In grad school, A classmate who would precede a lot of things with, “If I won the lottery…”
Finally I got sick of it and said, “Why the hell do you want someone to give you money you didn’t earn?” I still feel that way.
Also in grad school, the the lottery reached a huge sum (at the time). My advisor sat down, and as an exercise computed there was a positive ROI to buying a ticket.
Deciding that he it would be a crime against his discipline (theoretical condensed matter physics, which is mostly a lot of statistics) to ignore this fact, he went out of the office, next door to the local gas station to buy a lottery ticket. When he got there, in front of him was a colleague, a statistical physics professor, and soon behind him came another colleague. (I came in there later but it was to get a refill on my 64oz Bigfoot).
My uncle Francis, whom my son is named after, was also a theoretical condensed matter physicist. Every time we met up at the American Physical Society March meeting, The first thing out of his mouth was when and how we were going to get a ride to the closest riverboat blackjack casinos. There was even a rumor that we never got invited back to Las Vegas after 1986 — all those tables full of statistical physicists refusing alcohol and doing the minimum bet for hours until, suddenly, the shoe was in their favor and they all switched their bets at once, but separately.
Ironically, it looks like Casino memory is just under 40 years. They will learn the error of their ways next year. If only Francis were alive, I’m sure he’d come out of retirement to attend and make a few bucks at blackjack with me.
This morning, Benjamin and I had to get a blood test. I guess this makes us blood brothers.
It’s been about 8 years since my last test. Now that Benjamin is one year old, his pediatrician wants him tested for lead as a precaution since housing in San Francisco can date back to when paint and pipes had lead.
When getting him ready for the visit, I got him dressed. He started repeating “sosh” when I was putting on his socks. I mistakenly thought the lab could get a sample from his foot, so I skipped putting on his shoes.
He saw me pick up his sandals, and ran at me yelling “shoosh!” But when I dropped them in his diaper bag, he wasn’t having it at all. He associates his “shoosh” with going out, thought this meant I was leaving without him, and started crying.
It took all of five seconds, but that was five seconds too long for my son.
Because the warm weather, he wanted to just buckle up and jet and show his rockin’ bod he and mommy have been working on for the last 10 months, but M— thought the seat restraints would chafe his new baby skin and selected a dinosaur shirt from Auntie Nora that all the honey babies in his life (Mommy) thought made him look cute. While it did cover up his awesome guns, he finally relented, and we were off to give M— some much needed rest for a couple hours
We walked through the park, and, on the way back, he thought mommy would like some food to keep her milk all nice and yummy so we picked up some egg bread, spam musubi, and Garlic Noodle w/Pan Seared Prawn on the trip home. He even survived his first diaper change in the field (though, mommy was right: I should have packed more wipes and diapers in the Pronto Changing Station).
Unfortunately, other than a few comments about how cute he was, he didn’t get to pick up any chicks. I thought it meant I failed as a wingman, but Benjamin blames the ‘rona.
One of our current clients requested that we do background checks on individuals. Being on maternity/paternity leave, I’d normally ignore it until later, but Checkr is quite persistent when you ignore them, so I got it off my queue before what-pathetic-excuse-counts-for-sleep last night.
I had to announce my relief to the company.
Me: Got my background check back. Relieved to find out I’m not a sex offender anywhere.
J—: im happy for you
Me: I’m relieved too! Forwarded it to M—. She mentioned she knows the CEO of Checkr from a mobile startup, and then said, without skipping a beat, “Okay, baby, we can keep daddy around now that we know he checks out.”
(This is probably revenge for all the times I look at my son and declare to M—, “I guess I think we’ll keep him.”)