tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4899548270274741892011-09-15T07:42:40.398-07:00Savagehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14249148964709109683noreply@blogger.comBlogger261100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-489954827027474189.post-19302052261217533402009-06-29T10:47:00.000-07:002009-06-29T19:01:21.644-07:00

It goes without saying that we're in a serious mess these days. But I've come to believe that a primary reason for that mess is because, as a society, we've developed a serious fear of argument.Now I'm not talking about the garden-variety, everyday kind of argument about sports-franchise superiority shouted over beers in a local bar, or the disagreements surrounding the merits and foibles of

Savagehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14249148964709109683noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-489954827027474189.post-70998551565598599232009-05-26T10:53:00.000-07:002009-05-26T11:56:39.784-07:00

There's no getting around it. I am saddened, disillusioned, and absolutely disgusted today.Last fall, a small group of people put forth a proposition to voters in California: Shall 'marriage' be defined legally as between one man and one woman? Or in other words, shall we ban marriage between people of the same sex?A simple enough question, one might think, but one carrying profound implications

Savagehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14249148964709109683noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-489954827027474189.post-17875746985600870802009-05-13T11:05:00.000-07:002009-05-14T21:39:41.738-07:00

It seems I'm trying much harder to feel connected these days.Over the last couple of months, I've attempted to consolidate my entire web presence under one roof, so to speak. Hence the links to my Facebook and Twitter accounts, over there in the upper-right corner of this very page, the elimination at least one of my e-mail addresses, the vetting of my Firefox bookmarks to leave only those

Savagehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14249148964709109683noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-489954827027474189.post-7568943454233273322009-04-30T10:30:00.000-07:002009-05-01T20:30:53.415-07:00

Alas, I am both sad and relieved to announce the passing of my online alter-ego: blogger, occasional writer and dilettante podcaster Farris Thorne.He went quietly but slowly over the last year or so, not from SARS or swine flu mind you, but rather from an affliction called "fading," in which he spent more and more time in front of a blank screen, waiting for independent thoughts or words to take

Savagehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14249148964709109683noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-489954827027474189.post-40380136968769730102008-04-04T05:08:00.001-07:002009-02-26T22:59:47.633-08:00

So far, 2008 has been a tough year. Time-intensive transitions away from cribs and Pull-Ups have shaken the schedule, disciplinary challenges are keeping my fathering skills on the hard-line, colds and flu and strep have kept us away from the one serious illness in our extended family, and the relentless demands on time have all combined to keep me seriously off-balance.If one thing keeps me

Savagehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14249148964709109683noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-489954827027474189.post-63512342751351760882008-02-24T05:30:00.001-08:002009-02-26T22:59:47.634-08:00

A few months ago, I threw out a challenge to a number of friends. That challenge? Come up with your list of the "10 Most Underrated Albums in Your Collection." And with the weather, preschooler tantrums, flu bug battles and other events of recent days leaving me seriously uninspired, in lieu of fighting writer's block this morning I've decided to share that challenge here. Here’s what I mean by “

Savagehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14249148964709109683noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-489954827027474189.post-5511826834229560722008-02-22T06:14:00.001-08:002009-02-26T22:59:47.634-08:00

I picked The Boy up from preschool last Thursday around the noon hour. He was fresh from his classroom's sugar-fueled Valentine's Day celebration, and I, fresh from a bout with The Bug That's Going Around, was feeling very tired anyway. I took his hand, grabbed his basket of little preschooler-appropriate Valentine cards, helped him climb into the car and headed north for a fish taco

Savagehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14249148964709109683noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-489954827027474189.post-81802909216344716012008-02-05T20:12:00.001-08:002009-02-26T23:14:56.880-08:00

Artwork: "Earthen Angles," 2008Artist: B. Lennon Thorne, born 2004, California.Medium: Flung mud on turquoise plastic.About the artwork: A noncommissioned work created in early 2008, "Earthen Angles" is a microcosm of color, energy, texture, and conflict.Within, the stark artificiality of the human world -- represented by the well-worn turquoise plastic of a second-hand kiddie pool -- is

Savagehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14249148964709109683noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-489954827027474189.post-12265127883545719422008-02-04T05:40:00.001-08:002009-02-26T22:59:47.634-08:00

With yesterday designated as "Dad's day off," in lieu of watching Super Bowl XLII I spent most of the day catching up on a little household maintenance, swapping out our showerhead and toilet seat for newer models, and cleaning, to whatever extent possible, my at-home office. But when 5 p.m. rolled around, the time came to drop whatever I was doing with that day "off" and take over Boy Care,

Savagehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14249148964709109683noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-489954827027474189.post-58116921553004851352007-10-17T11:13:00.001-07:002009-02-26T23:17:25.524-08:00

Those who've been regular readers of my blog will already know this. But just in case you didn't, here's the truth: The Boy, our beloved just-turned-three-year-old, has a tendency to be, shall we say, an "active" one.That's not to say he's hyperactive, mind you; indeed, he shows none of the clinical signs of Attention Deficit Disorder and has no need for ritalin. Instead, in whatever he's doing

Savagehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14249148964709109683noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-489954827027474189.post-25149795824201349042007-09-13T06:06:00.001-07:002009-02-26T23:16:56.896-08:00

We've had a quiet tragedy here in the neighborhood.A neighbor, famous on the street for an immaculate home, a lush greenery-filled yard and an ever-present friendly smile, was cut down by a brain tumor. Diagnosed in late January with glioblastoma multiforme, he died in early June after a mere five months, leaving behind that immaculate home and his spouse of 26 years.Last weekend we spoke with

Savagehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14249148964709109683noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-489954827027474189.post-87992379394463341132007-08-28T06:02:00.001-07:002009-02-26T23:22:16.107-08:00

Every once in a while, something you left behind will come back and grab your consciousness.For example, if you're a former Kansas Citian, every so often you'll obsess over the thought of Hayward's Pit barbecue. Former Twin Citians my find themselves dreaming of a Cafe Latte dessert every now and then. And if you've ever lived in New England, despite the presence of incredible seafood and the

Savagehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14249148964709109683noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-489954827027474189.post-57665689998696071992007-08-19T07:28:00.001-07:002009-02-26T23:22:59.481-08:00

Last night was our local zoo's annual Zoofari event, which thanks to one sponsor's generosity provides attendees with access to and samples of nearly every ice cream variety they sell. Peanut butter, bubble gum, cotton candy, rainbow sherbet and many more, all available for a single admission, all served on cones or in cups, with innumerable ice-creamed child faces included at no extra charge.

Savagehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14249148964709109683noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-489954827027474189.post-39922944266990677312007-08-04T06:39:00.001-07:002009-04-30T10:43:34.001-07:00

The most petite member of our household remains one Miss Kitty, a six-pound elderly pastel tabby I adopted from my then-local Pet FoodMegastore. Shelter workers there for the day referred to her as a "senior catizen"; at the then-age of nine, she was the oldest cat in the shelter, and therefore the least likely to be adopted.I admit, I went in there looking for an older cat because I knew I was

Savagehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14249148964709109683noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-489954827027474189.post-72430449503043783302007-07-28T12:38:00.001-07:002009-02-26T23:00:38.009-08:00

With the wedding and incredible post-event Italian dinner over (Fellini's at the Stratosphere; with the weight we all gained, I'm surprised the room didn't collapse under its own gravity and become a black hole), we headed back to our friend Vegas Gopher's home to retrieve The Boy. A quick phone call to VG confirmed The Boy had a great time during his afternoon stay, but was beginning to get a

Savagehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14249148964709109683noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-489954827027474189.post-81986884369553393902007-07-26T07:10:00.001-07:002009-02-26T23:00:38.010-08:00

Saturday was the big day; 'Wedding Day" for my big sister and her fiance Mike. We awakened Saturday at the usual time, our Circadian rythyms unaffected by either the six-hour drive to Henderson or The Boy's lack of a nap the day before. I started with a bathroom break and a quick "midget shower" (I'm 6'4", and I'll be damned if the showerhead didn't aim for my navel), followed by leading The Boy

Savagehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14249148964709109683noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-489954827027474189.post-2915469991517209292007-07-25T06:01:00.001-07:002009-02-26T23:20:34.197-08:00

The deed is done. My sister is officially married. The complete story will follow over the next few posts...Last Friday, we loaded Mrs. T.'s van and headed out to Vegas for the festivities. While the drive's first half was indeed uneventful, the van's "Check Engine" light decided to brighten as we headed up a notorious mountain grade in the desert, popping the hood atop the grade and searching

Savagehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14249148964709109683noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-489954827027474189.post-84709753635519087552007-06-28T05:51:00.001-07:002009-02-26T23:21:36.164-08:00

Yesterday, it seems, was all about fighting the years.July's imminent arrival meant I had to spend most of the morning with my truck, preparing for the annual ritual of license-tab renewal. My wheels, an aging Suzuki XL-7 ("The Zook") I've put more than 112,000 miles on since buying it new in 2001, is now old enough that I have to pony up 40 bucks or so for an annual "smogging," a process by

Savagehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14249148964709109683noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-489954827027474189.post-3785967950325365312007-06-22T05:06:00.001-07:002009-02-26T23:00:38.011-08:00

I exchanged long-overdue e-mail messages with a couple of my cousins this week. We shared a few memories of our Uncle Stan, that strong-as-an-ox, still-relishing-his-work-at-84 man we remember whose penchant for practical jokes kept the entire extended family checking around corners during visits. Did my fondness for practical jokes come from him? It's hard to say. But maybe... just maybe. Stan

Savagehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14249148964709109683noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-489954827027474189.post-7483394627031373522007-06-16T12:29:00.001-07:002009-02-26T23:00:38.012-08:00

It's been a long couple of weeks, gang. First, right before Mrs. T headed off to Boston for a work event, she had a small cyst removed from under her skin. While the cyst was in the end "no big deal," the necessary incision and stitches did prevent her from doing any real Boy Care for a few days before she left. So, in reality, I've been doing solo, bell-to-bell Boy Care (with bathroom breaks)

Savagehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14249148964709109683noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-489954827027474189.post-54237060326194680392007-06-03T07:27:00.001-07:002009-02-26T23:01:45.003-08:00

With Mrs. T set to board a cross-country flight this morning -- she's heading from SFO to Boston for a week of work training -- I'm again up to my elbows in solo Boy Care. Not that I mind, of course, but doing this solo is always an interesting exercise in logistics and time management. Having been on full-time Dadhood for more than two years now, I'm guessing that most dads who suddenly find

Savagehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14249148964709109683noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-489954827027474189.post-55484895237210262272007-05-14T05:55:00.001-07:002009-02-26T23:24:30.264-08:00

The travel opportunities continue to pile up here at Household Thorne.While we're still working on getting to Las Vegas in July for my sister's wedding, Mrs. T has added a few other travel dates to our calendar. Second, she's thinking around the Labor Day weekend we'll join her sister and some of their mutual friends on a camping trip near Yosemite, all of which sounds wonderful as long as we

Savagehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14249148964709109683noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-489954827027474189.post-1567446551557665262007-03-04T07:30:00.001-08:002009-02-26T23:01:45.004-08:00

I was warned that the minute I attempted NaNoWriMo, the world would conspire to turn my efforts into a grand waste of time. The good news, though, is that I've so far managed to thwart those efforts. To wit: On Feb. 28, the night before I'd scheduled myself to begin hacking away at the keyboard, Mrs. T managed to leave an oven mitt too close to a stove burner before walking out of the kitchen for

Savagehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14249148964709109683noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-489954827027474189.post-25964579487124561012007-02-25T06:15:00.001-08:002009-02-26T23:25:15.190-08:00

How can a simple act of home maintenance inspire both disgust and memories of a Hollies song?The maintenance: With the middle of a California winter here, the time had come to clear the air in our house by installing a fresh furnace filter. It's about a two-minute job, involving using a nearby kitchen chair as a stepladder, undoing two clips, and swapping out the old-and-dirty filter for a fresh

Savagehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14249148964709109683noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-489954827027474189.post-87916895266227337102007-02-13T21:35:00.001-08:002009-02-26T23:01:45.006-08:00

We were warned. "Beware preschool, folks... after your kid gets there, you'll all be sick for weeks," the voices said, in many places, at many times, throughout our wishing-for-parenthood past. And like a murmuring gang of prophets, those voices have indeed spoken wisdom.Here we are, a mere two visits and one "official" half-day into our son's preschool experience, and two out of three of us are

Savagehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14249148964709109683noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-489954827027474189.post-60932130860826362772007-02-07T05:35:00.001-08:002009-02-26T23:25:45.828-08:00

Late last week, a local college's Child Development Center gave us a call to let us know we'd reached the top of its waiting list. And thus, another transition has arrived: Our little boy, at the tender age of two and a half, is about to begin preschool.Mind you, I love being a full-time dad. As one of his grandmothers has pointed out, I get to witness so many of those moments most dads miss,

Savagehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14249148964709109683noreply@blogger.com0