Baking Bad

I was, until recently, shuffling dejectedly around the house with a hangdog expression that can only be replicated through pure and abject failure of the highest order. I tried to bake chocolate chip cookies this morning. Spoiler alert, it didn’t end well.

Nearly at the zenith of my life (people keep arguing that midpoint is fifty and not forty as I’ve been sullenly alluding to) I’ve never baked anything (except myself in a car). After constructing pretend mud pies with my daughter I… in a moment of parental enthusiasm suggested we should go inside and bake (actual) cookies.

My wife arched her eyebrow at finding us in the kitchen, knee deep in flour and baking apparatuses, shooting me a look that suggested both concern… and condescension… as she watched me judge a teaspoon of vanilla essence straight from the bottle. ‘You’re following the recipe right?’ she ventured.

‘Yeah, more or less’

On the plus side, as a learning experience, I now know why, ‘more or less’, is not really a baking ideology that has gained much traction over the years. I’ve also crossed off going all Walter White as a potential alternative career venture… seeing as I will either kill my customer base relatively quickly or spread myself thin (on the inside of a Winnebago) with an incendiary-type event.  In fact anything involving exact measurements should be probably just be avoided. I am definitely more blunt force trauma than precision wet-work.

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How does that saying go? Big, dumb and full of… rum? Hmm. That might actually cheer me up right now.

Dirty deeds

I was listening to AC/DC this morning in the kitchen (making breakfast) and my two year old daughter came in and started dancing…

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Me – Do you like AC/DC?

Daughter – Yes I do…

Me- That makes daddy very happy

Daughter (starts singing) A, B, C, D, E, F, G…

Me- …

 

Unspecified whine

I fumbled and dropped my Tupperware on the way to the kitchen this morning, which resulted in my chicken being distributed in a large circumference around my personage. I briefly considering eating it anyway. But the questionable hygiene of the office firma and the judgmental stares of my co-workers swayed me away from this endeavour.

This, as it turns out, has been indicative for my day so far – basically rubbish. I’m trying to take it my stride with stoic resolve and fortitude but I’m hungry and entering the realm of ravenous hostility that comes from not eating for three hours.

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I’m wallowing, (mostly) in self pity but also achieving some more general type wallowing that comes from feeling disconnected from my privilege. I’ve tried to infuse a modicum of imperturbability into my psyche by looking at pictures of suffering. I have a folder for just such occasions, aptly named, ‘Pictures to make you sad’.

Its not doing anything for me today. As an aside, Kevin Carter (who took this picture, that won the 1994 Pulitzer prizes for photography) killed himself in a park near my house. As a child I used to catch tadpoles and crabs in the river there. Unfortunately these days as an unsupervised minor undertaking such a venture you are more likely to catch Diphtheria, experience unbidden sodomy and then have your organs harvested in room lit by single flickering light bulb. Which as I understand it, is less amusing than keeping river creatures in a glass jar until they belly up and die after a few days. I’m glad I got to kill larval stage animals without compromising my sphincter integrity or losing a kidney. It doesn’t seem like a good trade off. (ah, the good ol’ days)

Speaking of creepy crawlies (after reading Caroline Paul – Fighting Fire) my wife and I have become very cognisant of not letting my two year old daughter develop irrational fears. Ie. We have been super careful not to unfairly demonize snakes, spiders and hexapodal invertebrates… its cute when she says ‘hello’ to the Daddy-long-legs or the Christmas beetle. But obviously less endearing when she tries to offer salutations to a Black Widow or tries to high five hornets. My mother muses out loud that her grandchild is a Hindu. I think she means a Jain… but I don’t really want to get into it with her. To my mother all Indians are Hindu. In any event I have become this weird black-helicopter parent*. Which in invalidates 90% of the concepts I imagined about being a parent. It certainly wasn’t how I was raised…

* which is basically like a regular helicopter parent, but supposedly working in the background in stealth mode (with varying degrees of success) and only intervening under dire circumstances. Sometimes I wonder if I’m coddling her.

In other news I’ve taken four Tramadol (not all at once) in an effort to rid myself of this throbbing headache. So I’ve been pumping myself full stimulants and opioids since I woke up. I marking today down as a failure for cleaning living. Just thought I would mention it.

 

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People that need to be punched in the face

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People that need to be punched in the face… figuratively… he said… after a moment of consideration. (I’m trying to be less… eh… combative in my old age and not necessarily resort to the quick acceleration of my forehead into the orbital socket of the individual that vexes me as my go-to problem solving solution)

I think virtue signalling through your children is especially wicked though. But… I guess… words (of a Socratic and logical bend) are all I’ve really got to counter stuff like this. Even if it is less gratifying (to me at any rate). Violent intervention rarely solves a problem. Especially an ideological one.

If you’re of a libertarian slant you believe people should be allowed to do whatever they want… unless of course it affects somebody else. It becomes less clear cut to me when those other people are children.

Continue reading “People that need to be punched in the face”

Collective punishment

Why would you even vaguely consider grounding your daughter for this? This is pure unadulterated awesomeness.

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It is also (as I understand it) true.

Students are considered civilians and therefore considered protected persons, under the 1949 Geneva Conventions, collective punishment is a war crime.

Article 33: Individual responsibility, collective penalties, pillage and reprisals

No protected person may be punished for an offense he or she has not personally committed. Collective penalties and likewise all measures of intimidation or of terrorism are prohibited.