I’ve been a fan of the NPR feature, “In Character.” It deep dives into characters in pop culture. This week’s installment, The Dude.

Mamazilla and I have gotten to the nuts and bolts of the kitchen redesign, and it’s been a good excercise in simplification. We’ve taken all the things that we had in our drawers and cabinets and have put them in the garage in various crates and Ikea bags. We’ve temporarily roughed the cabinets in until after we tape and texture the sheetrock. We decided that we wouldn’t bring all that crap back in the house because a) we’d have to move it again and b) it helps visually separate the wants from the needs.

Actually, it’s a lot like what a writer at Unclutterer did.

As I have mentioned in the past, we are downsizing our living space and we must reduce the amount of stuff that we have. The kitchen was the room we tackled last. I came up with the idea of removing every last item from the cupboards to assess what we had on our hands. The end result was quite overwhelming.

You don’t really get a grasp of what you have stored away in those cupboards until you have it laying out for display. I got the same feeling when we had our yard sale last summer. I asked myself, “Where did all this stuff come from?” The accumulation of stuff is gradual, and it tends to sneak up on you. My wife and I have been married for almost nine years now and we have just recently become more conscious of all of the things we have brought into our home.

The taping gets done on the 24th. Then, it’s paint, floor, cabinets. W00t!

My inner-Ethnographer is reeling! Since I’m a bit of a craphound myself, I always find these things fascinating. Hoarding is a real mental illness, and it’s interesting to see the different types of things that are hoarded. Books, Disc Players, Used Shampoo Bottles, etc. I’m just wondering how much of this is DNA, and how much is behavior.

This week, Yahoo! canned me.

I’m not going to sugarcoat it with any of the typical euphemisms. Laid off. Downsized. Rightsized. Reorganized. My favorite is affected. I’m waiting for a romantic comedy where Sandra Bullock tells an unsuspecting Matthew McConaughey that she’s reorganizing her love life and that he’s been affected. Gawd, I’d love to see that.

I’ve been dodging bullets like these in Silicon Valley for the past 8 years. When I worked at AOL, I think we had a culling once a year, every year– mostly around the Holiday times, and I’d survived all of them. I knew at some point, my time would come.

I was sitting at my desk, sketching out a particularly hairly problem, earplugs in and focused. My director’s boss came to my desk and asked if he could meet with me for a second. Thinking that he wanted to talk about the aforementioned hairy problem, I instinctivly grabbed my clipboard, ready to explain our status and current direction.

As I was following him, something started to smell fishy. It dawned on me that I recalled watching KTVU Morning News, and layoffs were happening today. I started to piece things together. “Hey…waitaminnuutt. I never meet with Mr. Lumbergh!,” I realized. (Names have been changed to protect…well, me)

I suppose at this point I could have turned tail and ran. “They can’t fire me if they can’t catch me!!,” I convinced myself. Eh, maybe I was a bit too grown up for that. Okay, maybe not, but it still wouldn’t be very professional.

Over the past couple of weeks, my logic and unrelenting optimisim had lulled me into a false sense of security. The layoffs were supposed to be concentrated in areas that were no longer core to Yahoo!’s direction, and I was in Yahoo! Developer Network. Interaction designers were pretty hard to find, and I strangely enough was an interaction designer. Surely this meant that if you were entry-level QA engineer in an a beleagured property like Yahoo! Voice, you’d better worry. As comforting as all this was, I remained prepared for the worst. Hell, I worked at AOL. I’d been prepared since 2001.

As I turned the corner, Mr. Lumbergh opened the door to the conference room. The table was stocked with bottles of water and boxes of Kleenex. “Oh, shit,” I muttered under my breath.

Mr. Lumbergh began his prepared script, and I gotta tell you, for a second there, I started to feel sorry for him. What a shitty job that must be. Then I imagined how much he probably gets paid for doing it, and I was over it pretty quickly.

When asked if I had any questions, I asked the textbook victim question, “Why me?” Lumbergh had an uncanny talent of being extremely articulate at saying nothing at all. I could have recorded the audio, played it back for you and still wouldn’t have been able to decode it. I felt like I was stuck in the dialog between Neo and The Architect from The Matrix. He asked me if I had any further questions. While my brain was trying to figure out where to start, my mouth simply said, “No.”

Within seconds of me sitting back at my desk to collect my thoughts, the phone rang. It was a recruiter. Now, under normal circumstances, professional code of conduct dictates that you discreetly and in the most emotionally-detached manner possible tell them to take a hike. That ship had sailed.

“SURE!,” I blurted as I sat back in my chair and put my feet up on my ergonomically- designed work surface,” I’d love to hear about opportunities at other companies! What’s that? Mayo Clinic? I heard that’s a pretty good outfit!”

The rest of the day was par for the course. The only wrinkle was that I had encountered was that I hadn’t brought my truck. “Dammit,” I thought to myself. That morning, I had contemplated taking my truck and a dolly with me, but that damned nagging optimist convinced me otherwise. Damned optimist. I’d have to return the next day.

One thing that was humbling was the amount of compassion and love that I’ve received from all of my friends, families and coworkers. Leaving all of my fellow Yahoos will be the hardest part of this whole process. It was really overwhelming. I got a lot of quizzical looks like, “You? Really? Out of all people? What were they thinking?” I’m a pretty humble guy, so it’s difficult processing all of this praise. Mamazilla’s been absolutely wonderful and supportive, and her confidience in me is really calming.

I have other thoughts on the matter, but this post is already too long. I’ll save my insights on Yahoo! as a company for another time.

I watched exactly five minutes of football this season, and I don’t mean those pesky football minutes (which round out to about 3 real minutes each). I’m talking 300 seconds. After dinner this past Superbowl Sunday, I was curious. When I found it, The Patriots were just barly winning 14-10, there was 57 seconds left on the game clock, the Giants had been marching, and they were already inside the Patriots’ 40-yard line. A field goal wouldn’t be enough. Eli Manning connected to Plaxico Burgess for a game winning touchdown (Plaxico, really? Kinda sounds like it could be a Web 2.0 startup). Despite from some fruitless (but awe-inspiring) field length passes, The Pats came up short.

Most efficient football season, EVAR.

I’ve been fed up with all the cost and clutter associated with shaving for some time now. First, I questioned the efficacy of shaving cream, and Ted came through and bought me my first shaving brush. After a while, I realized how expensive and incredibly wasteful mass market blades were. Plus, those double and quad blades usually get gunked up the the amount of hair I put through them, being a head shaver and all. That’s actually what killed the Head Blade for me. Sorry, Bryce.

For Christmas, I wanted just the quintessential elements for shaving. No more, no less. Tina and her mom put together my new shaving kit consisting of:

• Merkur Progress Adjustable Double Edge Safety Razor
• Omega Badger Shaving Brush
• Aftershave lotion.

It seems that I’m not the only one. As it turns out, “wet shaving” is kind of a thing nowadays. I’m not really sure why they have to specify that “wet” part– I kinda always thought that was assumed.

A couple of days ago, I came across an article on Zen Habits about the newest revivalist movement to hit the scene. It sums up the why “modern” shaving methods are a sucker’s game. I was glad to find it– now, I don’t have to write it. Instead of $2-$3 per blade for the mass market blades (and all that packaging), I pay about 25¢ for a double edged safety blade. I’ve replaced shaving creams and gels (and all those empty cans) with a bar of soap and a shaving brush. The blade is the only consumable, so it’s good for the environment and for my bottom line.

Free at last, free at last. Suck on that, Gillette.

As The David would attest, manilla folders are the key to keeping your workspace sane and tidy. He mentions that it’s always a good practice to keep a healthy supply of manilla folders on hand. Every piece of paper that is not in your inbox should be in some type of container, and that container better be labeled big and bold! The thinking goes that, “Hey, folders are cheap– use lots of them!,” but something inside me finds that a bit wasteful. Sure, the paper bits from my Western Digital rebate should be in a folder, but I don’t want to waste a whole folder on something that has a lifespan of a day or two.

Enter 3M Scotch Removable Magic 811 Tape. Simply put a little tape on the tab, write big and bold with your sharpee, and remove it when you’re done. Rinse. Repeat. No muss. No fuss. No guilt.

Every night (well, at least the good ones) the girls and I spread out on the floor each with our own books to read. Last night, we donned our individually borrowed copies of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows to witness Harry and Ginny’s kiss at the Burrow.

 For the most part, Isabella’s participation in this nightly ritual has been mostly ceremonial. She’s in kindergarten and is still learning to read. She keeps her finger where we she thinks we are. She turns the page when Jenna and I do. I was under the impression that she was just coming along for the ride– that is until last night.

As I was reading, I got distracted by some random thought and paused. About six or seven seconds later, Isabella piped up. “At,” Isabella interjected. I looked up at her quizzically. “The word is ‘At’, Daddy,” she continued.Jenna and I looked at each other and smiled. I do love these times together.  

After procrastinating for over two months, Ted and Tom helped me get the DNS records pointing to WordPress.com. Whew! Thanks for your patience.

If my great grandkids ever ask me what kind of things made me laugh, point them to these…

and . . .

I dunno why, but I find these FUCKING HILARIOUS. Don’t worry if you don’t get that second one. That means you’re normal.