afraid that he'd think this was boring and too young for him. I was pleasantly surprised that he really enjoyed going through; although he didn't want to see Captain Candy on her pirate ship, even though she was passing out free lollipops.  Drew on the other hand said, "Candy?!  Let's Go!!!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Near then end, there was a wishing well and I asked Clay if he wanted to make a wish.  I gave him a penny and he ran over to the well.  I said, "Close your eyes and make a wish and throw the penny in."  He closed his eyes tightly, whispered to himself, smiled and threw the penny.  I asked, "Did you make a wish?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yes, I wished that you'd be my daddy forever!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I almost cried. Yes, buddy, you get your wish; and I get mine.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5594591477308773775-4098020234619994895?l=magnuspatris.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/feeds/4098020234619994895/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5594591477308773775&amp;postID=4098020234619994895' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/4098020234619994895'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/4098020234619994895'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/2008/08/wishing-well.html' title='Wishing Well'/><author><name>Magnus Patris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06083516729662909069</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/SK117zT8tnI/AAAAAAAAAF0/m0TBMFsCWho/s72-c/IMG_3033.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5594591477308773775.post-4091322476875045534</id><published>2008-07-29T22:25:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-07-29T22:51:52.676-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Popcorn'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Space Chimps'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Clay'/><title type='text'>Popcorn</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/SI_XLMnEDxI/AAAAAAAAAFs/pCvbIQCYeJI/s1600-h/images.jpeg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/SI_XLMnEDxI/AAAAAAAAAFs/pCvbIQCYeJI/s200/images.jpeg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5228634279764037394" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Space Chimps&lt;/span&gt;".  What could be wrong with that.  It has two of my favorite things; Space and Chimps.  The only thing that could be better would be "&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Space Chimps delivering Hooters' Wings with a free MacBook Pro&lt;/span&gt;".  Heaven.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Clay has wanted to see this movie since he saw the first commercial months ago.  So I decided to give Nancy a few hours of peace and quiet while I took him to see this potential Academy Award winning flick.  As we enter the theater lobby, Clay immediately is disinterested in the movie and wants to play video games.  All the games he wants to play are racing games and he is far too short to reach the pedals; thankfully.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I break him from the trance of quarter-swallowing electronic crack by telling him that we needed to get some snacks for the movie. "Clay do you want any popcorn?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No, I want that &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Batman&lt;/span&gt; thing!", as he points to Malted Milk Balls with the Batman logo on it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You're not going to like Malted Milk Balls.  How 'bout some popcorn?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No Daddy, I want &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;that&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Batman&lt;/span&gt; thing!", as he points to Milk Duds.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No, Clay, you're no going to like those.  How about some popcorn?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I don't want &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;any&lt;/span&gt; popcorn!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"OK, how about M&amp;Ms or Twizzelers?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I want Starburst!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"OK, you can get some Starburst.  Are you sure you don't want any popcorn?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Goddammit Daddy!  No F&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;reakin&lt;/span&gt;' Popcorn!!!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OK, well he didn't say that, but he again told me of his lack of desire for any type of warm, buttery corn-based snack product.  So, I order a small one for myself.  As we pass the "Popcorn Flavoring Station" I start sprinkling on cheddar cheese flavored salt.  "Daddy, what's that?"  "Cheddar cheese flavored salt".  "Yuck!  I hate cheddar cheese salt!"  I tell him that since he doesn't want any popcorn, he shouldn't care what I put on it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We settle in for the movie, and just as the first preview is about to start Clay says, "Daddy, I want some popcorn!"  FIne.  By the time "&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Space Chimps&lt;/span&gt;" starts, he has devoured most of the bag.  "I guess I don't like cheddar cheese salt too much, but I'll eat the popcorn anyway", he says.  I'll learn next time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, and the movie.  &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Awful&lt;/span&gt; is not a strong enough word.  It looks like it was made on cutting edge animation software that Pixar threw away in the early 90's.  But Clay and I did both laugh when the big chimp slipped on the banana peel on the treadmill.  Can't help it; Monkeys=Funny.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5594591477308773775-4091322476875045534?l=magnuspatris.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/feeds/4091322476875045534/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5594591477308773775&amp;postID=4091322476875045534' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/4091322476875045534'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/4091322476875045534'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/2008/07/popcorn.html' title='Popcorn'/><author><name>Magnus Patris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06083516729662909069</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/SI_XLMnEDxI/AAAAAAAAAFs/pCvbIQCYeJI/s72-c/images.jpeg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5594591477308773775.post-6604887492401943613</id><published>2008-07-12T14:29:00.006-04:00</published><updated>2008-07-12T15:31:33.254-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Another Brick In The Wall</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/SHj_mAwz0aI/AAAAAAAAAFc/KOysCZPbO8A/s1600-h/GreatWalls.png"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/SHj_mAwz0aI/AAAAAAAAAFc/KOysCZPbO8A/s200/GreatWalls.png" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5222204796440924578" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When we bought our house, we knew we had one major problem.  We had two retaining walls in the back yard and they were both bowing badly.  In five months the lower wall moved several inches and the final blow came when I was cutting the grass behind one wall and my leg went down in a void to me knee.  Apparently, this wall was built by roving bands of chimpanzees which must have been through Pittsburgh 10 years ago.  These monkeys were bad even by monkey standards.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So we called the landscaper and &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;viola&lt;/span&gt;, two weeks, 20 tons of stone, two truckloads of mulch  later we had our new (single) wall up.  It looks great and even has a set up steps so we don't have to walk around the ends to go up a level.  As a bonus, one of our neighbors gave us his kids' old play set.  It's a good thing we had it done when we did, right before we went on vacation, because when we left our back yard was mud, manure and seed.  By the time we returned, we had grass! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But the main reason we wanted to have the wall rebuilt was to have a safe area for the kids to play.  I was worried that either the wall would collapse on someone or that someone would break a leg by "finding" a hole like I did.  In the time our house was up for sale, it had become the "skate park".  Various &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;slacker-related&lt;/span&gt; items (parts of skateboards, snowboards, ramps, pipes, etc.) occasionally turned up on our driveway, lawn and retaining walls and I worried that one of these slackers would end up splitting his head open.  At least now, I don't have to worry about the wall collapsing on them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We've spent the last few days power washing, staining, repairing and re-fitting what will become "The Pirate Ship".  We already have our "sail" and will soon put on the ship's wheel and the pirate flag.  It sails in it's &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;sea of mulch&lt;/span&gt; and will soon need to be officially christened.  The old owner had spray painted "SK8-24-7" on the side; which I have since power washed into oblivion; so now we need to find the perfect name for our ship.  Suggestions?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5594591477308773775-6604887492401943613?l=magnuspatris.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/feeds/6604887492401943613/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5594591477308773775&amp;postID=6604887492401943613' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/6604887492401943613'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/6604887492401943613'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/2008/07/another-brick-in-wall.html' title='Another Brick In The Wall'/><author><name>Magnus Patris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06083516729662909069</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/SHj_mAwz0aI/AAAAAAAAAFc/KOysCZPbO8A/s72-c/GreatWalls.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5594591477308773775.post-7331674295683071216</id><published>2008-07-06T22:25:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2008-07-06T22:35:30.312-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='OBX'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Bikini Cole Slaw Wrestling'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='4th of July'/><title type='text'>Happy Birthday America</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/SHGAvKYnMTI/AAAAAAAAAFU/TPOSK2yEsGQ/s1600-h/PigMan.png"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/SHGAvKYnMTI/AAAAAAAAAFU/TPOSK2yEsGQ/s200/PigMan.png" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5220094990828908850" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sorry, it's been so long since the last post.  Here's what's coming up:  "Another Brick in the Wall", "F.U. VDOT", "OBX 2008" and more, but I couldn't let this go without posting this tonight.  This was taken on the morning of our nation's 232nd birthday, because there is no better way than to say "Happy Birthday America" than "&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Bikini Cole Slaw Wrestling&lt;/span&gt;".  And no, Nancy would not let me go.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5594591477308773775-7331674295683071216?l=magnuspatris.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/feeds/7331674295683071216/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5594591477308773775&amp;postID=7331674295683071216' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/7331674295683071216'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/7331674295683071216'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/2008/07/happy-birthday-america.html' title='Happy Birthday America'/><author><name>Magnus Patris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06083516729662909069</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/SHGAvKYnMTI/AAAAAAAAAFU/TPOSK2yEsGQ/s72-c/PigMan.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5594591477308773775.post-4370876322236381008</id><published>2008-06-04T23:36:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2008-06-05T09:15:29.106-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hockey'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Penguins'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sidney Crosby'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Marc-Andre Fleury'/><title type='text'>Let's Go Pens!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/SEdiN-QFOwI/AAAAAAAAAFA/-BbOMnvP3A4/s1600-h/images.jpeg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/SEdiN-QFOwI/AAAAAAAAAFA/-BbOMnvP3A4/s200/images.jpeg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5208239486265539330" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, it's over.  The Penguins run for the Stanley Cup ended about an hour ago.  Since moving back to Pittsburgh, we've really been into Pittsburgh sports, but some of the most exciting games this past six months have come from the Pens.  From Sidney Crosby's overtime shoot-out win at the outdoor game in Buffalo on January first, to Monday's triple overtime win in Game 5 in Detroit; to tonight's 0.1 second left in the game "almost" goal by Marian Hossa.  What an amazing effort these guys put forward. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We're disappointed in the loss, and Clay almost cried when he found out that hockey is over until October, but we still love our Pens! Way to go guys!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I'm going to go out and buy Clay a Sidney Crosby or Marc-Andre Fleury shirt tomorrow.  He may not understand yet, but these are young men in their 20's that I want him to see a role models.  Not because they are great athletes, but because they work hard, give their all for their team, and win (and lose) graciously; no swaggering, no complaining, no trash talking; just like how I want my sons to be.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5594591477308773775-4370876322236381008?l=magnuspatris.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/feeds/4370876322236381008/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5594591477308773775&amp;postID=4370876322236381008' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/4370876322236381008'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/4370876322236381008'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/2008/06/lets-go-pens.html' title='Let&apos;s Go Pens!'/><author><name>Magnus Patris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06083516729662909069</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/SEdiN-QFOwI/AAAAAAAAAFA/-BbOMnvP3A4/s72-c/images.jpeg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5594591477308773775.post-5203539506093756603</id><published>2008-05-29T23:05:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-05-29T23:09:40.151-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Parking'/><title type='text'>Why Didn't I Think of This!?!</title><content type='html'>Here's a great website:  &lt;a href="http://www.youparklikeanasshole.com/"&gt;YouParkLikeAnAsshole.Com&lt;/a&gt; Nothing more needs to be said.  Enjoy!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5594591477308773775-5203539506093756603?l=magnuspatris.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/feeds/5203539506093756603/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5594591477308773775&amp;postID=5203539506093756603' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/5203539506093756603'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/5203539506093756603'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/2008/05/why-didnt-i-think-of-this.html' title='Why Didn&apos;t I Think of This!?!'/><author><name>Magnus Patris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06083516729662909069</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5594591477308773775.post-5100971127507886230</id><published>2008-05-19T21:07:00.007-04:00</published><updated>2008-05-20T10:38:52.333-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='anniversary'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Chautauqua'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Prius'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='tires'/><title type='text'>Happy Anniversary!  Here's a Set of Tires, Honey!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/SDIu-5S_4dI/AAAAAAAAAE4/As8bGvvJ2Vs/s1600-h/tires.png"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/SDIu-5S_4dI/AAAAAAAAAE4/As8bGvvJ2Vs/s200/tires.png" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5202272177633616338" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This past weekend was our 10th anniversary.  On our honeymoon in Hawaii, I promised Nancy that we'd go back for our 10th anniversary.  We didn't make it, so we did the next best thing; Chautauqua Lake, New York in the off season; during the coldest, wettest spring in memory.  (Not to repeat myself from my last post, but Global Warming my butt!)  It was actually a very pleasant trip and we had a great time.  We had great food, visited many wineries, saw some wonderful scenery, took golf lessons and did one of my most favorite things in the whole world; make fun of Canadians.  That is another blog posting all in itself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We decided to be "green" and save the environment by taking Nancy's Prius on the trip instead of the minivan.  OK, so we really didn't care about being green, we just wanted to get more than 18MPG on this trip.  If you don't know, the Prius is a hybrid which runs on gasoline but has an electric engine which kicks in when it needs a boost; which kinda makes it like the Dick Cheney of cars; but Cheney has even less style and the Prius doesn't want to rule the world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, we took a lot of side trips through Moraine State Park, Slippery Rock, Erie, Presque Isle, and North East, PA.  Just when we decided that we should be getting to the hotel, the Prius starts acting like the Tilt-a-Whirl at a carnival, swerving from side to side.  We pull over and we can actually see the tire deflating before our eyes.  Nancy asks if she should call AAA.  I say, "No, I'm a man.  I can change a tire!"  After all, I've seen "Cars".  "Pit Stop!"  How hard can this be.  After 10 minutes the lug nuts are off and the spare is ready to go on.  Just one problem.  The wheel won't come off.  I pull, I swear, I kick, I swear some more, but still nothing.  I'm surprised because swearing usually intimidates the inanimate object I'm swearing at to bend to my will.  So, defeated, I tell Nancy to call AAA.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fifteen minutes later, our savior arrives with a &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;railroad tie&lt;/span&gt;.  He crawls under the car and smacks the living crap out of the tire and it comes off.  Toyota's emergency road kit did not include this one, apparently, vital item.  He looked at our other tires and showed us the tread, or lack thereof, and steel belts popping through the rubber on them.  He sent us on our way with an unspoken, "Hope you make it the 50 miles to Firestone before the other tires fall apart!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I've decided that the 10th anniversary is not tin, nor diamond, nor even wood; it's rubber.. steel belted.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5594591477308773775-5100971127507886230?l=magnuspatris.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/feeds/5100971127507886230/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5594591477308773775&amp;postID=5100971127507886230' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/5100971127507886230'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/5100971127507886230'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/2008/05/happy-anniversary-heres-set-of-tires.html' title='Happy Anniversary!  Here&apos;s a Set of Tires, Honey!'/><author><name>Magnus Patris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06083516729662909069</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/SDIu-5S_4dI/AAAAAAAAAE4/As8bGvvJ2Vs/s72-c/tires.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5594591477308773775.post-755450388689303791</id><published>2008-05-13T09:28:00.007-04:00</published><updated>2008-05-13T10:42:15.371-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Pirates'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Giant Robot Octopus'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='PNC Park'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Freddie Sanchez'/><title type='text'>Let's Go Bucs!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/SCmlWJS_4ZI/AAAAAAAAAEM/FheFla-amLY/s1600-h/IMG_0293.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/SCmlWJS_4ZI/AAAAAAAAAEM/FheFla-amLY/s200/IMG_0293.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5199869044647256466" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Clay and I went to our first day game yesterday. It was a double-header.  It was 47 degrees; in May.  (&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Global Warming my butt&lt;/span&gt;).  We bought the cheap seats way behind home plate; there are no bad seats at PNC.  I was surprised that there were over 12,000 people there because of the weather, but none cheered louder than Clay.  His new favorite player is Freddie Sanchez (&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;sorry Ryan Zimmerman!&lt;/span&gt;) and Jason Bay comes in a close second.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Clay charms everyone.  He had an intense conversation with the lady in front of us about how she was a Pirates fan and her husband was a Braves fan.  He asked why does she still like him if he doesn't like the Pirates.  At that point I distracted him and tried to get him to leave them alone.  Clay also told one of the ushers every detail of his last T-Ball game and another the three minute synopsis of "Cars".  They all thought he was cute.  And of course he is; but he talks &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;a lot&lt;/span&gt;.  Here are some random things I remember him saying yesterday:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Daddy, I'm cold!  I want ice cream!"  "Daddy, I'm cold, I want hot chocolate!"  "What's a Buccaneer?"  "Daddy, it's tooooo hot!"  "Where's the ice cream guy?"  "Daddy, why does that guy {&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;the catcher&lt;/span&gt;} put his glove {&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;his face mask&lt;/span&gt;} on his head?"  "Is a strike good or bad?"  "Why is that man {&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;he points vaguely at the 12,000 in attendance&lt;/span&gt;} doing that?  Why, daddy?"  "Daddy?  What does KKK mean?"  {&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;OK, this was on the sign that counts how many strikeouts (K's) the Pirates have; they just happened to have three at that point&lt;/span&gt;}.  "Daddy, where are the fireworks?"  "I want a hot dog!"  After standing in line for an &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;entire inning&lt;/span&gt; for said hot dog, "I don't want a hot dog just french fries and ice cream".  "I'm cold, when are we going to get ice cream?"  "Why is there a 2 there?", again pointing vaguely.  "Can I eat fires that I dropped on the ground?"  "Why didn't that guy catch that ball?"  "I'm hungry!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But his favorite thing is at the beginning of every game.  The scoreboard shows a video of a computer generated pirate who talks smack about the other team, then shows what is to Clay the single most exciting thing he's ever seen; an animated battle between pirate ships; one with the Pirates logo on the sails and a floatilla of ships with the opponents logo on their sails.  The Pirates' ship fires cannonballs that get progressively more bizzare.  They turn into rockets, jets, and finally a giant robot octopus that pulls the last remaining ship to a frightening demise to Davey Jones' Locker.  After that, Clay's all "OK, daddy, I'm ready to go whenever you are."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's when I remind him that the game is about to begin.  "Oh, yeah.  Let's Gooooooo Buuuuuuuuucs!"  I love that kid.  Can't wait to take him and his brother.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5594591477308773775-755450388689303791?l=magnuspatris.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/feeds/755450388689303791/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5594591477308773775&amp;postID=755450388689303791' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/755450388689303791'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/755450388689303791'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/2008/05/lets-go-bucs.html' title='Let&apos;s Go Bucs!'/><author><name>Magnus Patris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06083516729662909069</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/SCmlWJS_4ZI/AAAAAAAAAEM/FheFla-amLY/s72-c/IMG_0293.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5594591477308773775.post-8191424990701416155</id><published>2008-05-10T23:22:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-05-10T23:39:40.441-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy Mothers' Day</title><content type='html'>To my mom, my mother-in-law, and my wife.  I love you all.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5594591477308773775-8191424990701416155?l=magnuspatris.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/feeds/8191424990701416155/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5594591477308773775&amp;postID=8191424990701416155' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/8191424990701416155'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/8191424990701416155'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/2008/05/happy-mothers-day.html' title='Happy Mothers&apos; Day'/><author><name>Magnus Patris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06083516729662909069</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5594591477308773775.post-4056679095365626926</id><published>2008-05-06T19:56:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-05-06T20:06:28.588-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Chuck, Next Door</title><content type='html'>Tonight has been a beautiful  night, and like most evenings, we find ourselves outside enjoying the back yard and chatting with neighbors.  Our neighbors on one side are a very nice Indian family with a little boy Drew's age.  He was out cutting his grass and we talked about gardening and the deer and rabbit problem.  We also discovered we have the same exact lawn mower.  He's a very nice guy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's the only problem. He and his wife introduced themselves a couple of months ago but I didn't really catch their names.  I thought I'd be smart and look them up on the county real estate site and get his name that way, rather than sounding like the dope  who can't remember or pronounce his name. No luck.  It's like Mushtarhawlapindi Dannymurthaughrockingchair.  And I'm not sure which one is his first name and which one is his last.  So I've decided to call him "Chuck".&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5594591477308773775-4056679095365626926?l=magnuspatris.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/feeds/4056679095365626926/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5594591477308773775&amp;postID=4056679095365626926' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/4056679095365626926'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/4056679095365626926'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/2008/05/chuck-next-door.html' title='Chuck, Next Door'/><author><name>Magnus Patris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06083516729662909069</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5594591477308773775.post-8266196828502988132</id><published>2008-05-06T00:01:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-05-06T00:09:51.248-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Twitter'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Stickcam'/><title type='text'>Twitter</title><content type='html'>OK, so here's something new that I'll probably tire of in a few days; Twitter.  If you look under my profile on the right hand side of the page, you'll see &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;"Twitter Updates"&lt;/span&gt;.  This will let you see all my Tweets.  What does this all mean?  All four of you who read this can now see what I'm doing at any particular time I post a Tweet.  But for the love of God, why would you want to?!  Most of them would be something like; "Surfing the web", "Watching 'SpongeBob' with the boys", "Watching the Pirates lose another game".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The more I think about it, the more I think Twitter is pretty stupid.  But I feel the need to try out all things tech.  So who knows, maybe a Stickcam web show next?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5594591477308773775-8266196828502988132?l=magnuspatris.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/feeds/8266196828502988132/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5594591477308773775&amp;postID=8266196828502988132' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/8266196828502988132'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/8266196828502988132'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/2008/05/twitter.html' title='Twitter'/><author><name>Magnus Patris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06083516729662909069</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5594591477308773775.post-1768024826266892530</id><published>2008-05-05T23:37:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2008-05-06T00:13:33.431-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='T-Ball'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sonic'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Soccer'/><title type='text'>Sonic</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/SB_XGMCNKsI/AAAAAAAAAD8/H2-r-C09yQ0/s1600-h/nav_sonicSignLogoTop.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/SB_XGMCNKsI/AAAAAAAAAD8/H2-r-C09yQ0/s200/nav_sonicSignLogoTop.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5197108996318505666" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've really got to keep up with this blog.  It's been a long time since I've updated.  So many things have happened.  We found a Sonic Drive-In about 20 miles away.  I love the drinks at Sonic, especially the diet cherry limeade.  On Sunday we went to Pittsburgh Mills, the mega-mall north of Pittsburgh.  Why?  Because that's where the Sonic is!  My only other times I get to go to Sonic is at the Outer Banks.  I'd drive to the Nags Head Sonic every day at 2PM to get the Happy Hour half price drink.  It's always the diet cherry limeade.  There are supposed to be 15 Sonics in Pittsburgh by 2010.  I'm praying for one within walking distance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Clay has been playing Soccer and T-Ball.  Soccer isn't going so well, but he looks good in the uniform.  By the way did you know I'm the assistant coach.  Me.  Mr. "I don't know anything about soccer and don't particularly like it."  So I stand there and shout encouraging things like "Good Job!" and "No Hands!"  and "Stop Crying!" and occasionally getting hit in the nuts with a soccer ball by an over zealous 5 year old.  Plus I have one player whose greatest joy seems to be running behind me and punching me in the ass all morning.  Thanks for volunteering me, Honey!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;T-Ball is looking better.  Clay is already batting from both sides of the plate.  I think the other dads think I'm nuts because I keep saying things like, "You know, Clay can bat lefty this time" or "This might be a good time for him to bat righty".  Since it's T-Ball and there is &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;no pitcher&lt;/span&gt;, maybe I'm worrying about this too much.  And at least I know more about baseball so I can shout more encouraging things like, "Good Job!", "Keep Your Eye On the Ball!", and "Stop Crying!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5594591477308773775-1768024826266892530?l=magnuspatris.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/feeds/1768024826266892530/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5594591477308773775&amp;postID=1768024826266892530' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/1768024826266892530'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/1768024826266892530'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/2008/05/sonic.html' title='Sonic'/><author><name>Magnus Patris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06083516729662909069</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/SB_XGMCNKsI/AAAAAAAAAD8/H2-r-C09yQ0/s72-c/nav_sonicSignLogoTop.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5594591477308773775.post-5308760528231549320</id><published>2008-04-16T15:32:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2008-04-16T21:43:37.420-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Pittburgh'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Pirates'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='PNC Park'/><title type='text'>The 10 Best Things About Pittsburgh: #1</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/SAZgI9_08uI/AAAAAAAAAD0/RouWyQeOpLs/s1600-h/pncparkfront.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/SAZgI9_08uI/AAAAAAAAAD0/RouWyQeOpLs/s200/pncparkfront.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5189941327788569314" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;#1 PNC Park.  When I was a kid, I saw my first big league game in Three Rivers Stadium.  It was the stadium of the future;  a giant mass of concrete with the fans kept far away from the playing field.  But I loved it.  For less than $10, I could ride the bus there and back, get a ticket, a coke and a hot dog.  Three Rivers was cold and sterile.  I went to other horrid stadiums and parks too; the Kingdome in Seattle (Like watching baseball in a bomb shelter), Exhibition Stadium in Toronto (called the Mistake By The Lake), and Municipal Stadium in Baltimore (I think the filth and rust held the iron girders together).  I thought this was how baseball was supposed to be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I must admit that that changed after a game at Oriole Park at Camden Yards (Let me make this clear, I never was an Orioles fan, but I liked Cal Ripken and it was the only game in town).  It's a really nice park an the first of the "new' parks.  It has personality.  After the Nationals came to DC, it was back to the giant concrete monstrosity, RFK Stadium, to watch baseball.  It had the architecture of Three Rivers, the cold impersonality of the Kingdome, and the distance from the field of Exhibition Stadium.  But at least we had baseball in DC.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It seemed that every summer that we travelled back to Pittsburgh, the Pirates were out of town that week, plus I don't think that Nancy thought that sitting at a ball game for three hours was high on the priority list.  Since living in Pittsburgh, I end up driving by PNC Park a couple of times a week.  All winter, I'd sneak peeks into it as I drove by trying to get a feel for the place.  I was determined to take our older son to a few games this year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last week we along with a friend went to our first game.  It was beautiful!  Our seats were just past 3rd base, probably about 170 feet back from the foul line.  The first thing you notice is the view of downtown Pittsburgh laid out behind the outfield wall.  Then you notice the light towers which are based on the towers from old Forbes Field, a unique feature of PNC Park.   And the players were &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;right there&lt;/span&gt;.  You are so close, you fell as though you are &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;part&lt;/span&gt; of the game.  I felt like Robert Redford might walk out of the dugout in his New York Knights uniform at any moment.  I imagine that this was how baseball was meant to be watched.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And the Pirates won the game; which I must admit, was a pleasant surprise.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5594591477308773775-5308760528231549320?l=magnuspatris.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/feeds/5308760528231549320/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5594591477308773775&amp;postID=5308760528231549320' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/5308760528231549320'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/5308760528231549320'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/2008/04/10-best-things-about-pittsburgh-1.html' title='The 10 Best Things About Pittsburgh: #1'/><author><name>Magnus Patris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06083516729662909069</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/SAZgI9_08uI/AAAAAAAAAD0/RouWyQeOpLs/s72-c/pncparkfront.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5594591477308773775.post-8276397390290103493</id><published>2008-04-14T16:35:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2008-04-16T08:30:28.497-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Primanti Bros.'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='The Strip District'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Pittsburgh'/><title type='text'>The 10 Best Things About Pittsburgh: #2</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/SAPGJN_08tI/AAAAAAAAADs/GdWLsttjz3k/s1600-h/myspacelayoutv1_r1_c1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/SAPGJN_08tI/AAAAAAAAADs/GdWLsttjz3k/s200/myspacelayoutv1_r1_c1.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5189209057339437778" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;#2  The Strip District.  "The Strip" is not Pittsburgh's premiere gentlemen's club nor is it any other seedy, smoke-filled establishment where woman disrobe.  The Strip is a neighborhood bordered by the Allegheny River and Liberty Avenue from 11th through 33rd streets in Pittsburgh. In the early 19th century, the Strip District was home to many mills and factories as its location along the Allegheny River made for easy transportation of goods and shipping of raw materials. The H.J. Heinz Company, famous ketchup and condiment manufacturer is located here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The shipping infrastructure built around the manufacturing companies lead to The Strip becoming a vibrant network of wholesalers—mostly fresh produce, meat, and poultry dealers. Soon auction houses rose around the wholesale warehouses and many restaurants and grocery stores were built to feed hungry shift workers at any hour of the day. By the 1920s The Strip District was the economic center of Pittsburgh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today in the Strip District there are still several wholesalers and produce dealers. Today many of the abandoned warehouses have been renovated into small specialty shops, restaurants, night clubs, and bars. The area has developed into a historic market district with many ethnic food purveyers, some art studios, antique dealers, unique boutiques and other such businesses setting up shop where trains once delivered produce by the ton. The Strip District comes alive primarily on weekends during the summer months when street vendors are selling their wares, the open-air farmer's markets are in full swing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of my favorite places is the world famous Primanti Bros. restaurant.  There's no need to order fries and cole slaw with your sandwich; they already come &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;on&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; your sandwich.  I remember going to The Strip with my brother when I was a kid and getting one and feeling all grown up.  I spent many a night after a Sigma Nu party sobering up, I mean grabbing a late night snack there during my college years.  After  not having one for nearly 20 years while living in Virginia, I took my wife there.  Iwas so excited.  We waited in line for about 40 minutes; we ordered a couple of the #2 Best Selling Cheese Steaks; I waited for her reaction to the wonderfulness of this sandwich.  It never came.  I was devastated!  She didn't like it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I was all a flutter when attending a Pirates game this past weekend when she said she'd give them another try.  Luckily, PNC Park has a Primanti Bros. right behind home plate.  OK, I've got to give her credit for trying again, but she had the same reaction.  To be fair, the ones at PNC aren't as good as the ones in The Strip; or could it be they just tasted better at 4 a.m. after a party with my fraternity brothers and a few CMU and Duquesne co-eds?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5594591477308773775-8276397390290103493?l=magnuspatris.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/feeds/8276397390290103493/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5594591477308773775&amp;postID=8276397390290103493' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/8276397390290103493'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/8276397390290103493'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/2008/04/10-best-things-about-pittsburgh-2.html' title='The 10 Best Things About Pittsburgh: #2'/><author><name>Magnus Patris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06083516729662909069</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/SAPGJN_08tI/AAAAAAAAADs/GdWLsttjz3k/s72-c/myspacelayoutv1_r1_c1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5594591477308773775.post-2229264462532262950</id><published>2008-04-02T23:12:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2008-04-03T00:22:16.867-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Pittsburgh'/><title type='text'>The 10 Best Things About Pittsburgh: #3</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/R_RbaC71CaI/AAAAAAAAADk/CKCwq3zOFFQ/s1600-h/pittsburgh4.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/R_RbaC71CaI/AAAAAAAAADk/CKCwq3zOFFQ/s200/pittsburgh4.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5184869574032820642" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;#3 "We Are Fam-a-lee".  OK, when I was a kid during the Pirates '79 season, they played that gawd awful song "We Are Family" by Sister Sledge ad nauseum!  I hated it then, I hate it now.  Pittsburgh was never a "disco" town, yet during that year Pittsburgh lost it's collective marbles and that song became everyone's favorite; except mine.  I remember sitting at game 5 of the '79 World Series with my best friend at the time John V.  John was into Skynyrd, Molly Hatchet and Led Zeppelin, yet even he swayed to that disco beat.  I was not alone though.  The twenty or thirty Baltimore Oriole's fans who sat in our section also sat there scowling when that song came on; mostly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So what does this have to do with the "best" of Pittsburgh?  Even though I despise the song, Pittsburghers really are kind of a family.  Pittsburghers for the most part are not a class-conscious group. That's part of the blue-collar ethos that still lingers as part of this area's culture.  Pittsburghers don't like conspicuous displays of  upper-class status and pretensions.  Trends aeren't as important here, at least once you are over 30. Pittsburghers genuinely like each other despite social and economic differences.   I see it every time I stop for coffee, go to the grocery store or see a show. We are family.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5594591477308773775-2229264462532262950?l=magnuspatris.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/feeds/2229264462532262950/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5594591477308773775&amp;postID=2229264462532262950' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/2229264462532262950'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/2229264462532262950'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/2008/04/10-best-things-about-pittsburgh-3.html' title='The 10 Best Things About Pittsburgh: #3'/><author><name>Magnus Patris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06083516729662909069</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/R_RbaC71CaI/AAAAAAAAADk/CKCwq3zOFFQ/s72-c/pittsburgh4.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5594591477308773775.post-8634553230762175558</id><published>2008-03-10T21:53:00.007-04:00</published><updated>2008-03-10T22:17:27.283-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='PittGirl'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Pirates'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Gilbert and Sullivan'/><title type='text'>Gilbert &amp; Sullivan?  I don't know; Third base.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/R9XoMcH1cbI/AAAAAAAAADU/MArmlZPpPww/s1600-h/jazzhands.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/R9XoMcH1cbI/AAAAAAAAADU/MArmlZPpPww/s200/jazzhands.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5176298647137382834" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This blog entry is for my friend, Ed.  Ed you are the one person who I know will truly appreciate this mix of hardball and Broadway.  There is a blog here in Pittsburgh called "&lt;a href="http://theburghblog.com"&gt;The Burgh Blog:  Pittsburgh, Only Cooler&lt;/a&gt;" by the anonymous "pittgirl".  She is hilarious, has a great take on all things Pittsburgh and hates pigeons.  Recently she posted the attached photo as part of her blog with the following comments about the forthcoming pitiful Pittsburgh Pirates season.  The caption to the picture reads &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;"Pirates hopeful Josh Wilson -- a Mt. Lebanon graduate -- goes through a sliding drill early in camp."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;7.  The Buccos of Suckitude continue their futile efforts in Florida.  Here’s a look at some of the talent.&lt;br /&gt;Skinny little legs.  Poor form.  JAZZ HANDS!?  We’re screwed.&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's the comment I posted to her which she thought was pretty funny:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Mt. Lebanon High School presents Josh Wilson in “The Pirates of Bradenton”. Hear Josh sing, &lt;br /&gt;“I am the very model of a modern Major-Leaguer,&lt;br /&gt;I’ve information the Pirates season’s looking even bleaker,&lt;br /&gt;I know the mayor of Piksburgh, and I quote the fights historical&lt;br /&gt;From Tampa Bay to Chicago, in order base-a-ball-ical;&lt;br /&gt;I’m very well acquainted, too, with minor league affiliates,&lt;br /&gt;I understand equations, I’ll probably be lucky to be with the Lynchburg Hill-i-cats,&lt;br /&gt;About pinch-hitting theorem I’m teeming with a lot o’ news –&lt;br /&gt;With many cheerful facts but the Buccos are still a-gonna loose&lt;/span&gt;.”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let's Go Bucs!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5594591477308773775-8634553230762175558?l=magnuspatris.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/feeds/8634553230762175558/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5594591477308773775&amp;postID=8634553230762175558' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/8634553230762175558'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/8634553230762175558'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/2008/03/gilbert-sullivan-i-dont-know-third-base.html' title='Gilbert &amp; Sullivan?  I don&apos;t know; Third base.'/><author><name>Magnus Patris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06083516729662909069</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/R9XoMcH1cbI/AAAAAAAAADU/MArmlZPpPww/s72-c/jazzhands.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5594591477308773775.post-2928861269542955765</id><published>2008-03-04T08:31:00.011-05:00</published><updated>2008-03-04T09:33:50.129-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Chipped Ham Sam'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Pittsburghese'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='jagoff'/><title type='text'>The 10 Best Things About Pittsburgh: #4</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/R81VLJtLiSI/AAAAAAAAADM/9plSKBV4cp4/s1600-h/popup_header.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/R81VLJtLiSI/AAAAAAAAADM/9plSKBV4cp4/s200/popup_header.gif" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5173885196990908706" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;#4 Pittsburghese.  I grew up in Pittsburgh, but I don't think I ever uttered the word "Yinz" except in jest.  I do know that I was hounded constantly by my Broadcasting Professor at Duquesne University, Frank Thornton.  His favorite thing was to make me say, "There was a fire at the tire store on the South Side."   After 4 yers at Duquesene and 22 years in Virginia, I dropped a lot of my Pittsburghese.  I used rubber bands, drank soda, cheered for the Steelers, shopped at Giant and told people I was from Pittsburgh.  But I could always pick out a Pittsburgh accent (just like I can pick out a friggin' Canadian the moment they speak) whether on TV, radio or from speaking with someone in person.  Roads were slippery when wet, the weather was cloudy, and I was proud to have lost most of my accent and even was accused by my Pittsburgh friends of saying "y'all" occasionally.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I'm back and I'm embracing Pittsburgheese again.  I say "slippy", "pop", "gumband" and I even called someone a "jagoff" recently.  And it's OK; it's who I am.  Just as long as I don't turn into "&lt;a href="http://www.yappinyinzers.com/home.html"&gt;Chipped Ham Sam&lt;/a&gt;"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;For the those of you in Pittsburgh, here's my blog in Pittsburghese, translated from &lt;a href="http://www.pittsburghese.com/translator.shtml"&gt;Pittsburghese.com&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;#4 Picksburghese. I grew up in Picksburg, P-A, but I don't think I ever sed da word "Yinz" except jaggin' aroun n'at. I do know that I was bein jagged aroun by my Broadcastin Pafessor at Dew-kwez-nee University, Frankie Thornton n'at. His favorite ting was to make me say, "dere was a fahr at da tahr store on da Sahside." After 4 yers at Duquesene and 22 years dahn in Virginia, I dropped lots of my Picksburgese n'at. I used gumbands, drank pop, cheered fer da Stillers, shopped at Jahnt and told people I was from Picksburg n'at. But I could always pick aht a Picksburg accent (jest like I can pick aht a frikin' Canuck when dey tawk) whether on TV, radeeo or from tawkin' wit someone n'at. Roads wuz slippy when wet, da weather wuz clahdy, and I wuz prahd to have lost mosta my accent n'at and even was accused by my Picksburg friends of saying "y'all" ur sumptin. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I'm back and I'm cool wit Picksburgese again n'at. I say "slippy", "pop", "gumband" and I even called some jagoff a "jagoff" recently n'at. And it's Oakel-Doakel; it's who ahz n'at. jest as long as I don't turn inta "Chipped Ham Sam" er sumptin.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5594591477308773775-2928861269542955765?l=magnuspatris.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/feeds/2928861269542955765/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5594591477308773775&amp;postID=2928861269542955765' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/2928861269542955765'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/2928861269542955765'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/2008/03/10-best-things-about-pittsburgh-4.html' title='The 10 Best Things About Pittsburgh: #4'/><author><name>Magnus Patris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06083516729662909069</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/R81VLJtLiSI/AAAAAAAAADM/9plSKBV4cp4/s72-c/popup_header.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5594591477308773775.post-7793235306497461703</id><published>2008-02-21T09:53:00.009-05:00</published><updated>2008-02-21T10:41:23.496-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Penguins'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sidney Crosby'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Pittsburgh'/><title type='text'>The 10 Best Things About Pittsburgh: #5</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/R72Z6y7rtUI/AAAAAAAAADE/rn9jC6gcnSA/s1600-h/images.jpeg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/R72Z6y7rtUI/AAAAAAAAADE/rn9jC6gcnSA/s200/images.jpeg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5169457182674761026" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;#5  Sidney Crosby.  The 20 year-old Pittsburgh Penguins phenom is my favorite player; and not just for his skating and puck handling abilities.  Here's some excerpts from a recent article about him from ESPN.com.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;All requests for Crosby's time are filtered through the prism of, "How does this affect my teammates?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Interviews and photo shoots often are carried out in the morning before other players arrive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Crosby frequently keeps in contact with a wheelchair-bound girl from Montreal. When the Pens are in town, Crosby gets tickets for her and her family and always manages to spend some alone time with them. On one visit, Crosby invited her down for the morning skate. He gave her signed Pens gear and made sure players gave her high fives on their way to the ice.&lt;br /&gt;Not long after the visit, Montreal's training staff received a text message from Crosby, thanking them for helping with the visit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After he signed a big endorsement deal with Reebok, the company wanted to send promotional material to Crosby. He said he didn't want anything unless his teammates and staff got the same.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;During the playoffs last year, when the Penguins were in Ottawa, Crosby spied a group of children within the hundreds of fans and whispered to Buonomo to bring them over so he could sign for them.&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is one classy kid.  I never really had a sports hero that I looked up to when I was a kid, and I never thought that my sons would ever find a sports figure to look up to.  But, I think that I'd be proud to buy them a #87 Pittsburgh Penguins shirt.  It's nice to see that in these days of steroids, "gangster" players and multi-million dollar contracts, there is still at least one pro athlete who kids can look up to.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5594591477308773775-7793235306497461703?l=magnuspatris.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/feeds/7793235306497461703/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5594591477308773775&amp;postID=7793235306497461703' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/7793235306497461703'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/7793235306497461703'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/2008/02/10-best-things-about-pittsburgh-5.html' title='The 10 Best Things About Pittsburgh: #5'/><author><name>Magnus Patris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06083516729662909069</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/R72Z6y7rtUI/AAAAAAAAADE/rn9jC6gcnSA/s72-c/images.jpeg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5594591477308773775.post-9028554588869334081</id><published>2008-02-20T12:27:00.006-05:00</published><updated>2008-02-20T19:17:50.380-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Four Score and Seven Sausages Ago....</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/R7xpbi7rtTI/AAAAAAAAAC8/RT-htuHyZqM/s1600-h/Sausage.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/R7xpbi7rtTI/AAAAAAAAAC8/RT-htuHyZqM/s200/Sausage.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5169122394269005106" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll get back to my Top Ten list soon.  Today as usual, I asked Clay what he did at preschool.  As usual, his answer was , "I dunno".  After some prodding, I get more details.  The teachers were mad at the kids because they kept yelling "POPCORN!  POPCORN! POPCORN!" as they were trying to dole out a snack to them.  I had visions of a tiny riot being quelled by the teachers before the chant changed to "ATTICA!  ATTICA!"  As far as I know, no tear gas was used to put down the great Popcorn Rebellion of '08.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I asked what else did they do.  "We read a book about Presidents", said Clay. &lt;br /&gt; "Do you remember their names?" I asked.  &lt;br /&gt;"George Washington and somebody else."  &lt;br /&gt;"Abraham Lincoln?" I asked.  &lt;br /&gt;"Yea, him.  You know he's like a sausage", Clay says matter-of-factly.  &lt;br /&gt;"What?!"&lt;br /&gt;"You know, he's like a sausage I get for breakfast; Abraham Link."&lt;br /&gt;"Clay, his name is LINCOLN, not LINK."&lt;br /&gt;"Oh, but he's still like a sausage, right?"&lt;br /&gt;Well, at least he didn't say Lincoln was the guy selling mattresses and cars this week.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5594591477308773775-9028554588869334081?l=magnuspatris.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/feeds/9028554588869334081/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5594591477308773775&amp;postID=9028554588869334081' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/9028554588869334081'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/9028554588869334081'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/2008/02/four-score-and-seven-sausages-ago.html' title='Four Score and Seven Sausages Ago....'/><author><name>Magnus Patris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06083516729662909069</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/R7xpbi7rtTI/AAAAAAAAAC8/RT-htuHyZqM/s72-c/Sausage.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5594591477308773775.post-4195498357735891554</id><published>2008-02-14T13:10:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2008-02-14T13:39:16.290-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='traffic'/><title type='text'>The 10 Best Things About Pittsburgh: #6</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/R7SKzS7rtSI/AAAAAAAAAC0/W5m7zsmLxCI/s1600-h/traffic.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/R7SKzS7rtSI/AAAAAAAAAC0/W5m7zsmLxCI/s200/traffic.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5166907286360929570" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;#6:  Traffic.  Hahahahahahahahahahahahahaha.  After 22 years in Northern Virginia and dealing with the Beltway, I-66, and I-95, Maybe I'm jaded.  What we have here in Pittsburgh is not traffic.  Sure there is the occasional back-up, accident and road closure, but the people around here have no idea what traffic is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We recently signed Drew up for a new pre-school about 10 miles away.  It looks like a great place and we enjoyed our tour.  Nancy seemed a little hesitant.  She told me that she thought that the 10 mile ride and 20 minute trip might be a bit long; that maybe we should look a little closer.  God bless her; how soon we forget.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In Virginia, our preschool, Annandale Co-op, was only 4 miles away.  It took 35 minutes to get there on a good day; an hour or more on a bad day.  Good thing it was the best preschool east of the Rockies.  It was worth the traffic to get Clay there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So now we smile to ourselves as we hear people talk about the terrible traffic on "McNightmare Road" (McKnight Road); or the traffic reports about traffic backed up ALL THE WAY ACROSS one of the many bridges,  Delays might be upwards of 5 minutes!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To be fair, Nancy is the one who drives every day, not me, but I think we'd take rush hour across the Fort Duquesne Bridge over I-95 South on a Saturday morning any day.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5594591477308773775-4195498357735891554?l=magnuspatris.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/feeds/4195498357735891554/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5594591477308773775&amp;postID=4195498357735891554' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/4195498357735891554'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/4195498357735891554'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/2008/02/10-best-things-about-pittsburgh-6.html' title='The 10 Best Things About Pittsburgh: #6'/><author><name>Magnus Patris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06083516729662909069</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/R7SKzS7rtSI/AAAAAAAAAC0/W5m7zsmLxCI/s72-c/traffic.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5594591477308773775.post-7015672593793518661</id><published>2008-02-10T21:08:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-05-13T10:43:06.718-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='rivers'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Pittsburgh'/><title type='text'>The 10 Best Things About Pittsburgh: #7</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/R6-yaC7rtOI/AAAAAAAAACU/D8QisCb5t4s/s1600-h/256px-Point_State_Park_fountain.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/R6-yaC7rtOI/AAAAAAAAACU/D8QisCb5t4s/s200/256px-Point_State_Park_fountain.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5165543458150790370" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;#7:  Rivers and lakes.  I'm not a great swimmer and I haven't waterskied since college (well, it was more like being pulled by a boat as water rushed up my sphincter until I fell flat on my face at 20 MPH) and I don't really like to fish.  But I've always loved the rivers, creeks and lakes around Pittsburgh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I was a kid, I used to play in the "creek" (an open sewer) behind my parents' bar.  It was fun building dams and floating sticks, but mom always said that I couldn't play in the part where the creek turned orange.  Yes, orange.  Bright orange.  Pre-E.P.A. enforcement orange.  This happened where the discharge pipe emptied from one of the local steel mills into the "creek".  We thought it was pretty cool back in the day that the water turned this neat color.  Looking back, I can't get the image of the three-eyed fish from "The Simpsons" out of my mind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, now the mills are closed, the water is, well, it's not orange any more and I'm looking forward to enjoying my time by the water this summer.  I love watching the water flow down the Ohio.  I spent many a summer day staring at the fountain at Point State Park.  I anticipate the first warm day where I can take the boys for a walk around North Park Lake.  Maybe I can even convince my brother to put his boat back in the river.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5594591477308773775-7015672593793518661?l=magnuspatris.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/feeds/7015672593793518661/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5594591477308773775&amp;postID=7015672593793518661' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/7015672593793518661'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/7015672593793518661'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/2008/02/10-best-things-about-pittsburgh-7.html' title='The 10 Best Things About Pittsburgh: #7'/><author><name>Magnus Patris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06083516729662909069</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/R6-yaC7rtOI/AAAAAAAAACU/D8QisCb5t4s/s72-c/256px-Point_State_Park_fountain.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5594591477308773775.post-7179926062665427020</id><published>2008-02-09T10:56:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-02-09T11:09:15.211-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The 10 Best Things About Pittsburgh: #8</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/R63QIy7rtNI/AAAAAAAAACM/qqFh58ta3qY/s1600-h/inclinecover2.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/R63QIy7rtNI/AAAAAAAAACM/qqFh58ta3qY/s200/inclinecover2.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5165013197193458898" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;#8:  "The Inclines"  Pittsburgh has not one, but two inclines. Providing safe, reliable, rapid public transportation, via funicular railway, since 1877. Utilizing two original, 1877 cable cars, the Duquesne Incline is a working museum.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Opened in 1870, the Monongahela Incline is the oldest and steepest incline in the United States, as well as the nation's oldest cable car operation. They both offer beautiful views of downtown Pittsburgh as well as a convenient way for residents of Mt. Washington to get to downtown Pittsburgh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is really the best way to see Pittsburgh and has always been one of my favorite things to do.  The only other place I've been with a remotely similar funicular railway, was Hong Kong.  It took you up to the top of Victoria Peak.  I still think that the view of Pittsburgh is better than Hong Kong's.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5594591477308773775-7179926062665427020?l=magnuspatris.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/feeds/7179926062665427020/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5594591477308773775&amp;postID=7179926062665427020' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/7179926062665427020'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/7179926062665427020'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/2008/02/10-best-things-about-pittsburgh-8.html' title='The 10 Best Things About Pittsburgh: #8'/><author><name>Magnus Patris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06083516729662909069</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/R63QIy7rtNI/AAAAAAAAACM/qqFh58ta3qY/s72-c/inclinecover2.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5594591477308773775.post-5741002996832528129</id><published>2008-02-09T10:24:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-02-10T21:34:02.149-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Oram&apos;s'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Silk House'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Ambridge'/><title type='text'>The 10 Best Things About Pittsburgh: #9</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/R6-0Cy7rtQI/AAAAAAAAACk/G6wVge2S3oY/s1600-h/sign-small.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/R6-0Cy7rtQI/AAAAAAAAACk/G6wVge2S3oY/s200/sign-small.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5165545257742087426" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;#9: "The Silk House and Oram's Donuts".  The Silk House Cafe' is a restored 1826 coffeehouse operating in the Ambridge Historic District in Ambridge, Pennsylvania. Located just blocks from Old Economy Village, the building is believed to have played a major role in the Harmonists' famous silk industry.  We found this place kind of by accident a couple of years ago as we were searching for a place with free internet.  The coffee is great, the staff is really friendly and they have great pastries and lunches.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But what really puts the cherry on the top of this place is that they serve Oram's Donuts, which are made in Beaver Falls, PA.  These donuts compare to Krispy Kreme as A Lexus does to a Kia; but only if the Lexus was less expensive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When we were staying with my parents while the house was on the market in Virginia, we really became regulars.  Nancy would stop there on her way to work and I'd go a couple of times a week.  Well, being in the North Hills now, Nancy can't get her morning wake-up of a coffee and a donut.  Since I still make it into Ambridge a couple of times a week for pre-school duty, I stop in and get a "to-go" Oram's for Nancy (and my) breakfast the next morning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's probably good we don't get to go there everyday any more, but it still is worth going out of our way for.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5594591477308773775-5741002996832528129?l=magnuspatris.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/feeds/5741002996832528129/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5594591477308773775&amp;postID=5741002996832528129' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/5741002996832528129'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/5741002996832528129'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/2008/02/10-best-things-about-pittsburgh-9.html' title='The 10 Best Things About Pittsburgh: #9'/><author><name>Magnus Patris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06083516729662909069</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/R6-0Cy7rtQI/AAAAAAAAACk/G6wVge2S3oY/s72-c/sign-small.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5594591477308773775.post-6264425658991412821</id><published>2008-02-06T15:01:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-02-10T21:31:49.934-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Pittsburgh'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='drivers'/><title type='text'>The 10 Best Things About Pittsburgh:  #10</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/R6-zjy7rtPI/AAAAAAAAACc/geYEPfA1y18/s1600-h/23304176.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/R6-zjy7rtPI/AAAAAAAAACc/geYEPfA1y18/s200/23304176.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5165544725166142706" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;#10:  "The Pittsburgh Left.  "The Pittsburgh Left" is not a group of ultra-liberal Western Pennsylvanians nor is it the name of a really cool punk band.  Here's Wikipedia's definition: "The "Pittsburgh Left" involves two cars facing one another waiting at a traffic light or other stop signal: one turning left and one going straight. The left-turning car will execute its turn through the intersection before the car going straight passes through the intersection, where normally it would yield. Permission to do so is either given by the car going straight, or sometimes taken by the left-turning car by starting through the left turn early enough so as not to obstruct the straight-going driver."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You'd think that this would never work or that there'd be massive road rage issues, but in Pittsburgh it works.  As a matter of fact if you are turning left and don't go, the other driver will usually look at you funny; flash his lights or wave at you until you go.  After living in the DC area for all these years, I just assumed everyone had chronic pissed off driver syndrome, me included, but dare I say it; Pittsburgh drives; for the most part; are actually friendly!  Well, if not friendly at least as not as prone to shooting you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5594591477308773775-6264425658991412821?l=magnuspatris.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/feeds/6264425658991412821/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5594591477308773775&amp;postID=6264425658991412821' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/6264425658991412821'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/6264425658991412821'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/2008/02/10-best-things-about-pittsburgh-10.html' title='The 10 Best Things About Pittsburgh:  #10'/><author><name>Magnus Patris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06083516729662909069</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/R6-zjy7rtPI/AAAAAAAAACc/geYEPfA1y18/s72-c/23304176.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5594591477308773775.post-5141075475605482740</id><published>2008-01-25T14:14:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-01-25T15:54:29.535-05:00</updated><title type='text'>American Gladiators</title><content type='html'>Well here's something I've recently discovered about my wife.  She's a huge fan of American Gladiators; both the new and old version of the show.  It has moved to the top of her TV watching list, at least until "Battlestar Galactica" returns. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She was so happy when she found classic "AG" on ESPN Classic (The Ocho).  The contestants had big hair and the gladiators had more superhero looking costumes than the new version.  Mike Adamley and Larry Czonka, the hosts, wore tuxedoes and some of the games were a little lame; like the bungee jump where you have to collect different colored balloons or balls.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nancy's favorite of the new gladiators is "Wolf", who's real name is probably like Irving Schmendrick or something like that.  Every time he's on, he says something like, "Your going to be dripping from my fangs!" and howls like, well, a wolf.  Immediately Nancy says, "Oh that Wolf!  He's so crazy!"  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I told her she reminds me of my grandmother at these times.  When I was a kid, my Baba (Ukrainian for "grandmother") used to watch "Studio Wrestling" the pre-cursor to and the superior entertainment to the WWE.  It was hosted by "Chilly"  Bill Cardille and was on every Saturday.  Her favorite was Bruno Sanmartino, or as she called him, "Brummo".  My sick, elderly Baba would sit in front of the TV screaming obscenities at anyone who dared challenge "Brummo" in two languages.  Her cheers for "Brummo" would consist of "Bayh, bayh... dae moh!", which roughly translated is "Hit him, hit him... give it to him!"  When someone got the better of Mr. Sanmartino, she would yell, "Aaaah, you son-of-a-bitch!"  No need for translation there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Baba passed away years before "AG", but I thin k she and Nancy would have liked watching it together; 'cause, you know; that Wolf, he's so crazy!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5594591477308773775-5141075475605482740?l=magnuspatris.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/feeds/5141075475605482740/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5594591477308773775&amp;postID=5141075475605482740' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/5141075475605482740'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/5141075475605482740'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/2008/01/american-gladiators.html' title='American Gladiators'/><author><name>Magnus Patris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06083516729662909069</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5594591477308773775.post-2197491946764736520</id><published>2008-01-25T14:04:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-01-25T14:14:03.882-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Unpacking</title><content type='html'>It's been two weeks since the furniture arrived; we've had ice, snow, a funeral, a lost wedding ring (found after 4 days), and the worlds largest supply of unpacked cardboard boxes and used packing material.  We have ice and water in the fridge, FiOS on the TV and internet, calcium deposits in the pipes and squeaky floors in the kids' bedrooms.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We still have more boxes than I care to count to unpack, especially in the garage.  Our two car garage has been a one car garage for the past two weeks and that really sucks when the temps are in the single digits it's snowed every other day.  I've become reacquainted with my friends the ice scraper and a can of windshield de-icer.  And God bless the man who came up with "Driveway Heat" from Prestone (Mr. Prestone?). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There's lots more to do, but all-in-all, it's starting to feel like home.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5594591477308773775-2197491946764736520?l=magnuspatris.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/feeds/2197491946764736520/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5594591477308773775&amp;postID=2197491946764736520' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/2197491946764736520'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/2197491946764736520'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/2008/01/unpacking.html' title='Unpacking'/><author><name>Magnus Patris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06083516729662909069</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5594591477308773775.post-5613913236229084496</id><published>2008-01-10T23:52:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-01-11T00:08:12.471-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Welcome Home</title><content type='html'>Here we are on the eve of the big move into our new home.  There were times I thought we'd never sell the house in Fairfax; that we'd never find "the" house in Pittsburgh; that we'd never get on with our lives.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For the past three months we've more than imposed on my parents and turned their quiet home into the Toddler Dream House and Scream-a-torium.  I've been back in the room I spent my teenaged years in.  The Who and Led Zeppelin posters are gone, the computer is an iMac instead of an Atari 800, the stereo has been replaced by Sirius Satellite Radio.  It's been crowded and noisy and sometimes chaotic, yet it has also felt comfortable these past 3 months.  You can still hear the sounds of pipe rolling off the mills in the middle of the night, the train's horn as it echos down the valley, and the slow rumble of trucks on Duss Avenue.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We start our next chapter tomorrow as we move into our new home, and I'm excited.  But I know I've already been home for a few months and it makes me happy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5594591477308773775-5613913236229084496?l=magnuspatris.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/feeds/5613913236229084496/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5594591477308773775&amp;postID=5613913236229084496' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/5613913236229084496'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/5613913236229084496'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/2008/01/welcome-home.html' title='Welcome Home'/><author><name>Magnus Patris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06083516729662909069</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5594591477308773775.post-7855673954640466298</id><published>2007-12-16T15:35:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-12-16T15:47:35.914-05:00</updated><title type='text'>My Wife, the Pittsburgher</title><content type='html'>The other day when we had a little ice on the road, Nancy said to me, "Be careful, it's slippy out!"  Welcome to Pittsburgh, sweetie!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5594591477308773775-7855673954640466298?l=magnuspatris.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/feeds/7855673954640466298/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5594591477308773775&amp;postID=7855673954640466298' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/7855673954640466298'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/7855673954640466298'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/2007/12/my-wife-pittsburgher.html' title='My Wife, the Pittsburgher'/><author><name>Magnus Patris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06083516729662909069</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5594591477308773775.post-4827139458574531958</id><published>2007-12-16T14:34:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-12-16T15:24:34.332-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Holy Crap, it's Christmas!</title><content type='html'>Well it's been a long time since I blogged.  Lots has happened.  We moved us; we put the house on the market; we sold the house; we moved our stuff; we bought a house; we bought furniture for the house even though we don't officially own it yet and can't get in; we decorated my folks house.  We saw "The Polar Express", we bought all our Christmas presents; Nancy wrapped them, otherwise everyone would think a not very happy monkey wrapped them if I did it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And today I realize it's just over a week to Christmas!  Where has the time gone?!  "A Charlie Brown Christmas", "Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer" and "Frosty the Snowman" have all come and gone.  I chide Clay with the occasional, "Don't do that, Santa's watching" and I feel guilty for doing it.  But today I think I'm starting to get more into Christmas. It all came from listening to "The Ukrainian Radio Program" today.  It has been on every Sunday afternoon for over 50 years.  Today they played all Ukrainian Christmas carols.  Watching Drew dance and listening to Nancy sing the two carols she knows made me smile.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I still may not be in the Christmas spirit, but I guess I still have eight days to get there.  This afternoon was a good start.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5594591477308773775-4827139458574531958?l=magnuspatris.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/feeds/4827139458574531958/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5594591477308773775&amp;postID=4827139458574531958' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/4827139458574531958'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/4827139458574531958'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/2007/12/holy-crap-its-christmas.html' title='Holy Crap, it&apos;s Christmas!'/><author><name>Magnus Patris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06083516729662909069</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5594591477308773775.post-376446802429098601</id><published>2007-10-16T08:45:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-10-16T08:56:18.607-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Adventures in Moving</title><content type='html'>Well, it's been a while since my last post.  Lots happening here; Drew's 1st birthday, my birthday (I got a iPhone!), trip to Las Vegas, and the biggest news of all; we're moving.  I lived in my hometown for 22 years and 11 months, now 21 years and 4 months later, I'm moving back home.  Literally.  Nancy got the job she's been going after and the house is up for sale.  Even though we've signed with a realtor, taken one 17' truckload of stuff to my folks house, been packing boxes and all that fun stuff, it still seems a little unreal.  I don't know if it will really hit me until Nancy is gone and the boys and I are here alone for a few days; or if it's when the first potential buyer calls to see the house; of if it's the day I wake up in my bed in my room in my parent's house.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But before any of that happens, there's lots to do here.  Packing, cleaning, painting.  U-Haul has there motto on the sides of their  trucks, "Adventures in Moving".  I'm not so sure I want an "adventure", but that's out of my hands.  Let the adventure begin!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5594591477308773775-376446802429098601?l=magnuspatris.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/feeds/376446802429098601/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5594591477308773775&amp;postID=376446802429098601' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/376446802429098601'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/376446802429098601'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/2007/10/adventures-in-moving.html' title='Adventures in Moving'/><author><name>Magnus Patris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06083516729662909069</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5594591477308773775.post-4221361857877463824</id><published>2007-09-18T15:48:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-09-18T20:18:00.284-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Baseball</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/RvAuCnL--YI/AAAAAAAAAAc/0maOGtaUPJg/s1600-h/images.jpeg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/RvAuCnL--YI/AAAAAAAAAAc/0maOGtaUPJg/s200/images.jpeg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5111636199479376258" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I took Clay to his first big league baseball game this past Sunday.  We went to see our Washington Nationals take on the Atlanta Braves.  Clay was kind of impressed with RFK Stadium.  Remember, his idea of a baseball stadium in a softball field in West Potomac Park.  We had good seat in the Mezzanine so there was no one in front of us. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The entire way there, Clay told me that all he wanted at the stadium was popcorn.  So after we found our seats, I said Ok, lets go get some popcorn and get back to watch some batting practice.  Holy Smokes!  We must have spent 40 minutes walking around RFK looking for a vendor selling popcorn.  Finally, we found it and spent $6 for a bucket of kettle corn.  After the walk back to our seat; and a stop for a hot dog and beer for dad; we opened the popcorn.  Naturally, Clay decided he didn't like it.  So he ate the cookies that mom packed for him.  She jokes that there were 9 cookies there; one for each inning.  Well, sorry mom but they were gone by the bottom of the 4th, and that was with rationing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Nats lost 0-3, but we had a great time and I hope Clay will remember that he saw one of the last games at RFK Stadium.  Next year, there's a new Nationals Park where we will go many times.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5594591477308773775-4221361857877463824?l=magnuspatris.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/feeds/4221361857877463824/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5594591477308773775&amp;postID=4221361857877463824' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/4221361857877463824'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/4221361857877463824'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/2007/09/baseball.html' title='Baseball'/><author><name>Magnus Patris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06083516729662909069</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/RvAuCnL--YI/AAAAAAAAAAc/0maOGtaUPJg/s72-c/images.jpeg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5594591477308773775.post-1426136477593436873</id><published>2007-09-04T14:41:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-09-04T15:02:14.890-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Weekend in Pittsburgh: Part 1</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/Rt2rnU89MSI/AAAAAAAAAAU/DoW8rGheICU/s1600-h/mister.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/Rt2rnU89MSI/AAAAAAAAAAU/DoW8rGheICU/s320/mister.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5106426244635636002" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, we just returned from a whirlwind super long weekend in Pittsburgh.  We drove all over: Dahntahn, Squirl 'il, Wes End, Sahs Side, Nor Side an' even ova der in Swickley n'at.  For thos eof you who don't speak Pittsburgheese, I'll translate:  We drove all over:  Downtown, Squirrel Hill, West End, South Side, North Side and even over there in Sewickley and more.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But one of the best things was getting free tickets (Thank You Anna W!) to the Carnegie Science Center.  Back in July, we took the kids to the Children's Museum of Richmond and Clay had a blast. But the CSS had so much more and I think Clay would have stayed until closing if we would have let him.  The only thing that made him even think about leaving was the last 15 minutes playing at the water tables.  He did the all too familiar "pee-pee dance".  One hand holding his crotch and bouncing up and down rapidly, while giving us that look like, "I can still hold it another 5 minutes".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, let's just say that we cut it pretty close.  But we had a full three hours at the CSS.  One of the highlights for me was seeing a show in the Planetarium called "The Stars Over Mister Rogers' Neighborhood".  It was hosted by the late Fred Roger; a Pittsburgh icon; and was a neat 20 minute show for the under 7 crowd.  Clay enjoyed it, even though in this age of Disney Channel, Cartoon Network, PBSKids Sprout and all the rest, he hasn't really ever watched Mr. Rogers.  I remember watching him almost 40 years ago and and even in college we had discussions about the Neighborhood of Makebelieve and even went to get Mr. McFeeley's autograph once ("Speedy Delivery"!).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I'm going to make an effort for Clay to watch less "Zack &amp; Cody" and a little more "Mister Rogers' Neighborhood"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5594591477308773775-1426136477593436873?l=magnuspatris.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/feeds/1426136477593436873/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5594591477308773775&amp;postID=1426136477593436873' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/1426136477593436873'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/1426136477593436873'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/2007/09/weekend-in-pittsburgh-part-1.html' title='Weekend in Pittsburgh: Part 1'/><author><name>Magnus Patris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06083516729662909069</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/Rt2rnU89MSI/AAAAAAAAAAU/DoW8rGheICU/s72-c/mister.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5594591477308773775.post-4640618945821374195</id><published>2007-08-19T07:44:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-08-19T08:03:51.572-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Saturday in the Car</title><content type='html'>What a beautiful Saturday it was here in Northern Virginia!  A rare low humidity, sunny, cool day for August.  Of course, I heard about this day on the radio as I sat in the car navigating Northern Virginia traffic.  The I-95 corridor is awful every weekend from early June through Labor Day.  A forty minute drive turns into 3 hours.  Just when you think traffic has cleared out or you find an alternate route, something happens like a multi-lane closing accident and you're stuck again.  This is what happened yesterday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I passed a place called Aldo's Italian Restarant on US-1 so many times, I think I'm over pasta for a few weeks.  I've never eaten there, but if I never see Aldo's again, that's just dandy with me.  Throw in a bright yellow "out of fuel" light, cranky kids and poor cell phone service, noisy "new" $400 brakes and the day is complete.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Actually, the day was not a total loss.  Looking back at it, it was very nice.  The kids got to see their great-grandfather, gran, and assorted cousins; Clay "went fishing" for the first time; Drew got to go on a boat, and we had a couple of good meals and a nice visit with family.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But the best news is that while we were gone, the hornets nest in our "problem" tree has been terminated with extreme prejudice.  So compared to the hornets, our day was a picnic.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5594591477308773775-4640618945821374195?l=magnuspatris.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/feeds/4640618945821374195/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5594591477308773775&amp;postID=4640618945821374195' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/4640618945821374195'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/4640618945821374195'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/2007/08/saturday-in-car.html' title='Saturday in the Car'/><author><name>Magnus Patris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06083516729662909069</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5594591477308773775.post-7997174504271599934</id><published>2007-08-16T16:14:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2007-08-16T20:18:24.793-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Bitch on Wheels</title><content type='html'>You might not know it by looking at me now, but I used to be a pretty good biker (the human powered kind of bike, not a Harley). I used to go out in my ratty shorts and an old concert t-shirt and ride about 12 miles a night after work, almost every night for a couple of years. Even back then, I always noticed that some other two wheelers had a bit of an attitude. They comment if you weren't going fast enough for them, if you were in "their" lane or if your "Team 7-Eleven" hat was not on at the right angle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was nothing I liked better than following a bunch of these "Lance Armstrong" wannabees down the trail. I thought it was kind of funny that big old me with my "The Who: World Tour 1982" shirt on my JCPenny 10-speed was keeping up with them and their $2500 titanium alloy racers, wearing their way too tight, way too bright shorts and shirts. But through it all, I was always polite and considerate of other bikers and pedestrians.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So yesterday, we were only our way to the play-offs for the softball league that the Kennedy Center plays in. It's in a very scenic area in D.C. called West Potomac Park. It's right on the river across from the Pentagon and it has about a dozen ball fields all in a row. Parking is always impossible there, so we ride the shuttle that the KC supplies for players and fans (we are season ticket holders). We pack up the diaper bag, chairs, snacks, toys and look more like we're going on a camping trip than a one hour softball game.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As we get ready to cross the 3 lane, not heavily travelled Ohio Avenue to the ball field, we see a young woman on her bike about 8 car lengths away. So we stop and figure, we're in no hurry, let's let her go by so she doesn't have to break her stride. As she passes us, she makes a smart ass comment about us "walking out into traffic". What the hell was up with her?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This isn't the first time something like this has happened here to us, but I notice that these people are really brave when they can keep going past at 15 MPH. Ahhh, the friendly, laid back attitude of D.C.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5594591477308773775-7997174504271599934?l=magnuspatris.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/feeds/7997174504271599934/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5594591477308773775&amp;postID=7997174504271599934' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/7997174504271599934'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/7997174504271599934'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/2007/08/bitch-on-wheels.html' title='Bitch on Wheels'/><author><name>Magnus Patris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06083516729662909069</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5594591477308773775.post-5614635386948411012</id><published>2007-08-15T08:36:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-08-15T08:55:23.227-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Tree House</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/RsL3ss-qDZI/AAAAAAAAAAM/sVKcj75vVAY/s1600-h/IMG_1837.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/RsL3ss-qDZI/AAAAAAAAAAM/sVKcj75vVAY/s320/IMG_1837.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5098910075497090450" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday at about 5PM, I heard a horrible noise outside like a Ryan Zimmerman broken bat homer.  Then I looked out the doors to the deck and all I could see were leaves.  We had a 25 foot branch come down about 60 feet from a tree in the back yard.  This was strange because there was no wind or storm or anything.  It shattered our stairs to our new deck and snapped the handrail like a toothpick.  But, I still feel lucky for a few reasons.  The kids weren't out there; I don't even want to imagine what would have happened (Boys, no more playing on the deck or backyard until the tree guys come out)!  If the branch would have come down 8 inches closer to the house, there would have been 4 times as much damage (of course if it had come down 12 inches the other way, we'd just have a big old divot in our yard). &lt;br /&gt;Clay of course thought this whole thing was pretty cool and proceeded to tell me how his friends Josh and Brandon can climb trees and how he wanted to go out and help me with the tree.  I was not in the mood.  By the time Nancy came home, I had about half of the branch removed, but it was still a mess out there.  It was a crappy afternoon.&lt;br /&gt;When something so bad happens, I usually think "This is a good time to buy a lottery ticket.  Surely my luck must be about to change".  Alas, no, it was not to be.  Let's just hope no more  trees come crashing down; at least until I win the lottery.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5594591477308773775-5614635386948411012?l=magnuspatris.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/feeds/5614635386948411012/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5594591477308773775&amp;postID=5614635386948411012' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/5614635386948411012'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/5614635386948411012'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/2007/08/tree-house.html' title='Tree House'/><author><name>Magnus Patris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06083516729662909069</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_WGBGyr4s3_k/RsL3ss-qDZI/AAAAAAAAAAM/sVKcj75vVAY/s72-c/IMG_1837.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5594591477308773775.post-5480528029167320958</id><published>2007-08-08T15:22:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-08-08T15:39:26.776-04:00</updated><title type='text'>It's the BLUE jump rope!</title><content type='html'>On Monday, I showed up at Clay's Vacation Bible School to pick him up.  I got there early and there was Clay running up to me "Dadddy, Daddy!"  I hugged him and watched as a bunch of four year olds {Note: they had "4"'s next to their nametags} went by and told him to join his friends who were all holding a purple jump rope and go upstairs with them.  He looked at me funny, but I insisted, "Go on, I'll be right up."  I noticed that none of the other kids were talking to him and that the group leaders, (a.k.a. 13 year old girls) were kind of ignoring him too.  Strange.  After we got upstairs in the church, Clay sat down with his "friends"; then came back to sit with me.  I told him to go back and sit with his friends until the last part of the days activities were done.  So he did; then he sat back 2 rows further all by himself.  I was starting to wonder what was going on.  Now we've been going to this church for 5 years, but we are not the most well known or "social" of the flock, but EVERYBODY who knows him for more than a few minutes LOVES Clay.&lt;br /&gt;After a few minutes, Clay comes to sit with me again and I let hi.  If no one wants to sit with him, well that's their loss!  After another minute, another group of 4 year olds come by holding a &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;blue&lt;/span&gt; jump rope with their older, more responsible leader who comes up to me and says, "Oh, thank goodness he's here with you!  We've been looking all over for him!"  Oooops!  I guess my early arrival shook things up and Clay grabbed onto the wrong jump rope with the wrong kids.&lt;br /&gt;Maybe I shouldn't arrive too early next time.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5594591477308773775-5480528029167320958?l=magnuspatris.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/feeds/5480528029167320958/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5594591477308773775&amp;postID=5480528029167320958' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/5480528029167320958'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/5480528029167320958'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/2007/08/its-blue-jump-rope.html' title='It&apos;s the BLUE jump rope!'/><author><name>Magnus Patris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06083516729662909069</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5594591477308773775.post-5652181739124253163</id><published>2007-08-05T15:47:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-08-05T15:59:02.589-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Hill High Orchard</title><content type='html'>One of the reasons that Nancy let's me go to the aforementioned Berryville Hamfest, is that I can stop at Hill High Orchard in Round Hill, VA. I was introduced to this place almost 20 years ago by friends who lived nearby.  They'd get a pie from there on Sunday mornings and it was amazing!  This is a little general store with a Conestoga wagon in front which bakes these wonderful pies. You usually have your choice of 12 to 15 different pies and there's not a clunker in the bunch.  Nancy loves their French Apple, but I don't like raisins.  They should know there place!  Not in bread!  Not in pies!  Just in Raisin Bran, where it belongs!  Anyway, this gives me a perfect excuse to buy a second pie, but since we only do this once a year (OK, sometimes twice) I don't feel guilty.  Also, every year for the last three, we've heard rumors about it closing, but so far the wagon, the duck pond, and the pies are still there.  So if you're ever on Route 7 in western Loudoun County, get a pie; or two.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5594591477308773775-5652181739124253163?l=magnuspatris.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/feeds/5652181739124253163/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5594591477308773775&amp;postID=5652181739124253163' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/5652181739124253163'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/5652181739124253163'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/2007/08/hill-high-orchard.html' title='Hill High Orchard'/><author><name>Magnus Patris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06083516729662909069</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5594591477308773775.post-72568003739128809</id><published>2007-08-05T15:28:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-08-05T15:46:48.015-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Hamfest</title><content type='html'>Today I went to the Berryville Hamfest.  What's a hamfest?  It has nothing to do with pork.  It's an amateur "ham" radio flea market.  The one in Berryville, VA is one of my favorite to go to and I've gone to it about 12 out of the last 15 years.  It's a really pleasant drive, it's a nice place to walk around for a couple of hours, and it's fun.  Now, my version of "fun" is looking at old radios, cables, connectors and other bits of technology.  But the best part is Hill High Orchard in Round Hill, VA; but that's another story.&lt;br /&gt;Amateur radio is a fun hobby and also provides communications in time of emergency.  But there are three types of people who go to hamfests; fat guys with beards (me), old guys with baseball hats, and "others" (kids, women, non-geeks).  The number of "others" are getting less and less every year, while the other groups seem to be getting larger and larger.  Soon the two groups will merge into "old fat guys with beards and baseball hats".  I hope that soon we'll have a bigger group of well adjusted young people who'll feel that listening and talking to people around the world by attaching a wire thrown up into a tree to a box is kind of magical.  &lt;br /&gt; I hope that my sons think it's as cool as I do. &lt;br /&gt;--...   ...--      -.-  ....-  --  -  ...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5594591477308773775-72568003739128809?l=magnuspatris.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/feeds/72568003739128809/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5594591477308773775&amp;postID=72568003739128809' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/72568003739128809'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/72568003739128809'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/2007/08/hamfest.html' title='Hamfest'/><author><name>Magnus Patris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06083516729662909069</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5594591477308773775.post-8780655908214416664</id><published>2007-08-03T12:08:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-08-03T12:15:28.222-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Hide-n-Seek</title><content type='html'>Here's a "game" that I completely forgot that Clay used to play when he was about Drew's age.  Over the last few days, I have had a hard time finding Drew's pacifiers.  This morning I had to resort to the old white one that he's not too fond of.  About an hour later, I'm trying to clean up the living room; yes a red letter day, I'm cleaning  (more on why later); when I start discovering "hidden" pacifiers all over.  In the air grate, in Nancy's knitting bag, under the assorted pillow.  So here we go again.  Things are going to start disappearing all over the house.  And I thought things were looking up when Clay's "Cars" shoes which have been M.I.A. for four months turned up last night.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5594591477308773775-8780655908214416664?l=magnuspatris.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/feeds/8780655908214416664/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5594591477308773775&amp;postID=8780655908214416664' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/8780655908214416664'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/8780655908214416664'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/2007/08/hide-n-seek.html' title='Hide-n-Seek'/><author><name>Magnus Patris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06083516729662909069</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5594591477308773775.post-3812888942710281616</id><published>2007-07-30T12:01:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2007-07-30T12:31:41.300-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Kidz Bop</title><content type='html'>OK, I've got to get this off my chest.  I HATE&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt; Kidz Bop&lt;/span&gt;!  If you have kids between the ages of 3 and 11 you probably know.  For the rest of you, &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Kidz Bop&lt;/span&gt; is a group of smarmy pre-teens who sing really inappropriate pop songs for the kindergarden set.  Wh have Sirius satellite radio and Clay's favorite channel is Kids' Stuff, which plays everythig from the (slightly hokey, but lovable) Wiggles, to Sesame Street tunes, to really cool artist like Laurie Berkner and Dan Zanes ("Both of which daddy even likes" [&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Clay's comment&lt;/span&gt;]).  But unfortunately this is where we hear &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Kidz Bop&lt;/span&gt;.  One of the first times I hear &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Kidz Bop&lt;/span&gt;, they were singing the James Blunt song, "You're Beautiful", which is already one of my least favorite songs on the planet.  But having these little kids singing a song about an apparently disturbed individual who obsesses over a woman he saw exactly once on a subway, who smiled at him is too much for me.  Then there's the KT Tunstall song "Black Horse and the Cherry Tree" which they also do.  There's something not right about that song in the first place, but it's even worse when they do it.  Now I'm not for censorship ("Yea, daddy listens to Howard Stern when I'm sleeping" {Clay's comment]), but I change the channel as soon as anything by &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Kidz Bop&lt;/span&gt; comes on.  &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Kidz Bop&lt;/span&gt; must be stopped!!!  Thank goodness that Clay has developed better taste in music; Mozart, The Who, The Clash, Led Zepplin, The Ramones; you know, "the classics".&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5594591477308773775-3812888942710281616?l=magnuspatris.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/feeds/3812888942710281616/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5594591477308773775&amp;postID=3812888942710281616' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/3812888942710281616'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/3812888942710281616'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/2007/07/kidz-bop.html' title='Kidz Bop'/><author><name>Magnus Patris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06083516729662909069</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5594591477308773775.post-2816664606544148362</id><published>2007-07-27T10:46:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-07-27T10:54:58.812-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Look at me!</title><content type='html'>Yesterday I was in a waiting room with a group of about 25 other people.  I sat down in one of the last empty chairs and picked up a magazine.  After a minute or so, I noticed the woman sitting next to me had an iPhone.  Pretty cool.  Then I thought, why is she holding up to her chest with the screen pointing away from her?  Then it hit me, she's pointing out to the rest of us lowly slobs that &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;she&lt;/span&gt; has an iPhone and we don't!  Under normal circumstances, I would have asked how she likes her iPhone and what she doesn't like about it.  But this woman looked like she would be annoyed and have a "oh, so you noticed my iPhone; and yes I am much more important than you" attitude.  I don't know what bothered me more, her showing off her iPhone or my wishing that I had one to show off.  Oh well, maybe when the iPhone Nano comes out.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5594591477308773775-2816664606544148362?l=magnuspatris.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/feeds/2816664606544148362/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5594591477308773775&amp;postID=2816664606544148362' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/2816664606544148362'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/2816664606544148362'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/2007/07/look-at-me.html' title='Look at me!'/><author><name>Magnus Patris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06083516729662909069</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5594591477308773775.post-5641767856433345620</id><published>2007-07-20T12:19:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2007-07-20T12:19:18.257-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Goin' to Chicago</title><content type='html'>This morning, Clay was packing some of his toys in a box. When I asked him why, he said "They're goin' to Chicago." Why are they going to Chicago?!? "Because they need to build something". The the box gets dumped out on the sofa. Why? "The sofa is Chicago" he says. Welcome to the Windy Sofa.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5594591477308773775-5641767856433345620?l=magnuspatris.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/feeds/5641767856433345620/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5594591477308773775&amp;postID=5641767856433345620' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/5641767856433345620'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/5641767856433345620'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/2007/07/goin-to-chicago.html' title='Goin&apos; to Chicago'/><author><name>Magnus Patris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06083516729662909069</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5594591477308773775.post-4199484044832816457</id><published>2007-07-19T20:28:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-07-19T20:45:07.235-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Secret Code</title><content type='html'>With Clay getting older, we have to be very careful what we say around him.  Not so much about saying anything bad; although that is a concern too; but with saying anything at all about going somewhere or doing something.  For example, if I say "I wonder if we should go to the pool this weekend?", I will be inundated with endless questions about when we are going, why we are going, why can't we go &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;right now&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; and why aren't we there already!  So we talk about the &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;aquatic recreation area&lt;/span&gt; instead of the pool.  Forget mentioning "Chuck E. Cheese"; it's &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Charles the Rodent&lt;/span&gt;.  IHOP is&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt; the multinational destination for flat breakfast pastries&lt;/span&gt;; Bob Evans is&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt; Robert, Roy Roger's brother-in-law's place&lt;/span&gt;.  Chocolate milk is &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;brown bovine byproduct&lt;/span&gt;, Toys 'R' Us is &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;the place of which we do not spea&lt;/span&gt;k.  We even try to speak about the boys as #1 and #2, as in "#1 didn't take a nap this afternoon", but recently Clay has figured this code out.  He's starting to get to be too smart for us.  Soon S-P-E-L-L-I-N-G will not work for us either.  Even now he says, "Daddy, what's P-O-P-C-O-R-N spell?"  I need to teach Nancy more Ukrainian.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5594591477308773775-4199484044832816457?l=magnuspatris.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/feeds/4199484044832816457/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5594591477308773775&amp;postID=4199484044832816457' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/4199484044832816457'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/4199484044832816457'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/2007/07/secret-code.html' title='Secret Code'/><author><name>Magnus Patris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06083516729662909069</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5594591477308773775.post-6216484186536144519</id><published>2007-07-16T11:44:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-07-16T11:58:02.098-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The Big Wrench</title><content type='html'>Last Saturday night my brother's family drove out to the monthly "Star Party" at Sky Meadows State Park.  It's a beautiful drive and it's very dark out there.  Amateur astronomers bring their telescopes out and allow the public to view the sky through them.  Some of these scopes are hand made and cost thousands of dollars.  Clay was a little bored standing in line at each of the scopes, but he seemed to really like looking into them when it was finally our turn.  An astronomer was giving a talk to a group of people talking about what could be seen with the naked eye, so we stopped and listened for a while.  He began pointing out the Big Dipper and telling us all about it.  I pointed it out to Clay and said, "Clay do you see those stars?  That's the Big Dipper".  "Daddy, what's a dipper?" I said, "It's like a big spoon."  "No" he said.  "A spoon would have another star in it.  I think that looks like the Big Wrench!"  I guess we'll have to keep an eye out for the other constellations; the Race Car, the Slip-N-Slide and the Chicken McNugget.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5594591477308773775-6216484186536144519?l=magnuspatris.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/feeds/6216484186536144519/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5594591477308773775&amp;postID=6216484186536144519' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/6216484186536144519'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/6216484186536144519'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/2007/07/big-wrench.html' title='The Big Wrench'/><author><name>Magnus Patris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06083516729662909069</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5594591477308773775.post-6694384206952394095</id><published>2007-07-12T09:15:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-07-12T09:21:18.013-04:00</updated><title type='text'>50 cent iPhone</title><content type='html'>OK, any one who knows me knows I'm a huge geek and I lover every new piece of technology, especially from Apple.  Clay knows I want an iPhone i the worst way.  Every time an iPhone ad comes on he says, "Daddy, do you want an iPhone?"  "Yes Clay."  "Why don't you buy one?" he says.  "Because they cost a lot of money."  Then the other day he added, "Yeah, they must cost like 50 cents or somethin'!"  Yeah, something like that.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5594591477308773775-6694384206952394095?l=magnuspatris.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/feeds/6694384206952394095/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5594591477308773775&amp;postID=6694384206952394095' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/6694384206952394095'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/6694384206952394095'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/2007/07/50-cent-iphone.html' title='50 cent iPhone'/><author><name>Magnus Patris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06083516729662909069</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5594591477308773775.post-3099752990614034821</id><published>2007-07-05T22:50:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-07-05T22:57:53.662-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Me and Tiger Woods</title><content type='html'>Tiger Woods is in DC for his inaugural golf tournament.  I'm not much of a golfer.  In fact I haven't golfed since 1985 with my Sigma Nu brothers.  I was usually the fourth when no one else (and I mean no one) wanted to play.  But listening to the radio today I heard someone make a comment about Tiger that someone once said about me; "I've never seen a human being hit a ball like that before!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5594591477308773775-3099752990614034821?l=magnuspatris.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/feeds/3099752990614034821/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5594591477308773775&amp;postID=3099752990614034821' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/3099752990614034821'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/3099752990614034821'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/2007/07/me-and-tiger-woods.html' title='Me and Tiger Woods'/><author><name>Magnus Patris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06083516729662909069</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5594591477308773775.post-3894163448132242027</id><published>2007-06-27T22:50:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-06-27T23:09:05.643-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Kids, Don't Try This At Home</title><content type='html'>Every year around this time, the Consumer Product Safety Commission brings out a truckload of watermelons and mannequins along with a crate of all the illegal (fun) fireworks.  Every local news station from around the country shows the footage of exploding produce and disintegrating PVC limbs ad nauseum along with terse warnings of "Kids, don't try this at home!"  Don't try this at home?  Even at 43, the inner teenager in me looks at this footage and says, "Cool!  I wonder what would happen if I put &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;two&lt;/span&gt; firecrackers in a watermelon?"  This yearly pre-Independence Day ritual does nothing to discourage kids from wanting to play with illegal fireworks.  Just the opposite.  Exploding melons and mannequins don't put the fear of God into kids.  I think we need to have the offending fireworks held in the hands of death row inmates or certain members of the Congress and then light 'em up.  Now that would turn kids away from illegal fireworks!  Or maybe not.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5594591477308773775-3894163448132242027?l=magnuspatris.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/feeds/3894163448132242027/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5594591477308773775&amp;postID=3894163448132242027' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/3894163448132242027'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/3894163448132242027'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/2007/06/kids-dont-try-this-at-home.html' title='Kids, Don&apos;t Try This At Home'/><author><name>Magnus Patris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06083516729662909069</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5594591477308773775.post-3905633605300613200</id><published>2007-06-27T00:03:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-06-27T00:11:54.443-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Blind Spot</title><content type='html'>Clay's been asking a lot of questions recently about things like skin color and other differences that people have.  At the end of our neighborhood there's a sign that Clay asked about.  It says "Blind Pedestrian".  I told Clay that there must be someone in the area who can't see and that the sign warns drivers to be careful.  This, of course, started the usual cascade of questions; "Why can't someone see?",  "Why don't they wear glasses like you to see?", "How do they know where they are?"  After trying my best to answer these, Clay says, "Well if they drive and get into a wreck, they will have their car taken away, right?"  Right.  How can I argue with that.  The way most people drive around here, they might be blind.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5594591477308773775-3905633605300613200?l=magnuspatris.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/feeds/3905633605300613200/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5594591477308773775&amp;postID=3905633605300613200' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/3905633605300613200'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/3905633605300613200'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/2007/06/blind-spot.html' title='Blind Spot'/><author><name>Magnus Patris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06083516729662909069</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5594591477308773775.post-4228868371825092921</id><published>2007-06-24T23:05:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-06-24T23:15:18.790-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Brother can you spare a bottle cap?</title><content type='html'>OK, I know this borders on being crass and begging, but I've been saving these stupid my coke rewards points since February to get a Clay a basketball and I'm getting real tired of drinking Coke.  My gawd; words I never thought would come out of my mouth (or keyboard)!  So far I have enough for a subscription to "&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Seventeen&lt;/span&gt;" or a DVD of the South American telenovella, "&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Ayiiieeee! Mi Corazon de los Amore es Meurte&lt;/span&gt;" or something like that; neither of which are on a 4 year-old's wish list. So I'm asking if anyone drinks Coke and doesn't collect the points, look for the 12 digit code under the cap or inside a 12-pack and send them to me.  I need to get Clay a basketball before the end of summer.  He needs to practice. Now.  Have you seen the cost of college now and imagine what it will be like in 14 more years?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5594591477308773775-4228868371825092921?l=magnuspatris.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/feeds/4228868371825092921/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5594591477308773775&amp;postID=4228868371825092921' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/4228868371825092921'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/4228868371825092921'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/2007/06/brother-can-you-spare-bottle-cap.html' title='Brother can you spare a bottle cap?'/><author><name>Magnus Patris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06083516729662909069</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5594591477308773775.post-91221088934477304</id><published>2007-06-24T22:49:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-06-24T23:03:33.904-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Ol' Yeller</title><content type='html'>Well as you may have read in Nancy's blog, I had some visitors the other day; three nuns and a priest.  I do some freelance work for the diocese and they needed to ask me a few questions.  After offering them some beverages and making them comfortable in the recently cleaned family room, the boys begin to entertain them.  Drew just coos and smiles and laughs; what a 9 month old does best.  Clay politely introduces himself to everyone.  Just when I think, "Wow, things are going great; the usual chaos of the day (screaming babies, throwing toys, choruses of Why?'s, No!'s, and Why not!'s and innumerable counting to 3's) has subsided.  Just then Clay cheerfully pipes up, "My daddy yells at me!"  Then a brief moment of silence. Great.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5594591477308773775-91221088934477304?l=magnuspatris.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/feeds/91221088934477304/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5594591477308773775&amp;postID=91221088934477304' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/91221088934477304'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/91221088934477304'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/2007/06/ol-yeller.html' title='Ol&apos; Yeller'/><author><name>Magnus Patris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06083516729662909069</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5594591477308773775.post-9015467740070537012</id><published>2007-06-17T09:04:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-06-17T09:10:40.646-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy Father's Day</title><content type='html'>The best thing about hearing the baby cry at 5:45 AM on Father's Day morning is knowing that Mom will get up with him and I get to roll over and go back to sleep!  Happy Father's Day to me!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5594591477308773775-9015467740070537012?l=magnuspatris.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/feeds/9015467740070537012/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5594591477308773775&amp;postID=9015467740070537012' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/9015467740070537012'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/9015467740070537012'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/2007/06/happy-fathers-day.html' title='Happy Father&apos;s Day'/><author><name>Magnus Patris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06083516729662909069</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5594591477308773775.post-8559866572097294997</id><published>2007-06-15T21:25:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-06-15T21:54:24.004-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Steal This Car!</title><content type='html'>My folks have been here all week and we always enjoy having them.  I always worry a bit when they travel because they drive down in my dad's dream car; a 1985 Lincoln Town Car.  If you remember the infamous &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Exxon Valdez&lt;/span&gt;, this car is about as large, handles as well and leaks about the same amount of oil as it did.  We noticed some drips of oil on our driveway, so we figured, let's make sure all the vital fluids are topped off for the ride back. Since I couldn't find the transmission fluid dipstick, we took it to the local Ford dealer.  I think there were audible gasps as we drove up.  It must have been like seeing a World War I Fokker Tri-plane land next to a field of F-22 Raptors. I ran past a few salesmen with their mouths agape to ask someone in the service department to help me find the transmission fluid dipstick.  By the time I came out, a salesman was already giving my mom his card and offering to buy the car from her.  I think he was shocked when my mother informed him that they were keeping the car.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My dad loves this car; duct tape on the glovebox, chrome peeling off the bumper, AM/FM &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;cassette&lt;/span&gt; player, no safety features of any kind and all.  He thinks the car is worth around $15,000.  He was shattered when he found out that it's true value is $683.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thought about leaving the keys in it with the windows open overnight while they were here.  Maybe next time they visit, I'll have to park it in DC.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5594591477308773775-8559866572097294997?l=magnuspatris.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/feeds/8559866572097294997/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5594591477308773775&amp;postID=8559866572097294997' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/8559866572097294997'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/8559866572097294997'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/2007/06/steal-this-car.html' title='Steal This Car!'/><author><name>Magnus Patris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06083516729662909069</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5594591477308773775.post-6710686456395470284</id><published>2007-06-05T20:57:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-06-10T11:02:04.844-04:00</updated><title type='text'>iMom</title><content type='html'>Yesterday I spoke to my mom on the phone.  Happily, they're planning a trip to visit us for a week.  My mom knows I'm a real fan of Apple and I talked her into buying a few shares a couple of years ago. Mom is not very savy about technology so when I excitedly tell her about Core 2 Duo processors, Adobe CS3, or OS 10.5 Leopard, I might as well be speaking Urdu.  So after my obligatory, "Apple's up to $122 a shre today", she followed with her usual, "So should I sell it yet?"  "No!!!"  But after that she shocked my by saying, "So did you see that iPhone they're coming out with.  It looks like you can watch a movie and make phone calls with it.  It's like and iPod and a Phone!"  Maybe there's hope yet for my folks; now if I can only convince them to get more than basic cable.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5594591477308773775-6710686456395470284?l=magnuspatris.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/feeds/6710686456395470284/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5594591477308773775&amp;postID=6710686456395470284' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/6710686456395470284'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/6710686456395470284'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/2007/06/imom.html' title='iMom'/><author><name>Magnus Patris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06083516729662909069</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5594591477308773775.post-533223912496567087</id><published>2007-06-03T19:27:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-06-10T11:00:38.058-04:00</updated><title type='text'>That'll be "To Go"</title><content type='html'>Yesterday was Clay's end of year pre-school picnic.  Every family has to bring a contribution to the pot luck lunch and it has become our tradition to bring Popeye's chicken.  A great tradition since we usually have "Buy 11 pieces, get 11 pieces free" coupons.  So on our way I stop at the local Popeye's leaving the rest of the family in the proto-Canadian-like, air conditioned comfort of our Prius (which is Japanese for "why won't the stroller fit in the trunk?).  I'm greated by the bespeckled teenage poultry engineer; "Hey" he says.  "Hey", I say.  "I'd like 22 pieces of chicken please."  "Uh, Is that for 'here' or 'To Go'?"  For a moment I think, I'm a big guy and I like my Popeye's; but what the hell is wrong with this kid?  Then looking slightly vexed I said, "That'll be 'To Go'".&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5594591477308773775-533223912496567087?l=magnuspatris.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/feeds/533223912496567087/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5594591477308773775&amp;postID=533223912496567087' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/533223912496567087'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/533223912496567087'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/2007/06/thatll-be-to-go.html' title='That&apos;ll be &quot;To Go&quot;'/><author><name>Magnus Patris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06083516729662909069</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5594591477308773775.post-7374108649633844978</id><published>2007-06-03T18:39:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2007-06-03T20:18:28.282-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Welcome</title><content type='html'>Well, since my wife has been posting all the little cool stories about the boys for the last few months, I thought I'd better get in on the act and put in my $.02.  Let's face it, she's doing a great job of it, so I won't try to duplicate what she's done.  I'll probably just use this space to vent and talk about the daily annoyances that I come across, and man do I get annoyed easily.  Which leads me to my next entry.............&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5594591477308773775-7374108649633844978?l=magnuspatris.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/feeds/7374108649633844978/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5594591477308773775&amp;postID=7374108649633844978' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/7374108649633844978'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5594591477308773775/posts/default/7374108649633844978'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://magnuspatris.blogspot.com/2007/06/welcome.html' title='Welcome'/><author><name>Magnus Patris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06083516729662909069</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
