Forget Santa, I'd rather kiss the dog.

 We were at the mall Saturday and there wasn't a line to see Santa and so my two middle boys hopped up onto the jolly old elf's lap. Ben told Santa he wanted wrestlin' stuff for Christmas and when Santa asked what else he wanted he said, 'just wrestlin' stuff.' Then he told Santa he'd been a good boy but that, 'daddy was on the naughty list.' Then Santa asked my 8 yr. old what he wanted and he said, 'a laptop and a cell phone.' At 8! What happened to G.I. Joe and race car tracks? I hope he's not to disappointed on Christmas morning. Then we tried to sit the 'baby' on Santa's lap, he started crimping up real fast and reaching for me, so I got him back right before the water works started. So? Where does the title from this blog come from? Well Saturday evening as we were pulling all the boxes of Christmas decorations out of the storage building the 'baby' was all hugged up on our dog, Danny Boy, and Danny Boy was trying to lick him and I said, 'Look Sam, Danny's trying to kiss you.' Now Sam loves to give kisses and sometimes he'll go back and forth between me and his mom saying 'kiss' and giving us kisses. So I should have know better than to say kiss and dog in the same sentence, but I didn't. So about that time the child that would have nothing whatsoever to do with Santa Claus leans over and kisses the dog square on the mouth. Hence the title, 'Forget Santa, I'd rather kiss the dog.'

Conversation with a 4 year old.

 I picked Ben up from playschool today and we had the following conversation.
"How was school today?"
"I don't like that yogurt."
"What yogurt?"
"That yogurt mommy packed in my bag. She (his teacher) put a note on it, said I don't like it." Sure enough I get home and the gogurt yogurt is still in the bag with a note from his teacher saying he wouldn't eat it.
"Did you play on the playground today?" I asked, knowing it had been raining all day.
"We went to the gym."
"Why didn't you play on the playground?"
"Because it was raining."
"What did you play?"
"I rode a motorcycle and played baketball (sic)."
"You rode a motorcycle!?" I asked with mock-surprise. Sounding a bit exasperated he replied, " A toy one."
Then he really did take me by surprise when he asked, "You know that game where Shaggy is dead?"
"Ah, no."  
"We played that, when Shaggy was dead." O-kay.
"Who were you?"
"Shaggy."
"You were dead?"
"No, Scooby was dead this time." Oh, of course.
"Maybe you should play nicer games." It was worth a shot.
"Nah, we don't wont to."      
"Whose idea was it to play this game?" Please don't let it have been yours, I thought, I really don't need to get notes home from the teacher for this.      
"I was just thinking about it today." Do 4 year olds really sit around and contemplate life and death?
"So it was your idea to play?" Please say no.
"No," yea, "it was Matties."
"Maddie, your sister?"
"No Mattie from school." Whew. So about now I'm thinking I need to change the subject or delve into the hows and whys of this game. I'm not real concerned because I've never know kids that age to be very organized players, Shaggy's dead is probably just a name for tag or something.  Thankfully his young mind thought of something much more important to discuss and as we pulled out on the highway he asked, "Can I have a snack?" Which was followed by another deep discussion on why we didn't have time to stop for a snack because after all it was, "just a snack."

My most favorite day of the year.

   There's a time and a place for everything under heaven, King Solomon wrote it and the Byrds sang it. For the purpose of my blog I say there's a time to be funny, which I often try and do, a time for introspection, a time to create and a time to reflect and with Thanksgiving, my most favorite holiday of them all (only minutes away as I write this) I think now would be as good a time as  any to reflect. I'm going to get a little sentimental and forgive me if I border on maudlin but it's the way I feel when I think of all the wonderful things in my life, there are so many things for me to be thankful for that a comprehensive list would go for days, so I'll just share those closest to my heart.
   I'm so thankful for a mother and father who raised me and loved me, I see and know so many people who didn't and don't have this basic need, two parents who worked to provide all my needs and most of my wants and that worked at their relationship, which was far from perfect, to provide a stable home for me and my sister. I'm thankful for a good job that pays decent and that I don't mind going too. A job that allows me to provide a roof over our heads, that allows us to have a full refrigerator and allows for plenty of life's comforts as well. I'm thankful for my children, as aggravating as they can sometimes be, they cause lots of worry and headache but make up for it with the joy they bring to my life. I'm thankful that they're all still healthy and I hope and pray they stay that way. I'm thankful for friends and family that smile when they see me and seem genuinely happy to see and here from me and, as silly as it is, I'm thankful for those friends and family that take the time to read this little blog. I know sometime tomorrow the question, what are you most thankful for, is going to come up and normally I'm wishy-washy on these kind of things but on this one I don't hesitate. I'm most thankful for my wonderful wife. Rainey has loved me and stood by me through some really difficult times, even through some times when she wished she didn't love me she still stayed right there, strong, the rock that not only our marriage but my whole life leaned upon. She's my cornerstone, holding the edifice of our life plum and square. She's also my best friend, the one I share my feelings, desires and fears with. The one I laugh with most often. She's beautiful and intelligent and I know I'd be lost without her. I'm also thankful that I can see that clearly now, there have been times when I've lost sight of how much we need each other, I hope I never do again. I love you Rainey, happy Thanksgiving. To all my friends, I love you guys, your the best, happy Thanksgiving.
   Now that I've got a little lump in my throat and a tear in the corner of my eye maybe it's time for a little levity. Thanksgiving marks the official start of the Christmas season and the earliest date I'll let myself listen to Christmas songs, so here's one to get ya' started: I want a Hippopotamus for Christmas.

It's Elmo's world, we're just living in it.

 This morning I took my two youngest to the park in Belmont, a very nice park, to play for awhile. Being a beautiful fall day with a little nip to the breeze we had on our pull-overs, mine and Sam's did not attract notice but Bens made him the star of the play ground. You may have guessed, given the title of the blog, that Ben was wearing an Elmo pull-over and you'd have guessed right. Ben's four and a big four at that and he was wearing this red hoodie with a large picture of every childs favorite Sesame Street resident on it, I don't know how we survived growing up before Elmo (Grover was always my favorite), and to a smaller child, well one smaller child in particular, he must have seen life sized. There were a few other children on the playground, all on the young side (young side of four mind you) and all a good deal smaller than Ben. One little boy, couldn't have been much more than a year old, took one look at Ben and his eyes grew large, he pointed at Ben and said 'Elmo'. He stared, star-struck, looked to his mom and said, "Momma, that Elmo." "Yes," replied the young fanatic's mother,"he's got Elmo on his shirt." Ben quickly pointed out to the woman that "That's my jacket, I've got wrestlers on my shirt." He proceeded to pull up his jacket to show her and she gave him a 'work with me kid' look and a nice little smile and nod. The young Elmo fan however was not to be dissuaded, he followed Ben around the playground much of the time we were there and occasionally would come up to him, wave at his 'jacket' and say, "Hey, Elmo." Eventually it came time for us to depart, I picked up Sam and told Ben to come on and we started away from the play equipment, Elmo's number one fan followed right along. His mother grabbed him by the arm right as he was leaving the play area, we told him bye and waved and he stood there on the edge of fandom and waved the way little kids do, with just their fingers moving, and said "Bye, Elmo." I'm sure if his mother would have let him he would have followed us all the way to, oh darn, I forget how you get there. Can you tell me? Can you tell me how to get, how to get to Sesame Street? How to get to Sesame Street?

Gaimania

I'm about a third of the way through my fourth Neil Gaiman book and I've just become more and more of a fan. This particular book is a collection of short stories, poems and oddities and like most short story collections some are better than others and some are maddeningly incomplete. There are some wonderfully imaginative  stories in here and I think that's what's so great about Gaiman is that his stories hold such a spark of magic, some are humorous, some dark, many are quite strange. One of my favorites so far is a poem (or is it just a short, short story?) titled Locks. Locks is about him telling his two year old the story of Goldilocks and how in doing so he's carrying on a tradition that goes back generations and about how his own reaction has changed to the story as he's grow older. It's really wonderful.
  I'm glad I'm still enjoying Gaiman as I picked up three of his books at GotBooks the other day, just because you like, or even love, a book by a writer doesn't mean you'll like everything by them. Those of you who read this probably know that I've listed Siddhartha by Hermann Hesse as my favorite book many a time and so I started trying to read more by Hesse, three other novels in and I don't know that I'll ever bring myself to try and finish his writings. Some were strange and one (The Glass Bead Game) committed the most horrible sin of being extremely boring. I read Vonnegut's Cat's Cradle and thought it was amazing, two other novels in and I'd be hard pressed to pick up another one of his. So great love and devotion to one story doesn't mean the author will always float your boat but for now at least Gaiman is still putting the wind in my literary sails.

Reading Lolita in Shelby

The title to this blog is a play on the title of another book "Reading Lolita in Tehran" by Azar Nafisi that is a non-fiction book about a book club that meets in Tehran to read banned books. As you can imagine there are many books banned in Tehran, I seem to recall that Pride and Prejudice was one, some seem very innocent to our western ideals, Lolita on the other hand, well I can kinda understand that. I just finished reading Vladimir Nabokov's Lolita, let me go ahead and say I enjoyed the book before I add that I can't completely fault those that would censor it. Lolita deals with a touchy subject, pedophilia (poor choice of phrasing there, but humorous enough not to change) and deals with it in a sensuous and at times comic manner. The narrator and protagonist is Humbert Humbert a pedagogical pedophile who, after spending time in several sanitariums, comes to live as a border in the home of a widowed women and her young daughter Dolores ("She was Lo, plain Lo, in the morning... She was Lola in slacks. She was Dolly at school. She was Dolores on the dotted line. But in my arms she was always Lolita.") Humbert is immediately enraptured by Lolita and begins trying to get as close to her as he can. I've heard in the media of young girls with older men referred to as Lolitas but as far as I know those girls were all older teens young Lo is but 12 when the story begins. That was one of the shocks that came with reading this story, a story that I had only a hazy idea of what it was about. The first misconception I had dispelled  as I began to read was that Nabokov was  a  Russian writer in the vein of Dostoevsky and Tolstoy. While, yes, he was from Russia and had written in Russian Nabokov became an American citizen in the 1940's and taught at a number of American universities and wrote in English. Lolita wasn't translated from Russian it was written in English (the first shock, to keep with the theme) . The home where Humbert meets Lolita is in Virgina not some Eurasian metropolis. The second shock was the afore mentioned age of Lolita. The third was the sensuousness of Humbert's narrative concerning Lo, you'd read these wonderfully written lines about his passion for her and then remember he's talking about a kid and be disgusted with it. Something wonderful that Nabokov was able to pull off was making Humbert a sympathetic character without ever letting you forget he was a villain and a perv and more than a little insane with lust. Humbert is writing his memoir from a jail cell so all along you know the long arm of the law eventually catches up to him and he does at the end feel remorse for his actions, I think this is how Nabokov saves Humbert from absolute villainy. There's a great passage near the end in which Humbert relates a scene in which he has stopped on an over-look to get some air, this is after Lolita has left him, and he can hear the sounds of children playing rising from the city below and he writes -"I stood listening to that musical vibration from my lofty slope, to those flashes of separate cries with a kind of demure murmur for background, and then I knew that the hopelessly poignant thing was not Lolita's absence form my side, but the absence of her voice from that concord." Wow, isn't that amazing literature? He realizes that his real crime was stealing Lo's childhood away from her. It's writing like this that rises this book to 'classic' level and saves it from what, by all means, is a terrible idea for a story. There's a postscript on this edition written by Nabokov and I like that he says he doesn't write books with a purpose or to teach a lesson, he writes them for the "aesthetic bliss" of the story. He said he first had the idea for, an wrote, a short story about a pedophile who marries a sick widowed woman to get close to her daughter and that story then evolved into Lolita. As you may well imagine he had, at first, a hard time getting the book published and it was originally published by a French publisher in 1955. That was the final shock, that a book about a sexually active 12 year old (she had experimented with a boy and a girl) and her pedophile step-father touring the country together having romps in sleazy hotels and then her leaving him for another pedophile (yes there was an even worse villain than Humbert, and he gets his in the end too) was published in good old 1955. They say each generation thinks they've invented everything, all the swear words, all the lasciviousness, all the perverts but let's face it from the dawn of civilization there have been those making rules and those breaking rules. To quote a good cliche - there's nothing new under the sun. At the end of the story when Humbert is driving away from the scene of the murder (I'm not telling whose murder) he writes that he felt, "I had disregarded all laws of humanity, I might as well disregard the rules of traffic.", where upon he switches over to the left lane and drives until he wrecks, a last final act of anarchy that he calls an "almost spiritual itch". Again, wow, great writing. I look forward to reading more Nabokov, hopefully something without such a perverse nature.

Oh no! Not again. Countinuing tales from the diaper pail.

 Yes ladies and gentlemen it's time for another stomach churning installment of 'Tales from the Diaper Pail'. While picking up my youngest to make room for the 8 year old to get out the door and catch the school bus I became aware of a none to nice odoriferousness wafting from his tiny self. So I take him to the changing table and clean him up, not a pleasant thing mind you but run of the mill, nothing like what was to come. Instead of sliding his pj's back on I thought I'd be a good thoughtful husband and go ahead and get the little one dressed. So the two of us go upstairs, he's walking around  in his diaper playing while I pick out an outfit for him. A minute passes, a minute, he walks around the side of the bed looking as though he is a native of some deep Congo tribe, his body painted with war paint. I say, "What have you got all over you?" He doesn't say anything but looks at me with this funny look on his face as if he were saying, "Well, I've never tried this before. It seems a little strange. What do you think?"
To which I answer, "Is that... (oh god, please don't let it be) poop?". Oh holy mother of God, it is poop!
I grab him by the arm and lead him around the side of the bed and to my utmost horror there lies a puddle, yes puddle, of poop. My gag reflex kicks in and I almost loose my breakfast, but I'm an old hand at this by now, so I bite back down the rising bile and spring into action. It's a triage. First remove the fecal body paint from the little monster, second get him diapered (and dressed this time), third clean. And then clean some more, and still a little more. Not the way I wanted to start my day, but thus is the joy of parent-hood, I just hope my pain and nausea can entertain and amuse my readers.

Karma Cat

    July 2007 a dedicated dental doctor named Donnie Deadmon died of a deadly disease. For three years he remained in limbo pleading his case to the powers that be before being assigned a lower reincarnation. Yes, a lower incarnation for while he had indeed been a dedicated dental doctor he had sacrificed his family and friends in pursuit of professional gratification. So three years to the day of his horrible death he reappeared upon this earth as a tiny little kitten. One of three in a litter born to an orphaned cat. His early lot in this new life did not proceed to nicely, his mother while out foraging for food to feed her children was struck down in her prime by a UPS truck, many animals I am told believe the UPS stands not for United Parcel Service but for Under these Wheels pets will Scream. Then in another blow of fate to his newly young life one of his sisters, already handicapped by the cruel machinations of destiny, perished. So this kitten and his surviving sibling wondered alone in the world until the day they were taken in and fed and cared for by a kindly grandfather. This grandfather of six new that his grandchildren would love and care for these lonely kittens and they did, immediately and exuberantly. Now several of the grandchildren all lived under one roof and they persuaded their already overtaxed parents to take in these two wayward kittens and like the Darlings accepting the Lost Boys they welcomed them to their home. Fate had finished dealing harshly with the former Mr. Deadmon and he found himself renamed Domino and living the luxurious life of a house cat. While his past life had all but faded from his mind and he was now occupied with chasing his tail and following the youngest child around waiting for him to drop some food he did maintain a curious fascination with teeth.
   While this tale may be a bit mendacious it will at least explain why this cat is always trying to jump on my chest and get in my grille.

www wendesday

I'm not even going to try and catch up on ones I've missed but today I thought I'd start afresh.
What did I last read? Flush by Carl Hiassen. I was under the impression, the impression given to me from the book jacket, that this was a comedy. I had hoped for a sort of Christopher Moore kind of romp, but it wasn't. About a 1/3 of the way into it I was disappointed to find it wasn't a comedy but an action/mystery and was on the very tame side of the road, which when I complained of this my daughter pointed out that Hiassen was a juvenile fiction writer, I hadn't know this. I was already invested in the who/what/when and where so I continued reading and once I had adjusted my expectations it was actually a pretty good story.

What am I reading now? Well I've been reading Clive Barker's Books of Blood volumes one to three but I believe I'm done with it. I read all the first volume and about half the second one and while some of them are good macabre stories there all a little much on the blood and guts side of horror for my taste. I'm not a fan of horror movies but being the month for Halloween I thought I'd read some scary stories, which I do occasionally like. While I liked some of these and couldn't stop reading others, it was kind of like driving past and accident and feeling bad for staring but not being able to help it. I began to feel a little uncomfortable with the stories, a little unclean, if you will. So I've decided to give up on the Books of Blood.

What am I reading next? Neil Gaimans Anansi Boys. It was the only other Gaiman book the library had other than American Gods which I just read a few weeks back, so I thought I'd give it a spin (spin, you know, like a spiders web?).

man there's a lot of red trucks in the world

The other day waiting in an exam room for a doctor to come in I'm holding the one year old up to look out the tiny little exam room windows. Trying to occupy and entertain him while the doctor apparently travels from some other time zone to get to us and I start pointing out the color and types of vehicles traversing the street in front of us. "Look Sam there's a black car and there's a red truck, and there's a blue mini-van, and there's a red truck, and there's a white Cleveland County van, and there's a red truck, and there's a blue car, etc..." So then on the way home we start counting red trucks (not blue cars like in that song where the kid says he's going to meet God. And then he calls God a she which I'm sure some people believe but I think most that say it are just trying to rebel against the status quot. I think if we believe in God and believe that God is all that and a bag of chips then we have to agree that God is not a sexually reproductive entity and would therefore not actually be male or female. Which is something the Judeo/Christian God has over the old Greek/Roman Gods, I mean you never knew when one of them my fly down and rape you. Of course the J/C God might allow your whole family to be killed off, rob you of all your possessions and cover you with boils just to prove how faithful you are but he's never raped anyone. Hmmm, I guess believers can't be choosers.) So, back on point. We counted, okay I counted Rainey turned it into a punch bug game and wore my arm out, about 30 red trucks between the doctors office to Wal-Mart and then to home. So like I said, there are a lot of red trucks in town. I'm still trying to get Rainey to stop punching me every time we see a red truck. And a beetle, and a convertible, and a p.t. cruiser, and a Jeep and God help if it's a red, beetle convertible.

top 3

You know how sometimes you just start thinking about random things. You do that don't you? It's not just me? Right? So tonight I was listening to an old tape copy of Randy Travis' Storm's of Life, which I think it's neat to note was Rainey's back before we got together, after 22 years of togetherness there's not much left that once belonged to only one of us. So anyway, I got to thinking that while there are a couple not so great songs on the tape for the most part this was a great country album. I don't know if it was Randy's first but it was definitely his break out album. It's got Digging Up Bones, On the Other Hand, 1982, Reasons I Cheat and of course Storms of Life, all of which are great songs. So this put me to thinking of my favorite albums, not counting greatest hits and so here is the culmination of my pick of the 3 greatest country albums (please note I reserve the right to change my mind in the future).

Top 3 county albums- Willie Nelson's On the Road Again, Randy Travis' The Storms of Life and George Strait's Pure Country soundtrack.

There's a lot of artists that I have a number of their cd's- Tim Mcgraw, Kenny Chesney, Garth Brooks, Brad Paisley, Blake Shelton, Gary Allan, Dierks Bentley, Billy Currington but I couldn't think of one particular cd I could just think of songs. One glaring omission here is of course Cash's Folsom Prison Blues but as much as I love that album there are a lot of not so great songs on there and number of great songs is what I used as my criteria in this case.

Biggest Loser

Okay so I know I carry it fairly well and don't look all that big, but I am (according to a number of sources) grossly obese, was once even referred to by a medical facilitator as morbidly obese. I've battled weight since high school, or more to the point I've occasionally battled weight and occasionally rolled over and played dead, which may keep you from getting mauled by a bear but does nothing to keep you from looking quite ursine. Twice in my adult life I've gotten down to what doctors would consider a healthy weight. During basic training I lost down to actually 10 pounds below my goal weight and looked somewhat sickly (as my wife and mother put it), but it wasn't long till I left the safe eating habits of basic that I started packing the weight back on. The second time was about 7 to 9 years ago (I can't remember exactly) following the Atkins diet and I did really good for awhile but when I got the weight off I got careless and thought I could eat whatever and it wasn't long before, you guessed it, the weight was back. I joke about going on the biggest loser but the 55 pounds I needed to loose was no where near the 100's of pounds the average biggest loser contestant needs to shed and besides I don't know how these people go off and leave their jobs & their families for weeks. I couldn't do it. Well, I could leave my job for weeks if it weren't for the financial ruin it would cause, but not my wife and babies (I say babies but my oldest will in all probability be getting his driving permit this week). I've tried other diet and exercise plans to little or no success so I've decided to go back to what I know works- I'm going back to basic training. Just kidding. I'm way to old for that. I'm going back on Atkins, actually I've already started, two weeks in and I've lost 10 pounds. What I've figured out about myself is that I've got a terrible sugar addiction and I'm using Atkins to try and break it. I'm going to try and follow the progression outlined by the diet- you start by severely limiting carb intake (getting the majority of these carbs in the form of salad vegetables) and then you slowly build back up eating good healthy fruits and vegetables. I believe I can loose the weight again, what scares me is going back to my old, Coke-a-cola and chocolate pie behavior once I get there. It's hard to get rid of sugar from you diet it's in so many things we eat, but I'm trying.
'Hello my names Chad and I'm a sugar-aholic, it's been two weeks since I've knowingly eaten sugar.'

Best song ev-er. (Well one of them any way.)

So this morning I'm washing up breakfast dishes and staring out the window into my back yard and I think I need some John Denver. Now it's not often that a thought like that crosses your mind and even less often when you have the means to satisfy that desire. So I pop in the greatest hits cd and listen to some classics like Country Roads and Annie's Song and even demonstrated to the one year old how to dance a jig to Thank God I'm a Country Boy but then I called the children to silence and told them to listen to one of the greatest songs ever recorded- Sunshine on My Shoulders. This song evokes emotion in me and I believe that's a hallmark of greatest in any art. I imagine John sitting somewhere far away from the sun as he pens this wistful, melancholy ode to sunshine and the way it 'almost all the time gets me high'.

WWW Wednesday

Librarian Who posted a W3dnesday blog today and it reminded me that I'd not done one in about a month myself. So here goes.
What did I read last? I finished Flood Tide by Clive Cussler, okay story a pretty good beach read and that's where I started reading, even having the tide come in on me and washing the book out of my hands one time. Safe, predictable, you know exactly what's going to happen it's just fun finding out the how. Next I read American Gods by Neil Gaiman, a modern classic. Great read. Then I tried reading Brida by Paulo Coelho, some of Coelho's books I really like (The Alchemist or the Fifth Mountain for instance) and others I really don't like, after about a chapter I was pretty sure this was one I wouldn't like, so I set it aside.
What am I reading now? Angel's Game by Carlos Ruiz Zafon, so far the story is very intriguing. My only qualm with the book to this point is that while it is set in the late 19th century (I believe) the characters all sound very much 21st century to me.
What will I read next? I'm leaning toward The Count of Monte Cristo by Dumas, it's been on my shelf for awhile and I've been contemplating it and then in Angel's Game the author made a reference to it and so it will probably be next.

My split personalities have split personalities.

There are lots of things I do not believe in like- Superman and Robin Hood are still alive in Hollywood, that gasolines in short supply, the rising cost of getting by, but I believe in love- , I also don't believe in astrology. It's ridiculous on a grand scale considering the light from the stars we see in the sky have been traveling toward earth for millions of years but scoff as I may you'd be hard pressed to find a more true Gemini. To say I have a dual personality would be putting it mildly. As Kattie Perry put it, I'm hot and I'm cold, I'm yes and I'm no... I pms like a bitch and she should know. I'm country, folk, pop and rock and most everything in between. I'm a cultural luve a, and a beer swilling bubba. I'm blue collar meat and potatoes with a love of bohemia. I'm a bleeding heart liberal with a conservative slant. I'm alternatively a health nut and a glutton, which leaves me soft in the middle. I love knowledge for knowledge's sake but believe the only good brains cells are the ones you kill. I believe Socrates was sadly mistaken when he said the unexamined life isn't worth living, to examine life and death and the meaning there of is to rob yourself of happiness. So think of ball games (go Panthers!) and movies and t.v too, think of women and beer and contemplate a new tatto, or think of books and stories and theater like I do. Fill your mind with deep meditative yet empty thoughts, or become a specialist in some field of astrophysics or history. Think up ideas or if you must think on ideologies, but please keep your dogma to yourself. But don't give life itself to much attention. Mostly in life I have, like electricity, followed the path of least resistance and like water always found my on level. I go from happy to miserable and back again at mach speed. I can be such a joy to live with. It has been suggested on a few occasions that I seek medicinal help, but I hold off and hope for the best. To be honest, and let's face it that seems to have become my m.o. on this blog, I'm scared to take happy pills because I want to be able to feel, to empathize, I may not like the lows but I do adore the highs. I think I'd rather live a sine wave than to live a flat line, because a flat line sounds like dying - and dying to me don't sound like that much fun... I fight authority, authority always winning- of course, I'm also the authority too. So when my wife says, "I love you, I just wish you were better," don't judge her, I know what she means.

Just when you thought things couldn't get worse

Alright so there's this guy and he inhales a pea and it buries itself in his lung and then sprouts. So like there's not enough to worry about in this world already, now the vegetables are fighting back. My question is if the pea was cooked how did it sprout? I thought cooking killed the enzymes. Maybe it was an assassin pea in a boil proof pod sent to take out the vegetable eaters of the world. Or an alien pea that would slowly turn the people of the world into pod people. This really sucks for parents. I mean it was already hard to get the kids to eat vegetables but now they're liable to be scared to death that if they eat a pea then late one night their chest will itch and when they scratch... there will be a curly little green stalk poking out! Oh the humanity. I can hear it now- 'Mom! Help I think I swallowed a pea wrong call 911', 'Don't worry son, just drink a little Round-Up that ought to do the trick'. A pea? I've eaten bean sprouts before. What are they doing to my body? Am I slowly turning into a vegetable? There are some serious moral issues that need to be addressed before this goes further. If a person turns into a vegetable is it okay to eat them? Would they be meat or vegetable or some combination there of? Could a vegan eat a vegetable person? Would they be better steamed, fried or sauteed in a nice cream sauce? I don't believe the world is ready for this. But all bullshitting aside, well mostly anyway, if this happened to this guy isn't safe to say that it's happening to others? Look around you today as your out, look at the people beside you in line at the dmv, in the car behind you at the red light, the cashier at the adult book store and think that any one of them may be incubating a plant... in their lungs.

The reports of my demise have been greatly exaggerated.

I don't watch the news, well I very rarely watch the news. I just don't like it. It's very depressing, you never hear good things on the news it's always murder, decay, corruption, society atrophying into a state of hedonistic barbarism. Those that are obsessed with the news I think would be the same ones that thrilled at the gladiator matches in the Coliseum, kind of a thirst for the blood and misery of others but in a way that doesn't leave them wringing their hands yelling at a damned spot. Or they could just want to be well informed citizens. What do I know? Nothing, because as previously stated, I very rarely watch the news. So where do I get the news? One of four places- 1. My wife tells me, 2. I hear it on the radio before I turn the station to find some music, 3. One of those little blurbs on the Road Runner home page catches my eye before I can click on the facebook link, or (and this is a new one)4. I can go to work and have everyone ask if I'm okay, they heard I had a seizure and got robbed at Wal-Mart and then come home bewildered and look up 'the news' on the Star website. So I look up the article and while I feel terrible for the guy I'm very glad it wasn't me and I can see how the mix up may have occurred. My first name is Jeremy, this guys name, and because thats whats on my check a lot of folks at work know that it is, his last name was Sperling with an e and mine of course is with a u but I don't know how to spell everyone's name I work with and so I don't expect them to know mine. So what happened is one guy heard or saw what he thought was my name (if he had read the article I don't think he would have thought it was me) and went to work and started asking people if they heard what had happened to me. lol. Now the plot thickens. It just so happens that Wednesday the day this happened I called into work so that we could go and trade Raineys van. So you got a guy thinking I've had a seizure and had my money stolen and then you have me not coming to work and by the time I got there they had started a prayer chain and were thinking of taking up a collection to help me buy the kids school clothes. OMG! It's nice to know people care about you though. I thanked them and then told them I did have to take on a car payment which I've not had in quite awhile so if they wanted to go ahead and take up a collection for me, I'd be okay with that.

www Wendesday

Without any ado, I recently finished reading Christopher Moore's hilarious Island of the Sequined Love Nun, I loved it. I am currently reading Clive Cussler's Flood Tide, a Dirk Pitt adventure, it's like the literary version of a summer action flick. Next up? Who knows, possibly American Gods by Neil Gaiman or maybe Brida by Paulo Coelho.

Almost time to take that Holiday Road

"I think you're all f'd in the head. We're ten hours from the f'ing fun park and you want to bail out. Well I'll tell you something. This is no longer a vacation. It's a quest. It's a quest for fun. I'm gonna have fun and you're gonna have fun. We're all gonna have so much f'ing fun we'll need plastic surgeory to remove our gd smiles. You'll be whistling 'Zip-A-Dee Doo-Dah' out of you're assholes! I gotta be crazy! I'm on a pilgrimage to see a moose. Praise Marty Moose! Holy Shit!" Clark W. Griswold, Vacation.
In just a few long days the fam and I will be loading up the wagon(van)and heading out, not on a vacation as Clark so eloquently put it but on a quest for fun. We've got reservations made and we're ready to swim, slide, shop and ride. All we really have to worry about for those four days and three nights is not killing each other, other wise will be worry free. Nothing is as great as making memories with your family and lets face it nothing can drive you as Griswoldingly batshit as the same exact thing. I think all us dads have a little Clark W. in us that builds up expectations of what our vacations should be, ideals drawn up from to many travel brochures and board game commercials. I mean look at the back of a board game there's usually a picture of a family gathered around a game board laughing and having fun. Have any of you ever done that? I've played games with friends and loved it, Rainey and I use to love to play games and you can even play a game with one kid and have fun. But a whole family enjoying a board game? Those pictures on the back are taken right when the game starts and everyone is thinking- yeah I'm going to win this, if it were taken a few minutes later barbs would be flying and tears a streaming. And the travel commercials where everyone is still and quiet and the dad says- I can go 300 more miles. Give me a break. That's why we have so many melt downs and disappointments because we fantasize and plan our family fun in advance and then it never goes that way. Why? Because children aren't personality free little beings doing whatever you think is fun. They have strong, infuriating, wonderful personality's and they don't always mesh. On top of that they're siblings, and siblings are life's way of teaching us how to argue. I remember once my sister and I were playing Monopoly (this was before Nintendo) and after we had played for awhile she decided she was done, and who can blame her the game goes on forever. Well, I for one blamed her. I remember I got all perturbed and slung the game across the room yelling at her for, I don't know, ruining the game or something. My children are the same they can play for a little while and then it breaks down into a royal rumble. There are many vacations I can remember when everything just went to hell in a hand basket but even in those times there were still some great moments. For example one year we didn't get the room we thought we were going to get and we all ended up crammed into one room and it was terribly hot and some one stole one of our beach towels and we had an overall horrible time but that was also the year Maddie and I went to the waterpark together and we had an incredible time, made some memories I hope will both always keep.
So if driving 5 plus hours packed in a van like sardines to try and eek out a little fun sounds like something only insane people would do, well your wrong. Yes we are insane but we've learned some things over the years. Little tips that help us to have a good time, every year we try to go over our list and add to it if we can. It's work for several years now and here's hoping it works some more. So while not set in stone or even all encompassing here are the tips.

Tips for having a fun family vacation
1. Have more than one room. You've got to be able to spread out and have a little alone time.

2. Don't insist everyone do everything. You can't go off and leave a 4 year old in the room by himself but he doesn't have to play putt-putt.

3. Divide and conquer. This goes along with number 2, I'll take the ones that want to do this, you take the ones that want to do that.

4. You don't have to be busy the whole time. Yes I know they can watch Spongebob and play video games at home but it's okay to do it on vacation too.

5. Don't try to play board games with everyone. See the above paragraphs for more info.

6. You don't have to be in a hurry to get there. If you need to stop every hour and let someone pee, or get a drink it's okay, it's not a race.

7. Don't plan to much ahead of time. Take a more organic approach to building the fun things you do.

and last but certainly not least

8. Don't get upset when things don't go according to plan. Someone is, not may but is, going to get sleepy and cranky and it might even be someone besides me.


So there you have it folks my 8 simple rules for not having a Clark W. Griswold melt down in the middle of vacation, the answer isn't to leave the kids at home, you can't build fond memories with them that way. The answer is to not put expectations on the trip. So while I hope we get lucky and have a really good time, I'm not expecting anything, just going to sort of go with the flow. Kinda like the lazy river.

"Poor little guy. Probably kept up with you for a mile or so.
[tearing up]
Tough little mutt... "

www Wednesday

I've been doing this for several weeks now and eventually I will learn how to spell Wednesday, such a weird word. What did I read last? Once on a Moonless Night by Dai Sijie, who has become one of my favorite authors, it's a good story. It's told in memoir form in which our unnamed narrator tells the story of how as an French student in China she falls in love with a man named Tumchooq who bears the name of a forgotten country and language. This man's father and then himself and then finally our narrator spend their lives looking for half a lost Buddhist sutra written in Tumchooq. The story gives us not only our protagonists story but also the story of the missing sutra. My only complaint with the story is that it's at times pretty slow, but it's worth the reading.
What am I reading now? Loving Che by Ana Menendez, bet you can guess what it's about. It starts off as a story of a woman raised by her grandfather in Miami looking for the mother she never new and then becomes the story of the mother living in revolutionary Cuba, meeting Che and... well that's about as far as I've gotten so far. I like the way the story is being told in snippets of the mothers memories as she tries to relate to her daughter the story of her life.
What am I going to read next? Probably Angel's Game by Carlos Ruiz Zafon, I had planned to read it after the Dai Sijie book but my daughter has stolen it and hasn't finished it yet.

Kids!

There's a joke I heard once that I've always liked and often repeated the comedian says 'My wife and I have been fighting over having kids. I don't want any but she says we can't give them away'. Ba da bing. This morning I've been baby sitting, although according to Rainey I'm not 'sitting' because there mine, and it's been a little crazy. Well mostly it's been the wee one that's causing all the trouble. I phoned Rainey and asked her why she didn't take that one with her, she said that's why she needed a break. She also told me she might just stay gone until tomorrow, she was kidding. I told her that was fine she could pick the kids up at the fire department tomorrow, I was kidding, I guess. Then she informed me that the fire department only takes kids up to like 90 days old and I just thought that was terribly unfair. I mean up till 90 days old they still have that new baby smell to them and everything, just lying there being all cute and everything. It's when they get mobile that you want to drop em off somewhere. That brings me to another old joke- you spend the first few years of a kids life teaching them to walk and talk and the rest of their life telling them to shut-up and sit down. Sometimes when Rain gets aggravated with the kids she'll hold them up to the wall and ask me to put a hook up there for to hang them on. That would be alright, hang a kid up until your ready for them and then take them down to play. They could even take your coat and hat like the hands on the wall in Willy Wonka. Of course, please note, this is all in jest after a day that started with me being beaned in the head with a sippy cup and then spending the next several hours, with a headache, picking up all the stuff a one year old can drag out. What can a one year old drag out? Anything it can get it's grubby little paws on, that's what. Sometimes when my humor is not as well adjusted as it is this morning I think life would be much simpler without kids are with just one or two. But I can't imagine life, nor would I ever wish for a life, without all of my children in it. As nerve racking as they can be, they also can bring lots of laughter and joy. I can't look into one of their smiling faces and not feel incredibly happy to be a part of their lives, even if I do sometimes threaten to send them to military school or a nunnery. Or maybe a cannery? They could earn some wages, start paying their way around here. Is child labor still illegal?

Tails from the diaper pail

If you don't have children this post may keep you from ever venturing into parenthood, if you do then I'm sure you can feel my, not pain really but squeamishness.
Two true stories of diaper/pull-up's gone horribly wrong. Yesterday our one year old, who is truly a menace to a moments peace, came bearing a gift of a slightly wet and soiled diaper. Now ever since the boy learned to walk he has been into everything, let me rephrase that, EVERYTHING. So when he brought to us a dirty diaper we figured he had got into the thrash can, again. Can you see where this is going? So latter that day as I was driving to work I get a call from my lovely wife, she said she new I'd get a kick out of it and she was right, giving me the 411 on what the little munchkin had done. She said they were out in the den when he starts peeing all over the place, soaking his clothes, the floor, everything. She thinks his diaper must have malfunctioned or been overloaded, so she plops him up on the changing table, unsnaps his onesie, yes the little Houdini was wearing a onesie, and low and behold, much to her surprise the baby is diaper-less. He'd been commando the whole time, just free balling around the house.
The second story, this one involving a pull-up, isn't as funny and is quite stomach turning, at least to me since I was involved in it. My three year old is for the most part potty trained, he still has accidents at night on a fairly regular basis and so wears night time pull ups to bed. A couple of nights ago he wakes up crying and I look and see that he's drenched, his pj pants are soaked. So I tell him to come here and he kinda half awake stumbles over to where we keep the pull ups, I pull his soaked shorts and pull up down to put the dry one on and out plops a baseball size ball of poop onto the floor. EEWWWW! I was flabbergasted, I said 'Son how do you poop in your sleep? And why, oh God, is it round?'. So I wipe him, put the new pull up on him and send him to lie back down. Then I have to get a wipe and pick up the poop ball and clean the floor around said gag inducing projectile. After that my stomach hurt. I had a hard time falling back asleep, afraid I might accidentally poop my pants.
Such are the joys of parenthood.

www Wednesday

Okay I know it's Thursday but I was really busy yesterday. What have I read recently- Ride the River by Louis L'Amour, it was a good short read. Escapism fantasy set in the post revolutionary U.S. about Echo Sackett the youngest descendant of Kin Sackett and her adventure travailing to and from Philadelphia and her home in the Tennessee woods. Then Beatrice and Virgil by Yann Martel (author of Life of Pi), it was a really good read. There were a twist or two and something near the end quite unexpected. It's a story about the holocaust, about the power of fiction, about taxidermy and a play about a donkey and a howler monkey on a striped shirt. At the end of the book there's a section called Games for Gustav that's pretty heart rending but in being so reflects the horror of the holocaust. This is the third book I've read by Martel and I've thoroughly enjoyed each of them. Also a few weeks back Librarian Who had a blog about her favorite book as a child and that got me to talking about my favorite when I was a kid and that led my lovely wife to find and order it for me online - The Little Mailman of Bayberry Lane by Ian Munn. It's a little book about a mailman that feels sorry for Ms. Pig because she doesn't have any friends and so he invites everyone to a surprise party at her house and then they all become besties.
What am I reading now? Once upon a Moonless Night by Dai Sijie. Sijie wrote Balzac and the Little Chinese Seamstress and Mr. Mau's Travailing Couch both of which were great and so I'm hoping this one will be too.
What's next? To soon to tell really, I just started Once Upon a Moonless Night last night. But more than likely Angel's Game by Carlos Ruiz Zafon.

before I get to deep and perso... oops, too late

It's 3:30 in the morning as I type and I'm not in the least bit sleepy. I've watched two movies, both of them alright, not great but alright and I know I need to go to bed because I don't wont to be all tired and ill tomorrow, because I've promised myself not to ruin every ones weekend. I've been on somewhat of an emotional roller coaster the last, well I was going to say weeks but I think really it's been a lot longer than that, it's just been more pronounced in the last few weeks. My new job comes with some stress, I mean it's not like I'm running the company or anything but it's more stress than I'm use to dealing with. At work anyway, at home with five children stress can be a way of life. One day last week when I was feeling down (I don't know if maybe I'm somewhat manic/depressive or maybe slightly bipolar, can you be slightly bipolar? Or is that like being kinda pregnant? How many sentences can you put in a parentheses? Personally I think maybe it's a dietary imbalance and lack of exercise, I've got to get back on the treadmill.) I thought maybe I'd missed my calling in life and what I was suppose to be was a loner/stoner. This coming from a man who not only didn't inhale but never even came close to trying drugs. When I was young I was to much of a straight arrow and now I've got a job with random drug testing and people depending on me, not only for food and shelter but also to be a ,gasp, role model. There just seem to be days when I feel really down and then I start contemplating the seeming meaninglessness of life, the constant cycle of work, home, work, home, stress, stress, stress and why? So we can grow old and feeble? I see really old people that can barley walk, some with bent over backs, many half blind and deaf and I get scared. Because all of them were at one time young handsome or beautiful people with kids and careers and a future and now so many are just barley getting buy and I think that will be me. And it scares the shit out of me. I think I'd rather die than become feeble and then I think of death and then I think why do we put up with so much crap in our lives, why aren't we all hedonists or something? Well I think were not hedonists because even though life seems short at times 80 or so years is actually a long time and we don't want to live for the moment now and regret it for the rest of our lives, we don't want to do something to mess up our lives or get something that keeps flaring up for the next 60 years. I suppose these are the thoughts and fears of middle aged men, I blame my job (although to be honest I've felt this way while still on the old job sometimes to), I sometimes blame the kids and life in generally but I think what it really is is that I've come to the point where I'm no longer young and I feel and when I look in the mirror see old age creeping up on me. This is, I believe one of the main reasons people invent religions, to make life worth living by having a goal to work toward. Life isn't pointless if your storing up treasure in heaven are working toward salvation or trying for a higher rung on the karma ladder. Yes my belief is that religions are for a)explaining the unexplainable, b)helping us confront death, c)helping us confront life and d)for laws and social order. I would not hazard to write this blog if I weren't currently feeling better to do so while I was in a down mode would end in catastrophe, it would be such a negative downer that any one reading it would need a prescription for happy pills. As it is I've 'gotten over myself', that's my way of putting it. Whenever I go into one of these dives I know that all I have to do is forget myself, let go of the negativity, embrace life and laughter and family and friends and I can get over it. It generally takes a few days to come back 'up' and it probably takes a few days to get 'down' as well but I don't generally notice it until I'm already feeling on skid row. One of the reasons I tried to follow the Hallelujah Acres diet for a while was that one of it's many health claims was that it could even out mood swings and some, I'm not sure how to word this- mental problems, that's not there wording but you get the idea. And you know when I first started on it I did feel really good for a while but then I had a hard time staying on the diet and eventually gave it up all together. But after the last couple of weeks I think maybe it might be worth another try. The worst of it is the major sufferer in this isn't even me but Rainey, she sees it more than anyone else. She has to put up with me getting sulky and withdrawn and very irritable, there's been days when I didn't talk at all unless I had to and I don't want to put her through that. She's had enough hard times and heart aches over the years to not have to deal with any more. I'm not sure where I'm going with this blog, I had planned to talk about the movies I just watched- Hot Tub Time Machine and Funny People, and to try and crack a few jokes but it seems I've went off the deep end by mistake. I hope you'll forgive me for not being entertaining or informative this time and I hope each of you (if any one sees this as I don't believe I'll post it to facebook) has a wonderful 4th of July holiday. I'm going to make myself go to sleep now in hopes that I don't ruin the weekend tomorrow.

www Wednesday

It's been about a month since I put one of these up because I've been reading the same book for about that long. Some thick books, like say a Harry Potter book, I can read very quickly others, like the one I'm getting ready to mention take a bit longer.
What have I read lately? The Glass Bead Game by Hermann Hesse. It's an biography of a fictional character named Joesph Kecht who rises to the top of his profession, Magistar Lundi of the Glass Bead Game which is kinda like being the commissioner of MLB. The glass bead game isn't really played in the book and just roughly outlined it's a game for the highest of intellectuals in which they try and put the sum of human knowledge into musical and mathematical equations and then they meditate, ooohhh. The forward of the book pointed out that while most people get the duality of the book and the warning against complete intellectualism most miss the humor. Well I'm happy to say for once I'm with most of the people, I suppose I'm not intelligent enough to get the humor. I really became quite bored with this book by the time I finished it, well sort of finished it. After the main body of the book the were some poems and short stories written by the character Kecht, I read the poems and even like a few of them but I just couldn't get into the short stories so I put it down. After finishing The Glass Bead Game I read C.G. Jung and Hermann Hesse A Record of Two Friendships by Miguel Serrano, a book that I thought was going to be biographical of the friendship between Jung and Hesse and while it did touch on this relationship it was actually about the authors friendship with the two men and his inclusion in what they referred to as the hermetic ring. While it was very interesting it was also very out there. These guys were hippies before there were hippies. One neat thing they talked about was the Gnostic god Abraxas, a god that combines creation and destruction, good and evil in one. I don't really have the time or inclination to discuss it here so maybe I'll devote a blog to it some time.
What am I reading now? Well after such heady and far-out reading I decided on something much more pedestrian and am reading Ride The River by Louis L'Amour it's one of the books in the Sackett series.
What am I reading next? Probably Beatrice and Virgil by Yann Martel.

My weekend

I officially, by the powers invested in me by the internet blog, declare this weekend to be My weekend. And it's started early. As all of you should know this Sun. is father's day or as I like to sometimes refer to it, motherf#*kers day, because after all that is how we earned the the right to be celebrated on this nice little holiday. But not only is Sun. motherhumpers day but it's also my birthday. Yes it was almost 38 years ago to the day when my mother's ob accidentally broke her water, he was trying to hurry and get home to get his hey in out of the field before the rain started. I don't guess he did. I was a couple weeks early, had to sit in an incubator a few days, I believe it was. I don't really remember. I'm giggly excited about my holiday/birthday for some very immature and self-centered reason- presents and cake. Yes, laugh if you will, scoff if you must. But I'm antsy with anticipation. Why? Well a few weeks back my lovely wife started asking for gift ideas and bibliophile that I am I ticked off a list of books I'd been wanting. So I'm terribly excited because in just two short days I might get some new books. Yeah! I'm such a geek. It's not like I don't have twenty something books sitting on my shelf waiting to be read and a to read list that stretches from here to kingdom come and passes through every library and Barnes and Noble/Books-a-million along the way. But the ones I asked for are really cool books. I know some of you may be thinking, as my wife did- All you want for your birthday are books? No, I also asked for an Fisher Space Pen, such a geek, and... and a nice pair of work gloves (put that in you geek pipe and smoke it). But wait. I know your thinking- you also mentioned cake. Yet again that dear wife and companion of mine (bone of my boner, flesh of my flesh- thats from the Bible, well sort of)ordered me an ice cream cake from DQ. Yum. So to kick this weekend off, I took a vacation day for tomorrow so that I can go see my daughters drama camp production -Wendy Welega wrote and directed it, it should be funny. Which means no stressful work tomorrow night. Saturday night Araine and I are planning to go see my bud Chris in GSCT's production of The Boys Next Door and then- bum,bum,bummmm- Sunday. Ribs from Hillbillys, books and maybe some other stuff and... cake. Yum.

up late, half lit blog- you've been warned

A few facts to start us off. 1- it's very late as I sit typing this, 2- I'm bleary eyed sleepy, C- I'm a little tipsy, 4- I meant to use a letter last time and 5- that song Get Low is a freakin classic.
I ate half a pie tonight, I'm not proud, it wasn't for a contest or anything. I feel like the guy from the old commercial that say's 'I can't believe I ate the whole thing.' The reason I stopped at half instead of eating a whole pie was because I ONLY BOUGHT HALF A PIE! I'm an emotional eater and tonight was fairly stressful at work, well most of the night it got better towards the end. But it was enough to make me want something sweet, and since I figured Rainey would be asleep (love ya babe) I stopped and got pie. I miss watching Pushing Daises, although by the end of the second season I hadn't really liked the way the writers were taking things. I feel as though I've lost my sense of humor lately, if any one sees it please send it home. It's rather strange and a little quirky some may say geeky even, though it doesn't mind occasionally working blue. I like to curse, I'm not sure why, I guess because it's frowned upon by the moral majority although I'm sure they curse quite a bit too. I try not to curse in front of folks it might offend because I don't want to be offensive. But under my breath or when people who I know don't mind are around I use a few invectives. Christopher Moore who wrote,among other great books, Lamb is a swear word prodigy, I've seen him use the f-u-c-k word, ;), in many an new and interesting way. My favorite euphemisms when there are sensitive ears around are God bless it, shoot a monkey (which I would never really do unless it was attacking someone that didn't deserve it) and dang it Dan - which is from an old K-Mart commercial actually. Gosh, I feel like I'm on Inside the Actors Studio. Where's the bearded, balding guy with the note cards? My birthday is next weekend and I'll be 38, I'm getting old or at least older, I'm a f-ing grown up now. I may need some Just For Men for my birthday if all these silver hairs don't stop popping up. Looking back on my life I think, , well I don't really know what to think. As the facts mentioned at the top of this page will show, I submit this as evidence, I'm in no position to take deep meditative looks through the pages of my life at this juncture. So I leave you with the immortal words of Lil' John- Now stop, then wiggle with it, now stop, then wiggle with it...

Feeling Charlie Brownish

Dear old Chuck, nothing ever seems to go right for him. No matter how hard he tries everything backfires. The kite will always get stuck in the tree, Lucy will always pull the football out of the way as he tries to kick it, he'll never get invited to a party (unless it get's sent by mistake), and the little red headed girl is never going to notice him. Well that's kinda the way I feel today. It's just been one of those weeks (or so) when everything starts to come undone. We had some electrical problems last week and it cost quite a few pennies to get it fixed and I feel like the electrician ripped me off a little bit. That's part of what bothered me, I felt like he was ripping me off and I didn't say anything, I just paid the bill because after all it was fixed. What is it Charlie says? AAUGH! I believe that's it. Tuesday morning while on my treadmill I noticed the incline wasn't working, it's under warranty so hopefully that problem at least wont cost anything. Then my heat pump went belly up (or if you spent time in the military- tits up). We can spend a small fortune and get a 20something year old unit fixed or spend a big fortune and get a new one. Well with some wheeling and dealing and some loans here and there, I believe where going to get the new one. I'm about ready to go live off the grid, get me a farm house and plant some crops. If only I wasn't so bourgeois. I could live without blogs and facebook, I could live without satellite t.v. (thus without my now beloved Doctor Who), without cell phones and video games and even without air conditioning. But I have to have running water. Yes I could live without those things... but I REALLY don't want to. Then the piece-de-resistance after spending a couple of hours cleaning out a kiddie pool that was given to us. I blew up the top ring and began to fill it full of water. It's about 3 feet deep and quite a ways around so it took a good bit of water to try and fill it up. Try being the key word there. When the pool was about half way full (being positive here) the water begin to flow out of it and it was then that I realized the inflatable ring around the top was losing air, it apparently has a small hole in it somewhere. So as the pool begin to becomes half-empty (negative now, sorry) I let out a nice Charlie Brown, AAUGH! Which warranted some unwanted attention from neighbors. AAUGH! It hasn't' all been bad this week, I started reading a new book that I'm enjoying, work went well, we had free lunch yesterday while seeing a old friend and then got some yummy ice cream from Red Bone Willies, I watched Avatar which I thought was pretty good (effects were really good, story was alright) with my 3 year old (first time we had gotten along in several days) and then last night was a brand new episode of the afford mentioned Doctor Who (as much as I liked Tennant, I gotta say I'm really liking Smith,and the bow tie). So of all the Charlie Browns in the world I'm not the Charlie Browniest, but right now I feel as though I could be in the top 100.

WWW Wednesday

Okie-dokie here we go, since last week I finished reading A Primer of Jungian Psychology by Calvin S. Hall- very interesting, you get the feel that these guys (Jung and Freud the two I've read about) were just shooting in the dark but they happen to hit upon some very useful ideas. I also read Othello by Mr. Shakespeare himself and all I can say is Iago's a dick and Othello was a fool. Okay that's not all I can say, when I was younger my parents went through a rough patch in which my dad was as jealous as Othello, so much of his ranting sounded somewhat familiar. Thankfully my mom and dad got counseling instead of turning into a murder suicide (I meant that to sound funny but it comes a cross a bit macabre). What am I reading now? The Glass Bead Game (Magister Ludi) by Hermann Hesse- it's a bit of a thick book and being Hesse there's sure to be layers of meaning so this one will probably take me a few weeks. I'm never sure if I want to read intros or just make my own judgments about books and so sometimes I read them and sometimes I don't (kinda like a certain coconut and chocolate candy). This time I read the intro and one thing it said was that this book contained a good bit of humor that was often overlooked and so I will try to keep that in mind as I read. What's next? Probably something light and easy, will see though.

Matriarch

ma·tri·arch (mtr-ärk)
n.
1. A woman who rules a family, clan, or tribe.
2. A woman who dominates a group or an activity.
3. A highly respected woman who is a mother.
matri·archal (-ärkl), matri·archic (-ärkk) adj.
matri·archal·ism n.

The American Heritage® Dictionary of the English Language, Fourth Edition copyright ©2000 by Houghton Mifflin Company. Updated in 2009. Published by Houghton Mifflin Company. All rights reserved.

Matriarch, a mother who leads and guides her family and in the case of Araine's grandmother, Inez Nanney, that included a husband, 3 children, 6 grandchildren, 10 great grandchildren and would in a few months have included a great great grand as well. Inez, know to most of us as Gran, left us this week. In truth I believe she left us sometime before then but the body with it's strong survival instinct held on as long as it could, which was until this past Thursday when, surrounded by her family, she passed into (I know I used this in my last blog but I feel it so appropriate to use it again) what Peter Pan referred to as the greatest adventure of all. The service, which was beautiful and befitting to a woman such as Gran, was Saturday. I had the honor of being a pallbearer, helping to carry this great woman to her final resting place. During the service Rainey's eldest cousin, the first of the 6 grandchildren, spoke of his remembrances of Gran. How he had spent so much time and so much of his life at her feet, and in her kitchen. How many of us I wonder can separate memories of our grandmothers from memories of food, I know I can't see a fried apple pie without remembering my maternal grandmother, and I know no one in Rainey's family will ever eat dressing or creamed corn without remembering Gran. As Araine and I drove back after the grave side service we talked about our memories of Gran, Araine of course had know Gran her whole life and I had the pleasure of knowing her for more than 20 years, and it's funny that we both have the same mental picture of her sitting in her rocker on her front porch with Pop breaking green beans or shucking corn. Pop and Gran, it's hard to imagine one without the other, they were married for 68 years and unlike so many older couples one sees who never touch or show emotion to one another, you could tell they truly loved one another. Countless times I remember seeing Pop lean over and kiss Gran or seen them sitting beside each other or holding hands, I just hope 48 years from now Araine and I will still be loving each other as strongly as these 2 did. They were married in Gaffney and if I remember the story correctly they paid the preacher with a goat, shortly afterward Pop went into the Army and Gran raised there oldest for 2 years on her own. I've heard a number of stories over the years about what a character Pop was, and in truth still is, how he would say he was leaving and pack his bag but only packed neck ties and Gran held the family together. Over the years there were many ups and downs, and Gran held the family together. Pop and Gran were instrumental many times in mine and Araines life as well, helping to raise Rainey during troubled times in her life and getting us set up in our first home when I got out of the Air Force and I'm sure in many other varied and subtle ways as well. I want to close this blog with what I feel is one of the most touching things I've ever seen or heard of- after Gran passed they painted her toenails and put a star sticker on one of them and then all her daughters and grand daughters painted their nails with the same polish and put the little star stickers on as well. Goodbye Gran, we loved you very much.

I heard it from a friend, who heard it from a friend, who...

Okay so stole it from a friend who stole it from someone elses blog is more like it, but I love to get a song stuck in someones head. WWW Wednesday, or I suppose it could be WWWW. Why are we copying this idea? Because it's neat and it's simple and because we love books. For the uninitiated the love of books comes in because the www's stand for what book did you last read, what book are you reading and what book do you plan to read next. So without further ado, here's my www. I last read (as of this morning) The English Patient by Michael Ondaatje- fairly good book but I bet the movie is better. I'm reading A Primer of Jungian Psychology by Calvin S. Hall. And as usual I have no idea what I'll read next, it depends on the mood I'm in when I finish reading about Jung.

Starting with the man in the mirror

To stay still to long is to stagnate, atrophy and die. Change is part and parcel with the universe in which we live. From the largest of galaxies to the smallest of atoms everything is in flux. People are born, the grow up, move on, they come in and out of our lives and eventually pass on to what Peter Pan referred to as the greatest adventure of all. My youngest who only a few weeks ago was a little baby is up and walking and into everything, so much so I've threaten to change his middle name from Wit to Make a Mess. It has a nice indigenous feel to it,don't you think? My oldest who was born so premature we lived for months in constant fear of his taking that great adventure much to soon is almost 15 now and nearly as big as I am. In fact he picked me up off the ground yesterday. I'm no astrophysicist but I believe change to be the only constant we can count on.
So is this to be a blog of philosophical speculation on the nature of life as we know it? No. This blog is meant to be much more ego-centric, more to do with changes in me. Over the past few months I feel I've grown more into my own skin than I've been in quite some time. One reason I've never been able to get to involved with politics is because my beliefs and convictions have changed so much over my life swaying from one side to another and back again to the point where I'm afraid to state an opinion for fear of having to retract or contradict it a few weeks or even days later. Politics and religion have always been arenas where one has to feel they have all the truth on their side otherwise how can you be zealous of your beliefs. To illustrate, I once went on a trip with my dad's church in which several people got into a religious discussion on different translations of the bible, my dad could tell I was not enjoying the discussion. I talked with him later and told him I couldn't understand how they could be so certain in what they believed to which he, very enlighteningly replied, they have to be certain in order to believe it. Which I guess is why I've never been able to maintain belief. There's a great Calvin and Hobbes comic in which Calvin at the beginning of the strip is drawn in an abstract way to where you can see each side of everything after a few panels he reverts back to his normal appearance and says he's tired of trying to see all sides of issues, he's going back to looking at them from just one perspective. So, to get back on track, it is with a bit of reserve that I say my character has solidified more over the last few months. But I do, honestly, feel more settled on what I believe and what I feel, on what I like and dislike and feel more secure in who I am. Perhaps I'm finally maturing? Could be, I still refuse to grow up though. I saw a sign the other day that said the best fathers are still kids at heart, while I am miles away from being the best father I'd like to think that I can still relate to being a kid.
The biggest change in my life right now, from an outside perspective anyway, is my change in jobs within Wix. I'm not only changing sifts but am taking on a position with leadership responsibilities, a role I wouldn't have taken for anything a year ago. You see the changes in my internal view of myself have allowed me to take on bigger challenges in the external world. It seems a little self confidence can go a long way. One of the reasons I've become such a fan of Doctor Who lately is his, at times, overbearing self confidence as when he calls down a fleet of alien spaceships and tells them he protects the earth and that if there smart, they'll run. Which of course they do.
Now, I'll not be defending earth from aliens anytime soon (I hope) but I do feel more comfortable saying- Hi, I'm Chad and this is who I am.

The house that built me.

There's a country song out right now by Miranda Lambert entitled The House That Built Me. If your not familiar with the song it's about a person going through a rough patch (imagine, a country song about that)and she goes back to her childhood home hoping touching the past will bring some comfort to her life. There's lines like 'I know you don't know me from Adam but these hand prints on the front steps are mine' and 'I bet you didn't know that under that live oak my favorite dog is buried in the yard.' I think that most of us that had at least a passably happy childhood can relate. The house I always think of as my childhood home is the little two bedroom, one bath, black cinder blocked underpinned, white vinyl sided, almost perfectly square house on 2nd Street. It had a little concrete front porch that seemed to me always to be cool to the touch, a little covered carport and a gravel drive. My dad put up a storage building and if you were to look you'd see my initials in the concrete pad. This is the house we lived in from the time I was about 5 until I turned 12, the wonder years, I believe there sometimes called. This is the place where I built so many tree houses I killed a cherry tree, where my friends and I would play ball and war, and sometimes ball that turned into war. This is where we would act out our favorite shows like Ultraman and The Dukes of Hazard, I was always Luke because I thought Bo was a show off (which, of course, he was). When we first moved in my dad and grandpa built a large deck on the back of the house, my first stage. I would put my record player's speakers up next to the kitchen window, slap on a stack of my favorite 45's (yes, I'm that old) and put on a private show. This is the house where my sister and I shared a room, my half containing my NFL toy box with all the team mascots on it, and we would curl up together in the mornings in the tiny little hall that separated the 5 rooms from one another in front of the oil furnace. This is where we lived when I was convinced I was going to grow up to be either a mailman or a cartoonist. I had 3 regular cartoon strips I drew- Yucky about a big eyed dinosaur and his cousin Spike, Sheriff Sam with his big cowboy hat and outlandishly large mustache meeting without any other trace of face showing (a la Andy Capp) defeating the outlaws often times as not with a spit of tobacco (how un-pc of me), and a one panel comic I called Teddy Bear Rock about a rock band made up entirely of teddy bears, each installment was merely a different picture of the teddy bears rocking out. In other words this is the house where I was a kid, before the world invaded. Back before puberty reared its ugly head, before I knew moms and dads sometimes had fights, when a heart break was over a missed cartoon and not my heart. So I understand what Miranda means when she says she wishes she could touch the past to heal the present, but of course it's not the house, it's the innocent we were when we lived there. Once I remember a man pulled his car up along the front of the yard and got out and talked to my mom or dad and told them that he had grow up in our house and just wanted to see it. I can't remember what he looked like but sometimes, just sometimes, I believe it was probably me. Sometime, somehow, somewhere in the future I'll find a way to go back in time, and visit the house that built me.