Merry Christmas & pass the Figgy Pudding

So, it's Christmas time again.  Amazing how it tends to come around about the same time every year, yet I hear stressed out people who lament, "what? Christmas is here"?  I've often wanted to ask these folks if they are aware of a calendar and how it works....but I don't for fear they will hurt me.

Anyway, yes it is Christmas and time for some 'family traditions'.

1.  Decorate the outside of the house.
In true fashion, this is done over the course of an 8 hour day with plans and schematics that rival designs for a nuclear power plant.  I myself am guilty of actually sketching a design prior to setting it up.  This in contrast to my neighbor who simply throws several strands of lights (some still in boxes) on to his front yard.  The process of decorating is tedious, and yet it never fails one of my children will remark, "why aren't there lights on the roof"?  I answer by showing the child where the ladder and extra (yes, I always have extra) lights are located.  "Have at it" I will say with a smile....24 years of decorating and lights have made it to the roof once.

2.  Decorate the inside of the house.
This takes place over a series of weekends, the first being the 'we have to clean this mess' weekend.  My house is filled with 3 children, two dogs, several fish, 875 Barbie dolls, and over 1 million minuscule Barbie accessories (like shoes and clothing).  All of these must be picked up from their current and permanent location of wherever I'm walking without shoes and stacked neatly on my 9 year olds bed, where they will fall off in the middle of night causing the dogs to bark at them as though they were attack ninjas from Mars.

Next, I take out of the attic roughly 500 boxes of decorations (some of which haven't been used in over 6 years....but we CAN'T THROW THEM OUT....THEY ARE PRICELESS MEMORIES.  Just for reference, they are hand made of paper and look like this:

I don't even know who these people are.

I will place the boxes in strategic locations around the house (right where the Barbie stuff used to be) and open them up over the course of a few days and put up the decorations.

3.  The Great Christmas Tree Search

I have to give my wife credit for thinking up the idea of cutting down our Christmas Tree.  Now, before you get a mental picture of my family rooting around ditches on the side of road axe at the ready, we actually go to a "Tree Farm" to do this.  It is actually a fun part of the holidays and something we enjoy.  Our day goes like this:

- Wake up early on a Saturday and pile 5 people in my regular size truck.

- Stop at Starbucks for coffee and sweets because nothing says "Christmas" like a family hyped up on caffeine and sugar (especially a 9 year old) walking around a grove of trees with sharp cutting tools.

- Drive 40 minutes to the Tree Farm, and wander around the trees looking for the best one that isn't priced more than most family homes.

 

4.  Decorate the Tree

This is the special time where my son and I will carefully and slowly set the tree up in the stand secure it with several large screws and nails..... and watch it fall down.  Typically, we try to limit these descents to a time before we actually get the tree inside the house....but that never works.  Once, it fell down AFTER we had decorated it.  We do this while listening to various Christmas songs that, even at age 50, I do not understand.  Songs that have people wanting things like "figgy pudding".  Just what exactly is 'figgy pudding'?  Is it edible? I'm not sure.  Other songs speak of 'wassailing'.  I listen and it sounds like a veiled threat:

Here we come a wassailing among the leaves so green

Here we come a wandering confused and unclean

Give us food and liquor

If you do, we'll leave quicker

And go wish someone else a Happy New Year.

Eventually the tree is decorated with lights and ornaments and we settle down to look at it to discuss which way we think it's leaning.  Hey, in my house if the tree isn't leaning....it's not Christmas.

5.  The Family Ornament

Since the early 1800's I have purchased and hung on my Christmas Tree a dated ornament.  Typically we try to get one that matches the theme of the year past.  You know, an Uncle Sam Nutcracker for the Bicentennial year....a Blue Dress for the Clinton years....things like that.  So we travel to the nearest Hallmark store to check out the selection.  The scene is something like this:

My two oldest children are walking around the store with a lighter that is in the shape of an old man with his pants down at his ankles, fire is coming from (yea, no surprise here) his butt.  They approach me and say, "Dad is this how you feel when you eat a bad taco?"...then they light it.  They follow me around the store and continue to do this.....you can't put a price on family comedy like that.

My youngest daughter is facing a 40 foot wall of "Sound and Light" Christmas ornaments.  She is traversing this wall from left to right, activating in succession every single ornament on display.  The result is a cacophony of noise that includes, Jingle Bells, White Christmas, Darth Vader breathing, Dueling Banjo's, Silver Bells, Alvin and the Chipmunks singing something unrecognizable, Elvis singing Let it Snow, and the voices of Hans Solo and Greedo in the Stars Wars Bar just before Hans shoots him....complete with the sound of Greedo exploding and screaming in agony.  She will continue to move up and down the wall....until some parent (usually it's us, but not always) asks her to stop.

My wife doesn't stop her because she is asking the helpful clerk if they have another "Mexican Mouse in a Sombrero Eating a Burrito " ornament because the one on the shelf is chipped.  This clerk is well over 100 years old and if she moved any slower she'd be going backwards.

I just stand by the door in case the cops come.....so I can leave quietly.

We do end up with an ornament, an no it's not always a mouse.  We travel home and place it on the tree, careful not to overload the side that's leaning.....then open up various adult beverages and celebrate.  Truthfully, I count my blessings each year....

There are probably many more traditions that I could write about here....but in the interest of time (yours, not mine....I'm just sitting here in my recliner) I will hold those for another time.

I will end by saying......Have a very Merry Christmas.......and I hope someone brings you Figgy Pudding.



OK, so....about your divorce

I'm not saying my family is somewhat "strange", but we have some rather peculiar habits.  I'm sure every family has one or two idiosyncrasies that might seem odd to others; you know, things like:

1.  Letting the dog sit (on a chair) at the dinner table.
2.  Watching television shows only in Spanish, when no one in the family speaks (or understands) Spanish.
3.  Wearing sunglasses in the shower.

For my family, it's about my wife and I getting divorced.

Now, first I must state I am NOT considering divorcing my wife....at least not at the current moment.  But conversations at my house always end up on that topic.  Especially when my oldest daughter is home.  She (my daughter) will begin the conversation with a simple question such as "What do you guys want for supper?"  It's all downhill from there.

(my wife) I'm not hungry...so I don't care.
(me) What about Michelle?  She needs to eat.
She can have chips and cheese.
What a parent you are....such a nutritional meal!
Hey look here....it's refrigerator and a stove...maybe we can find some uncooked pre-packaged food products and use these to prepare them!
Maybe....if you were thoughtful enough to go shopping for uncooked pre-packaged food.

At this point we are both laughing and trying hard not to spill our wine.  Then my daughter chimes in.

(my daughter) You are both liable for her well being.
What?
I'm just saying....even if you are divorced.  Which, if you were, would mean that whoever  has custody would be responsible to the other for the well being of the child.
Wait...what?
I mean, you'd have to pay your 'fair share' of her expenses...but mom would be liable to you for her well being if you were divorced and she lived with mom.
(my wife, looking at me) We're getting divorced?
Apparently - I want the TV you can have the dog
Which TV?....and I don't want both dogs.
We're talking about your daughter here....not the dog.  Good grief, you are both sad parents.
Sure....look at how you turned out.

Brief pause in the conversation to refill the wine glasses.......

(my wife)What if he's dead?
(me) Wait.....what?
Well, if he dies without a will, then everything passes to the kids.  If he has a will, then that would determine how his estate is divided...provided the will is valid.
He has no estate...
Well, if he did...then that's how it would be divided.
What about life insurance money and stuff like that?
You guys know I'm standing right here......right?
Shush....I'm trying to determine if it's better to kill you or divorce you......
Technically speaking, it's cheaper to kill him....although it would be easier to divorce him.
I'm standing right here......

Another pause....and my wife says out loud to no one in particular
"Something to think about.  OKAY...so, what's for supper?"


It's this warm and fuzzy family feeling I have that keeps my spirits up.

A PROUD MOMENT.......

While we try to teach our children all about life, our children teach us what life is all about.
Angela Schwindt


We are very proud of you!


Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of God belongs to such as these.


“A child needs both to be hugged and unhugged. The hug lets her know she is valuable. The unhug lets her know that she is viable. If you’re always shoving your child away, they will cling to you for love. If you’re always holding them closer, they will cling to you for fear.”
Billy Graham


CONGRATULATIONS PEANUT!

A New Attorney for Louisiana.

Vacation - Part II

My idea of a vacation has always been pretty simple....fishing, eating, sleeping...in no particular order.  With the introduction of children that changed to game rooms, pizza, ice skating, roller skating, carnivals, swimming, beaches, large amounts of cheese fries and watching the latest stage show ... "Barney runs from the Police".  Why is this notable?  Notice I did not mention my wife's idea of a vacation.  Hers includes some of the above items..... but with one more addition.

Looking at old stuff.  Could be buildings, churches, offices, cemeteries, grass, trees, doesn't matter.  A typical last day of vacation conversation goes like this:

I ask very sincerely - 'was there anything else special you wanted to do while we are here?'
My wife answers wishy washy like....'no, not really.'
Well, then I'm going to go fishing again.
Making "the face" - and EVERY married man knows exactly what that looks like...'Really?  fishing again?'
'Was there something you want to do?'
'No....not really....I mean, there are some cool plantations and old churches near here.'
Knowing full well what that means.... but I'm a guy so I act stupid....'do you want to go?'
'No......I mean, unless you do....'
I don't, but I've spend the last 36 hours fishing so I say....'sure why not?'

So off we go to BrokenBones Plantation.

Now let me be clear...I LOVE history.  I enjoy reading it and discovering the myriad of things that could have happened if historical figures would have turned right instead of left.  I also support my wife and her attempt to teach history to our children.  History fascinates me....but not always to the extent that I want to actually LOOK at it.

So we are at the plantation, which consists of three major buildings:
1) The Main House
2) The Chapel
3) The Cemetery

We start at the main house...the conversation between my wife and I goes something like this:

"Look at these cool doors", she says, "Look at the detail and this cool door knob"
"Yes, it's incredible the technology that existed back then which allowed them to carve wood"  I add.
"Ass" is her response to me.
Inside we hear about how the original owners spend a total of $11 on flooring the entire home, much of which was recovered after the flood and is still on the floor today.
"Wow...look at the cool colors and designs"
"Looks like mud stains"
"Ass"
Into the bedroom where we see authentic hair accessories and articles of clothing, along with a diary ...... written in some sort of alien language.  It is the owners writing we are assured by the crack tour guide.
"Look, they combed their hair with these", my wife will excitedly say.
"And that was the result?" I will ask looking at a photo of what I originally thought was a horse but is in fact the owner.
"Ass"
Into the kitchen we go....and we see various broken plates, broken serving dishes, broken cups with unidentifiable stains in them, bent utensils and rusty serving items.  "These are actual kitchen items from the original owner" the guide says while texting someone.
"Look how cool this is"....
"They ate with these?" is the question from one of my children
"Yes" says my wife, excited a child shows interest
"And that's why they are dead" I interject, "because they ate using rusty dishes.
"Ass"

After 11 more rooms, each with different items (an old sock, some ink pens, old hats, old magazines, and old playing cards - none of which we are allowed to touch, breath on, or get close to) we go out to the chapel.

"Look at the cool windows"  she tells my youngest, "isn't that cool...they had windows like this?"
The child looks indifferent....I interject "yes, before glass they used straw....didn't hold up well."
My wife looks at me....I interrupt her...."Yea, I know....Ass."

Off to the cemetery....and the ONLY thing my children say is:
"Wait, are walking on DEAD people?"
I don't say anything, I just hold back laughter as my kids run (on their tip toes, like that helps) out of the cemetery.

Then...FINALLY....the Gift Shoppe

"The original Gift Shoppe was destroyed by Union soldiers in 1902.  The new owners rebuilt it using wood from the original home in 1827."
Wait....what?
"Many of the items you see here are original to the home....some points to remember about these items:
- Unlike the fresh items here today, the Krispy Kreme Donut man took longer back then to bring in fresh donuts to the home.
- Many of the bird houses and signs with family names on them on them are made of actual wood.
- The breakfast set consisting of a genuine BrokenBones coffee mug, commemorative plate, and commemorative fork and spoon were used by the original owner who had his breakfast served on these every day since 1814.  These can be purchased for $39.95.
- The Southern Drivers of NASCAR commemorative plates are not for sale.  They were found in the attic of the home and belong to the current owners who want them back after they are released on parole."

So, after a 90 minute tour, some rocks and a keychain from the gift shoppe we are off to eat lunch. 
Naturally, we will eat at the 'authentic' kitchen located on the grounds....which involves sitting on tree stumps and eating off tin plates that soar to a comfortable temperature of 300 degrees.

I should have gone fishing.

The Government Grant

I recently spent some time visiting my brother in law at his weekend retreat in Texas.

During this visit, I learned that my sister in law, during her college years, was responsible for the very efficient use and spending of our tax dollars.  How, you might ask?  Well, she was performing government funded 'research'.  Want to know what type of research?

Determining if male pigeons would care if they had sex with a stuffed female pigeon or a live one.

I am not kidding.

Now, I am not a scientist and I have no idea what if any redeeming social value this information might offer; but my question (and I am sure yours as well) would be....WHY?

In order to answer that question, we must first understand how the process worked.

Step one:  Get the male pigeon aroused.  I can't answer with any certainty how this would have been accomplished, but I can only assume it involved beer, playboy and cheerleader movies.
Step two:  Keep the male pigeon aroused while moving him to the 'test cage'.  This probably involved someone just talking dirty to the pigeon.
Step three:  Through a cleverly designed chute send the male either:  (1) A live female pigeon who had just had a good meal, some wine, some quiet conversation, and a walk on the beach.  In scientific terms, "her motor was running." -or-  (2) A stuffed pigeon that, as far as I could tell from looking at the pictures, looked pretty much the same as the live one.
Step four:  Start playing Mel Torme records and see what happens.

The 'test' was too see if the male would....what's the scientific word here......oh yea HUMP whatever fell through the chute.  I asked if, just to break up the monotony, they would send other things down the chute.  You know..... a teddy bear, Malibu Barbie, a squirrel.  I mean, if there was a need to see if the guy pigeon cared what he had sex with....give him some options.  I was told that, while a fine idea, it would have "altered the results". 

Apparently there is some great need to determine if a male is concerned if he scores with a real female or a fake one.  So my next thought was, if it's important to know if a male cares what he has sex with, perhaps a study of college students and blow up dolls would be more revealing; (especially if those males were Grand Masters of World of WarCraft or members of the Harry Potter Fan Club) and had access to large quantities of beer.

But that's not the end of it.  The test was just to see IF the male wanted to have sex....not actually let him HAVE sex.  So, what happened was the male was not allowed to.....again, what are the scientific words here.....oh yea, LAUNCH HIS BOTTLE ROCKET.  Just before that occurred, the process would be stopped by:

-Pulling the birds apart
-Yelling at the male "Her mother's coming, hide!"
-Having the female say lovingly to the male as he approaches her "I just love kids, don't you?"
-Shining a flashlight on them while in a gruff voice saying "What are you kids doing in there?"

Once separated, the female would be sent back to the 'holding cage' where she would watch The View, phone all her girlfriends to talk about what happened, and eat ice scream.  The male would sulk off to another room where he would become deeply involved watching a ping pong match between two Chinese nationals.....then be given a cold shower.

Careful notes would be taken with such things as:
1.  Did the male care about her needs?
2.  Did the male care she was (or was not ) alive?
3.  Did the female want to cuddle first, and did the male respond?
4.  Did the male promise to "call the next day".....even to the fake one?
5.  Did the male prefer blond female pigeons?

There is actually a published paper on this study.  Suffice it to say that the results were eagerly accepted by the scientific community....much like you or I would eagerly accept a toothache.  I don't know what the findings were, but I can imagine they'd be something like this:

Case Study L-Texas-49Q
Horny Pigeons

Overview / Process:
We took several male pigeons, got them drunk, and tested whether it mattered if they had sex with a live pigeon or a fake one.

Results:
Nope...didn't matter


Our tax money paid for this information.


**As a footnote, I am not lessening anything my sister in law did during her college years to become the professional she is today.  I say this because she is a wonderful person, a great doctor, and she has no qualms about giving you an enema using pvc pipe and a pressure washer....not the kind of person you want mad at you. 

Weekends

I have three kids, and I could not trade them for anything.  Really, I've tried...no luck.  I am kidding of course.  Anyway, having kids means they must be entertained...and not the way we were when we were young.  Saturday mornings were different when I was young.  We'd wake up around 8am or so.... our parents, of course, would still be asleep...."and by God don't your DARE wake us up".  Toast for breakfast, cartoons till noon, then outside till the street lights came on.  Cartoons back then were classic lessons in life and the challenges facing people everyday.  For example:

RoadRunner. 
The ultimate lesson is patience and stupidity.  I cannot tell you how many Saturday afternoons I spend trying to build a rocket to strap to my ass so I could fly down the street in a blaze of glory.  I never chased anything (unless you count the dog), but I learned valuable lessons in patience, chemistry and wound care. 

Huckleberry Hound
I think he was on some powerful drugs.  Really, think about it for a second.  Droopy eyes, slow drawl, kind of dragging his feet when he walked.....what a role model. 

Top Cat
All this guy ever did was scam his way into things.  Oh sure, at the end it never worked out and that cretin policeman always made sure 'TC' learned his lesson....but we'd watch and in our minds think of ways to make the scam successful.  Basically, it taught kids how to cheat.

Speed Racer
Driving lessons I still use today

Today, kids need 'stimulation' and 'guidance' to become better thinkers and problem solvers.  Really?  When I was young, my 'stimulation' came in the form of my mothers shoe hurling at warp velocity towards me while my mom forcefully (but lovingly) told me to 'get out of the house!'.  My 'guidance' was my Dad standing at the front door and very calmly saying "you get arrested don't waste your one call on me because I'm not coming to get you.  you end up in jail, stay there and learn your lesson."  It is these things that have made me the person I am today.

So, in order to 'stimulate' our children, Saturday mornings involve elaborate stage productions that not only entertain and teach life lessons....they relieve you of several hundred dollars.  Wonderful productions such as:

Elmo's Magic Colon
Barney gets an X-Ray
The Wiggles get Evicted
Disney's Princess Temper Tantrum....on ice
Andy the Armadillo and the Traffic Jam

If you have not attended one of these "events", let me set the stage for you.

You enter the auditorium to the wonderful sound of several hundred shrieking kids.  Seriously, they are EVERYWHERE and they are all screaming.  They are running around, falling down, punching each other...it's a scene out of the movie Children of the Corn.  In the midst of all this you see the parents.  Mom is sitting calmly watching with love while little Rupert runs head first into the chair in front of her.  "Be careful dear", she will smile and tell him while wiping the blood off his face.  Rupert will respond with a scream at a volume that could shatter glass and run off to harm himself in some other fashion.  Dad is sitting next to mom holding in his lap a "Kids Party Pack".  $75 worth of cold drinks, hot dogs, popcorn, candy, and ice cream that little precious Rupert had to have the second he walked in....and has not touched since it was purchased.

The lights dim....and the show starts.

Depending upon what show you are seeing, various characters come bouncing on the stage.  These characters are wearing costumes that, prior to this production, were used by the Soviet Army during the Chernobyl disaster.  Disfigured vegetables, farm animals, office supplies, space aliens, and small furry woodland creatures come out on stage and begin to 'dance'.  Of course, because all the children have waited for this moment to see their favorite characters they do what any kid would do.....they scream in fear, begin to cry and run in the opposite direction.  The moms get up and calm them down with a smile and assurance the mutants on the stage are their friends. 

Now, at this point I have to interject my biggest gripe with these 'shows'.  Knowing that most Dad's would rather do anything....I mean anything...even go dress shopping with his wife....than be at this show, why do the characters pick the Dad to mess with?  You know.... rub his head with some disfigured appendage that is shedding blue feathers everywhere, pull him out of the chair (spilling the Kids Party Pack) and dancing around him, make funny gestures over this head.  There is your lesson in patience.....watching Dad smile calmly while this cretin dressed as a mothball runs around him.  If it wasn't illegal I'm sure many of these characters would end up dead on the floor....with an uneaten Kids Party Pack shoved down its throat.

So, it's 60 minutes of songs and dancing....all with life lessons.  Songs such as:

Don't pick your nose in front of Aunt Rose
Think, don't drink what's under the sink
Don't be in a rush....remember to flush

The show ends, Mom takes Rupert to the Souvenir Stand for...God only knows why....a CD version of the show and a $30 stuffed mutant toy.  Then it's 45 minutes in traffic and back home...only to hear the music from the show 6,789 times during the next 24 hours....after which it will never be played again.

Hopefully this 'stimulation' and 'guidance' will help our children discover new and exciting things....like how to exile or imprison the people who think up these stupid shows.

Vacation - have to get away

So....vacations are supposed to be relaxing right?  Fun, family and chill out time right?
Have you met my family?  We go on what is called "weekender" - time to relax.....or what I call an "aneurysm".....time to go postal.

The five days before going on vacation:

5 - Sunday
After 3 weeks of discussion, we have narrowed our choice of places to stay to two hotels. 
Hotel one: Has a large pool and a two room 'suite' allowing us space so we can at least get more than 2 feet away from each other.
Hotel two: Has a smaller pool, OK room, but has free breakfast and evening snack.  That alone will save me $180 in food over the weekend.
We have also decided that we will leave on Friday night (around 6:00)...because that makes more sense.
We remind each other we need to wash clothes.

4 - Monday
We have decided to leave Saturday because with work and traffic it doesn't make sense to drive all night.  We also start our discussion on whether or not to board the dogs because God knows they can't stay in the yard without us for more than one night. 
We begin to look around the house for some minor project to start (like replacing the front door) because "it will only take a couple of hours and we can finish before we leave."
We remind each other we need to wash clothes.

3 - Tuesday
After removing all the plumbing from under the kitchen sink, we decide that it probably would be better to leave on Friday...that would give us more time to 'do things' on Saturday.
We have decided on a hotel and since it's November we choose the larger pool.....that hotel is booked so we go with choice two.
We call the Vet and set up boarding for the dogs, only to discover neither of them had a 'check up' since they were born, so that will have to be done.  Estimated cost: $200.
We remind each other we need to wash clothes.

2 - Wednesday
One of my children will announce he/she has been invited to a 'gathering' on Friday afternoon that will last until 4:00pm.  We are assured that he/she will be home in plenty of time to head out at 6
The replacement plumbing for the sink has to be ordered....it is being shipped next day air from Zimbabwe.
We cancel the Vet and ask one our children's friends to 'check on the dogs' for us.
We remind each other we need to wash clothes....so we wash all the towels in the house.

1 - Thursday
We take inventory of needed clothing, and discover that nothing we need to take is clean.  Approximate time to wash and dry all the needed clothing....72 hours.
I get a call from the StressMan Plumbing Service that the all the parts are in except for the 38 cent 'grommet' ,,,which holds the entire system in place.  Without that, "we really can't do much."  Should arrive the next day.
Our child's friend calls and says that he has tickets to see a local band called  "ElectricPenis" on Saturday and he is leaving town, so he can't check on the dogs.  We call the Vet, they still have an opening, but the price has gone up 10% due to last minute reservations.

Departure Day - Friday
We place a bucket under the sink.  "We aren't going to be here anyway...no one will use the sink"
The dogs are taken to the vet, we are informed of a new vaccine just released yesterday each dog needs....add $100.
We take trash bags and throw in damp underwear, socks, T-shirts and jeans.  "They'll dry on the way"

6:00 - our child arrives, "the thing ran late".  Not that it matters, we forgot to clean out the car for the trip and we are in the middle of that project.
7:00 - we pull out of the driveway
7:03 - we pull back into the driveway because someone forgot a cell phone and no one checked to see if the porch lights were left on.
7:08 - we pull out of the driveway.
7:16 - we pull into the "Chuck -n- Go" gas station for gasoline and methane producing snacks.
7:46 - all the snacks are gone and the children announce they are hungry.
8:10 - drive through the local Burger Belch and load up.
8:30 - the car is quiet and we settle in for the drive
8:32 - a series of gastrointestinal noises are heard followed by the words, "GEEZ, roll the window down".
8:32 to 9:00 - the noises continue along with shouting between the children....
9:01 - Dad threatens to drive off the bridge we are on....the car quiets down once again.
11:46 - we arrive at our destination.
12:31am - everyone is either asleep or very close.....except my wife who is still walking around with a Black Light looking for stray germs, strands of hair, trash, homeless people.  I will know if she finds something because I will hear (and so will the folks in the next room) her say, "OH MY GOD...this is so GROSS".  She will continue to do this the entire weekend.
1:26am - My wife will climb into bed while loudly commenting on the condition of the room, the quality of the towels, the comfort of the bed, and the current government of Syria.  She falls asleep in less than two minutes.
1:55am - I finally fall asleep after coming to grips with the condition of the room, the types of towels, the comfort of the bed, and the fact I really don't care who is running Syria at the moment.

Such is my 'restful' weekend.

Dog Poop

On Saturday morning, prior to cutting the grass in the back yard, I go out and clean up after what could only have been a herd of elephants that camped out in my yard during the week.  I have two dogs, neither are what I would call 'large'....however the sheer volume of poop they create simply amazes me.

I have a friend named Joe (not his real name - his real name is Carl) who told me that he makes his 8 year old son gather the dog poop left in his yard and pile it up in one place. He does this daily, and after a time, he believes his dog will stop pooping at random spots.  His reasoning was "The dog will go where the poop is".  Sounded logical, I mean Joe is a pretty smart guy.....and he had the foresight to make sure his son used a shovel to pick up the stuff....so I thought why not?

So on Monday afternoon I started gathering.  I found a spot in the far corner of the yard and began to create a very, very large pile of poop.  I did this ever day for a week...marveling at the sheer amount I had to move.  I don't really know what's in dog food....but I can tell you it has a fair amount of roughage in it.  Each day I search, gather and pile quantities of dog poop while the dogs look at me and think "hey, I wanted it there.  now I'm going to have to create more". 

Every afternoon I'm out in the backyard....didn't matter what the weather (once it was raining and, unable to reach Joe for a ruling, I decided I still needed to continue the process in order to continue the training)  By Friday, I'm actually talking to the dogs.  "You see this pile here?  THAT'S where you go!  You don't just go in whatever direction your butt is pointing.  You understand?"  Of course, the dogs just wander off wondering why a deranged human is walking around the yard with a shovel full of poop.

Saturday comes along and, having a small child, we attend the latest stage show catered to small children.  You know the type....wonderful events like "Bobby the Badger Sings about Condiments".  90 minutes of wonderful tunes such as:

Ketchup can help you Catch Up
Oregano is fun to grow
Salt for my friend Walt

All sung by costumed characters....each costume looking like it was shipped to the USA from Chernobyl....just after the meltdown.  Then a trip to the 'souvenier stand' for a $20 pennant featuring random farm animals holding various condiments which, after being in my house for 36 hours, will end up on the floor and the dogs will use it to sleep on.

Anyway, I get home and think "hey, let me check the yard".  Surely by now the dogs would have discovered what I now call Mount Poop...and say to each other excitedly...."why poop right here on the water hose when we can go to Mount Poop!" 

What do I find when look around my yard?....yup, you guessed it.....not only does the yard look like the same herd of elephants camped out, now I also have an enormous pile of dog poop in one corner of the yard.  In a final act of defiance, one of my dogs walks out in front of me and pauses for a moment.  He turns and looks at me....and POOPS!  He walks by as if to say "put THAT on your Mount Poop"

Come to think of it, I never actually ASKED if Joe's method worked.  Perhaps I should have done that first.

The Dance Recital

If you have children of the female persuasion, there will come a time where your wife will approach you and say, "Why aren't you wearing pants?"......wait, that's not what I was thinking of....although, as you age, you might get asked that question.  No, what your wife will say is that your daughter wants to take "dance".  No series of words, other than "I am late" (from your wife) or "Do you remember where I parked the car?" (from one of your children) strikes such fear in the heart of a Dad.  For you see, if your daughter takes dance, she must participate in the dreaded "Dance Recital"  To understand this fear, we must define what "Dance Recital" is:

Mom's Definition:  Cute little girls showing off the adorable routines they have learned over the last year.
Dad's Definition:  My daughter is dressed like a tiny little street walker.
Dance Recitals are held in large sports arenas, attended by moms and grandmothers who will kill you if you take their seat, and typically last 10 to 12 hours.

If you have NOT experienced such an event, let me walk you through this fun time.

Your daughter will have 'dance practice' roughly 1,356,238 times between August and May of any given year.  Because the people who teach dance are space aliens without real jobs, these practices are scheduled at very convenient times like 4:30 to 6:11pm on Mon/Tue, 5:06 to 7:36 on Wed/Thur, 4:00 to 'whenever' on Fridays, and 6:00am to 7:00am on Saturday.  Your daughter cannot miss a practice because if she does she will not know at what point during the 'routine' to run head first into the girl to her left while spinning out of control.

After each practice, the thoughtful alien teacher will say something like "Smotherina is doing better, when she falls down she doesn't hit her head on the floor anymore, and the other girls have learned not to step on her"  As a parent, you are supposed to praise the child for this feat.  They get 'atta girl' for falling down.  I do the same thing after a bottle of Merlot and I get thrown out of the restaurant.  So you praise them for falling, praise them for kicking the girl next to them, praise them for spinning out of control to the point they throw up, all in the hope they will "get the routine down" before the Recital. 

Sometime in April, a note will arrive stapled to your daughter's dance bag.  Oh yea, they have 'dance bags'.  At the reasonable cost of $6,000 you can own a custom made dance bag.  My daughter's dance bag is capable of holding 4 pairs of tights, 3 pairs of shorts, 3 t-shirts (festooned with colorful sayings like "we're dance-a-holics"), 2 undershirts, 4 pairs of socks, tap shoes, ballet shoes, jazz shoes, hair bands, hair clips, a hairbrush, several granola bars, several juice boxes, six geese-a-laying, seven swans-a-swimming, and a box of tissue.   The note says:

KrippleKick Studios Invites You to Our Annual Recital

"Stop, Drop, and Roll" 

June 3rd from 8:00am to Midnight.

Your child (insert name) will be participating in 112 routines, each lasting about 2 minutes.
Our costumes have been ordered.  The deposit required is $50 - this due tomorrow. 
The balance on the costumes of $6,800 is due the day after tomorrow.

So, after selling a few organs you pay the fee and the costumes arrive.  Then there are the photographs.  These take place a couple of weeks before the recital in order for parents to have time to repair the costumes destroyed while taking pictures.  Beginning at 5:00am, rabid mothers bring their daughters to the studio in the back of a semi-trailer packed to the hilt with rouge, blush, hair spray, hair bows, eye liner, lipstick, baby powder, staple guns, hot glue guns, double sided tape, single sided tape, duct tape, allen wrenches, bobby pins, hair clips, industrial blow dryers (that, if properly aimed, could allow the Israelites to walk across the Red Sea again),  hair straighteners, hair curlers, and snacks.  After 11 hours of "prepping", the child will stand in front of the camera for 2.5 seconds, and close her eyes at the exact moment her photo is taken.  "Next" the photographer will shout...."TAKE IT AGAIN" the rabid mom will screech. 

After several attempts the photos are taken, the costume is removed because it needs washing after your child spilled Yoo-Hoo on it, and Mom and daughter head for home.  Mom then waits for the photo's to be posted on a website.  Mom pulls up the website and then shows Dad.  Your child is dressed in one of the thousands of  'costumes' you have purchased.

The actual photo looks like this:

A Dad looks at the outfit and sees this:

"How could you dress her like that?"   he will say angrily
"Who chose that costume?  What's the name of the routine....'Street Walking?'"
"You're not ordering those, what the hell is wrong with that alien teacher?"
"It's cute" the wife will say. "What's wrong with the outfit....it's a dance outfit.  There's nothing wrong with it.  Good Grief, you are over-reacting"

After a few minutes, my wife agrees not to buy any of those particular shots...except for one copy because it is my daughter's favorite.  We agree to purchase some of a different pose, for which we will pay $1100, plus another $500 to publish it in the Recital "Program".  There's another thing....the "Program".  200 pages of little girls dressed "all cute" with notes that say:

"Way to Go Lumberina!  You didn't land in the hospital once this year!"  Love, Mom and Dad
"Great Dancin' my Dancin Girl"  Love Mom, Dad, PimplePa, Gramplepus, ZantieAuntie, and the Dog
"We're proud of our Ballerina!  Keep Chasing your Dreams....God knows we don't have any anymore"

Recital day arrives!  The show begins and somewhere in that group of children on stage is your daughter, but you can't find her.  Your wife is sitting on Row 3, she is stationed up front and ready with a loaded 18 wheeler full of costumes and accessories waiting to pounce backstage when the current routine ends so she can prepare your daughter for the next routine. However, because you did not want to arrive at the Recital 8 hours before the show started you cannot sit with your wife.   No, as a Dad you sit a little further back, like in the next state.  So you make use of powerful camera lenses to watch carefully as the various groups of small children come out on stage and:

Walk around aimlessly
Fall down at random
Get some serious wedgies corrected
Spend some quality time picking their nose

You eventually locate your daughter and.....here is where the "rabid recital mom syndrome" rubs off on you....you video her doing those things!  Why do you video?  You respond with "because she is doing them so much better than the other girls". 
**I have to come clean and admit that once, during my daughter's recital, I took video of someone who I thought was my daughter, but was not.  They were all dressed in yellow outfits with black hats.  "How the hell could I tell the difference? They all look like 4 year old short banana's" was my only defense.  "Maybe by recognizing your own daughter" was my older kids response.  "Remind us never to go in a crowd with you Dad."

So, after several days and hundreds of routines, the recital ends and we get to go home and have a nice meal while continuing to heap praise on our daughter ("you got that wedgie out first try! good job!) until she gets bored and runs off to play on the Wii.  My wife will spend endless hours looking at the Program, looking at the costumes, carefully packing up the myriad of accessories (hats, bows, gloves, glasses, bracelets, goggles, flippers, roman candles, and necklaces)....and then we get to start the whole thing over again....at the NEXT AGE LEVEL.  Which will require more practice time because at this age "we try not to have them fall down as much."

People often times ask me why I drink.

Today is the Day

You know, I'm sitting here thinking about the last 50 years.  Well, that's not really right....I'm probably only thinking about the last 40 years or so.  I really don't remember much between the ages of birth and 10.  There is a part of me that believes if I continue to consume adult beverages at the rate I am currently consuming them I might not be able to remember what I did last week....but that's another story.

They say, .......and no I don't know who 'they' are and I highly doubt 'they' even exist.  Perhaps 'they' are aliens who live in some parallel dimension and materialize every now and then to offer cute expressions, such as:  A penny saved is a penny earned, Waste not Want not, All Lanes End - MERGE NOW!  Anyway, 'they' say life is much like a poker game.  You have to play the hand you are dealt.....and the game changes several times...from good to bad and back again.  If I may have a moment to "wax philosophical" here...I have to say I agree because I have noticed over the years that some things have changed:

SOCIAL NETWORKS
It appears that we are now at a point where we actually believe other folks care about what we do every moment of the day.  We must 'post' to inform everyone of everything.  What we are eating, what we are doing, whether or not toilet paper is on sale, whether or not we like a television show, and what clothes we are wearing.  Really?  Are people really interested in the fact we are 'sitting by the lake with a cold beverage' at 3:00 on a Tuesday afternoon?  The answer is YES!  Post that and hundreds of people will respond with things like:

Man, I wish I was there!  :0)
LOL LOL LOL I bet it's an ADULT cold beverage!
Don't you people have jobs?  It's Tuesday!

As a child, my idea of a 'social network' was the shanty (and that is the proper way to describe it) that Petee, Dwight, Craig, and my brother Chris built in the empty field across the street from our house.  Seriously, we found whatever type of building material we could and built what, by today's terrorist standards, would be considered upscale living.  We used old signs, tarps, sheetrock, tires, whatever we could find.  At one point, I remember coming home from school and finding (I am not making this up) a notice nailed to the side of the building from the crack team of building inspectors employed by the City of Lake Charles stating it did not 'meet code' and had to be demolished.  There was a house on my street that had an extension cord running from the power pole to the main breaker on the house....THAT was fine, our 'social network' was not.
 
CELLULAR PHONES
Are we really that busy?  Do we really need to be accessible 100% of the time to the point we need to excuse ourselves during our grandchilds' baptism to answer a call from the cretin in the loading dock who doesn't know where in the warehouse to put the case of tar that just came in?  Is it that pressing?  Is it that critical?  Is he a moron?  Now, I did not have gainful employment in my youth, but I do remember my Dad coming home and not worrying about a phone call from his office.  No, my Dad worried about a call from the "Answering Service".... or as they are also known "Satan's Minions".  If the phone rang after 5pm we were allowed to answer, but if the voice on the other end said "This is the answering service" we immediately went into alert mode.  That kind of call had simple handling instructions:
FIND DAD.  Don't do anything else, FIND DAD.

How did we communicate with our parents?  We had a very sophisticated system....if the street lights were on, our butts were in the house.  How did your parents 'notify' you to come inside?  They flicked the porch light off and on...and GOD HELP YOU if you didn't see it.  You could be 5 blocks away....doesn't matter, when the porch light started blinking you best get inside. 

COMPUTERS
I remember my first experience with a computer.  It was at college, and I was taking a FORTRAN class.  Remember that?  We typed into a computer the size of a Trailblazer code like this:

****output for Name

Write  (11, *) If M= %^#®®β copy NOT >frame< feedme::Say (@ hueydueylouie)-Ifnot: ^*`RUNFAST^whofarted?~~ieudslmcb

End

Stop

Really

Stop

End

These were printed on 1400 punch cards.  They were then placed in another computer the size of Rhode Island and I would wait with anticipation for that computer to spit out a 16x20 piece of paper.

What I wanted was the computer to print out my name....which it did, only it was misspelled.

Then there's GOOGLE....man's answer to the Library Card Catalog System.  If we wanted to find out something, we had to actually look up the title of a book, then locate the index card (which was placed in one of the 11,000 drawers mounted on the wall) and then write down the number which would tell us where the book was located. Using the Dewey Decimal System, someone needing a book on say.....nose hair, would discover that particular book had the number 134.5498.~5454.nose.aeiou.  This number indicated the book should be located on the fourth floor, section N, shelf 1, space R.  Of course, it was not there because no one understood the Dewey Decimal System so all the books just got shoved on those little grey carts that were scattered at strategic points and left in the middle of the aisle.

TELEVISION
Many folks have had fun remembering the TV has changed dramatically over the last several years.  When I was growing up....THREE channels...with two of them always running the same show of some guy with an accordion.  Today I have 172 channels.  Really, I do.  Why?  Well, my family likes a total of 5 channels.  One local, one news, one specialty (HGTV), one SuperStation, and one kids network.  To get those five, I had to subscribe to:

The BASIC Package
The LOCAL CHANNEL Package (for local channels....duh!)
The EXTENDED BASIC Package (for network news)
The OVEREXTENDED Package (for specialty)
The DELUXE Package (for SuperStation)
The BADGER Package (for Kids Network)

This costs me $70 per month...and no, I can't get it cheaper because to get each of the single channels I like, I must by the other 15 additional channels in that package.  So in addition to the 5 I like to watch, I get these:

The Armadillo Channel
The Really Cool Relentless Explosions Channel
The Lawn and Shrub Channel
The Static Channel
The Skinny Models Wearing Bikinis and Exercising Channel
The Obscure Sports Channel
The Chuck Norris Buy This Exercise Equipment You Tub of Lard Channel
The No One Speaks English Channel
500 Pay per view Porn Channels

What a deal I have.....right?

The last 50 years have seen a great many changes....and I would expect the next 50 to do the same.

It really is true, the more things change....the more confused we become to the point of anger.
The older I get the more content I become with what is....and the less I worry about what is not or what might be.  Life is about the journey.....not the destination....and every journey has it's problems.  I guess we just have to remember that without the difficult times....we may not appreciate the good times.

I think Jimmy Buffett said it best, "some of it's magic, some of it's tragic, but I've had a good life all the way"

I have....and it's been a wonderful ride.....looking forward to more.

That's HUNGER....Box 17B Radio City Center*

I realize that the older I get the less I care about being on a strict schedule.  Specifically, I don't really care if I eat supper at 6:30 or 8:30...just as long as I eat, I'm good.  That doesn't always work for others.

My day typically ends between 5:30 and 6:00pm.  I get home and have the same few things that must be done daily:

1.  Check on my fountain.  Make sure it has water, make sure the pump is running, make sure there isn't anything dead in it.
2.  Repair whatever damage the dogs have done to the fence, and other parts of the backyard.
3.  Check the mail to see if I have another exclusive offer (available to only me and my imaginary roommate named 'occupant') to take advantage of 0% interest on all balance transfers.
4.  Pour a glass of Merlot and watch while my 8 year old sprays water at random on herself, the house, the fence, the fountain, the dogs and in the air while attempting to water the 4 flower plants in the middle of the yard.
5.  Look around to see if my wife has made it home.
Somewhere during this time, my oldest daughter will approach me with a sad look on her face.

Good Evening.  She will deadpan
What's Up?
I am hungry, when will I be fed?
I am assuming 'eventually' isn't the answer you are looking for right?
Are you listening?  I'm hungry!
Last time I looked, the kitchen was that way...just to the south of the front door.
I don't want to cook....I want to eat.
I think they go hand in hand.
FEED ME.
Here, (pointing to the tasteful display of Sun Dried Tomato and Basil Triscuits on the patio table) have a cracker.
I don't want a cracker, I want FOOD!
A cracker isn't food?
DAD!  I'm hungry!
Some wine then?
DAD! You have to feed me!  It's the law!
You see that 'mobile instrument of death' you call a Chevy Cobalt?  It can be programmed to carry you away to wonderful worlds of food enjoyment.....many of which offer the opportunity to secure food without actually leaving the protected space of the front seat.
I don't want go anywhere....wait, I do...but I don't have any money. 
Really?  I believe you possess a couple of small 2x4 sections of plastic that will allow you to procure food, and really almost anything else, on nothing more than your signature.
I'M HUNGRY!  FEED ME!
(while munching on a Triscuit)  I believe I am attempting to do that very thing.

Now, at this point my wife surfaces from wherever she has been hiding and joins the conversation.  She is enjoying a glass of fine chardonnay, helps herself to one of the crackers while adding some fine cheese to my tasteful display on the table.
I turn my attention to my 8 year old, currently soaked to the skin, and wonder why I didn't just give her a bar of soap and have her shower right there in the backyard.  Of course, the flowers are still dry.

Are you people going to eat!?  My daughter will ask.
"Eventually" is the answer my wife offers.
I inform my wife that I had discovered earlier that's not the right answer.
"At some point" is her follow up.
I'm hungry NOW
You see that 'fine example of Detroit Automotive Excellence' parked in the driveway?
I stop her....been there, done that.
I'm going make a sandwich.
Now, you would think that at this point I'd stop her and make some decisions about supper.  You would think that I would save her the anguish and pain of having to actually create her own meal. 

You'd think that, but you'd be wrong. 

I wait just long enough for her to get inside, take everything out of the refrigerator, and then I announce I would like to go to Outback Steakhouse.
"So, you want to come or do you have your heart set on that sandwich?" I ask very sincerely.

If I really want to pick on her....I act like she has to pay for her meal.

*quoted from Robert Klein  

That's what you told me to do

Dad's just think different.  Seriously, it's not that we are dumb....we just process things in a different manner. 

My wife will say, "My tire is low."
Which one?
"The one on the left in the front"
I will go outside, take my air pump and air up...THE LEFT FRONT TIRE.
Later in the day she will ask, "Did you air up my tire?"
Yes, right after you said something.  Why?
"I still have a tire pressure warning going off."
Are the other ones low?
"You didn't check them?" (making the "face"...and every married man knows what I mean)
You didn't say they were all low...you said the left front was low.

My wife will announce, "Michelle need to bring 12 plastic eggs to school".
It's 9:45 at night, you just remembered this?
"Don't we have some here?"
I'm sure we do....somewhere in the attic.
"Just go to Walgreens and get them"
Right......so, I schlep to Walgreens and get a package of 12 plastic eggs. 
The next night, my wife asks "what kind of candy did you put in the eggs?  Her teacher prefers we not put anything chocolate because it might melt."
Candy?
"You didn't put candy in them?" (again, the face)
You didn't say anything about candy....you said 12 eggs.

My wife will announce she is going exercise.  "Make sure Michelle finishes her homework."
Yea, I got it.
Homework for a 9 year old consists of math problems like this:
Greta has 2 pizzas cut into 8 slices each.  One pizza is cheese, one is hamburger.  Schmendrick has 4 apples cut into 4 pieces each.  Eustis has a baseball bat and a napkin.  If on Tuesday Greta and Schmendrick forget the combination to their locker how much pizza could 10 of their friends eat after Eustis makes applesauce with his baseball bat? **
Homework is finished....Michelle goes to sleep.  My wife returns.
"Homework is done?"
Yes
"Did you check it?"
Check it?

See...men are hunters, gatherers, protectors and analyzers.  We continuously work through multiple problems in our head.  Critical things like:  -Did I change the oil in the lawnmower?  -Did I repair the damaged part of the roof? - Who is this child in my living room, and where is the child I normally see sitting there?  We must work off of specific questions and instructions in order to insure the safety and serenity of our home...AND to insure we can be finished with all that nonsense in time for kickoff.

Not wrong.....just different.

**(The answer is Butte, Montana)

Sun block

Please don't send me angry emails or tell me I'm crazy.  I believe in Sunblock.....ESPECIALLY for children.  That's a big step for someone my age....we used to go to the beach and burn ON PURPOSE.  "It'll turn brown", we would say as we peel layers of skin off our legs, "just need more Noxzema."
Noxzema?  Remember that stuff?  Might as well have smeared lard on the burn.

Anyway, while I agree sunblock is important, I also believe we have overdone it a bit.  Here is the official definition of "SPF" - These numbers refer to the product's ability to screen or block out the sun's burning rays. It is a common mistake to assume that the duration of effectiveness of a sunscreen can be calculated simply by multiplying the SPF by the length of time it takes for him or her to suffer a burn without sunscreen, because the amount of sun exposure a person receives is dependent upon more than just the length of time spent in the sun.

So, the 'ability to screen or block out the sun's burning rays' is measured in SPF numbers....but don't take them literally or seriously because they are typically wrong, and you will burn to a crisp like bacon on a skillet....and that would be bad. So rabid moms run to the Coppertone aisle every summer.

"I've got to get protection for Bleemish" one will say "he has such a fair skin tone we make him drink ink in order to see him."  "Little Nostradamus is the same", another chimes in "he burns when he sits under the light on the ceiling."  "Why don't we just get a lot of beer and sit under a tree?" says the only dad on the aisle.  He is attacked by the mob, quickly gutted and left to die right there in front of the baby wipes.

For those who need help, here is a simple SPF rating along with the contents of each bottle:

SPF 0 to 15 (usually a spray, making it easy to get it in your eyes where it will burn like fire for 24 hours)
- You can stay inside, but avoid light bulbs larger than 75 watts.
SPF 15 to 50 (usually a lotion, making it easy to waste because you always get more out than you need and if you put it all on you would look like you have some sort of skin condition)
 - You can go outside; but avoid the sun's rays, reflections of the sun's rays, and any area not shaded.
SPF 50 - 75 (usually some sort of new lotion/spray combination designed by a cretin without kids.  you get 3 sprays and then the nozzle clogs so you end up pouring it on a paper towel and wiping it on your child)
- You never make it outside because the damn sunblock is some sort of alien color (like purple) and it won't dissolve so Randolph looks like some sort of  Barney Zombie)
SPF 75 - 100 (usually a long sleeve T-Shirt and a ski mask)
- You are free to commit armed robbery

I just look for a tree with a place to set the cooler down........

Hitting on me

I have never claimed to be what you would call 'good looking'.  You know....the Burt Reynolds type.  I'm not even sure if I equate to Bert from Sesame Street.  However....I have found as I get older that women (yes, I meant that to be plural) sometimes take an interest in me.  However my problem is two-fold:

1. - I usually don't get it.
2. - When I do get it....no one believes me.

For example, I told my daughter of this event:

I just got hit on.
Really?  Did it leave a bruise?
What?  Not that kind of hit....the other kind.
Yea....OK Dad
I'm not kidding....it really happened
OK Dad....details.....
I was at the Eye Doctor
(interrupting me) No no....that's the problem...she couldn't see you
Shut up...she could and she did
Yea....OK...continue
Anyway, I went in to have my glasses fixed and when she was finished I asked her how much and she said, "we don't charge for adjusting if you bought them here".  I said thank you and she said, "no problem, I'd be happy to adjust you anytime"  and she winked at me!
(making a sarcastic face) seriously?  she was trying to sell you something
NO....it was free
Did she have something in her eye?
NO dammit......
OK...so, what did this (making the finger movements) "person" look like?
What's with the hands.....you think I made this up?
I'm just saying Mr "UPS only right turns guy" (more on this later)
I'm telling you.....
(interrupting me) OK OK....so she hit on you....what did she look like
She was HOT
OK Dad.....she was...what 55 or so, nearsighted, half blind and desperate...I got it
You know, there are plenty of folks who find me attractive.....
Really?  Name 3.....and they have to be alive, single, and not a member of a religious order

Several days earlier I had this conversation while sitting with my son:

Dude, check it out....she's scoping me out
What?!  'scoping you out'....who?
The woman over there in the short black dress....she's checking me out
What woman?  Dad....what are looking at?  She is not looking at you...no one wants to look at you
The woman over there....in the black dress with the heels....she wants me
What?!  Dad she is not looking at you...why would she do that?  Why would anyone?
She wants me....
Dad...you are seriously deranged
I'm telling you....look at her looking at me....she wants me.
She is NOT looking at you....and NOBODY wants you....you're old
Really?  Then why is she always looking at me?  Huh? Answer that one smarty..
Because maybe we're in CHURCH and she doesn't have a choice but look in this direction!
Oh sure, make up an excuse
Seriously....get some help

Then there was this conversation with my wife

Hey, you know the lady who lives in the red house three doors down?
Yea.......
She came out to get her mail just as I was getting ours...and she was in a bikini...
(making a face that says "you have lost your mind") A bikini?
Yup....and she made sure I saw her...she said 'hello' and waved......she wants me.
Really?  She can have you.  Leave your key on the table.


It is this unwavering support from my family that keeps my spirits upbeat.

We interrupt this program......

With the advent of 24 hour news everyone is attempting to be the first out the gate with a story.  Seems like a reasonable idea...be the first to break the story and get the ratings.  That's fine, but what happens after the story breaks and we get over the initial shock?  How much "new" information can you report?  Add to that, what if the initial report was incredibly exaggerated and you now have a news guy struggling not to look stupid?  I cannot say how many times, during coverage of a disaster, I have wanted to reach through the TV and smack Anderson Cooper on the back of the head.  How many times do we need a picture of a child's shoe amongst the rubble with your commentary about it?  How do you know it wasn't in the trash to start with?  How do you keep people watching when the story goes cold....or worse.....goes nowhere?

WE INTERUPT  AMERICA'S MOST CHALLENGING DOG VIDEOS.

Welcome to BORD NewsTeamActive -  Channel 30's Around the Clock News.
Here is your host Scooter Dillripple.

Good Evening.  It has just been reported that a large gang of teenagers have begun fighting in the parking lot of the TakeYourMoneyMall in UpperCrust New York.  Of course, the BORD NewsTeam has reporters all over the area and we will be going there live with up to the minute reports.   Right now lets go to SashimiTokura Jones standing by at the Mall Entrance.  Sashimi, what can you tell us?

Well Scooter, we have been told that somewhere around 600 teens began a gang fight in the parking lot at the TYM Mall this afternoon.  We have reports of several wounded teens and some wounded patrons caught in the melee.  Police have surrounded the mall and are attempting to bring order to the area as we speak.  We'll be here live bringing you the latest.  Back to you Scooter.

Thanks Sashimi.  If you're just tuning in, a gang war has begun at the TYM Mall.  Police report scores injured as order still has not been restored.  We turn now to our InvestigativeTeam reporter Stark MadMoney for more coverage.

Thanks Scooter.  We know that some random number of teens, reports put the number at somewhere near 10 or 20 dozen, armed with the latest in mobile phone technology began to fight in the parking lot about 40 minutes ago.  Reports are there were some injuries to both the teens and some patrons of the Mall.  Police still have not restored order but they have called in specially trained sharpshooters to control the situation.  We don't know what precipitated the fight.  Back to you....wait, we're going to Sashimi.  Sashimi, are you there?

Thanks Stark we have just learned that the cause of the fight was a disagreement over Justin Bieber's new hairstyle.  We have also learned that of the 11 teenagers involved, 2 suffered minor bruises and one teen had her feelings hurt.  Police are still attempting to gain control of the parking lot as several of the teens have begun posting on FaceBook and texting their friends.  We will attempt to get a word with the head of  the TYM security force, Chief MountedSaddle...Chief, what can you tell us?

Camera pans back and shows a 5ft 2in 350 pound sweaty security guy trying to get a teenage girl to give up her cell phone.  She is holding it above her head and the guy can't jump high enough to get it.

Well, the Chief looks involved so we will speak to him later.  Back to you Scooter.

Thanks Sashimi and Stark.  If you are just tuning in, an apparent argument ending in police involvement has occurred at the TYM Mall.  Sources close to the investigation are saying at least one person went home crying, others were 'visibly moping', and several Mall patrons spilled their Lattes walking out out to their cars.  We turn now to our NewsTeam Psychologist Gladys Getoverit who is here in our studio monitoring the situation.  Gladys, what do you make of today's events?

Sounds like a bunch of kids being stupid.

Thanks Gladys.  If you are just tuning in there has been an apparent argument at the TYM Mall resulting in police overreaction.  We go live now to the mall... Sashimi what can you tell us?

Camera shows her sitting on a bench under a tree.  When she notices the camera on, she jumps up.

Well, Scooter order has been restored as several large sport utility vehicles carrying impeccably dressed and annoyed parents have arrived and have begun transporting the teens off the Mall parking lot.  Police report they have confiscated two cell phones, one IPad, and the latest Justin Bieber CD titled "No, I'm a guy....really".
With final thoughts we are with Chief MountedSaddle, the head of TYM Security.  Chief, what is your reaction to today's events.

The Chief, visibly winded and sweating profusely looks straight into the camera and says, Those kids just need an ass-whipping.

Thanks Chief, that's all from here back to you Scooter.

BLANK SCREEN - 5 SECONDS

WE NOW RETURN TO

AMERICA'S MOST CHALLENGING DOG VIDEOS ALREADY IN PROGRESS.



The 70's revisited

I have one of those satellite radios.  It's really cool and I enjoy not having to listen to typicall DJ nonsense:

Well, it's morning at KRAP radio and of course Summer Blossom is here with the traffic
Morning Derk, traffic is a mess as always in the city
Yup, wonder if it will ever get better
Don't know how....
Maybe if we didn't have so many drivers who had breasts
Breasts?
Yea...you know what I mean
Nope...never do

Hysterical laughter between them while I consider ripping the radio out the dash.

So anyway....I have satellite.  Now, the really cool thing is I can listen to specific types of music.  Seriously, you name it they got it:  Pop, Country, Gregorian Chants, Random screams from Big Hair Bands of the 80's, and Jazz.  What do I listen to.....the 70's!  What a decade....and I lived through it.

We had uplifting and meaningful songs such as:

Dead Skunk in the Middle of the Road
Really...this was a Top 40 tune for several weeks.  I picture this guy in a bar in Alabama singing when some record producer walks in to use the phone because his Porsche had a flat.  While he's teaching the guy at "Cletus' Gas and Guzzle" how to pronounce Porsche...he hears this song.  "Wow", he thinks to himself  "I'd bet I could make money off of that song."

Afternoon Delight (yea...they weren't talking about Happy Hour at Sonic here)
"Gonna find my baby gonna hold her tight, gonna grab some afternoon delight....my motto's always been when it's right it's right why wait until the middle of a cold hard night?"...."We can make a lot of lovin' 'fore the sun goes down."
Need I say more?  I always wondered why Viagra didn't use this as a theme song.

I want to be sedated
"Put me in a wheelchair, put me on a plane.  Hurry hurry hurry before I go insane"
I think this is a good theme song for most parents...especially with kids of high school age.

Mama's got a Squeeze Box
"Mama's got a squeeze box she wears on her chest, and when daddy come's home he never gets no rest.....She goes, squeeze me, come on and squeeze me Come on and tease me like you do.....she goes in and out and in and out and in and out"
Yea...I knew this song was about an Acordian when I first heard it....didn't you?

Anything by David Gates and Bread
I heard a comedian once say that James Taylor could make any song...even Happy Birthday....sound so depressing you would want to kill yourself after listening to it.  Apparently he never listened to anything sung by David Gates.  Don't remember?  Look up the song "Aubrey".... be sure you don't have anything sharp laying around when you do.

Anything by Gladys Knight and the Pips
I watched Johnny Carson one night ask Gladys what a "Pip" actually was.  She didn't miss a beat, pointed to the biggest black guy I had ever seen (who was wearing a purple tux and had an afro stretching 3 ft off his head) and said...."that is a Pip."  Several weeks later they broke up because, the "Pips" no longer wanted to be looked upon as the 'back up guys'.  Considering they were composed of (this is true) her brother and her cousins I think they had a pretty sweet deal.  After the break up the Pips had a memorable appearance on The Richard Pryor Show where they sang the back up parts to Midnight Train to Georgia and Heard it Through the Grapevine.  At the parts where Gladys was supposed to sing, the camera panned a microphone stand with no one there.  So what you got was 3 black guys who would sing, "leavin on a midnight train...whoo hoo" .........then silence with the camera on the empty microphone.  It was classic.

Tie a Yellow Ribbon
Remember this one?  I think the action of tying a yellow ribbon to virtually everthing in your yard (including the dog) became more popular than the song.  Actually, do you remember the group who sang it?  They had many names:
First we were told to say - Dawn
Another hit and we were told to say - Tony Orlando & Dawn
A television appearance or two and we were told to say - Tony Orlando
A string of busts and Tony Orlando was told to say - You want fries with that?

Good Girls Don't
As a teenager, I thought this song was....well, both funny and cool.  As a DAD with a teenager daughter.....I think the Ramones should be jailed.

Anyway....I about to board the Love Train..."people around the world...join hands.....gonna ride this train.....c'mon everybody......love ride, love ride"

It's amazing we were allowed to pro-create.

Barney Rubble...what an actor*

I have always enjoyed watching movies.  Well, let me clarify, I enjoy watching what would be considered "old movies".  These movies had:

1 - Relentless cool explosions
2 - Characters that looked like the love child between Godzilla and Barney
3 - Cool gadgets - like lazers or space ships
4 - Women who (while dressed like a pole dancer) could kill you in 1.6 seconds
5 - Absolutely NO redeeming social value or expressed any social commentary.

Naturally, they don't make these movies anymore.  However, thanks to the wonders of modern technology I have been able to obtain these movies in DVD form....AND introduce my teenage son to the wonders of stupid plot lines and even stupider quotes.  A typical Saturday afternoon in my house would go like this:

I'm outside destroying some piece of the house (under the clever guise of saying it's a 'home repair').  My son drives up and wants to help.  He does and my wife approaches to say hello.  I ask my son to move the chain saw closer to the welder so I can reposition the anvil...... and he moves it too far to the left. 

(me) Careful you idiot I said across her nose not up it!
(him) Sorry sir, doing my best
(me) Who made that man a gunner?  **

We both laugh hysterically while my wife just rolls her eyes and wanders back inside the house.

Later in the afternoon my son and daughter are talking about the latest weirdness on Campus and how the new "alert" system didn't really work like it was supposed to.

(him) The cryps are raiding he liquor store.  The pit bull is out of the cage
(me) The vultures are circling the carcass
(him) I don't see any vultures...maybe a gull
(me) Do not take literally, repeat do not take literally  ***

More hysterical laughter ......my daughter just leaves the room.

Later in the evening, both my son and daughter are leaving to go do whatever it is they do on the weekend.  Both are using laser technology not yet available in the military to scan the pantry and refrigerator for any edible substance they can pilfer and take with them.
I make some sort of general statement about coming home to raid my refrigerator....

(him)  I don't need you.....I don't need anything...(picking up some random food item) wait, I need this
(me)  Ah yes. I have my temporary driver's license, and -- my astronaut application form. I didn't pass that though, I failed everything but the date of birth.
(him)  I don't need anything, just this....that's all I need.  Wait, I need this......just the crackers, cheese, sausage, chicken, noodles, bread, Dr. Pepper, potato chips, ground meat.....and that's all I need
(me) 250 Big Ones.....yes.   250 donuts.  I'll take 50 donuts now and deposit the rest.****
(my wife) SMACK!  Knock it off!

Still more hysterical laughter from the both of us.

All father's have a connection to their children.  Sometimes it's baseball, other times football, maybe a woodworking hobby, usually it's something of redeeming value.  Not me....mine is the repeating of stupid movie quotes.....again and again and again and again....

Quotes credited to these movies.
*Night Shift (Henry Winkler/Michael Keaton)
**Spaceballs the Movie (Rick Moranis/ George Wyner)
***Hot Shots part Deaux (Charlie Sheen / Ryan Styles)
****The Jerk (Steve Martin)

Happy Birthday Adam!

“See that you do not despise one of these little ones. For I tell you that in heaven their angels always see the face of my Father who is in heaven.
(Matthew 18:10 ESV)

Happy Birthday Adam!

Dad / Mom -- There is a difference

I love watching sappy television shows with yuppie parents who tell each other..."We are both completely on the same page when it comes to raising our kids.  We understand the need for stability in their lives.   Corduroy and Bangle both benefit from our team work and togetherness.  We discuss everything and agree as one when it comes to their life."

I laugh so hard I fall out of my recliner.

If you have kids....you know there is no 'togetherness' or 'teamwork'.   There is tyranny...absolute rule from....MOM.  Want to know why?  BECAUSE IT WORKS.  Bill Cosby said it best, "I'm not the boss of my house, I don't think I ever was...but I have seen the job and I don't want it."

Let me share with you how my wife and I share "team work and togetherness" when it comes to our kids.

FOOD
My wife:  Eat something healthy at every meal.  Need something to drink...water is best, but if you want something else juice will work...but only 100% juice.
Me:  Just eat something.  Could be a Sonic burger, could be the leftover Kung Pow chicken in the refrigerator...just eat....it's the 4th qtr for pity's sake.  Need something to drink...here, finish my Dr. Pepper.

DATING
My wife:  (for my son) - Date a nice girl who is intelligent, has manners, has a good personality, and shares your interests.
Me: (for my son) -  Date a girl who is not a complete wacko with parents who are even crazier than she is.....also one who looks good in heels.
My wife:  (for my daughter) - Date a nice guy who is gainfully employed (or strives to be), can handle simple household chores, treats you with respect, is well groomed, and has goals in life to better himself and his family.
Me: (for my daughter) - You are not allowed to date...but if you must then date God...be a nun.

CLOTHING
My wife:  Dress cute.  It should match and be 'season approved' (shorts in summer/long pants in winter).  Matching hair accessories and shoes.
Me:  Wear some type of clothing.  Be sure you have on underwear.  I would prefer you not wear shorts and sandals when it's 30 degrees outside....but if you aren't smart enough to know better...well, be cold.  Comb your hair...or at least wear a hat so no one knows you didn't.

HOUSEHOLD CHORES
My wife:  Clean your room daily.  Put up all your clothes.  Shoes go in your room rather than in the den.
Me:  Check for dog poop on the carpet daily.  Be sure there aren't any woodland creatures under that pile of clothes.  Always have a clear path to the door (for bathroom emergencies, or a fire)

FRIENDS
My wife: (for my son) - Have friends that share your values, don't look for trouble, have goals, and act like adults.
Me: (for my son) - Have friends with cool cars, a Gamestation 9000, and can recite the entire script of Spaceballs the Movie.
My wife: (for my daughter) - Have friends who are supportive of you, share you values, and will be there when you need.
Me: (for my daughter) - Have friends who are female...you are not allowed to associate with males.

I know that today's society casts a somewhat unfavorable light on many Dads because the Mom runs the house......."just look at the way those poor kids are dressed, Bangle in pink pants with a red t-shirt and socks with sandals.  And poor Corduroy.....Adidas shorts and sandals with no jacket in this weather.   I'd  bet Dad dressed them."    Maybe Dad thought Bangle (who is 17 years old) and Corduroy (who is 15) could pretty much dress themselves.....

It's not that we don't care....it's just Dad's expect thinking...Mom's just issue instructions.

Togetherness = 'Do it my way'

Birthday

"Don't let your hearts be troubled. Trust in God, and trust also in me. There is more than enough room in my Father's home. If this were not so, would I have told you that I am going to prepare a place for you? When everything is ready, I will come and get you, so that you will always be with me where I am. And you know the way to where I am going." John 14:1 - 4



"For we know that when this earthly tent we live in is taken down (that is, when we die and leave this earthly body), we will have a house in heaven, an eternal body made for us by God himself and not by human hands" 2 Corinthians 5:1

“For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.”  Romans 8:38-39

Grant Eternal Life to Him O Lord, and let Perpetual Light Shine upon Him

"In the arms of the angel, may you find some comfort here" 

Rest in Peace

AVERY RENE LITTLETON
April 8, 1995 - December 27, 2010