I’ll see everyone there and am excited to have the bigger space to grow.

So far, I’ve migrated all the posts, comments, and pictures from here. The broken piece of it all are my old video links. The coding for them isn’t a standard embed, but something that WordPress.com interprets for browsers automatically.

I’m uncertain whether it’s a good thing to take my main site off of the url that’s my namesake or not. But for now, it has worked out to keep my sites live while transitioning. The other thing is that with the URL change, those of you using RSS readers will need to subscribe again.

My goal is to be fully transitioned by the weekend and embed my first weekend video at this new locale. By then, also, anyone navigating to ebfryer.com should be forwarded right to thefryside.com so very little should throw anyone off. I’m big on making things easy. And if not, just let me know in comments or via email.

Me: What is that?

My Wife: Huh?

A Hungry Lad: [Face down gobbling a plate of grapes.]

Me: What is that noise out there? An ice cream truck?

M: No… [Stares at me in that special way.]

Me: Well, is that your phone?

M: No, honey.

Me: [I keep hearing that rhythmic beeping noise.] What on Earth is that noise?

M: Try a plow.

Me: Ooohh. Yeah, I suppose it would be.

M: [Laughing.] And now you have to blog this.

Damn.

She can naturally sport a Maggie Simpson do.

Why I Took The Day Off From Work

We booked our return trip from California flying from Sacramento to Minneapolis/St Paul with a 45 minute layover in Phoenix. I’d been checking weather for a couple of days, seeing some snowfall in the Twin Cities, but mostly clear skies in Sacramento and Phoenix. Everything was going to go great on Saturday afternoon into night, so we could have Sunday to recuperate from a week’s sojourn.

My dad took my family to the Sacramento airport, helped me pack up the car seats to be strapped to my back, said his quick goodbyes, and headed back home. We went inside to the US Airways ticket counter and got in line. The line was a little long, but no worse than what we ran into with Frontier when we left Minneapolis.

The line did not move. People queued up behind us, but the line did not move. Clerks or tellers or whatever they’re called were at every station. The line. never. moved.

Finally, one agent (quick thoughts of The Matrix) called out, ‘Anyone whose final destination is Phoenix, please come to the kiosks. Everyone else wait for the teller/clerk/Agent Smith.

Aside: explain to me the point of self-service kiosks when you still need to have a ticket agent help you out? I always felt better handing a human my ID and letting them figure out the best way to get me to my destination. Kiosks for those folks without checked luggage make sense, but that’s a pretty rare instance.

About half a dozen people moved up to the kiosks. The remainder of us going to the US Airways hub to get to where we actually wanted to go. The line continued to grow behind us. After quite a wait, easily over forty minutes, we see l’Agent. ‘Mechanical problems’ is the reason with the delay, and since it was such a great delay, we obviously missed our connection. Option One: fly to Phoenix, stay in Phoenix, and catch the next available flight to Minneapolis, one landing there at around 9:15 pm. Option Two: stay in California, catch the same rounds of flights the next day, having us reach the Cities at about 11:55 pm.

For the sake of us and the kids and our ride from Minneapolis to home, we opted for option One. We got our new tickets, checked our baggage, got our paper saying we get a hotel voucher once we land, and go to security.

Apparently, Minneapolis is the best place to fly. Know why? Their carry-on scanners are just a little bigger than anyone else’s. My giant back-breaker of a car seat carrier rolled right on through. In Sacramento, and Phoenix too, I had to take everything out and get it searched and examined. To add to that fun, I also had to be patted down because we were carrying … baby food. Those reasons alone make me never want to fly Sacramento again, even if it is the closest airport to my folks’ house.

Tweet: So far, we’re at an hour delay. US Airways is not cool apparently.

We still wound up sitting around for a while because the plane was over an hour total delayed. I don’t remember where I heard it, but apparently that plane’s previous stop involved a broken plane and the entire crew and passengers needing to find a new plane to take to Sacramento.

The flight from Sacramento to Phoenix is a short one. We got off the plane quickly, but had to wait plenty long to get our gate-checked chiropractor job insurance. Finally having that loaded back up on my Sherpa self, we moved along to US Airways customer service. As well as half our plane.

Tweet: We’re in Phoenix and US Airways still sucks.

At this point, we’re all losing it a little bit. Apparently with a plane gone down and forty people missing their connections, the best way to handle the situation is two customer service reps and a broken computer system. So again we waited. And waited.

Tweet: I’m about ready to shout ‘death to the infadels!’ just to get some freakin’ service.

I finally get to the counter, and I get the tiny Asian immigrant with a soft voice and a thick accent. Neat. I hand over my hotel voucher voucher and let her know we missed our connection. She took it, typed a bit, and bounced between her computer and another terminal a few times before telling me that I need to go talk to the head boss man.

I move to the other end of the desk and have a brief wait for the head boss man. The exchange we have is something to enjoy about US Airways service quality.

Head Boss Man: Fryer! One or two hotels!?

Me: I’m right here. What do you mean?

Hubris Brass Manicotti: Oh. One or two hotels?

Me: I don’t understand the question.

Hoover Brick-a-brack Masochist: You have a voucher. Do you want one or two hotels?

Me: [Monopoly joke runs through head; I fight my natural urges] Um, there are four of us. One hotel, I guess.

Hopeful Bastard Manslaughter: Okay.

I look over, and two other guys two stations down are fighting back chuckles and giving me reassuring shrugs of ‘I have no idea what the fuck he was trying to ask either.’ We get our vouchers and boarding passes for tomorrow’s flight to Minneapolis with the option of trying for an earlier flight on standby.

The lad is slowing losing control over himself and goodness knows my remaining synapses are running rough. I give M a break and hold the baby while she tracks down our luggage and gets our shuttle to the hotel in order. Holding my daughter who is still up and checking out the world, and looking down at my son who is just playing at chatting with me, I realize how lucky I am.

My two young children are so good and so easy and really taking this whole ordeal in strides. They could both be crying and miserable, and yet they’re trucking along at 10:30 pm in a foreign place. Both of them are going to be just fine in life, I say.

The four of us move out to the shuttle, stripped down to t-shirts in the cool desert air. The trip to the hotel was quick and check-in was fast. Unfortunately, they couldn’t rustle up a crib for the baby. But it wouldn’t be the first time she’s slept between Mommy and Daddy anyway.

Tweet: We made it to Phoenix and are in the hotel and finally going to sleep.

About ten minutes after I send that message, nearly midnight, the little lady wakes up and starts squealing. Her poor tummy hasn’t fared this trip well in the first place, and now this trip has pushed her even further. So it was two or three in the morning before all of us were finally asleep.

I had been wrestling with whether or not to get up and try to catch a standby flight. Letting my family sleep in until 9:00 am and forgetting all about it was a good decision. We took our time to mosey down to breakfast, thinking we would get slim pickings. Turns out it was a full buffet with fruit, eggs, French toast, biscuits and gravy, and even make-your-own-waffle. There was warm syrup on tap! How sticky sweet is that?

Tweet: We’re enjoying a nice late breakfast courtesy of US Airways. Of course we’d rather be home.

I got our checkout time extended to 2 pm. Following breakfast, we all went back upstairs and took a nice long nap. Then we got stuff repacked and informed the family of where we were and headed back to the airport.

Tweet: Street light stands in Arizona are green?

The shuttle driver, while loading up our luggage, asked what airline we were on. I told him US Airways and his immediate response, ‘I’m sorry.’ Apparently, they either have a reputation or this series of messed up flights is haunting them. I think both.

Through the airport, we find a huge line of ticketing Kiosks, and we are sent to get in the line to speak with an actual agent.

Tweet: We are waiting in yet another US Airways line. I’ve racked up lots of frequent queuer miles.

We get our bags checked and head up to security where, lo and behold, our car seat bag doesn’t fit and has to be hand searched and tested. Why tested? Because a big hollow plastic thing with a couple of straps isn’t obvious enough to have no place to hide weaponry. No issue with the baby food though. Surprise, surprise. Sealed Gerber jars are not a threat to national security.

For once, we’re in the terminal with plenty of time to spare. And since we’re on the company dime, we eat all we can to prepare for the trip. After all, anything can happen at this point.

Tweet: We’re finally boarding our plane to the Twin Cities. I can’t wait to be home!

Boarding the rather large plane to Minneapolis was fine. All our gear fits under the seats, so we sit down and the little lady falls asleep fairly easily.

Tweet: Aaaaand some jackass broke the overhead bin.

Now I’m fighting back the urge to curse out loud. A lot. We couldn’t believe it. Some jerk just delayed a full plane because he couldn’t handle himself with the high-quality plastic nonsense that is a modern aircraft. How to vent? Passive-aggressive Twitter updates.

Tweet: US Airways is the Wal-Mart of airlines, in quality of staff, service, and equipment.

Of course, I meant to say customers or patrons in there too, but the point is well enough made. It took three guys and two flight attendants to get everything taped back together so we could take off late. The flight itself was smooth enough and we wind up landing about on time.

Gathering our stuff, we head out to the car for the drive back home.

Home. Living out here for going on three years now, and it’s the first time this place has felt completely like home, like my goal. I left a lot of people and life behind in California to make a family for myself out here. But I haven’t felt a draw to my own house for a long time. Maybe it has been all the maintenance that I’m not good at that I’ve had to do. However, now, finally, I couldn’t be happier to be in my tundra-like land in my cheap 1980s suburban tract house.

Once inside, nearly 11 pm, we need to quickly feed the kids and get them to bed. They both crashed fast and hard. And who could possibly blame them? I wish I could have followed suit, but there were a few little chores to do before crashing completely.

Tweet: We’re home. And I’m not going to sleep until tomorrow.

I had it in mind to get up at my normal time and, rough as it may be, get the kids up and out the door as a normal day. We didn’t get our grace day to get back in sync, so one dogged day for us all to get back to normal seemed like the best way to rip off the bandage.

I did pull off getting up, though not until after hitting snooze a number of times. Finally showered and properly shaved, I gathered everyone’s stuff for the day. Then I went to wake the lad. No go. Not a budge, not a sound. He eventually muttered for a few more minutes of sleep that I normally give him. But beyond that, nothing could stir him.

So I called in. Even the baby slept in, bless her little heart. I let them both rise when their bodies told them to, and when they were ready, took them to their respective schools. The rest of my short afternoon I spent doing errands. We really can’t live without milk.

Tweet: How the hell is Costco busy right now?

I am finally getting to bed, but I wanted to blog this little event first. Now it’s about 11:30 pm. Tomorrow I should finally be back to normal (for me).

I will try to finally set up Twitter to work from my cell phone so I can keep quick updates on our whereabouts.

(Found via Lolcats ‘n’ Funny Pictures – I Can Has Cheezburger?.)

My son’s interpretation of the preceding Lolcat:

[snicker] He’s sitting on flowers.

[pause]

Woah! Look at his eyes! [snicker again]

Fellow Minnesota automobile drivers, I implore you to look toward your summer selves for guidance while operating your vehicles. I know that the first snow is always a little rough, what with the plows playing a little catch-up in clearing and salting, and the rest of us drivers remembering our winter sea legs as it were. That being said, by the third, fourth, or even seventh wintery precipitation, can we all keep in mind that the lines on the road are to be driven between and not straddled like a lady of the night advertising in a red light district?

II.

Here is how my mind rattles while shopping:

We’re almost out of vodka.

I don’t want to get Smirnoff again.

Hey look, Finlandia is on sale.

You know, I’m a fan of Jean Sibelius.

I purchase the “vodka born from the purity of Finland.”

III.

I just went shopping at Wal-Mart on the night before Christmas Eve. EYE YAM SOFA KING WE TAR DID.

Thanks, George Carlin. I’ll always be grateful.

To me, it’s really unhealthy. They aren’t laborers, the children of serfs or a pioneer family in the 17th century.

[aside]

The leopard’s spots only look good on the leopard.

[back]

I can’t image being able to devote enough time to properly raise each individual child. So it seems to be a disservice to the kids. They are home-schooled on top of it, so I don’t know if that leaves them at more or less of a disadvantage. Given the choices and reasoning behind the parents, then most likely the former.

I had a guess that they were just trying to raise their own cult rather than recruit.

Given that all seventeen so far are J names (with yes, one named Jinger with a J, injenious!), I also thought it’d be damn funny if the next happened to get named Jamal after his true father.

Okay, no more holding back my own opinions: I think it’s just sick. And that’s what I said right to my wife, to which she just replied, ‘I know, that’s why I’m watching!’ I think she has a thing for train wrecks.

Thanks, photons, for keeping me wondering if y’all are waves or particles.

I finally got the kids out of the door. We were a good twenty minutes behind at this point. The lass was dropped off at daycare without any fuss. She’s a pretty easy baby to handle.

The lad and I then headed off to my work and his school. Fridays have become our doughnut days. But those morning doughnuts are contingent upon us getting there in time to get them and eat them while hanging out at my work before his school day starts. This morning, though, we had no time. We went straight to his school to drop him off for class.

In the process of driving to the daycare then driving to the school, we were nearly in two accidents. The roads were a little crummy, so I took turns and stops nice and easy. But even being smart, we nearly got into two accidents. It was ridiculous and I always get more on edge when my children are in the car.

As soon as I put the car in park, I realized I had forgotten the presents. I nearly broken down right there. I was so pissed at myself. I specifically left the presents right next to the baby’s car seat so I wouldn’t forget them. I apologized profusely to my son, and bless his little heart he said, ‘It’s okay, Dad. I forgive you.’

I collected myself and we went in the door to find all the kids sitting around the middle schoolers who were caroling in the hall. I got the lad out of his snow gear and relaxing with his teacher. Then I was off to work.

Still pissed and driving to work a block away, yet another person nearly hit me. Over half an hour late to work and seething with anger, anger at myself and anger at the suburban moms who nearly crashed into me, I quickly got up to the labs.

I’m sure I looked as though the next person to bump into me would get their neck broken. My tech comrade saw me and asked what was up. I quickly vented about the whole morning so far. On top of everything, I knew one of three of us was out of the building, and if one of us isn’t around to immediately fix thing, hell tends to break loose. He said he had my back and not to worry. So I checked my mail really fast and headed back to my car.

I drove as fast as I safely could back home. I didn’t even shut off my car as I walked right up the stairs in my house and nabbed the presents. There they were, right on the ottoman as I left them so I wouldn’t forget. Have I mentioned how much I hate my brain?

I brought them back to the boy’s school. Thankfully I got back before they began their gift exchange. I went back to work and sat at my desk, head in my hands for a bit. I did manage to sneak out later that day to get some doughnut holes. My son definitely earned them.

Thanks, indoor plumbing. You’re the best.

The really miserable thing is that even a total bankruptcy may not be enough.   Wipe out the shareholders, cut the bondholders to the bone, shuck the gold-plated medical benefits, toss out the UAW contracts, close the dealers–and we still may be left with companies that cannot make a profit without a now-defunct financing business based on ever-growing loans to ever-poorer credit risks.  The Big Three, with the help of the UAW and all their other partners, has spent 25 years building a reputation for poor reliability and ugly cars.  Brands matter.  Once destroyed, they’re very hard to repair in the best of times.  These are not, quite, the best of times, are they?

It’s worth reading her whole post. Megan McArdle does a good job of explaining economics in English. It’s one reason I’m a big fan of hers.

Thanks, blogosphere. I’m glad to be here.

Sometime in the wee small hours of the morning, my daughter woke up quite distressed about something or other. My dear wife tended to her, though it should have been my butt getting out of bed. However, I managed to get stopped dead in my tracks by a raging fire on my throat. I looked through the cabinet for something, anything, that I could coat my throat with but to no avail. I wound up doing my best to get back to bed and sleep a couple more hours.

Well, rather unfortunately, that couple of hours turned into a few and I woke up about 90 minutes later than I should have. I got in and out of the shower as fast as possible, my throat still throbbing. I got the lad his breakfast and started getting the little lady dressed for the day and began rattling through my mind just what was needed for each of my morning destinations.

And oh crap, we forgot about the boy’s gift exchange! It was just for books, so we scrambled to find a couple that were in good condition. Once found, I wrapped them up and put them on the ottoman right next to the car seat so I wouldn’t forget them.

To be continued…

Thanks, everyone. (I read that on a sign on the way to work.)