Child One and Wife One (and Only) spent the better part of the weekend at music camp. I’ve spent the last few days with Children Two and Three. They didn’t have school Friday, so I had them to keep me busy.

Elvi (Wife One and Only, or WOO) had taken the camera, so I have no pictures of Child One in goalie pads. We worked on half butterflies in practice this week.

Today, I’m reading a script for Alex and preparing quizzes for this last week of classes.

I hear a nap calling….

I once could see

I wish my American readers a Happy Thanksgiving Day – or, as we in Canada call it, Thursday.

Tuesday, I started feeling human enough to put my hard contacts back in my eyes. Yesterday, my right eye was slightly irritated, not enough to do away with the lens, but enough that I took the lens out to clean it and re-inserted it.

So, at 4:45 last night (it gets dark early here by the North Pole), I’m waiting for oncoming traffic to clear so that I can turn left onto Somerled from Grand (southbound). Just as I have the room to go, I blink, and out pops my left contact lens, the one that had been fine.

Normally, a lens will rest on my cheek, and I can grab it – but this one is not there. I try not to move more than necessary as I scan my jacket and lap. Within seconds, the cars behind me start honking. I either have to drive, and move my arms to steer, or sit there and clog traffic while I look for the missing lens. Admittedly, it’s not “Sophie’s Choice”, but it is a $150 contact lens.

The eye that can still see is my keratoconoid eye, which remains a bit astigmatic even when corrected with a hard lens. The eye without the lens might as well be made of glass. And it’s night out already, remember. There’s no point in looking for the lens. I had to complete the turn.

I drive to our destination, Child Three’s hockey rink. I sit still. I ask Child Three to look me over to see if he can see the lens. He checks me out with the all the dedicated concentration of a goldfish on cocaine. He doesn’t see the lens on my jacket, on my lap, behind the rear view mirror, or in the glove compartment.

I also look, futilely. I have no choice. I have to get up. I hope the lens falls out of my clothing onto the driver seat, but I’m not that lucky. I carefully peel off layers of clothing. Nothing. There’s not much more I can do with one modestly good eye, no light, and an antsy six-year-old.

Child Three has always wanted to play goalie. (So did I when I was that age, and I did for a few years, until it got boring.) Tonight is the first practice in which the organization will distribute goalie pads and sticks to prospective goalies. I know the basic goalie techniques and I’ve been teaching them to Child Three off ice, but now I’m going to have to go skate with 45% vision. It’s doable, but I go on the ice hoping I won’t crush a kid on my blind side. I’m the only parent or coach there who has any goalie knowledge, so sitting out is not an option.

The practice went well. In drills, Child Three was super. He’s handling the stick properly, upright and flat on the ice. Unfortunately, he lost focus in the post-practice mini-game and went flopping on his belly. I’ll take pictures at the next practice, Saturday.

Watch “Studio 60” tonight (spoilers)

You Americans should watch “Studio 60” tonight. It’s a heck of a lot better than last week’s episode, and that’s not faint praise. The episode is about the show and post-show after the events in Nevada. It left me thinking by the end of the episode, “Wow, that all took place in real time.”

Writers especially will appreciate this week’s show, from the use of basketball overtime periods to designate acts to the advice to introduce a sidekick to help avoid voice-over exposition. That made me chuckle.

Those of us who watched last week’s “30 Rock” can compare how the two shows treat the issue of product placement. “30 Rock” made fun of the issue, with blatant mentions of Snapple, comic to the point of an actor in a Snapple costume. “Studio 60” takes a more serious perspective through Danny and Jordan’s discussion – which does its part to throw out some brand names. One cut from Danny and Jordan to the writers’ room reveals Ricky sitting behind a beautiful MacBook, Apple logo front and center. Danny also fetched some sort of food from a vending machine at some point, but I didn’t catch what that was – if that was product placement, it was ineffective.

The fictional “Studio 60” crew comes up with an elegant solution to product placement: they will design a set around LA billboard culture. I’m guessing the real “Studio 60” will be adopting that set for the same reason. It’s a nifty recursive solution.

That these two NBC shows about TV writers raise the issue leads me to wonder if a directive on product placement came down from NBC management one show cycle ago.

I don’t object to product placement. Last week’s “House” had John Larroquette’s waken-from-a-decade-in-a-vegetative-state Gabe ask what an Ip-Od was. Cute.

Bonus breakthrough:

As I drifted off to sleep Saturday night, I had a great new slant on the beginning of “Sheep’s End” pop into my head. It’s down in note form, but I don’t have time to write it for a few weeks. It helps solve some nagging issues I had, with plot and cliche. And it adds a new joke, of the non-ass variety.