This is week 126 of The Life of Riley, a weekly post detailing my activities since I ended a thirteen year career as a corporate drone. These posts are usually long, personal, and geared more for my own memory than the reader’s entertainment.

Sunday (Day 875): Beard Growing, Password Cracking Machine

It was October 25th, so as has become the custom, I put down my razor and started my annual winter beard. It gives me two good months of growth before the holidays.

I watched the baby for a bit so #1GF! could go back to bed. When she got up, we cleaned up the house a little.

I loaded some remote control software and logged into one of #1GF!’s family’s PCs to get rid of a fine piece of malware called Windows Enterprise Defender. It sounds legit, it looks legit, but it’s a piece of malware.

I was happy to resolve the problem, and even happier that I didn’t have to spend an additional couple of hours on the road thanks to some remote software, but that malware was a fat pain in the ass to extract. Once the virus was cleaned up, my father called to ask my opinion on a laptop. I guessed that it was going to be PC day. I was ready to shoot down his laptop as overpriced and underpowered, but the laptop he found was a pretty good deal. He bought it on the way over to see the baby.

The baby was tired, but stayed awake while my parents were over. My father opened the laptop and went through the setup process. It was Windows 7, which looked exactly like Vista to me. I needed to install a virus scanner for him, so he shut down and we moved to a room with network jacks. Once we were back up and running, my dad forgot the administrator password and we were locked out of his brand new laptop after a record ten minutes of use.

After a few guesses on my own, I figured out the difference between what he typed and what he thought he typed.

“Oh you’re good,” he said with a glint in his eye. “Maybe you should’ve taken that security job.”

I finished the setup and we went back out to the kitchen. My father played with his new laptop, and my mother played with the baby. The baby was all smiles. She does that sort of thing for company.

My parents left to beat the bridge opening, and the baby freaked out for a couple of hours after they were gone. #1GF! and I knew it was coming. The baby had been awake all day, and payment was due. The baby was down by 7:45PM and #1GF! and I sat on the couch watching TV.

Monday (Day 876): Broadcasting For Blow

I think it was 1AM, 2AM, 4AM, and 5AM that I woke up. I say “I think” because waking up every fucking hour or two during the night does a number on your mental faculties. I think I sent #1GF! to bed at 6AM, and sat with the baby in the den. The baby eventually calmed down and fell asleep, and I read a book on writing to pass the time.

Once #1GF! was up, I showered and did some wireless router research for my dad who was advancing up the technology chain much faster that I was. Maybe it’s just ex-security guy paranoia, but I’m still a proponent of hard-wiring everything. I don’t even like using cordless phones, and I have the impulse to unplug the baby monitor every time the baby wakes up. I don’t understand putting everything in the air where any dirty old sniffer can get a taste of your info. But, that’s just me.

Once I found a suitable router, #1GF! and I went out and picked it up at a local office supply store. I called my dad as soon as soon as the receipt hit the bag to see if he wanted an early birthday present. He was itching to experience the internet while sitting at the kitchen counter, so we headed to my parents’ house to set up the router.

We weren’t at the house very long before the baby started getting fussy. #1GF! fed her once and changed her twice, but it wasn’t doing much good. Once I was sure that the router was set up and secured, we decided it would be best to get the little chicken home. Before we left, my dad gave me a hand me down leaf blower because he got something more powerful. Jackpot.

We went home, and I made some burgers while #1GF! walked the baby around the house. I entertained them both by making faces and waving my arms whenever they got near. The dinner was ready before the baby was, so #1GF! ended up eating another cold dinner.

We wound down by watching Defiance, which was based on the true story of the Bielski brothers who evaded the Nazis and hid 1200 people in the Naliboki Forest during World War II. It was interesting because it was based on a true story, but it was really long and slow.

I got a crazy headache before bed. I don’t know why, or why it matters, but it happened.

Tuesday (Day 877): The Writing Bug Swaggers On By

I woke up late with the same headache that I went to bed with. I took the baby at 7:45AM, and once she had fallen asleep, I suddenly got very excited about writing. I hadn’t been interested in getting my fingers on a keyboard in a long time. If the baby’s nap wasn’t limiting my access to my PC, I might’ve sat down and written.

It seems that when things calm down and I get the impulse to write, I’m without access to my PC. Then again, writing doesn’t have to be done on a PC. There’s always pen and paper, but pen and paper lead to transcription, and transcription sucks the joy out of writing for me. I let the impulse swagger on by, but took it as a good sign. Things might’ve been starting to level out.

#1GF! got up to take over the baby care, and I went to the attic to glue some two inch insulation to the back of the attic door. Simple. Including the cutting and gluing, it was an hour project, tops. It’s called scope creep, folks, and it hides in the eaves of old houses to turn hour projects into all day affairs.

First, the attic door wouldn’t close, so I had to determine whether I was going to move the strike plate or grind it out. The latch looked like it had already been moved and ground, and I was worried that if I tried to move it again, the screw holes holding it to the frame would merge into a giant screw hole, and I’d spend a lot of extra time waiting for wood fill to dry. I decided to grind out the strike plate instead. A lot of noise, and a fair amount of stink later, the door would finally close and latch.

Once the door would close and latch, I found that it was horribly warped. An insulated door wasn’t going to help if there was a gap for heat to escape through, so I stared at the one inch gap in the corner in an attempt to will it away. I now know that my anger is not hot enough to unwarp a door.

The right way to fix it would be with saw horses and bricks, but I wasn’t about to push this simple insulating project back two days just to fix an attic door that no one sees. I took the easy way out and applied a lot of weatherstripping to stop the wind from whipping though the one inch gap. I was finally ready to start gluing the insulation to the door, which I did quickly because it’s a simple, fifteen minute job. It was 3PM before the insulation was glued and everything was cleaned up.

#1GF! wanted to give the baby a bath, but the clamps holding the insulation to the attic door prevented it from closing, and I couldn’t remove them until the glue dried. #1GF! wouldn’t subject the baby to the breeze the open attic door created, so the bath would have to wait. I was so frustrated with the project that I couldn’t talk about it.

I was lugging the robot back down to the basement, and he was flashing his screen like it was a ride the whole way down the stairs. I’m telling you: he is, hands down, the dumbest robot ever.

On my way through the kitchen, #1GF! asked me to vacuum the basement stairs on my way down. It was a logical and fair request. I had been tracking mud up and down those stairs for months with the lug soles in my work boots, so I tried to comply without a grudge. I was just afraid that I’d do something like lift a tread or find a crack that would turn a simple stair cleaning into a stair replacement.

#1GF! asked if we could take the clamps off of the insulation so that we could close the attic door and give the baby a bath without a breeze whipping through the kitchen. It was a little early to remove the clamps, but I went up and took the clamps off anyway.

Right when we were ready to give the baby a bath, she freaked out. I changed her and tried to calm her down. She eventually fell asleep, and my options were to put her to bed, which would cut off my access to my PC, or put her in the swing, which would cut off our access to dinner. Sometimes, food wins over words. The baby fell asleep before we could give her a bath.

Once the baby was settled, I took #1GF! up to show her the insulation. It was already pulling away from the door because I had taken the clamps off to give the baby that bath that she never got. I was not happy. I put the clamps back on the door and we brought down #1GF!’s winter clothes.

We sat in silence because a good bout of baby screaming makes you appreciate the quiet. I took the clamps off the door before we went to bed, meaning that simple, one hour project had taken about ten hours to complete. I sat thinking that the hours move so quickly that it seemed impossible that I’d ever get anything done.

Wednesday (Day 878): The Baby Doesn’t Speak English

I have no idea what planets aligned, but both #1GF! and I were dressed before 9AM. We gave the baby a bath. It was raining, and the wind and ocean droned on like a white noise machine. At 11AM, both of the ladies fell asleep under its spell.

I sat down to read a book on writing, and the urge to write resurfaced. I decided to act on it. A few hours later, the ladies were at my office door peering in. I didn’t end up writing, but I did transcribe some notes. I only managed to get a couple of days of Life of Riley roughed out in the time I had, which wasn’t impressive, but it was at least a start.

I put ribs in the oven at 4PM, and then entertained the baby while she sat on #1GF!’s lap at the dining room table. Both of them were laughing. #1GF! got the baby to bed just before the ribs were falling apart in the pan, and the baby woke up just as we finished eating.

The baby didn’t wake up in a particularly quiet mood, so I spent an hour trying to stop her from screaming. I failed, and #1GF! took over. I sat on the couch and watched part of The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, which I couldn’t remember ever seeing before. I didn’t see what all the fuss was about, but it was probably scary in its day for people who didn’t live with long bouts of screaming.

Once #1GF! returned, we watched an episode of Dexter. #1GF! went to bed, and I stayed up. I wasn’t sleepy. Even though I feel like I’m constantly watching the sand pour through the hourglass, I watched the History Channel instead of doing something useful.

#1GF! got up at midnight to feed the baby and I was still sitting on the couch watching something about Dubya Dubya Two.

“I can’t believe it’s only Tuesday,” I said.

“Actually it’s Wednesday,” said a sleepy #1GF!.

“No, it isn’t.”

“You’re right. It isn’t. Technically, it’s Thursday.”

“What? No. It can’t be.” I got up and checked the DVR’s date and time to confirm. I just lost two days.

I tried to get the baby to go to sleep after the feed, and #1GF! came into the room to see how I was doing. #1GF! opened her eyes wide and nodded as if to ask for a baby status. The baby started closing her eyes. “I think she’s dropping off,” I said in a normal tone of voice. The baby’s eyes popped open and she started kicking and fidgeting. “Oh, nope. She’s awake,” I said shaking my head.

#1GF! started laughing. “Do you think that she can’t hear you?”

I rolled my eyes and slapped one of my hands over them. I made a mental note that just because the baby didn’t understand English, that did not mean that she couldn’t hear. #1GF! took over and got the baby to sleep because she understands the difference between hearing impaired and non-English speaking.

Thursday (Day 879): Recipes Versus Shopping Lists

I got up at 7:30AM only because #1GF! came in with the baby to wake me up. I think I might’ve slept until noon otherwise.

I got the baby to sleep after she ate, and #1GF! and I sat down to watch a sitcom on the DVR. It was nice to sit there together watching a sitcom in the middle of the morning. The baby eventually woke up, and I fed her and put her back to sleep while #1GF! showered.

Once we were both dressed, I read a cake recipe that someone had given me with a note that it was really good. It started with, and I shit you not, “buy two yellow cakes and some icing at the store…”

I’m not the greatest cook, but I don’t like to put premixed anything into cookies or cakes. I start with the basics. You mix butter, sugar, flour, and a few other basics in a bowl, pour them into a pan, and shove that bitch into the oven. The older the recipes, the better I like them. I’m prone to think that pudding mix and shortening are cheats, even though I have occasionally been known to use them.

It generally doesn’t bother me if a recipe includes a couple of cheats or didn’t go far enough to the basics. People make pudding cakes and boxed cakes all the time. This is the modern world, and chemical is king. I generally wouldn’t use a recipe like that, but it wouldn’t bother me. This was a little different. What I had in front of me was merely a shopping list masquerading as a cake recipe.

What really bothered me about the recipe was that it looked as if it had been photocopied from a magazine. That meant that the recipe made it through at least one lazy editor to appear in print. The fact that someone might’ve gotten paid for that recipe bothered me enough that I wanted to create a series of cooking videos for regular people.

I took a deep breath to let the Italian blood cool. The baby was awake, and I had to change her because we were heading out to #1GF!’s mother’s house for a visit. Babies shouldn’t have to face angry daddies for things that they have no control over. I put on my smile and started the change.

During the change, I noticed that the baby’s skin was so soft that I could barely feel it. It was like it was barely there. The baby spent the time staring at her hands, which she only recently started noticing. She had only recently learned to use those hands to hold a rattle without dropping it. To her, her hands were a super power that she was still trying to learn to control.

She also seemed to think of her feet as a second set of hands. I touched one of her feet, and she curled her toes around it like a second set of fingers. Newborns are so interesting, and they change so fast. Some of the tricks we used to use to make her smile over the last few weeks no longer worked.

We packed up the baby, grabbed a cup of coffee, and headed to #1GF!’s mother’s house. We stopped into the library on the way because #1GF! had finished her book. I ran in to grab another for her. With all the chick lit I’ve been picking up for her lately, the librarians probably have definite ideas about me having increased estrogen levels.

When we got home, we ate leftovers and spent a fair amount of time trying to get the baby to go to sleep. Then, we rotted our brains with the Thursday night TV lineup.

Friday (Day 880): Two Weeks To Go

We woke up to a screaming baby. I thought it was after 6AM, and I couldn’t believe how fast the night flew by. It was only 2AM. #1GF! took point on scream control, and I went back to bed.

I eventually got up at 7AM, and #1GF! and I sat on the couch playing with the baby. #1GF! didn’t want to go back to bed, so she put the baby to sleep and sat on the couch reading a book. I sat at the table reading, and writing in my notebook.

The orange LED indicator on my fridge had finally gone red, so I replaced the fridge’s water filter. Five gallons of water had to be flushed through the filter before it would be ready to use, so I spent ten minutes alternating between emptying water into the sink and onto the floor.

I went back into the den and #1GF! looked up cars while I played with the baby. The baby would grab my thumbs, pull herself up, and attempt to devour her own hand. When laying flat, she had no interest in her hand at all. I found it more interesting than the slight variations between family sedans.

The mortgage guy interrupted our joyride through adulthood to remind us that #1GF! had two weeks before she had to go back to work.

“I don’t want to hear it. I don’t want to go,” said #1GF! after she hung up.

“I don’t want you to go, either. This has been pretty nice.”

“It really has, hasn’t it.”

“Absolutely. I plan on highly recommending it to my wealthy and/or hobotronic friends.”

#1GF! finally settled on a nice, family sedan that would replace ROCKET CAR!. I didn’t tell ROCKET CAR! of this fact, and he sat happily in the driveway staring out at the ocean.

The next time I looked at the clock, it was 4PM. The baby was acting nuts, so #1GF! took her while I made dinner. She almost got the baby down before dinner, but she wouldn’t go to sleep. The baby sat laughing at me while I ate. It was so much better than screaming.

“There’s another girl in the house who appreciates your humor,” said #1GF!.

“But, I’m not doing anything unusual. You guys are going to ruin me. I’ll end up thinking I’m funny and people will roll their eyes at me.”

“You are funny.”

“I’m only eating.” I shook my head. “I’m bound for comedic ruin.”

“Well, at least you can entertain us.”

After dinner, I spent a couple of hours putting together a changing table, and then we rearranged the baby’s room to fit it in. We then moved all of the furniture back to where it was and jammed the table into a corner.

I took the baby at 7PM, but failed to get her to sleep. #1GF! took her at 8PM, and got her to sleep twenty minutes later. #1GF! and I sat on the couch for an episode of Dexter because stories about serial killers had somehow become relaxing.

Saturday (Day 881): The Dragon Wants Dinner

It was Halloween. I got up and got the baby to sleep by 8:30AM. I read A Writer’s Coach by Jack Hart, an excellent book on writing mechanics that had me thinking about condensing language and using active verbs.

#1GF! got up and showered, but by the time we were both dressed and ready, it was already noon. #1GF! put the baby in a jack o lantern onesie, took a bunch of pictures of her. An hour later, we walked down to the carousel to see the children’s costume contest. As a former city kid, as I get older, I find that it’s the corny, small town stuff that’s the most difficult to resist.

We rolled the stroller around the hand-carved carousel as the Wurlitzer band organ played a tune that could’ve been playing when the carousel was first opened in 1928. We found an old, green, wooden bench that had endured years of repainting, and sat watching the costumed kids revolving around and around on wild, wooden horses who had been carved as if caught mid-snarl.

As the songs played, a guy I used to hang around with in high school rode by with his wife and a two year old. I wasn’t sure if the kid was his, but it sure looked like him. They exited on the other side of the pavilion when the ride was over and got lost in the crowd. I’m not sure if it was intentional or not.

“Do you see your friend?” asked #1GF!.

“Nah. I think they left.”

“Did he see you?”

“Yea, he waved when they passed by.”

“Well, that’s weird.”

“Not really. People like waving to me more than they like saying hello. It’s like they like the idea of me better than the real thing. I dunno.” I shook it off. Things like that have happened to me my whole life, and it’s nothing that I can get worked up over at this stage of the game.

As we sat watching a toddler running around in a gorilla suit, a guy about my age walked by wearing a Social Distortion T-shirt. I thought it was sort of cool, until I saw that it was a concert shirt from 2009. Then the guy decayed into just another old guy, chasing an old band, trying to recapture youth that had silently slipped away from him long ago.

#1GF! and I sat watching the kids go by and the baby slept in her carriage. The baby woke up and stared at the carousel with her eyebrows down. She looked like she was ready to give the carousel a bit of baby ninjery, if it spun too close.

As we sat silently enjoying the antiquated atmosphere, an Indian boy of about five with a missing front tooth walked up to #1GF!, put his hand on her knee, and started talking to her like they had known each other their whole lives. The kid was glowing with personality, but he kept reaching toward the baby.

#1GF! finally had to tell him, “Okay, just don’t touch the baby.”

“Why?” the boy asked. “Is she sick?”

I couldn’t help but smile. The kid’s grandmother called him back to finish his ice cream.

We left our bench for someone else to enjoy, and walked home in wind that had gotten so strong that we had to yell above it to be heard. It pushed my jeans against my legs and pushed the carriage off course. Even with the gale blowing, it was warm enough that we didn’t need jackets.

When we got back to the house, I was sweating. The baby fell asleep at 5PM, and I gave out candy out to a couple of the early trick or treating neighborhood kids. #1GF! went next door to see if they wanted to park in our driveway to get their cars off of the street. They didn’t. Halloween in a beach town isn’t the same as city Halloween.

I put a chicken pot pie in the oven, and made plans to have people over on Sunday morning. #1GF! made plans to visit people on Sunday afternoon. I tried to think of something to bake for all those people to snack on.

Giving out candy isn’t really my thing, so I decided to make gingerbread cookies while #1GF! waited to give out candy. I must’ve rolled those cookies out ten times before flowering the shit out of them and giving them one last try. It didn’t help.

I eventually rolled the cookies into balls and put them on a cookie sheet as if they were drop cookies. It was the last thing I could think to do before dumping the whole ball of dough in the trash. How hard is it to cut a cookie? What do you need a fucking degree in gingerology to get a fucking simple cookie cut? What kind of bullshit is that?

By the time those cookies were ready to go into the oven, I was actually pissed off. I was making cookies when the first trick or treaters came by. #1GF! was off handling the baby, so I rinsed off my hands and took over her candy donating duties. I knelt down and held out the bowl of candy to a three year old in a dragon costume. #1GF! came out holding the baby.

The kid grabbed a handful of candy. “Can I come in?” he asked.

“Sure,” said #1GF! behind me.

“Great,” the kid said as he tried to figure out a way past my crouching frame hogging up the doorway.

“Do you want some dinner, too,” #1GF! asked.

“YEA! What are you having?”

His mom laughed and took the little dragon away. I didn’t seem like we were the first house this happened to.

What I Learned

• Windows Enterprise Defender sucks.
• Sometimes your parents will find inexplicable deals on tech. Sometimes, people fart “Eye of the Tiger”. It’s improbable, but not impossible.
• The Bielski brothers evaded the Nazis and hid 1200 people in the Naliboki Forest during World War II.
• Windows 7 looks exactly like Vista.
• If given the chance and ten minutes, a user will lose a password.
• Generally, anger is not hot enough to unwarp a door.
• Just because a baby doesn’t understand English, that doesn’t mean that she can’t hear.
• Now recipes have the ability to piss me off.
• I can replace my fridge’s water filter.
• The baby will only find her hand delicious if she’s sitting up.
• A Writer’s Coach by Jack Hart is excellent.
• Some kids are born with personality.
• Some kids are more interested in dinner than trick or treating.
• I can’t cut out a cookie to save my life.

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