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Recently, I've felt kind of like King Solomon: The smartest man in the room and entirely surrounded by Jews... No, wait; that can't be right. On any number of levels - and I didn't even mention my purple robe. Give me a minute... ... OK - I think I know what I meant to say about me vis-a-vis (how I loathe that phrase), the great King: All is folly, and I feel it in spades right now: The "race for the White House" is about as interesting as watching an ant fight another ant over a sunflower seed. Actually - now that I think about it - it's not nearly that interesting. After all, Animal Planet and National Geographic get better ratings than C-Span (probably) so I guess that says something about either them or us. Either way: *YAWN* (Actually, I hear that serious, criminal charges against obama are lingering just below the surface and they will be aired as soon as the clinton campaign can find a way to leak them to the press WITHOUT their fingerprints being in evidence. And I'm being Completely. Serious. About. This. They should contact me; I'm third on the list of People Who Don't Want To See obama Become President.) The other thing that I should mention is the fact that I have the Death Star back and have been driving it for 3 days now - having retrieved it early Saturday evening. And let me tell you, it purrs like a kitten and roars like a lion. It's great, but I'm still a bit timid about slamming the pedal to the floor. We will now pause while those of you who have ever ridden with me retire to your laughing couches.
...
... Are you breathing regularly again? Ready? OK, let's resume... Yes, it's true. And better yet, (and less surprising), I'm swearing an oath here to get the oil changed at regular, dealer-recommened, intervals. And since I'd changed the air filter once in the past 119,000 miles, I hereby promise to do it at least twice as often in the next 120,000 miles. Man, do I know how to protect my investment, or what?!? And speaking of my "investment," I'm going to brag just a little as I say that I wrote a check for the repairs. That's right; if you're surprised by that, you're not alone - the cashier had already prepped her credit card machine position in anticipation of getting a visa or an American express - only to have to re-configure her desk in order to run a check instead. We paid cash for the repair. Cash in the amount of 6,100 dollars, (Well, $6099.69: I wouldn't want to exaggerate). I then brought the Death Star back to life - and adjusted the seats, mirrors and radio, since every mechanic who works on my truck seems to be a near-sighted, giant liberal cyclops - and drove away, only to notice that they seemed to have left roughly 2/3rds of a cup of gas in my tank. Is this right?!? How is this fair?!? What was I expecting? Well, perhaps enough gas to actually get my BLOODY TRUCK OF THE BLOODY LOT IN THE FIRST PLACE!!! So, OK - I actually got that. I guess. But still... The best part of the entire weekend - aside from EVERYTHING the boys did in those hours - is when I drove away from the gas pump after filling up and hearing the couple in the next bay arguing about how much to put in the tank; he said 10 gallons and she demurred: 4 gallons was enough, since she had nowhere to go this week. I suspect that since he was the one at the pump, her 4Runner got 10 gallons. Then things got strange... I was watching my pump as I noticed she was watching me. Now, I'm well beyond the age where I would attach any ... ... physical meaning to this sort of attention, so I naturally assumed I was delusional. I finished filling my tank - to the tune of $100 - and loaded up and drove off. Before I was out of the bay, I saw the dud(e) who was pumping gas for her walk across the island in order to read the display I left behind. I saw him mouth, "hundred" before I left that particular field of vision and I am only left with questions... A tale I'll tell later. Probably. But for now, let's have a joke! An Englishman, a Scotsman and a Pollack walk into a bar. The Bartender asks, "What is this - some kind of a joke?" We've entered Meta-land and I couldn't be happier about it, frankly: The "Twilight Zone" hasn't even begun and I haven't yet started to watch it, (obviously), even while the sirens wail along the "hiway" that backs to our property. But that's a story for a different day. As we may yet see... There is a word in the English language - actually, there are Millions of them, but I'm considering a certain one of them at the moment: it's rather short in length, has German roots (as best I can research), and starts with the Anglo version of an "F." Are we on the same page now? Good; because it's all I can do to not use that particular word in every-other sentence on this webpage and everywhere else I might EVER speak the American version of what passes for "English" these days... So there we are. And now, a short story. My folks were kind enough to lend me their "extra" car. They delivered it at almost exactly 9:00 on Tuesday night, which turned out to be bedtime for the kids, so they were able to go upstairs and reasonably 'surprise' the kids as they were about to be tucked in anyway, so everybody won that one. At any rate, I had to transport myself into the office and I was about half-way there when the car died what seemed to be a complete death; Until it didn't exactly happen. Kid pics to follow. Today. Keep looking... HOW IN THE WORLD! did I let another 'earth day' slip through my grasp?!? What was I thinking? WAS I thinking -- because I really have to confront that question today; on the day that is the farthest from the next earth day, I have to wonder if I even considered the possibility that I was ignoring yet another earth day. And then - of course - I realize that I had indeed ignored another earth day because I was unable to celebrate it in my usual way; that is, stripping the catalytic converter from my truck, filling it with 50 gallons of leaded fuel and taking the family strip-mining, (the only difference being that we'd have to do a bit more travel than we did in years past, but I think that's coincidental at this point). (Oh, and the fact that I don't actually have access to my truck, yet. I'm being assured that that's about to change, but more on that - and those related circumstances - further down in this post.) Movie Review: Fingerprints. This movie was pretty much everything I expected it to be, but it suffered from those very same low expectations. Which is to say that it was a good story brought low by a really, REALLY, weak plot point. And it was then used as a recurrent for the modern story, (such as it was), and it was all acted out in ways that made the viewer wince in pain. Almost as if michael moore was the director, I suppose... What is today - Wednesday? well, it might be Thursday, but that's probably just wishful thinking, as far as I'm concerned. Stilll... Can I tell you about my boys? Well, I will eventually. Because they will be the ones who save me. It has always been as it's always been and I'm not about to be the exception.
... Thank you Well, I'd like to write that my life suqs at the moment. In fact, I think I will; Things just suq right now. And it's not as if I'm merely talking about all of the usual things I gripe about here: Oh no - not by a long shot. I'm actually griping about big, important things that seem to be shaping my life at the moment... It's not enough that I moved off the hill and into the burbs. It's not enough that I find myself in immediate need of a lawnmower - the very piece of equipment I cannot secure because my truck will be off the road for the remainder of the week. It's not enough that I'll be working from home tomorrow, because there is much more time left to the week. (And please don't phone/write with offers of financing, unless you're going to completely underwrite our rebuilding effort at no cost to yourself: because we don't borrow money. FROM ANYONE. EVER. Thank you.) Here's the big problem, as I see it: I have accepted the fact that MY LIFE now exists on a different realm that it once did: I live off a highway instead of off a mountain. And things are going to have changed accordingly. And the fact that they have should surprise nobody - least of all me... So I'm learning to water lawns and plant flowers and remembering how to turn soil in the moonlight so that weeds don't germinate in the sunlight - not that anyone knows or appreciates that particular fact - - ... But then I do go on, don't I?
I can't but help but ask the question, "What am I doing here?" because it seems so very fitting to this circumstance: which is to say, "what am I doing here?" because others have done it so much better and much more to the point and without so much of the nonsense you find here... More succinctly, more professionally, more elloquently and more pointedly. Other than that, I'm all over it. Thank you for your effort in my regard; My truck? Well... Well, that headline was true enough when I wrote it a few hours ago: I was walking alone through this strange house in this strange location while The Wif was at Church and the kids were at Grandpa's Birthday dinner. As for me, well, you've read the headline... And it was true at one time. As for now - well - everyone's home and most of them are in bed while I find myself sitting at one of our many computers while I contemplate the acid burning through the skin on both my shins as I look back at the many "important events" that transpired this weekend; not the least of which is how I ended up with acid splashed on my shins, but we may or may not get to that as we move forward. So let's move forward, shall we? Last Friday was my regularly scheduled day off, so I of course loaded the hours with planned trips to my allergist and my GP - both of whom want to kill me for undisclosed reasons. (Undisclosed to me, at least) And I don't want to say outloud how close they are to their goal, but I doubt any of you would recognize my voice if you heard it today: I'm wheez-y, I'm weak and I sound particularly whiny to myself, but that may be projection on my part, based on the fact that it's pretty much all I hear from my boys right now. still, that's me at the moment... So after my allergist appointnent - ("You're lungs are a mess!!) - I then headed up the hill to my doc, only to find that MY TRUCK EXPLODED along the way!! I milked it for as long as I could, but I suspect that by continuing to drive it, I intensified the damage and now I'm fully prepared that I need a completely new engine - at something nearing 4 grand - in order to see it move again. And here you thought that was the I called the tow truck and I called The Wif and I called to cancel my appointment; two were calls for help and one wasn't, but they were all successful. So the hours I spent on the side of the road now mean nothing. Just like always. Except that my truck is now in the shop and I have only to wait in order to be informed of how serious the damage is. Not to mention how long I'll have to wait in order to get the reimbursement for the towing charge. But we're not going to mention that, right? Another "big thing" that crossed our path this weekend was when I looked out of our window at about Midnight on Saturday only to see our neighbor (ask me for details), being arrested by a female/male/cop team on my lawn. I'm serious. I even went so far as to put on a shirt (because normally I'm without one - relish THAT detail!) and peek my head out to ask, "Is everything OK?" I was told, "Yes, Sir," and it was better than I expected; I mean, "Sir." Who can do better than that?!? So I'm online at the store (the 'online' bit having been borrowed from
Dice and with a deep sense of
gratitude toward our east coast cousins who were too wimpy to leave their homes and travel out
this way, but whose language somehow foretold of the Internet long before such a thing was
even dreamable), when I hear some woman My answer? "April." Of course, I kept this to myself - as I am slowly learning to do in my old age - but that doesn't make the answer any less true... The fact that we get both warm weather AND violent snows during our fourth month should be no surprise to anyone who's spent at least a couple of Aprils in the region; it's probably April and November - or possibly Septober - that prove to be our most volatile months, weather-wise. And NO fall month can compare to the first full Spring month. It's just not possible, for some reason. Probably global warming... ... As for the local reaction to the snow, all is fairly well received: having lived for almost 2 years in Evergreen, the kids are very well acquainted with both the concept and the reality of snow; they know it when they see it. And it doesn't seem to bother them in the least. Good. The larger problem now lies with my trees: snow is a tree-killer, in case you didn't already know that, (in which case you'd be in front of me in the grocery line); Worse yet, I planted two, one gallon "Quaking Aspens" just beyond our back deck this weekend and they've already been brushed of the damaging snow - lest The Wif's investment in my birthday presents be killed by the late storm, (I don't know that I shared my reaction with you: when I discovered that the Family had bought me two Aspen trees I actually said - before I had time to think about it - that it wasn't a gift so much as it was, "a project." I've already paid for that remark in several ways). Still - the 'frosting' of the trees has a beautiful effect and it almost makes me enjoy living where we are. But that effect will be short-lived and I'll soon find myself shouting over the traffic much to no avail. Such is the current state of my affairs...
I don't know about you, but I've always been tuned into advertising - even before Superbowl ads became more popular than the game itself - quite possibly because I imagine that I'd be rather good at it. I mean, I know the language and I'm a student of human nature and I honestly think that I could craft a commercial or two in favor of a particular product/service, or at the very least head off another "Nova" disaster. (In case you don't know elementary Spanish or have missed George Lopez's routine on the subject, the legend goes that when Chevy advertised the Nova in Spanish speaking areas, it was a complete failure. Because in Spanish 'VA' means GO and 'NO' means NO. Therefore, a NOVA is - quite literally - a no go. It might be an urban legend, but I like the story all the same) So it is through that particular prism that I pay attention to advertising that crosses my path; namely - "I could do better." I now share with you my experiences with commercials through my eyes/ears... The Gnome was cute at first. Even saucy at times. But now he's grown old and tired and is primed and ready to go to his eternal rest. It's nothing personal -- it's just his time. I'm so glad that Jamie Lee has transitioned from Red-Hot, Big-Boobed Sex Symbol to someone so very willing to help me poop regularly. And so gracefully, too. I guess it foretells the future for the rest of us, maybe... There's a radio ad for a company that I've referenced before ("blowtorch and a drill"),
that's running now that just chafes my nose: the I don't know what chemistry.com is thinking - as a corporate identity; why in the world would you advertise a dating service that features people that were rejected by another dating service?!? I mean, I guess there's an audience out there for such people, but I imagine it consists largely of people who were also rejected by the more scrutinous online service! Oh, and as one who has been through the 'direct buy' speil, I'm pretty sick of their ads at this point. And in case you're curious about them, feel free to email me before signing up for a "tour." I can save you 3 hours of your life that you'll never get back otherwise... Well. It's April 15th and we all know what that means: Julius Caesar has been dead for a month now and I have ABSOLUTELY NOTHING to show for it... (OK - that one was just for me. Sometimes I have to do that in order to stay sane. Or rather, in order to help me to stay sane. It hasn't worked yet, but someday it'll pay off in a big way) Today is Income-Redistribution Remembrance Day - otherwise known as THE LAST FRICKIN' MINUTE YOU HAVE TO FILE YOUR TAXES BEFORE YOU'RE CARRIED AWAY IN HANDCUFFS!! Or something like that; I forget the exact title -- it's not like I'm from 'round these parts, exactly. Anyway, for the first time in years I won't be crunching the midnight gas in order to complete my taxes in time. Also - for the first time in years - we don't owe anybody even a thin dime; refunds all 'round and we have only to sit back and wait for the cash to roll in. Now, many of you who have paid attention to my previous rants on the same subject know how much I loathe the gleeful reception of a refund as a windfall. This is NOT that; I know that we're only getting money back this year because our circumstance changed so drastically LAST year: The Wif's income was cut by two-thirds - from around 140K to about 35K - and our withholding hadn't changed, at least by percentage. And that all evens out in a smallish, (about $350 if I remember correctly) check from the gubermint to make things right. Better yet, (if there's another upside to The Wif's diminished work schedule), we're now somehow entitled to a greater share of what we've collectively earned. Now that we're earning so much less than we once did. We - as a Nation - are so completely screwed... How is it that our Main Earner can cut her hours to shreds and we somehow owe less in taxes? Do we really understand what that means? If you succeed - as we had - you pay a ton of taxes, but if you slow down and take it easy, you're pretty much ignored by the system and can get away with paying much less. How is that Kosher? Well, today is Tax Day and I'm pretty sure that just like every other year, I'm the last among you to file. So be it and besides, I work best under pressure. Which is to say that I filed our returns with the appropriate authorities last week, and I expect our refund by Wednesday of next week: But don't let that keep you from clinging to me for filing advice.. HA! Ha ha aha ha ana ha ha haaa...! OK. So it's Friday night and my birthday dinner is nigh; I have to shape 5 pounds of hangamur into patties, slice a 'mater and an onion, arrange cheese slices on a plate, add the leaves to the dining room table, move chairs as needed, start the charcoals, (I'm a purist when it comes to blackening hot dogs over fire), place the buns/jacob(ketchup)/silverware/plates on the newly-expanded table, put the meat on the grill, (burning my eyes and my knuckles and the meat as time goes on), bring fresh fixin's to the table and finally sit down to prepare 2 cheese-onion-dogs. Mind you, I said, Prepare. It would still be some time before I would be able to sit down and enjoy said dogs, (Hebrew National: "Strong enough for a gentile, but made for a Jew!"). This was due to the fact that I was left with the seat closest to the kitchen, (a coincidence, I'm sure), and whenever someone needed something, I leapt into service in order to provide it for them. AND I'M NOT COMPLAINING! It's a role I'm growing into: that of serving my family, (in this case, literally). I got the sodas, checked the grill and hummed along willfully and happily in the background as I enjoyed the conversation. The kids ran and yelled and were sometimes reminded (by me) to "keep it down" but it seems that that's just how I like it. Because I LOVED it... The good news flowed like honey in the spring: I had few gifts, (for I have no room for many gifts); a shirt, a shaving mirror, a DVD that promised to keep the kids busy for at least an hour... what more could a man want? Well, perhaps the promise of sleeping in - which was all but a sure bet because the kids didn't go to bed until about 11:00 that night, and well worn out by their older cousins. HELLLLLL-OOOOO 9:45! Saturday morning, 7:10. Signs of life from the boys' room come over the monitor. Or so I was told: I was still asleep. The Wif goes in and - in an effort to allow me to sleep - yells at the boys to quit fighting and to put away all the books they've liberated from the shelf. One problem: she hadn't turned down/off the monitor, so it sounded to me as if she were yelling directly into our bed. And I paid attention. We suffered many squabbles - the boys and us - and eventually I got up with the kids and
fixed the traditional Saturday breakfast: French Toast. Together, they ate half a loaf. We
then got dressed, (by "we" I mean, "they"), and then they played downstairs. (Finally) As
that went on, I did the dishes, (still several loads backed up from the birthday dinner),
and started to clean the stove and counters. As 11:00 approached, I went up to our bedroom
to see if The Wif was I was shocked by what I found... She was indeed awake and on the move and frantically getting dressed so as to be very nearly on time, but when I entered the room, she broke into a slight string of tears; "I'm sorry," she said, "I fell back to sleep when I didn't mean to!" ??? Now, hold the phone: Just months ago, I used to catch a significant amount of guff if I was the one to sleep in on even a semi-constant basis. Time was when she asked - Nay, REQUIRED of me - that I be the one to greet the children as their day broke from time to time. And now? She seems to be blaming me for stepping into that role?!? Even if I said that it makes no sense, that would make no sense... The kids - and even I - survived this wild turn of events. We had the toast, we played and we had fun. Even after Mommy was dressed and left for her Saturday Tea we had 'Snack Lunch,' (cheese, nuts, yogurt, strawberries), and started our naps. All went well and Grandma showed up to cart the kids away just as their naps were scheduled to end. Talk about yer good timing! As for Sunday - well, Sunday's another story. Let's just say that being kid-free allowed us time to devote to raking, planting trees/flowers, fertilizing the remaining grass and trying out the new sprinkler. And the new spreader. But the sprayer will have to sit idle until later in the week, I suppose. Holy cow - I'm becoming a Lawn Guy! Who could have seen THAT coming?!?
Happy birthday to you (Thank you, one and all. Now - feel no need to take this any further than we already have; I know you're out there. Thanks much.)
(This comes with a big Tip O' The Hat to Code Monkey; always on the lookout for quality material, he is. Which can never explain why he bothers to read this krep, but we're still very grateful for his presence.) A five year old boy attended Sunday school and there he learned about the creation of Adam and Eve and how Eve was made from the rib of Adam. A couple of days later, the little boy went to his mother complaining of a pain in his side. His mother asked him what was wrong. Eventually the boy told her "mommy, my side hurts -- I think I'm having a wife!"
(Closed Circuit to my kindly benefactor: I left your email at work, so the exact wording isn't exact. Still, I think we proved your point, yes? Thank you.) No, I'm not talking about the hallucinations created by the latest mix of my anti-psychotic drugs, (I'm just kidding - if I were plagued by psychotic urges I would have long ago lived them out against those "drivers" in front of me who take 20 minutes to make a right turn), I'm talking about the peculiar leanings of the political left in this country and their eager willingness to turn EACH AND EVERY SINGLE PARAGRAPH THEY STUMBLE ACROSS - no matter how innocuous - as a political battlefield. I've experienced this personally a number of times because I commented on a particular thread, foolishly thinking I could engage in reasonable debate, only to learn that the lefties who troll such things only want to throw hammers. (The most outrageous of these that sticks in my mind was some brain-dead moron who - in support of abortion "rights" - insisted that I would be no worse off had my youngest been aborted, which is idiotic; I might not have known any better, but I would have definitely been worse off.) The problem is that politics is all these people know. Years ago - in liberal 101 - they were told that 'the personal IS the political' as the old saying goes. To that end, everything that affects their household suddenly becomes a matter of Great National Import. Thus the foolish notion behind hillary's latest "3 AM" ad. You may have seen or heard about it: 'It's 3AM at the White House and the phone rings. It's a call about the crisis in sub-prime mortgages. Who do you want to answer the phone?' Personally, I hope that whomever's President is at Camp David when that call comes - BECAUSE THE PRESIDENT HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH IT!!!! Ahem. As I was saying, there's an incredible tendency on the left to look to Washington for all the answers. And if not Washington, then certainly their other higher powers: ecology, animal rights, global warming, wastewater runoff, flat feet, alar - whichever catastrophe is in the headlines at the time. For surely there must be some great outrage to be had somewhere. Because manufactured outrage is the earth-friendly bio-fuel of the great leftist machine; anything they disagree with is not only wrong, it's EEEE-VIILLLLL. And now that I've stated the premise, (Finally), I present my evidence: First, an article about Terri Schiavo, written by her brother and sure to be controversial and certainly has some political aspects to it. Read the article and peruse the comments and then decide for yourself who presents the most logical and sane additions to the discussion. Another example is this article by Frank Pastore. It's truly controversial - and ultimately political in nature: it's about how he held the record for eating a large steak. Now, you may not see the political angle there and if not, good for you! It means you're thinking is not clouded by a Messiah Complex. But you have only to read 3 comments down to find someone who is. A part of me thinks it's a sad state of affairs to go around worrying about how each and every piece of fruit, meat or shoelace might not be organically grown and harvested by fair-labor lawed workers. A much larger part of me thinks it's pathetic... I know this family - for purposes of this discussion let's call them the 'Farmodys' - who serve as a cautionary tale in at least one regard; family communication. Now, don't get me wrong here - I'm not saying that my family is perfect or that the Farmodys are flawed in every way. I'm only pointing out a serious problem with very serious consequences... As I said, the Farmodys are seriously lacking in the field of family communication. How flawed? Well, the parents of this particular branch of the family are still shielding their youngest daughter from "bad news." Big or small, if they perceive the news as less than shining, they refuse to tell her anything. Presumably because they don't want to damage the fragile little darling. Their daughter who turned 40 this year. Well, since the older daughter and the younger have a good relationship the information filters down in spite of their efforts. Now, I suspect that there's this sort of dynamic - if not to this extent - in every family, so it's a pretty lame example, right? Well I'm just getting started... Some years ago, one of the uncles suffered a pretty serious heart attack and was rushed to the emergency room, (how outdated that phrase looks in the day of 'ER'). The other uncle called the Farmody home and left the following message on the machine: "Hey J - it's K. Give me a call when you have a chance." Sure, it's not quite, "meet us at the ER - it may be your last chance to talk to your brother," but I suppose the thought was there. (I feel the need to add that K is a great guy who seems to be trapped in a crappy dynamic. I think he grew tired of swimming upstream, if you will.) OK, that seems pretty serious and it startled me once I finally heard about it, (last week). Here's the one that takes the cake: The patriarch of the local Farmody family contracted cancer a number of years ago. I just happened to answer the phone and was told by the matriarch to, "listen to what I'm going to tell you, but don't react..." Well, with a lead-in like that, who could resist? There seems to be a theme at work here, no? Of course, the best is the news I just heard this week: the Farmody patriarch suffered a recurrence of the cancer and had to start chemo a while ago. Then I learned that he suffered a stoke in January - again, news that had been blacked out to everyone in the family, much less myself. To heap insult upon injury, apparently it was known within their walls that even with the chemo he had only 6 months to 1 year to live. They knew this SEVERAL MONTHS AGO!! What the HELL is up with that?!? Let me ask - how much time has this stupid, idiotic policy of family secrecy cost him with his daughters? With his grandchildren? How is it more important to keep "control" than to allow this man's dying days be filled with happy memories of time spent with his children and grandkids? OK, it's fair to say that parents and family should be a priority throughout our lives and not require such a drastic circumstance before we all pay attention to each other, but we all know better; life gets in the way and things get hectic and we start to take things and people for granted. But once we know the end is nigh, it's a reminder to circle the wagons and spend time together reliving old memories and making new ones. How sad is it that even those last moments are stolen because we're afraid to admit that there are things we can't control... (Be ready to read in sentences - quick fire style, (for I haven't time nor consciousness for any other of my own nonsense at this point)... The sharing that usually exists among families is both present and absent around here this week. I'm glad I had at least some part in that, because they deserved it. In the field of banking: I have a really hard time believing that our Nation's banks are in a serious state of suffering when I see more banks than 7-11's. Oh, wait: that was the OLD comparison: these days I have to say that I see more banks than "Donald's," (as my youngest son/child says -- EACH AND EVERY TIME WE DRIVE PAST ONE! If ever you're starving in the wild and find yourself in need of a QuarterPounder - or suspect you might be - be sure to bring him along. He's a great Food Compas).
THIS isn't news, really; it's expected. As New Media strengthens its grip, it's bound to be the case that old media will try to consolidate their position. As such, those with the tighter reign force the others to form loose alliances. It's the way of Nature. ... Unfortunately, it's also the way of Nature that I feel myself losing control of my keyboard - since it's suddenly taken to flying wildly about the room. And while I continue to feel for "home row," please hope that I've made it this far. Because writing is one thing: writing code is something else. And uploading it properly is a task that I've ignored for several weeks - if not months. If you can read this, I might be back on the right track. Then again, maybe I've just gotten lucky. How I hope it's the latter, but that's just me, I'm sure... Well, if ANYbody's a bigger jinx to their own life than I am, I'd like to hear about it. Seriously - the second I relate some detail about my life, regardless of how large or small, I can count on some aspect of that mention to change in ways that are significant to me. This happened as recently as as my last post; I wake up feeling all warm and oozy that Daddy would get to spend about 2 hours - uninterrupted - with his little girl, only to find that it wasn't going to happen.... As Mommy returned to bed, (after dropping "M" off at school - another favorite part of my life), she told me that when she was going through "M's" backpack that morning she discovered a packet of pictures. Pictures of another student. A packet "M" swore she had already returned to the school. This is a problem far larger than it might sound to you, because it has little to do with an envelope of pictures. It has to do with the lie, and we don't put up with even the slightest amount of that around here. Small lies, big lies, lies against person or property -- doesn't matter: we don't even start down that path around Stonestead 2.0. Not a chance... Here's the thing; I don't expect them to never, ever tell us a lie. That's one of the boundaries little kids have to press against from time to time just to be reminded that the fence is still standing and hasn't moved. So my general philosophy is to do my best to instill an environment hospitable to Truth Uber Alles and one which generally pukes on the idea of telling a lie. I think we're doing fairly well - the recent backsliding not withstanding. But here's the more practical part of the story: lying about handing a bloody envelope to your teacher?? (I'm using the term 'bloody' in the English sense there: No actual blood was spilt during the manipulation of those pictures.) How crazy is that?!? Whatever happened to, "Sorry, Mommy - I forgot"? Why tell a simple, stupid lie about such a simple, stupid thing that could quite easily be verified with a cursory look through your book bag? Why risk getting in trouble under those circumstances? Well, because she's a kid, I suppose. Oh, and speaking about 'getting in trouble' - she did. No spanking, although we're now able to do that legally. No going to bed without dinner, although we're now able to THAT legally as well. No, here's what happened last Friday morning; she ran down the hill and dove into me with full force that we've each gotten used to. I lifted her and held her to my chest. She then had to walk to the truck - which was a new twist on an old routine. We talked about why that was and why lying was so destructive to trust and the importance of telling the truth - even when it could be less than convenient to the person having to tell it. We then went to the bank. But she had to stay in the car. We also skipped Hobby Lobby and Target. And it sucked...
I'm getting as tired as you are of these By way of brief discussion, it's a powerful and highly addictive sedative. How powerful? Each pill is 1 mg of the stuff, and my dose is 1/2 a pill. How addictive - let's hope and pray that I'll never find out. That element of my treatment is really, really scaring me, frankly. I'm such an addictive personality anyway, the last thing I need to receive as a course of treatment is a sedative which can prove addictive. On the other hand, I guess if it were my life-long desire to go out like a 1940's starlet, I now have the method at hand. (Don't worry - I aspire to a higher cause than that.) Of course, the worst part is that I firmly believe that I'm the last person who needs a bloody (see above) sedative; I'm a laid-back kind of guy who tends to roll with the hand his dealt, (he said, mixing his metaphors in a way that should be illegal). I guess if I take them at night and they help me get a deeper, satisfying sleep it'll be worthwhile endeavor. Besides, I'm really, REALLY trying to believe that these sawbones might actually know a thing or two about the human body and am doing my best to follow their advice as best I can. Sheesh: no wonder they call what they do, "Practice..." (First off, I can't believe - nor forgive myself - for this week's terrible lapse in content here. Was it really Tuesday when I last posted something that completely sucked so badly as that did? And yes, I allow myself to type the word "sucked" on this site while I would never - and even scold The Wif for her use of it - use it at home. It'll be years before the kids discover the full extent of The Web, and even that will have changed in the meantime, much less before they realize that Daddy has a site on which he writes about them on a pretty much daily basis. And let's keep it to ourselves that I reveal all secrets freely - if in a clouded way, OK?) Today is my most readily enjoyed day of the month. Well, there's one other, but it's EXACTLY the same as today. Except for next month, when there will be a third day like today, which is something I need to prepare for, but still.. Tomorrow is pay day, which is cause enough for celebration, but not the cause for my celebration; tomorrow is the day that I pick up my daughter from school, we visit Hobby Lobby together, maybe go into Target to shop for trinkets and shiny things, and we go to the bank. Now, going to "The Bank" has changed significantly since I first held a savings passbook, but I believe the message is the same: Here is the building - or a building associated with the building - where we store our slightly-less-than-liquid money. And "M" loves it. She really does and already seems to grasp a certain part of the procedure: She's already recognized - without full knowledge of the exact amounts and proposed purposes - that a large portion of what I withdraw goes to Mommy, and the pittance that's left remains with me for the coming two weeks. I'll have Jack-In-The-Box at least 3 times; As for "Donald's," (as The Binkster says), we'll just have to wait and see... Still, it's the crowing achievement of my life to be able to stand among all the hens as my Daughter runs at full force into my arms. She's trying to knock me down, but she just can't yet. I even believe that once she's able to knock me down, she'll no longer run into my arms; such is the way of these things. But that's a different story for a different time. I'll enjoy it while it lasts... &nsp;
Two elderly ladies had been friends for many decades. Over the years they had shared all kinds of activities and adventures. Lately, their activities had been limited to meeting a few times a week to play cards. One day they were playing cards when one looked at the other and said, "Now don't get mad at me.....I know we've been friends for a long time, but I just can't remember your name. I've thought and thought, but I can't recall it. Please tell me what your name is." Her friend glared at her. For at least three minutes she just looked at her. Finally she said, "How soon do you need to know?"
Just sayin', cuz I'm almost there... OK. So yesterday's revelation brought more than a few questions, (and congratulations), from regular readers and I'm more than happy to answer them through email, but why bother when I can get a nightly post out of them? For reasons of simplicity, I'll only be answering questions, and not posting the questions. Let's get started... A: Yes, the kids are all related to each other. There was a question of paternity for one of them, but the court records all lean towards a common 'X' chromosome and so was excused for cause. The kids have all 'swum' in the same gene pool as far as anyone concerned is concerned. A: Yes, it's truly final; there is no way, no how, that these kids will be removed from our household - short of us doing some act that would put us on the radar of the very people who placed them with us in the first place. So it's not very likely. To say the least... A: Yes, we can legally spank them now. A: Yes, we will if circumstances warrant it. A: No, Grandma won't be bothered to any of her visitors -- other than ME, that is. A new month always brings new responsibilities for me. We (READ: "I") have instilled a number of routine maintenance items into the calendar surrounding the first of a new month; I do "M's" calendar - noting all important upcoming dates, as well as changing both our paper calendar and our perpetual calendar in the kitchen. The first also marks the day that the humidifiers get new filters, (or at least it will once we can find all the parts to them again), and even-numbered months mean new wiper blades for the vehicles. To further complicate things, the first of the month always precedes the first Saturday of the month, (DUH!), which means vehicle inspections; we check all the lights - from head- to tail- - (oh, it looks like I'm in a mood - bear with me), and clean the trash from the cabs. Which means that it takes 2 hours just to do Mommy's car... I can say, "we" check the cars because I now have a helper; "M" steps on the breaks and turns on the lights and signals as I ask her to. She can be a real trooper, but like the boys, only if she chooses to be. At any rate, today dawns a new day and a new month and there's far more than that that's new around here. Namely, we can now stack firewood higher than 3 feet tall. We can serve the kids unpasteurized milk. We can buy a trampoline and - most promisingly - we are now legally able to spank our children for NO GOOD REASON WHATSOEVER! Why the new freedoms? Well, most of you have already guessed but I've never been able to avoid stating the obvious. All of those things - and many, MANY more - are legal prohibitions against how a foster parent may treat a foster child. And we no longer have foster children in this house... That's right: As of yesterday at a11:12AM, these guys are officially ours. Legally. Without question. DONE. Now I know that given the date and my tendency for shenanigans in the past some of you might be a bit skeptical. Understandable. But rest assured in this: I'm not taking it back. There is NOT a "just kidding" attached to this post, today or ever. These little monsters are ours, now and forever; in this life and the next, (presumably). That was even made clear during our court appearance, ("do you understand that this adoption can never be un-done?" "I certainly hope so"). The hearing itself was rather routine, except for a couple of things; every county employee who had ever been close to the case showed up for it -- even though two of them had the day off, (and I think two of them are preggers). The kids were crawling all over Grandma during the questioning and the judge seemed to completely buy into the concept, (I imagine she sees a bunch of that). And that - aside from the question above, I got asked one question more than The Wif did. Something to the effect of, "Mr. Stone, have you left your criminal past behind you?" (Well, at least she bothered to read the file, I guess. I'm sure it did my Mother proud to hear that, although I doubt she did). When The Wif noted to the judge that she didn't ask that of her, the judge responded that she, too, "ha[s] a husband." Well, I guess that's it then: get married, invite a criminal record into your life. 'Nuff said, right? So I guess I have to apologize to two young ladies out there for what they'll eventually inherit as they welcome our boys into their lives. 'Cuz these guys could really be doozies if we're not careful; speeding, car crashes, destruction of public/and-or/private property, theft of quarries and stadiums... And just this morning I agreed - in court - to be held responsible for all of what they'll do in the coming years? Am I crazy?!? Yeah, probably. But when any one of them grabs me and says, "Love you, Daddy," it absolutely melts my heart and makes it all more than worthwhile. Good thing I keep my wallet on another level of the house...
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