tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-81173390927480575782024-03-13T15:53:43.858-05:00Dad By Trade... not by profession.
Fatherhood without a degree in Parenting!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09986167130467258392noreply@blogger.comBlogger115125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8117339092748057578.post-57244686216154868642016-03-30T15:22:00.000-05:002016-03-30T15:22:03.121-05:00Chance EncounterThere she was... just standing there. I don't know if this was a chance encounter or if fate and destiny collaborated in the designing and planning of such a meeting. Our eyes locked in a playful gaze. But, when my eyes were presented with such beauty I did what I always do... I shyly turned away. The look couldn't have been more than a second but her angelic impression will exist on my mind and in my heart until 7 days past eternity.<br />
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She was stunning beyond words... intoxicating... addictive... So addictive, in fact, that one glance was too many and 10,000 glances will never be enough. But, I was powerless... I had to look again. It was against my better judgement but I was well past being in control at this point. <br />
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We had to meet. There was no other option. I couldn't walk away even if I had wanted to. And since there was no way to retreat I walked over to her. With every step closer to her I could feel my grasp of the English language disappearing as if it was pages being torn from a dictionary and being burned in a cozy, warm fire. <br />
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I didn't feel lost or frightened. I just found myself wordless. With words failing, I thought it best to revert to a more primitive form of communication... I reached for her. With every ounce of my being I stretched out my arms and wrapped her in my warm and loving embrace. <br />
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And it was at that moment I realized... that GIANT Reese's Peanut Butter Easter Egg was going to be mine, ALL MINE! And it was a blissful 15 seconds. It would have been a relationship to last all throughout the ages... or at least the drive home. It was meant to be, until.....<br />
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Word to the Wise: Do NOT even GLANCE at the calories and sugar content. Either eat the amazing, wonder gift from the heavens OR just simply walk away. Don't make the same mistake I did and read the box. I walked away from one of the most perfect things ever. But tomorrow is another day and I will make NO promises.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09986167130467258392noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8117339092748057578.post-6622939502296088882015-08-21T18:00:00.000-05:002015-08-21T18:00:01.101-05:0010000 StepsI read the other day that we are supposed to walk 10,000 steps a day. I painstakingly measured it and that is roughly the distance from my house... to the moon. (Please don't fact check that! Trust me on this. I'm passing straight from the Troposphere through the Exosphere to the moon!) I downloaded a pedometer to my phone and decided to see how much I walk each day. It was very... eye opening to say the least.<br />
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I found out that on a normal day I don't even walk 2,000 steps!!! One day I only registered 1,200 steps. (And that was with me shaking the phone vigorously! I might have even thrown my shoulder out cheating like this. But there is no proof... So, it didn't happen.) But 1,200 steps?!? That's barely over a 10th of what I'm supposed to get EACH day!<br />
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Sure, there are days when I get about 4,000 steps. Truth be told... those are the days I drink a TON of water. That really equals 1,200 steps NORMALLY and 2,800 steps going from my desk to the restroom!!! (For those who don't believe... water has a way of inspiring very much needed steps!) But, steps are steps no matter the inspiration.<br />
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I know that number is not 100% accurate. But it's close enough to let me know that I really need to focus more on some important things and making those things happen. Because, when you think about it, that 10,000 steps is a good metaphor for life. Life starts with one step. Yeah, there is a debate on when life truly begins. But, that's not what I'm talking about. I'm talking about learning a skill that will take you longer in your life than most other skills will take you... walking.<br />
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And even that has more meaning than just... walking. When you are playing sports and you get hurt (not injured) what does the coach say? Walk it off. When you are in an abusive situation, what do your friends say? Walk away. When life hits you with an ACME-sized anvil worth of problems what should you do? Walk tall! When you are Aerosmith, what universal truth do you tell your fans??? Walk this way!<br />
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So many things in life tell you that the simple act of walking is so important to your life, future and legacy. And, I'm not afraid to admit it... I'm in the process of learning how to walk again. It's not a quick process like a newborn horse or giraffe. It's deep down human survival. Life can be kind. And sometimes it can be downright cruel! We have a lot of control over a little and a little control over a lot! But, in the end... life will surprise us when we least expect it.<br />
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Sometimes that means we might physically have to learn how to walk again. And I will never discount that struggle. I can't imagine how much strength it would take to learn to physically walk again. I would never want to learn that lesson... again... the hard way. But, I would challenge that learning to walk (figuratively) as a person again is just as important. And to be as honest as I can... Our lives will probably not be measured by all of the issues we had to deal with. Our lives will probably be measured on how we walk. Not really how far... but how.<br />
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And right there...<br />
That very spot...<br />
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That's where I am right now. I'm learning how to walk again. Putting one foot in front of the other. Falling more often than I would like... but getting back up. Stumbling. Missing my mark. Getting frustrated. Getting tired. Getting disgusted at times. But never stopping. Never giving up. Never believing this is my destiny. Never submitting that this is all my story has to offer. So, I keep moving on. Walking the best way I know how. And that's why I decided to revive this blog. It was dead and gone because of the events of life.<br />
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But it will live on just as I will live on.<br />
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Why?<br />
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Simply, because I choose to keep moving.<br />
Simply, because I choose to keep putting one foot in front of the other.<br />
Simply, because I have taken 1 step...<br />
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I have 9,999 more steps to go...<br />
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And life's pedometer starts at zero every single day.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09986167130467258392noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8117339092748057578.post-46090247449582552262015-07-27T23:54:00.000-05:002015-07-27T23:54:18.242-05:00Welcome BackAfter 18 months of soul searching... I have decided to resurrect Dad By Trade. Soooo many things have changed. Some good... some bad. But all different. Life doesn't sit still. It speeds up. It slows down. The pace literally can change from one moment to the next... But there is always a pace. And, if you can be sure there is a pace, you can be sure there is a direction as well. And my current direction is taking me back to writing. Now, the pace... that one is a little tricky.<br />
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If you are still here with me... AWESOME! I hope to genuinely catch up with you. And, if you are not still here with me... then you won't get this post anyway! So,<br />
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:-P PPPPPPPP!!!!<br /><br />Anyway... I plan to start adding posts soon. And thank you for hanging with ME while I search for... ME.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09986167130467258392noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8117339092748057578.post-82539331943555009602014-01-13T07:52:00.004-06:002014-01-13T07:52:41.601-06:00I Bid Thee AdieuHello, <b>Dad By Trade</b> fans. I wanted to take a moment to thank all of you for reading my blog throughout these 5 and a half years. I received amazing feedback about my blog over those years and I took all comments to heart. That's kinda what you do when you are blogging about yourself and your family.<br /><br />So, it is with much sadness that I am officially retiring my blog today. I haven't written in a while so I'm sure most of will be surprised to even read THIS. But I didn't want to close this blog out without at least saying goodbye to all of you who kept me writing for all of those years. It was fun and I enjoyed every moment!<br />
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I will be working on other projects. And anyone who wants to be included on any of my other endeavors just let me know. You will get the invite. You can comment on THIS post or you can send me an email directly. I think you should still be able to do so from my blog page as I will not be taking it down for a while. Basically, if you want to contact me there are a few ways to do so.<br />
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And, once again, thanks for being a LARGE part of what made my blog successful.<br />
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I bid thee adieu!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09986167130467258392noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8117339092748057578.post-34263604445233670632013-07-20T08:43:00.001-05:002013-07-20T08:43:14.730-05:00More From the Dad By Trade Archives<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>GOOD MORNING EVERYONE!!!</b> I'm posting more from the Dad By Trade Facebook Page. I'm still working on the Google+ Page. It's a little bit of a change. Once all of that is taken care of I will have to post some new stories. But until then, here is another post from the archives.</span><br />
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<ol>
<li><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I am 100% convinced that the Terrible 2s is a disease that affects the whole family. This is not something that needs to be taken lightly. I'm going to search for a charitable organization that is dedicated to the destruction of this evil menace to society. Wish me luck. My family's sanity might depend on it.</span></span></li>
<li><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The 2YO is REALLY taking this Terrible 2s thing to the max. And now she has added on the fact that she only wants MOMMY during these tantrums. At first I was a little bit upset. Then I thought... She's yelling, kicking, screaming, falling and hitting everything in sight AND she doesn't want to have anything to do with me during those times...<br />Wish granted!!!Sorry, MOMMY! <i class="_4-k1 img sp_4grtt3 sx_e8e303" style="background-image: url(https://fbstatic-a.akamaihd.net/rsrc.php/v2/yK/r/r-s1sSegbX6.png); background-position: 0px -730px; background-repeat: no-repeat no-repeat; background-size: auto; display: inline-block; height: 16px; vertical-align: -3px; width: 16px;"></i></span></span></li>
<li><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">1.5 hr long movie with appropriate ages = 1.5 hrs. 1.5 hr long movie with a 2YO and 4YO... 4 hrs and 37 minutes.</span></span></li>
<li><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Fishing the bead out of my 2YO's nose this weekend felt like I was playing that old game OPERATION (complete with tweezers and sounds). Does anyone else remember that? She didn't cry so I must have won!</span></span></li>
<li><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">After disappointing my 4YO when I told her we couldn't go down the wrong street so she could see some Christmas lights she asked, "Can I drive next time so we can go see the Christmas lights?" She was very convincing so I might just let her.</span></span></li>
<li><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Can someone remind me again why I'm doing this potty training thing while my wife is over 200 miles away? It looks like a carpet cleaning is in my future.</span></span></li>
<li><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">In today's high-tech society, why can't we create a baby monitor that can filter out general whining and allow only legitimate crying through the speaker? There has to be software for that. And if not... there should be!</span></span></li>
<li><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Our house is much quieter when the kids are playing together. And by playing together I mean when the 5YO is bossing the 2YO around. The loudness comes when the 2YO has had enough. How dare she have independent thought.</span></span></li>
<li><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>Me:</b> Hey, Lyndi. What do you want for lunch today?<br /><br /><b>Lyndi (The 6YO):</b> Ummm... Pixie Dust.<br /><br /><i>Is this some 6yo slang I need to worry about?</i></span></span></li>
<li><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">My middle child is acting more and more like me every day. I will have to take some time to figure out how much of a blessing or curse this is.</span></span></li>
</ol>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09986167130467258392noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8117339092748057578.post-49894069753020150652013-07-16T20:30:00.000-05:002013-07-16T20:30:01.135-05:00Improve On Silence<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I stopped writing for a while because I read a quote (from SOME famous dude who lived a long time ago) that I shouldn't speak unless it improves on silence. I couldn't decide if that meant BLOGGING as well. Then months later I thought about it... they didn't even HAVE blogging back then! So, surely, he couldn't possibly be talking about blogs! </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I'm thinking of working on a few short posts. But in the meantime I've decided to share a few posts I've made on my <a href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/Dad-By-Trade-A-humorous-blog-about-fatherhood-family-and-fun/101277473253577#">Dad By Trade Facebook</a> page. If you are a Member of my page then you might have seen some of them. If not, then this is ALL NEW STUFF! (I'm also going to start working on my Dad By Trade Google + Page!)</span><br />
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<ol>
<li><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Almost 2 years old and trying to dance on tables. I think we need to have a talk.</span></span></li>
<li><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Can divorce papers be served on the grounds that your spouse ate your banana pudding?</span></span></li>
<li><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">My 4-year old wanted to put me in timeout because I had to go to work today.</span></span></li>
<li><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">My little one just threw a toy cooking pot at the dog and bopped him on the head. Now I'm torn as to what to do because she hit my wife's dog and not mine. And I don't even like that dog. Oh, the parenting decisions I have to make. <i class="_4-k1 img sp_4grtt3 sx_e8e303" style="background-image: url(https://fbstatic-a.akamaihd.net/rsrc.php/v2/yK/r/r-s1sSegbX6.png); background-position: 0px -730px; background-repeat: no-repeat no-repeat; background-size: auto; display: inline-block; height: 16px; vertical-align: -3px; width: 16px;"></i></span></span></li>
<li><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">There really should be a place to leave 4-year olds and pick them back up when they are behaving correctly. My wife still refuses to let me put the kids back where they came from until they are done. A couple of them could use a little more time in the oven.</span></span></li>
<li><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">My 2 little ones fight a lot. I get the feeling that at one point in my life they are going to ask me to pick sides. And since that is not right for a parent to pick sides between kids I'm going have them write an essay entitled, "What I Plan to Do With My Parents When They Get Old". I will let the essay choose the side for me.</span></span></li>
<li><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Words for today: When your kids repeat something you say, encourage them to choose their statements more wisely than yourself. When your kids repeat something your spouse says, encourage them to repeat it over and over again... especially in front of the grandparents!</span></span></li>
<li><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">When kids are being kids it makes it a lot harder for adults to be adults.</span></span></li>
<li><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Our 4YO has decided to celebrate the 34 days of Halloween. For those who have never heard of this elusive holiday... She has started wearing her Halloween costume a full MONTH before the actual holiday. As soon as she gets home from preschool the clothes come off and the costume goes on. She even sleeps in the thing.</span></span></li>
<li><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I would like to apologize to the world. My 2YO just single-handedly finished off the ozone layer. That smell she just produced was military grade!</span></span></li>
</ol>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09986167130467258392noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8117339092748057578.post-31540286430601070422013-03-20T18:56:00.001-05:002013-03-20T18:56:29.304-05:00Wild Hair Wednesday<div style="text-align: center;">
Do not look at this post if you don't want to see one of the most beautiful little girls in the world.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhT9LaiItyGpFjDWrOyQFOxd7A5qf3UeK_g-qDNGfDAri2KN4sQQnrDr5pP82XyHglzxno9wf94nyAAT4zgstxPZ8n06VJVB5c5T3J9E5KupvygKZaZ47Lzc3jsUJ8Au94c9MN_mq9WEDJY/s1600/Wild+Hair+Day.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhT9LaiItyGpFjDWrOyQFOxd7A5qf3UeK_g-qDNGfDAri2KN4sQQnrDr5pP82XyHglzxno9wf94nyAAT4zgstxPZ8n06VJVB5c5T3J9E5KupvygKZaZ47Lzc3jsUJ8Au94c9MN_mq9WEDJY/s320/Wild+Hair+Day.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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I totally warned you!</div>
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You didn't listen!</div>
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Now you have to be blessed with this image the rest of your life.</div>
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:-)</div>
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Just a pic from Wild Hair Wednesday. Her mom did her hair so it doesn't have the flavor that Wild Hair Wednesday would have been had dad done her hair. We will have to remember that next time.</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09986167130467258392noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8117339092748057578.post-36444434252866102012013-03-18T19:28:00.002-05:002013-03-18T19:28:13.315-05:00MENTAL NOTE MONDAYWhether it's food, kids toys or general packaging...<br />
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If it says 'EASY TO OPEN'...<br />
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go ahead and bring the scissors or box cutter.<br />
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You can only fool yourself so many times before you really just need to stop trying to prove yourself and just admit defeat. In this case, you can actually save yourself a LOT of time and (in MOST cases) pain just by telling yourself that 'EASY TO OPEN' message on the side of the item was simply a text message meant for someone else.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09986167130467258392noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8117339092748057578.post-79584705411175807632013-03-17T13:00:00.000-05:002013-03-17T13:00:03.364-05:00Lyndi and the LeprechaunI have been dealing with something all week. (<a href="http://mywifemykidsmydogs.blogspot.com/2012/12/end-of-world-prequel.html">And if the Mayas had been right this wouldn't be an issue.</a>) I thought this concern was unique to me or this area, even. But after reading <a href="http://honeybee2won.blogspot.com/2013/03/march-challwait-what-leprechauns.html">another post</a> I can see that this has spread WAY farther than I had ever imagined. When did it become a thing to try to catch a leprechaun?!?!? Sure, back in the day everyone wanted to catch a leprechaun to get his pot of gold. But that was limited to days with a rainbows. But NOW we have leprechaun 2.0. He has upgraded in the last generation.<br />
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From what I can gather this new leprechaun is somewhat a mix between Santa Claus, the Tooth Fairy and the Easter Bunny. With his "Santa" skills, the leprechaun is able to sneak into your room and possibly leave a present. I'm not really sure about that because my 7yo has been pretty vague as to what the "leprechaun actually does.<br />
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With his Tooth Fairy skills, the leprechaun takes stuff. What does he take??? Again, I'm not sure. (See the above paragraph for the vagueness of information I'm getting from my child.) If I had to guess it would be money because every trap we set must have money in it for it to work. This is a very odd turn of events. If he has his own pot of gold, what does this little thiefprechaun need with my dollars?!?<br />
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Now, he is like the Easter Bunny because sometimes he... hides things... around the house. What does he leave? You know the answer to that. WHO KNOWS??? It could be money (even though he's possibly taking money. It could be presents, teeth, colored eggs, lottery tickets, store coupons or even new golf clubs (Oooo)! I honestly have no idea. It sounds like a complete surprise! (This question mark actually has me intrigued. I can imagine the possibilities.)<br />
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Another thing to this story... And probably the MOST important question of all of this...<br />
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What does she plan to do if/when she CATCHES the leprechaun?!? Does she plan on taking his money? Does she plan on forcing him to tell her how to get to his pot of gold? Does she plan on bringing him out to the living room and playing 2-player Lego Batman all night? Does she plan on swapping green drink recipes? Does she plan on keeping him as a pet (since mean old dad won't let her have one)? The only thing she tells me she's going to to is to trick him. My head hurts thinking of how THIS one could play out. (As long as she doesn't wake me up in this process I'm fine. I say that because one of her plans was to SCREAM really loud and as long as she can if she catches him. I don't like that plan. It was vetoed.)<br />
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Oh, well... I guess I'm going to have to decide the course of the leprechaun by tonight. We have been setting up traps for the past few days that have come up empty. We were able to push this off until today, St. Patrick's Day. But we can't push this out anymore. The trap can NOT come up empty again. This day is the day! Something is going to happen. And it's all going down TONIGHT!!!<br />
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OR I could just show her that movie from the early 90s about the leprechaun. She will either be scared and not want to catch him at all OR she will see how horrible the movie was and want nothing to do with anything related to the movie. Either way... no more leprechaun trap to deal with.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09986167130467258392noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8117339092748057578.post-43896136678763940362012-12-21T22:08:00.000-06:002012-12-21T22:08:16.732-06:00End of the World - The 19th - 22nd HourThis day has not turned out like I expected. I'm about ready to call it quits. I have started taking down my my signs. No more "MAYAN Safe House Not YOURS" signs. No more "I survived 12/21/12 and all I got was this lousy sign" signs. No more "In case of apocalypse knock here" signs. No more "'I'll give you one guess as to what YOUR civilization and the MAYA civilization have in common. Please answer before midnight." signs. This is just the worst!<br />
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Yeah, I'm glad the world is still here. Blah , Blah, Blah! But this is just a wasted day. And on top of all of that, my family and friends are making fun of me. They are all posting messages to my social media sites telling me of all of the fun things they are doing and that I'm not. I'm getting posts and tweets and pics showing and telling me about how big of a mistake I made.<br />
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They might be right.<br />
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I don't even have the kids with me. My wife told the kids to come back into the house. It's past their bedtime and that they can play "fantasy apocalpyse" with daddy tomorrow night. Now isn't that just a smack in the face! Oh, well. Such is life.<br />
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Hope is fading. We have a 2 more hours left. I have closed my Facebook. I have subtracted my Google+. I have muzzled my Twitter. I have delayed my Instagram. Basically, all I have left is this blog. If something does happen there will need to be log of events. So, I'm still writing if you are still reading.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09986167130467258392noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8117339092748057578.post-12575292171590465772012-12-21T17:30:00.003-06:002012-12-21T17:31:30.111-06:00End of the World - The 16th - 18th HourI forgot to play my game of Madden. Even though the world is going to end I still have a responsibility to the league. The world can crash in but I don't want to be the holdup of my friends from playing their game. It was a little tricky. I wanted to play but I didn't want to be too far away from my safe house. We are getting too close! So I had to put the TV back in the house. But I put in the window like we used to do with Jam Boxes when we would break-dance back in the day. I had to put the Xbox near the house as well to get a signal. Then I took my wireless controller about as far away from the XBox and I could toward the entrance of my safe house. It worked! And it goes to figure that the last day on earth and I finally win a game. At least I went out on a good note.<br />
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After that was done, I took the TV and XBox back. And since my wife is still at work I decided to take some other things. I took some books and videos. I only took the important ones....<br />
<br />
<br />
<ol>
<li>The third book of the Hunger Games Trilogy: <b><u>Mockingjay</u></b>. I HAVE to find out the conclusion of all of this mess in Panem. I've devoted too much time reading this series to let a little thing like the end of the world stop me now. I mean, what would Katniss do???</li>
<li><b><u>How To Balance A Budget</u></b> - Brought to you by the members of the US Congress. This book is FULL of details on how to manage your money. It even has bonus chapters on how to manage OTHER people's money when you run out of your own. I know money means nothing in a world of chaos but I want to be prepared.</li>
<li>I downloaded the <u><b>Gangnam Style </b></u>video to my phone. I must learn this dance. It's not too difficult. But I can't get it. Now I have years to get it right.</li>
<li>The Revised <b><u>How to Win Friends and Influence People</u></b> - Revision by Kim Jong-il and his son Kim Jong-un. It does my heart good to see a father and son work together for a book so important as this. I might cry.</li>
<li><b><u>Justin Bieber: Just Getting Started</u></b> - This is the epitome of memoirs! The follows the humble start and rise of one of America's greatest icons. Just reading his gems of wisdom earned through months and months stardom. I can't wait to read part 2 of the Trilogy when he talks about his 20s.</li>
</ol>
<div>
I think those books should keep me busy for a little while. I might grab a few more books later. But right now I'm just focusing on the important things in life. Things that will pay dividends if I make on the other side of the Apocalypse of 2012.</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09986167130467258392noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8117339092748057578.post-42752256150029891422012-12-21T14:02:00.001-06:002012-12-21T14:02:38.365-06:00End of the World - The 14th - 15th HourThis watching for the end of the world is exhausting. The sitting around... doing nothing... just waiting. I want to take a nap but the closer we get to the end of the day the more likely there is something will happen. And just like the first part of The Avengers I might miss it. (Nature called. I answered. End of story. But I do have to get the DVD just so I can see what happened during the first 30 minutes of the movie.)<br />
<br />
I have surfaced a few times to see what the rest of my friends are doing on their last day. Almost ALL of them are doing what they would have been doing if the end of the world notion had never came to be. I feel so bad for them. They have no idea what is about to come. They should have listened. But when the action starts happening I will be the one laughing. Well, me and the little ones. Also, my oldest. She has joined the ranks of the BELIEVERS. Honestly, I think she didn't have any other plans today so she's gracing us with her presence. Either way, it's fine. It's good to have more company here.<br />
<br />
I also recruited my dog. They always say that animals can sense supernatural as well as nature sensitive things like tornadoes, earthquakes and mass extinction. So I took him in to give me a better warning so I'm not just sitting around in constant anticipation. Since bringing him down here, though, all he has done is sniff everything and pee on half of the things he's sniffed. He just lays around licking, scratching or moves around marking territory. I told him he will not have to compete with other dogs but he just kept in peeing like he doesn't understand a word I'm saying. So basically... he's acting the same as if nothing is going to happen. I might need to get another dog. Mine seems to be broken. I guess it won't matter in a few hours.<br />
<br />
Oh, well. The nap idea sounds pretty good right now. If we can just hold the END off a few hours I won't have to be upset that life doesn't have a DVR rewind button.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09986167130467258392noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8117339092748057578.post-85794217081343352902012-12-21T09:32:00.000-06:002012-12-21T12:13:49.470-06:00End of the World - The 10th - 13th Hour<p dir=ltr>I gave up on the whole kicking the kids out of Eden 2 thing.  For 1, what kind of new world would there be without kids? Also, my wife chose to go to work as if nothing is going to happen.  (She's tempting fate and she's on her own with that.)  And lastly (the most important reason), I kept kicking them out, they kept finding their way back in!  It was crazy beyond words.  Finally, I decided it was just easier to let them stay than to fix all of the issues.</p>
<p dir=ltr>Plus, it was too perfect in here.  I needed something in here to defy me.  I needed something here to tell me NO.  I needed conflict.  I needed my wonderful, beautiful little girls with me. And so I have them. I might intensify the conflict in a little bit because my 7yo is already bored and wants to play XBox. This never works well. She hates losing. I mean REALLY hates losing. And I never let her win. I'm too competitive. So is she. She even gets mad at me when we play a game on the SAME TEAM and I score more points... for BOTH of us.  So it's just a BAD idea all around. Almost as bad as me packing Raisin Bran in my enclosed safe house. But I'm going to throw caution to the wind with this Xbox thing as well as the Raisin Bran (different wind with the Raisin Bran though).</p>
<p dir=ltr>We'll see how this goes. </p>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09986167130467258392noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8117339092748057578.post-74808305729842457912012-12-21T08:09:00.001-06:002012-12-21T08:09:25.965-06:00End of the World - The 3rd - 9th HourUmmm.... What had happened was... I was watching, waiting and listening for any signs of doom. I diligently checked my processes. I did test runs of my emergency procedures. I worked on everything I had been preparing for to make sure nothing went wrong when the time came.<br />
<br />
Then I fell asleep.<br />
<br />
But that single act gave me some perspective on the whole ordeal. Because some way or some how my 4yo found a way into the safe house! How do little kids do this??? She came in asking me for some food. I spent all of this time and money to make an impenetrable fortress (at least that's what it said on the kit) to survive the end of of the world and I was duped by a 4yo. Either I did a very poor job or 4yos are above planning and ignore processes and procedures completely! I'm thinking the latter.<br />
<br />
Whatever it is I need to fix it soon. Because, as my old high school principal used to say, a chain is only as strong as its weakest link. And my 4yo has exposed a weak link somewhere. And this issue is like a levee. First there's a trickle then there is a deluge! First the 4yo (trickle) got in then the 7yo (deluge).<br />
<br />
I'm going to work on this issue. Just like in the first Eden, there are no children in Eden 2. I will keep you posted. But first, apparently, I have to fix some kids some breakfast. Smarshmellows (that's not a typo) and bacon.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09986167130467258392noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8117339092748057578.post-47860995836748950662012-12-21T01:38:00.002-06:002012-12-21T01:38:36.903-06:00End of the World - The 2nd HourAGAIN... another false alarm. So I'm back at the main house again using the internet as if an ELE (Extinction Level Event) is not knocking on our door. What is going on here??? All of the signs were there. We've had some major signs. We've had some devastating floods. Still no end of the world. We've had some major earthquakes. Still no end of the world. We've had Obama re-elected... and despite secular opinion... Still no end of the world. All of the signs are in place! What's up?!?<br />
<br />
I'm still not willing to give up on this. I really just came back to the house to grab my XBox and the family TV. Yet again, another slight oversight in my safe house. (The wife and kids are going to be completely surprised when they wake up in the morning. If there's a world to wake up to.) I must stay the course. I will have to move forward if I'm to make sure the human race is to survive such a crossroads in the history of known life.<br />
<br />
It is currently quiet but I feel this is the calm before the storm. I'm not only grabbing the TV and the XBox, I'm also taking some Ramen. When I left for college just *ahem* 2 short years ago, my parent gave me a microwave (crap, I need to grab the family microwave) and some Ramen. That stuff NEVER goes bad! My parents knew that. And since I can't stockpile Twinkies (darn you Hostess!!!) I guess I will have to settle for Ramen for my long-term meal solutions. (My second choice was Raisin Bran. But after the last few days of eating Raisin Bran... I don't think my new living situation is prepared for such a action-reaction type of food.)<br />
<br />
Either way, I have to get this stuff and run. The wife and kids (or as I shall refer to them as the NONBELIEVERS) might wake up with all of the noise I'm making. I'm trying to be quiet but wires, cables and plastic wraps on food are not cooperating. Hopefully (or not???) this will be my last post as all of my hard work will come to fruition. See ya on the other side, Mayas!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09986167130467258392noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8117339092748057578.post-68067902410852662472012-12-21T00:38:00.002-06:002012-12-21T00:38:41.287-06:00End of the World - The 1st HourWell... That was a little disappointing. I mean that in a good way. It was sorta anticlimactic. I was expecting explosions and natural fireworks and floods and wind (we DID get wind) and hail and tornadoes and thunder and lightning. And.... nothing. I should be happy about that. But that means all of that money I spent building the safe house underground with a steel plated titanium shell just went down the drain. So, I'm actually a little upset. I'm probably more upset with myself because with everything I put into the safe house I forget to equip it with the internet. I had to leave the safe house just to write this.<br />
<br />
I was a little worried leaving my new home I dubbed Eden 2. But since I didn't hear or feel anything I figured it was ok to run all the way back to the main house to get on the internet. I still think the Maya were right but maybe they are on a 1hr delay. Which is possible if the calendar maker was distracted by nature or BC bar fight or if they were watching the season finale of The Voice. So I will give them a little leeway. But they'd better start the show soon. I gave up new cars, fancy vacations and my kids' dental work (where do you think I got the titanium from) just build this room and protect what is mine. SO something better happ...<br />
<br />
What was that? Ok. I'm going to leave now. I need to get back into my safe room. I just heard a noise and I don't want to take any chances. I will keep all of those who heeded the warnings and built their safe houses informed.<br />
<br />
HAPPY EOTWD (End Of The World Day)!!!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09986167130467258392noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8117339092748057578.post-73960327925777710522012-12-20T23:22:00.001-06:002012-12-20T23:22:29.842-06:00End of the World - PrequelI haven't posted in a while. I just haven't been inspired to peck my thoughts through my keyboard. But I figured... the world is going to end tomorrow! So, I'd better get in and write SOMETHING!!! I mean, what do you do at a time like this? Do you curl up into a ball and cry your way though the impending doom of the world? Do you go out and take what precious minutes you have and try to change the world (even though you've had YEARS to do so and didn't change anything then)? Each of us will sign out differently. I have chosen to write. (Brave... I know!)<br />
<br />
Some of you out there are saying, "You know that's not going to happen. It's already 12/21/12 in other countries like Japan, Australia, China, Israel, UK, all of Africa, an pretty much everywhere except the Americas (North, Central and South)." So those skeptics... Poo on you! Didn't know you know the Maya Civilization was on CST time??? That means we only have about 45 minutes as I'm writing this. But instead of speculating what MIGHT be, I've decided to chronicle this last day of existence on what IS. So I will post as often as I can. I will brave this one day! I will make sure those of you who can hear the sound of my voice (or read my blog) will know that I'm still around. And I will be here as long as the earth continues to spin! I will be here as along as 4 horses of the Apocalypse are still in their stables. I will be here as long as my wife doesn't make me clean anymore just in case the world makes it another day. (I'm still upset about that one. It the last day of the world and what do I have to do... CLEAN!!!)<br />
<br />
Anyway, I'm going to my safe place to wait out these last 40 minutes of life. I hope to see each of you on the other side.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09986167130467258392noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8117339092748057578.post-58164467275116434492012-06-27T18:28:00.001-05:002012-06-27T18:28:32.075-05:00Saying GoodbyeWhen it comes to the passing of a friend or family member, we all choose to say goodbye differently. Not only do we have a different way to say goodbye, we also choose to say goodbye at different times. I helped bury one of my best friends this past weekend but I chose to say goodbye well before the funeral.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I chose to say goodbye to my friend, James Pointer, by talking to him throughout the week with a little 2Pac playing in the background. I decided to have general conversations with him about things we would have normally been talking about. So I took time out during the days leading up to his funeral to make sure we would have time to talk over all of the topics.<br />
<br />
We talked sports. It was mostly about the NFL. We talked about how our Cowboys were going to do this season. Of course he was a lot more optimistic about their chances than I was. He always erred on the side of positivity (not a bad trait to have). And he was REALLY positive about the Titans chances this season. I wanted him to be right but couldn't bring myself to be swayed by his ideas about the team.<br />
<br />
We talked about the NBA. I asked him who was going to win between the Heat and OKC in the finals. He said the Heat. I said OKC. (He was right. Blah, blah, blah.) I also took that time to tell him something about basketball that I never said while he was alive. I finally told him that when we used to play ball in the park he was no Michael Jordan. (I know he liked to think he was, but he wasn't.) He laughed and told me something HE had been holding on for a couple of decades as well. He told me I was no Magic Johnson. We both agreed that the other was right and that we just liked playing ball.<br />
<br />
We talked about women. This was a pretty short conversation because neither of us know anything about women. (Who does???) We both have a lot of female friends but I think that was more out of accident than by design. We did come up with one thing, though. When you have that special someone... you do everything you can to make sure they stay that way. You don't let any person, any law or any church tell you who you should or shouldn't be with. In the end, you don't have to answer to any of the people trying to keep you apart. Too many people go through life without finding that special person. So, when you do, you don't let that person go. Even though life is short it becomes WAY too long to live with that kind of regret you have from letting someone slip through your fingers.<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: white;">We talked friends. He did most of the talking during this portion of the conversation. I would almost say that it was a monologue. He was FAR better at making friends and treating them the way they should be treated. So I mainly kept my mouth shut. He explained to me that friends must be loved unconditionally. If you accept someone as a friend then they must be loved. He didn't care about race or gender. He didn't care about sexual orientation. He didn't care about religious or political affiliations. If you gained his respect and trust, you had a friend for life. I have always shared the same sentiment as he but he was much better at showing it.</span><br />
<br />
We talked family. We both think that there are very few things in this world more important than family. But the standard definition of family doesn't always apply. Sometimes, you have friends who are more family than family. But a strong and supportive family base can make the starting point for something great.<br />
<br />
We talked about so much more. Some stories I might share at a later date. Others I will keep between Mr. James Pointer and myself. But the conversations we had while he was alive as well as after his passing will continue to strengthen me for the rest of my life. There are a few OTHER conversations I would like to have with a couple of other people, though.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I would like for his mom (VC) to know: I can't imagine what you are going through. I know everyone tells you it will be ok. And that statement always creates a conflict between what your head thinks and your heart feels. But there is one thing that should help in the healing. You should be able to take some solace in that you brought such a wonderful person into this world. Being a father, that's all I think I can ever ask for. When you looked around at the funeral, you didn't see just people there to make an appearance. You saw people who were truly touched and positively influenced by your son. You saw people who were saddened by his passing and at the same time happy about having known him for whatever time they had with him. <br />
<br />
I would also like to apologize. I tried for YEARS to get him to move out of Shelbyville. He had such hopes and dreams. He also had the mind and social skills to make that happen. But I knew he would never reach those dreams in Shelbyville. So, for a long time, I tried to get him to move to a larger city to fulfill his dreams. It wasn't until the last 2 years that I quit trying. But I didn't quit out of defeat. I quit because I finally realized that he didn't want to leave you, Max and the rest of his family and friends. And the thing is... at first glance it would sound like he was being held back by his love for his family. But if you know James you can see that he was actually being BUILT UP by the love for his family. James might have filled in the walls and bought all of the furniture but you, being his mother, built his base, his foundation and his structure.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
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I would like for his brother (MP) to know: James was always proud of everything you did. I can't remember him EVER saying anything that could be thought of as negative or even disappointing when he referred to you. He wanted to make sure he set a good example for you growing up. And as you got older, it seemed like he became closer to you. He went from being you older brother setting and example to just being your brother and enjoying how you put everything together to become your own person. He absolutely LOVED that you made him an uncle. And he wanted to be there for every milestone with you, your wife and his nieces and nephews. He just really thought the world of you . </div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
I would like for his uncle (JB) to know: I can't imagine anyone else in the world delivering a better eulogy. You were the perfect choice. The fact that you really KNEW him made all of the difference. He always wanted us 3 to get together to just sit and run our mouths. There was never a time when we were hanging out that he didn't mention something you said or did. That is especially true over the last 5 or 6 years. You were a great influence on him and he probably had more respect for you than anyone else in his life. Whenever we talked I could always count on finding out what "JB" says about things. It was never presented or received as a negative thing. I hate that I never took him up on the offer to hear your words in person while he was alive. But listening to your words upon his passing it sounds like it was truly my loss. Everything he said about you was right.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I would like for the rest of his family and friends to know... One VERY true statement about James really stood out to me from the eulogy. And that was that James NEVER gossiped. He always told the good stories about each and every person he spoke about. Even when things weren't going so well, he would not stoop as far as to pass on negativity. So, if there was something to be worked out, you could count on him working it out directly with you. Yeah, he talked to me about things when he was troubled. But it was always said with respect for the person he was talking about. He loved each of you and would easily have traded his last breath to make sure you had another one. That's just how he was. And as his uncle JB said, he lived HIS life HIS way. That is just how he will be remembered.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<span style="background-color: white;">And when the funeral I wanted to tell everyone these things. I wanted to go talk to his mom. There were some of James' family members I wanted to speak to for a few minutes. I really wanted to talk to several of our mutual friends. But after they lowered James into the ground I became quieter. I decided to not really talk to anyone after that point. And it wasn't that I was being antisocial. It wasn't that I was being rude or anything like that. I had already said goodbye. I felt I needed to give everyone else the opportunity to do the same.</span></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09986167130467258392noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8117339092748057578.post-45704872910269884082012-06-17T16:40:00.002-05:002012-06-17T16:40:56.591-05:00I lost someone yesterdayIf I was a real writer then I would probably have the words to fill the empty page here. But, I'm not. So the words don't hit the page as quickly and as precisely as I would like. I really just keep looking at the screen thinking it's going to magically fill with all of the jumbled up mess that's up in my head. But it's not. I imagine my mind is at the same loss for words that my mouth shares.<br />
<br />
I lost a good friend yesterday. His name was/is James Pointer. He was not only a good friend but also a great person. So my loss is the world's loss as well. His infectious smile meant that you couldn't be around him without smiling too. And though is physical stature was a little intimidating his demeanor was nothing short of a teddy bear. He was genuine in that what you see is what you get. He was fun to be around. He never met an enemy. He never said a negative word behind anyone's back. He was just the kind of person that made you feel like you were a better person just having met him. So his untimely passing will be felt by a LOT of people. Probably far more than he could have ever imagined.<br />
<br />
I do have one major regret, however. Though he and I talked, chatted, messaged and even saw each other semi-regularly, he never got to see my youngest. This is really sad for a couple of reasons. The first reason is that she's almost 4yo. Surely, over the last 4 years we could have found time to make this happen. It is even sadder when you look at the second reason. He was a guy who LOVED kids. That's pretty rare. Most men LOVE their own kids. Most men will tolerate other people's kids. I don't mean that in a mean or negative way. I'm just stating a fact. But James truly loved all kids. That's just the kind of person he was. He always wanted his own children but that, sadly, never came to be. So, he basically adopted every child he met. And he passed away without me allowing him the opportunity to adopt my little one.<br />
<br />
So, James, wherever you are I hope you have access to the internet because I'm going take this moment to show you what she looks like now and give you the opportunity to adopt my little one.<br />
<br />
James... Liana. Liana... James.<br />
<br />
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There is a lot more I want to say but I'm not sure I'm ready to verbalize it (or write it). So I will just leave it at this...<br />
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I will miss you, James Pointer... Rest in the words of how you used to end every single phone conversation with me:<br />
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<b>PEACE HOMIE</b></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09986167130467258392noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8117339092748057578.post-53786734166143455532012-06-10T08:51:00.003-05:002012-06-10T08:51:56.112-05:003yo PhilosophyMy 3yo has a simple, yet very effective philosophy on life: <b>If I ain't sleepin', y'all ain't sleepin' neither!</b> (She's Southern. So, that explains the use of the words ain't, y'all and the dropping of the final 'g' sound in words ending in '-ing'. AND she's 3. So, her philosophy is entitled to a few grammatical errors as well.) And by "y'all" she means the entire house. We just have an interesting situation with the 3(almost 4)yo.<br />
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Our 3yo NEVER sleeps in. And by NEVER, I mean... we could keep her up until 3am, give her Benedryl, sound and light proof her room, make a Federal Law to make napping unconstitutional, move everyone out of the house except her so there are no vibrations and play a CD of Metallica's greatest hits... on the xylophone and she would STILL be up by 5:30a. (We haven't REALLY tried all of these things (because I can't find the xylophoned version of Metallica) but I'm kinda partial to the whole MOVING OUT thing. If she's taking the whole 'early bird gets the worm' approach to squatter's rights on the house, she can have it!)<br />
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Since she was born she hasn't consistently slept through the night. It wasn't until around 8 - 9 months ago that she started sleeping past 5:00a. (She's still up by 5:30a though.) We shouldn't be too surprised since one of her older sisters was ALMOST the same way. There was a time, however, shortly after she had turned 3 when we though she had turned the curve and was ready to start joining the rest of us in the house with semi-normal sleeping patterns. She had actually slept through the night! AND she slept past 7:00a. My wife and I were celebrating this new development!!! We danced. We sang. (Neither of which, I am good at.) We consummated our new life together by toasting with a little champagne. Happy days were here again. We would from this day forward have normal children where we would have to FIGHT to get them awake instead of the other way around. And this excitement of Bonnaroo proportions lasted all the way until... 5:00a then next morning.<br />
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We have done our due diligence in the art of forcing a 3yo to sleep past 7:00a against their will. We have bought the blackout curtains so that our daughter believes the earth is in a state of perpetual darkness. It didn't work. We have kept her up WAY later than her normal bed time. (We haven't done this one a lot because it's not a good thing to do AND it hasn't worked ANY of the times it has happened.) She still wakes up right before or right after 5:00a. We have tried a little Benedryl. (Don't worry. It was Doctor supervised for symptoms related to allergies.) And that was the WORST! She was 10 times as hyper than normal. (At least 3 times that night I had physically PULL her off of the ceiling. There are footprints still up there to prove it happened.) She was not only hyper but she also didn't sleep past 6:00a. So after calling our Doctor and giving her a little English lesson (ghetto style) we immediately discontinued the use of said product for ANY future allergic reactions.<br />
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There are a few things we haven't tried for various reasons. We haven't tried alcohol. Why? Because we are good parents and would never resort to such illegal parenting methods. (Besides, the alcohol is for me. And giving it to a child to help them sleep is a waste of some good ethanol.) We haven't tried monetary compensation for a few hours of sleep. (Actually, we HAVE tried it but it failed miserably. She doesn't know the value of money yet so her price for a few extra hours of sleep was something like $10 hundred million thousand million (not sure if that's in dollar or cents but it really doesn't matter because we don't have 10 hundred million thousand million of ANYTHING.) So bribery is out. We haven't tried just simply letting her cry it out. (That's not true either. We have tried that but she just yells, screams and kicks the walls until everyone else in the house is awake. We are awake because her room still has a baby monitor in it. The 6yo is awakened because she has the room next to the 3yo. The teenager is immune to this. I think she could sleep through the 3yo putting on her best screaming performance with a megaphone in the same room. (I envy her sometimes.)) <br />
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I told my wife that something's not right with her and she needs more time to cook. My wife QUICKLY vetoed my idea to put her back in for a few months to make sure she comes out done. (She didn't even give this idea a chance. AND she won't reconsider. I'm not sure why she has such strong feelings against this idea but it has some merit to it and should at least get put on the table.) I came up with the idea to try to sell her on the Black Market and then buy her back (at a discount of course) after she starts sleeping in. But that plan got shot down when I found out that was illegal. (The Black Market idea was illegal but I wonder if it's ok to have a yard sale and "accidentally" put a $.25 sticker on her back. She LOVES stickers!)<br />
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I imagine we are just stuck with her until she works this out of her system. My wife and I have already gone 6 years without sleeping past 7:00a so I guess we can do it a few more years. At 5:00a on Saturday and Sunday mornings I might not think this, but she's worth it. And I would miss her if we sold her... even if we only sold her for a few years and bought her back when the sleeping thing gets worked out. Here are a couple of reasons why she isn't going anywhere.<br />
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<i>(You will have to excuse all of the errors in my post. I haven't written in a while AND I did most of this post with my 3yo flicking my ear, crawling on me, hitting me, talking in my ear, saying she's hungry, wanting to play Mickey Mouse and Angry Birds on the iPad, and just generally being a 3yo.)</i><br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09986167130467258392noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8117339092748057578.post-19057175930646549582012-01-22T13:00:00.000-06:002012-01-22T13:00:00.591-06:00Stroke of Genius<br />
Before I get to Day 2, I was asked to post this on my blog. If you are a FB or Google+ friend, you already know what happened and this is just the whole version.<br />
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So, I was taking the kids to one of those very rare trips to see the grandparents. I feel bad that I don't take them there enough considering my parents live less than 30 minutes away. (I know. Bad son, right?) But we were on the way over the river and through the woods when, from the back seat, my 6YO starts doing her normal thing...<br />
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"Daddy, Go SUPER fast! I want to see 3 numbers! I want to see 100!" (I have a digital speedometer and she wanted to see it go to 3 numbers.)<br />
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I have explained to her on several occasions that going "super fast" can get me put in "super jail". She doesn't care. Apparently, she has an insatiable need for speed (at 6) and can't be bothered by such details as her father going to the BIG house. To her, that's just dad taking one for the team.<br />
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Today was different, however. SHE WOULDN'T STOP!!! If you have children, or work with children, you know this day. It happens every now and then. (More now and less then.) If you are over 35, it's much like a record skipping on a song you really didn't want to hear to begin with. If you are under 30, I probably just sounded like Charlie Brown's teacher, "WAH, WAH, WAH, WAH!". What? I lost you at Charlie Brown, too??? Good Grief!!! Well... trust me... it's not fun. It goes a little something like this...<br />
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"Go faster, Daddy!" "Daddy!" "Daddy, go faster!" "Go faster, Daddy!" "Daddy!" "Daddy, go faster!" "Go faster, Daddy!" "Daddy!" "Daddy, go faster!" "Go faster, Daddy!" "Daddy!" "Daddy, go faster!" "Go faster, Daddy!" "Daddy!" "Daddy, go faster!" "Go faster, Daddy!" "Daddy!" "Daddy, go faster!" "Go faster, Daddy!" "Daddy!" "Daddy, go faster!" "Go faster, Daddy!" "Daddy!" "Daddy, go faster!" "Go faster, Daddy!" "Daddy!" "Daddy, go faster!" "Go faster, Daddy!" "Daddy!" "Daddy, go faster!" "Go faster, Daddy!" "Daddy!" "Daddy, go faster!" "Go faster, Daddy!" "Daddy!" "Daddy, go faster!"<br />
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(That was the short version. This can literally go on for hours if you let it. Their mind goes into some sort of cruise control and it takes their mouth along for the ride.) Notice, you don't hear any of my dialog in that. That's because when they are in this mode, there's really not reason to respond. You just let them do their thing. Any response, at this point, just leads to a series of "WHY?" questions. You will be able to answer some of the WHYs but most you won't. And that leads to more WHYs. It's all lose/lose (like politics) from here.<br />
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This is also the moment where you realize that this form of Kiddie Verbal Viral Warfare is working! You know you won't be able to take much more. You are merely mortal. Humans were only designed to take so much. Male humans were designed to take even less. I was about to push that little Civic to the limit and I didn't care if I got caught or not. I was fully prepared to make an O.J. convoy 20 police cars long directly to the jailhouse just for some quiet when I was hit with a stroke of genius.<br />
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I decided to give my little one what she wanted. My daughter wanted 3 numbers and she was going to get 3 numbers! That's the kind of father I am! So, I jammed my foot onto the accelerator. I leaned back in my seat as if I was taking off in a space shuttle. I even made a loud VROOOMMMM noise. (That part was absolutely necessary since I drive a Civic. No matter how hard I push the engine there's not enough power to make the engine roar. So, sound effects are needed.) Then, to complete the request... I pressed the "turbo" button! Sadly, my turbo button doesn't actually make the car go any faster. All it does is change the digital speedometer reading from Miles Per Hour to Kilometers Per Hour. So, instantly, I was going 110! (At least that's what my display says.)<br />
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My little one was EXTREMELY excited that her father went over 100! She could hardly contain herself. It was great! I managed to make her happy and not get a ticket... which made ME happy. All of this was at the push of one button. And that's what fatherhood comes down to. Sometimes you are charged with making sure everyone is happy. And all it takes is a little creativity and deception. (You know... that point sounded a WHOLE lot better in my head. But you get what I'm saying!)<br />
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Since I originally thought about putting this story to print, the "genius" plan has backfired on me. Now, BOTH of my little ones loudly object when I change the speed back to mph. So, now, I will eventually get the ticket anyway because I have NO idea how fast I'm going. I wonder if the officer will understand. If he's the father of young girls... he will.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09986167130467258392noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8117339092748057578.post-51999620002338571312012-01-07T15:20:00.000-06:002012-01-08T10:58:39.373-06:00Diary of a Father of a Teenage Girl - Day 1 - The MoveI knew this day would come. I fought and fought and fought this for years. But, alas, it was fruitless. I didn't even get the lousy T-Shirt to prove it. And, it's not like the wife's birthday or our wedding anniversary that sneaks up on me each year. This was something real and had to planned for or it would have blown up in my face (kinda like the wife's birthday or our wedding anniversary. All of my planning and preparation got me ready for the inevitable. I am now the father of a teenage girl. Operation Protection by Destruction has commenced! But each operation must start with a plan. And this plan starts with The Move.<br />
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I have to move. I'm too close to the assignment. Being in the same house with a teenager mean ZERO planning would get done. ZERO planning means sloppy execution. And I only have one chance to get this right. (That's not necessarily true since I have 2 other girls. I could consider this a trial run. That will be my Plan B. If this doesn't work out I will learn, grow and buy MUCH more ammo for the next mission. Failure is not an option... twice.) So, moving out is the best option.<br />
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Keep in mind, this wasn't part of the original plans. I had told myself long ago that I was not having any little girls. I made a promise to myself and the world that I would only have 2 (maybe 3) boys and that was it. But somewhere between promise and procreation I forgot a Y-chromosome... 3 times! So, most of my life I was planning on raising the problem causers in the world and now I have to deal with the problem solvers. But life goes on and plans are adjusted. Luckily, the moving out plan was in place whether I had a boy OR a girl. It didn't matter. Teens are teens.<br />
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Some of you might be thinking, "But, won't your wife object?" Well, she can't. I had this clause added to our nuptials. Fellas!!! You NEED to add this into the nuptials or you just end up looking like a jerk when you move out and leave the wife and kids at home. But if it becomes part of the vows then you are just being the perfect father and husband by making sure you are man of your word. And it's really simple too. If you get to write your own vows then it's GOLDEN. Just put it in the middle of golf and football. She'll zone out at golf and come back after stop talking about football. This is the Holy Grail of vows. So use it wisely or you will be paying for it for the rest of your life.<br />
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If you don't get to write your own vows then you need to take this as a chance to learn stealth. It will pay dividends later in life. Know this going in... You are going to lose most arguments most of the time (whether you are right or wrong). So take this chance to learn a new skill in sneakiness. (This is not deceipt or lying. I don't condone that behavior. But being sly is fine.) When they get to the part that says LOVE, HONOR and (whatever new word they put in place of OBEY) you need to sneak in (under your breath), "but not necessarily in the same house." See, this one is a little tougher because she's right there and listening. You don't have the freedom of the Holy Grail. You have say it low enough so she doesn't hear but loud enough for one of your boys (homies) to get it on video... as evidence during the eventual fallout of the teenage years. Any real friend will help you accomplish this because they will expect the same at their wedding. <br />
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But, you have to lay the groundwork for this. This will not plan itself. And all good plans start with a good foundation. Thus... The Move. I have kept my family at DEFCOM 5 for a long time. But with the new development we will officially never drop below a 4 until there are no teenagers in the house. And for those who think I will have more trouble protecting my teenage girl from the evil teenage boys, I just have 2 words for you... sniper scope.<br />
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But that's for another day. THIS day is day 1 of the move. I must admit, though, that I probably should have amended this rule. It's kinda cold outside right now. Unfortunately, when I thought this through, I didn't think about the fact that my daughter would reach her teens at winter time. Slight oversight on my part. Oh, well. I won't miss anything else. Tent - CHECK. Canteen - CHECK. Nearest stream - (the water bill has been paid, so...) CHECK (for now). Bathroom - (Treeline is only a few yards behind me, so) CHECK. Food source... well, I moved out but I'm just in the field across the street. (I have to be able to see the house for this to work. I said I was moving out not moving away.) So, food won't be a problem. I added that in the nuptials too. :-)<br />
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And now that I am alone and it is quiet, I have extra time to think and to write my general thoughts on the subject. <br />
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Thought #1...<br />
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The world would be a perfect place for teenage girls if there was no such thing and boys.<br />
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I guess we will see how this move thing works out.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09986167130467258392noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8117339092748057578.post-14737809811969188962011-09-30T07:00:00.000-05:002011-09-30T17:48:38.959-05:00A Tale of Two Kiddies (Part 2)<br />
<div style="background-color: transparent;">
<span id="internal-source-marker_0.3202448880765587" style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">After the first game, NO ONE will forget my daughter! I would love to say they will remember her because she left a lasting impression of greatness and wonder like Niagra Falls, the Grand Canyon or Fruity Pebbles. I would love to say they will remember her because her performance inspired others to achieve like Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., Tom Hanks or the “Miss Congeniality” Sandra Bullock. It would even have been nice if she were remembered as the beautiful little girl whose smile lit up the field and warmed the hearts of all who gazed upon her. I assure you, that was so far from the truth Momma L. and Daddy Que wondered if that girl still existed.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">As established in my previous post <a href="http://mywifemykidsmydogs.blogspot.com/2011/09/tale-of-two-kiddies-part-1.html">A Tale of Two Kiddies (Part 1)</a> there was “another” team on the field. So, our 5YO was going to learn her first lesson in competition. She didn’t like that lesson. She didn’t like the fact that if she had the ball someone from the other team would keep trying to taking it. She expressed her disgust when I told her that’s how the game is played. I’m sure if she had it her way they would all part like the Red Sea and she could walk right down the middle in her own little personal Homecoming parade (with her as the queen of course). Having all of those other kids trying to take the ball from her was just “too hard!”</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">She DID have an answer for that though. An amazing plan went through her head! I wish should would have told me her plan so I could explain to her that it wouldn’t work. But, I guess you have to learn some things on your own. So, the next time the ball was in her area she did the smart thing and just bent down and grabbed it. Just like America, my daughter ignored the fact that the game was cleverly called “Football” for a reason. (At least she didn’t just completely change the name to Soccer or something like that. That would be absurd!)</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; vertical-align: baseline;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">This whole “no-hands” thing in soccer really confused her. And while they were explaining it to her, you could see the frustration on her face. She just didn’t understand why she couldn’t use her hands. I know the game is called Football and I really wanted to explain to her the fun of just using your feet. But to be completely honest... I have the same reservations with the sport. Just pick up the ball and throw it! You have 2 good hands and arms... use them! Just my opinion. So, I really couldn’t argue against her logic because I’m in the same boat. But our problem with the rules didn't change the rules. So they let the other team kick a penalty kick and the game started again. This time was different, though, because now my daughter knew if the ball comes near her she must use her feet (no matter how </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;">effective</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;"> her hands would be) to stop it or kick it.</span></span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">She picked up on that rule much better than I expected! The next time the ball was near her she went through the mental check list. One... They are trying to take the ball from me so I must try to take the ball from them. (CHECK!) Two... I am not supposed to use the these absolutely... ummm... “handy” hands to move the ball. (CHECK!) And Three... (She picked up on this one all by herself) If I kick the ball into the net people will cheer really loudly for me! I was really proud of the logical progression her brain made and how that translated into play on the field.</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">She applied all that she knew, came up with a plan and it led to her first goal of the season! The other team had the ball. She ran up to them and took that ball right from their feet. (Flawlessly, I might add.) She snatched the ball and proceeded to beautifully give THEM a lesson on how the game was supposed to be played. She dribbled left. She dribbled right. She avoided defender after defender. It was a work of art! The goal keeper didn’t have a clue what was going on. The dazzling display had everyone mesmerized. My daughter saw the goalie standing between her and the cheering she knew she would receive for kicking this ball into the goal. She stared the goalie down. She brought her leg back and kicked! The goal keeper went right. The ball went left. GOOOOOOAAAALLLLL!!!!! </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The crowd went wild!!! This was an exciting moment to say the least. And normally, this would have been one of the proudest moments of my parenthood. I wanted to get up and scream like half of the people in the crowd. But, it’s a weird moment when you daughter scores her first goal in her first game.... <b>and it’s for the OTHER team</b>! So my wife and I were not on the side that was cheering. But I can’t fault my daughter for her thoughts. It’s the old “If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em!” philosophy. (Really, it was just that when my daughter got the ball, her own goal was the closest goal to her... just like in practice.)</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">This is where things got sad. When they explained to her what just happened. She just started crying. She broke down right there on the field. She was so upset and she was crying so much that they had to call for a substitution. She didn’t want to do anything but come back over to mommy and daddy. So she did. They resumed play while my daughter sat in our laps crying. :-( It literally broke my heart. I have seen her kick, scream, yell and cry for not getting her way. That doesn't bother me. But I very seldom see her crying due to pain or something I truly feel is tear worthy. If you are a parent, you know how bad that hurts. If you are a father, you know I COULDN’T let me wife and kids see that one bothered me. But it stung.</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Also, if you are a father, you know that sting generally goes away much quicker than it does with mothers. So after a few hours (which really was just a few minutes of real-time but an eternity of “father-time” (pun might have been intended... I’m not sure)) it was time to rub some dirt on it and get back out there and play. I told her in my nicest fatherly voice that it was time to suck up those tears and get back in the game. She told me, “NO!” My wife tried her caring motherly tone and asked her in the way that only mothers can. She told her, “NO!” She kept saying she wanted to be the goalie because it was “easy!” She was crying saying that the game was too hard. She wanted to play goalie because she could use her hands. </span></div>
<div style="background-color: transparent;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="background-color: transparent;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">My wife and I didn’t truly understand what she was meaning by all of this easy and hard stuff. But to me, this was starting to be more than a little annoying. (I know. Bad father, right? I just can’t take all of the whining. And that’s all it was at this point.) So I told her she basically had 2 choices. She could go out there, have some fun and keep playing OR she could go out there and stand in the middle of the field and cry. Either way she wasn’t sitting on the sidelines with us and crying. I gave her the... *ahem*... fatherly nudge and pointed her toward the rest of her team standing at the goal.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">She had finally calmed down enough to go back out there. The coaches were picking the positions for the next quarter (4 quarters for children’s soccer). Little did we know our daughter only agreed to go back out there because she thought she might get a chance to play goalie. When the coaches took the special RED shirt to signify “goalie” off of one of the children and placed it on another child... that wasn’t my daughter... the waterworks started all over! This time people were treated to a dramatic encore performance staring... well, you know who. My daughter put her hands over her face and hit the ground right there in front of the net.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>(Side Note: Thank you to the coaching staff as well as the officials of that game. They did all they could to console her and to get her to play the game in the position she was designated to play. They did a wonderful job. My daughter looked over the the sidelines like she didn't want to play and my wife and I pointed for her to stay on the field. So, the coaches and officials had to deal with the fallout. But they did a wonderful job and I commend them.)</i></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">My little angel :-) remembered her 2 choices. And neither of them involved coming back over to the sidelines with us. So (since she didn’t get to play the “easy” goal keeper position) she chose option #2. And that’s where her day finished. She ended the day standing in the middle of the field... just crying. She wouldn’t run. She wouldn’t kick. She wouldn’t move. She just stood there for the entire 4th quarter... crying. I was slightly (very) upset.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">With all of the mistakes that were made, I was fine. She’s a child. Several other children made mistakes as well. (Not as many as mine, though. I didn’t tell about the other time she grabbed the ball and some other issues as well.) But that’s all part of the learning process. I will never be mad about that. What REALLY upset me was that she gave up and didn’t try at all. She didn’t get her way and just called it quits. There are completely reasonable reasons to call it quits: When your ethics will be compromised... When someone else is going to be harmed in the process... When you run out of money and can’t afford to pay your gambling debts and the Australian Mob (who, BTW, are the nicest Mob in the world) threaten to fly around the world to “come pay you a friendly visit” and you sell your entire Brittany Spears Collection just so you can bet it ALL on double-zeroes... again....</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="background-color: transparent;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;">All of those (and many more) are good reasons to quit something. But not getting you way is NOT one of them. (I love a well placed double negative!) We told her that she was eventually going to get to play goalie. Everyone gets a chance to play all of the positions. She just needed to be patient and trust in her parents and coaches words. And, no matter what, keep trying! That was now going to be her new focus and getting her to understand this was mine.</span></div>
<div style="background-color: transparent;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">To recap: The first game... She played. She made a couple of mistakes. She cried... and cried... and did I mention... CRIED! Soccer is too hard. Playing goalie is “easy” because she gets to use her hands. And that’s where we will end because it’s leads into the next post about the following Saturday... A Tale of Two Kiddies (Part 3)</span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09986167130467258392noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8117339092748057578.post-68493268859084260282011-09-16T07:00:00.000-05:002011-09-16T07:00:14.784-05:00A Tale of Two Kiddies (Part 1)<span id="internal-source-marker_0.21430535068791456" style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">She
was the best at times, and was the worst at times, she’s at the age
before wisdom, she’s at the age of foolishness, blah, blah, blah. You
get the point. She’s a 5YO. So, what exactly am I yapping about? After
much blood, sweat and debate, my wife and I decided to sign our
daughter up for America’s 17th favorite past-time (just below Cow
Tipping and Water Ballet... SOCCER. (That would be FOOTBALL for everyone
else outside of the US of A.)</span><br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">This
past weekend, my middle child (5YO) played in her very first soccer
(football) game. We couldn’t have imagined how this day was going to
turn out. (Really, we could... if we had just remembered most of the
days of her young 5 years of life. As parents we sometimes forget
history when we are excited for our kids. It gives us the wonderful
experience of learning the same lesson more than once.) We glossed over ALL of
the warning signs designed to give parents a heads up on how to predict
the behaviors of our offspring. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">It’s kinda like those parents who
insist on taking their crying, whining or otherwise LOUD children to a
movie or a dinner at a nice restaurant. You know your kids. You know they are going to be bothersome. Being a parent you give up the right to have any kind of fun whatsoever until the kids are old enough to take care of themselves... stay home. (My wife and I dodn't have a problem with this because we didn't go anywhere. We don’t and didn't have any money. So we never took the kids out in public... until now.) But this was one time we just acted like new
parents and threw her into soccer (football). So the blame is really on us.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> </span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Everything
started fine. And by everything, I mean the walk from the car to the
field was fine. When she got out to the field she noticed there were people like
her (with the green shirts on) and people not like her (with the purple
color shirts on). Something wasn’t right here. So I told her the purple shirts were the OTHER team. It was the team she was to play against.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Up to this point, she had only been at soccer
(football) "practice". Everyone was on the same side. There were no teams. Only friends sharing a common goal. So, in her mind, she had to come to grips with this new scenario and it meant she was going to have to play against another team. But more importantly, It
meant she was going to have to SHARE the field with some other
kids she didn’t even know. Well... she HATES sharing (just ask her
little sister). So that was officially the first flag in her mind. And
the game hadn’t even started. At this point I should have used my fatherhood skills to explain "competition" to her. I kind of quickly glossed over it. We have been trying to get her to "cooperate" and now we were having to teach her to be stingy. And I'm OK with that. But I knew I was going to have to have the competition talk. (This is the equivalent of the sex talk the mothers have the have with the daughters. Just trust me on this one. Men and competition will be a whole 'nother post.)</span><br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">When
I finally do have "the talk" about competition, I’m not going to use
great historical rivalries like: Lakers vs Celtics, Packer vs Bears, Red Sox vs Yankees,
University of Tennessee vs Alabama or even (within the sport itself)
Liverpool vs Manchester United. No, those don't have the impact. I need to use something that shows
MUCH more of a battle. I need to use something that epitomizes
competition at a child level. I need to explain what childish competion is and still makes sure it relates to soccer
(football) so my 5YO can understand. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">So when I have this conversation, I will give her a live lesson and
soccer (football) lesson at the same time. I will explain soccer (football) using
the best child-like competitors in the history of the US: Democrats vs Republicans. (Yes, it's political but it's not that bad. I'm talking to a 5YO for goodness sake.) I fugure this is the perfect way to explain the difference in Cooperation (sharing and
compromising: basically, what we’ve been trying to teach her) and Competition (me
vs you, win, lose, compromise = lose/lose). So, I imagine my
explanation will eventually sound a little like this.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">The
Democrats vs The Republicans make it to the World Cup. The Republicans
immediately tell the referees (much to the dismay of the Democrats) that
they will not be needing their services. They feel that less of them (referees)
trying to control everything would make for a much better game. The
Democrats, of course, don’t agree. They feel more rules and people
watching over everything keeps the teams honest. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">So, the Democrats want to not only KEEP the current referees but
to also hire MORE refs. They just can’t really find the money to pay this new labor force. (Minor
Detail) The Democrats and Republicans continue to fight over this one little issue... for hours and hours and hours and hours. The crowd gets restless because they thought they were going to watch soccer (football). But before the two sides can come to an agreement, compromise or resolution they BOTH decide to start
the game anyway (typical).</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> </span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">The
Republicans get the ball first. (I’m not sure how that happened but it
always does.) They take the ball and keep it only on their side of the field.
A strange strategy to say the least. The Democrat think this is a horrible, unfair tactic. They feel that the best game for the fans would be one where the ball is “spread around” between the
two teams. The Republicans assure the Democrats that
through the logical progression of the game itself the ball will
eventually “trickle down” to them... on a flat field. (Hmmm...) The Democrats feel that’s a flawed
logic and the only way for the ball to ever get to their side of the field
is to go get it! They decide that that Republican tactic is not only unfair but also does
a terrible job showing the true meaning of the game. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">So, the Democrats talk to the rules committee and they create a rule on the spot. The rule states that it doesn't matter
whether they go get the ball or not, the Republicans HAVE to give it up after a
certain amount of time. When the Democrats get the ball they completely enjoy what it means. And not only that, they enjoy it so much they
decide that EVERYONE should have a ball to play with. This creates a
small problem since there are 20+ players on the field and there is only
1 ball. That doesn’t matter to the Democrats. As a matter of fact, even after the numbers are presented,
they PROMISE that everyone will have a ball to play with whether they
want one or not. The Republicans laugh at this because they see the math... and
it doesn’t add up. They see the 20 players on the field and only 1 ball. How will the Democrats manage this mathematical impossibility???</span><br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">The Democrats refuse to be limited by logic and go to the fans to ask for more money. They explain it’s
the right thing to do. The fans should give more money to purchase
more balls. The fans originally think that’s a great idea because they want a fun game to watch. And more importantly, they just
want the game to start! They really want to see what their taxes... I mean, ticket prices paid for. But
while they are waiting to hear all of the sides on this issue the Democrats decide
to get the money from them whether they want to give it or not. They do so in
the name of the “best interest of the fans” clause. They really feel this will start the game. But, for some reason... it still doesn’t. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Then to insure they are elected to play in the game next season, the Democrats AND the Republicans decide
that working together is the only thing to make sure the fans get what
they paid for and to get this game started. They figure they will work
together for the benefit of the fans and to insure a better game for all.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">The
only problem is that no matter how much they say they are working together,
they are on different sides of the ball. No matter the good intent of either side, one side is ALWAYS trying to
take the ball from the other side. Then the Democrats say "we have a
right to play here, we are entitled" and the Repubs say "yeah, but we own
the park and here are our guns to prove it!" Then it just starts an all out brawl! </span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> </span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">And,
basically, in the end, you find a whole lot of people kicking the ball around but
no one is actually playing soccer (football). Surely, my 5YO will know what I mean. Kids can figure out a few things before grownups do sometimes.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">I
guess I will end this one there. I got off on a tangent. Who would have known that explaining soccer (football) would be so tiring? I did all of that and I didn't even get into the Tale of the first Kiddie. That will be
my next post. I promise. Stay tuned for what I was really planning on writing
about with my next post.</span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09986167130467258392noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8117339092748057578.post-29530687212381267002011-08-30T05:00:00.000-05:002011-08-30T05:00:10.206-05:00Greatest Blog Post Ever<span id="internal-source-marker_0.02295473264211645" style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">This is the greatest blog post in the world...</span><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"></span><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">...tribute. (Thank you Tenacious D) </span><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"></span><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">I
was putting together... (Hmmm.... I need something stronger to show the
significance.) I was assembling... (Still not there.) I was designing
and constructing from the atomic level up what was going to be the
greatest blog post to EVER be displayed in digital format! (better) It
was complete with plot and subplot with an occasional sub-subplot on the
side. It had action! It had adventure! It had guns and knives and
puppies. (Don’t ask. I’m not sure why I grouped those together either.
And if you ask why I did it I will be forced to make up
something that sounds pleasing to the both of us even though we would
both know it’s a lie.) </span><br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">It had mystery and romance. (Probably had a
little more mystery than romance since, one, I know a little bit about and
the other I have absolutely NO clue at all about. I’ll let you figure
that one out on your own because I will never tell. (See... pretty good
at mystery part.) It had earth, wind and fire. (The elements were there, not
the band. Although, there were already plans for the band to show up
in the made-for-tv movie.) And then to top it all off, there was a
complete section just on naked mole rats! (I hope your filter didn't block it because I used the word "naked"... twice.) As you can see, this blog
post would easily have been the first blog entry in the history of the world to win a Pulitzer.
Now, why am I not able to bring you this (potentially) award winning
post? I blame my wife.</span><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"></span><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">My
wife took my words (which I’m surprised didn’t glow with the power of
the ages) and tossed them into the trash. You have to know something
about my wife. She has this weird thing where she wants our home to be
clean. (I know... the nerve, right? I mean... who even does that
cleaning thing anymore?) It’s not at an OCD level (except on those
really special occasions like when company is coming over) but she likes
the place to generally stay clean. If I had known that BEFORE we got
married...</span><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"></span><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">But
anyway, she just threw them away. I had carefully scribbled all of my
important words onto the back of an envelope and placed on top of the
entertainment center where important papers are supposed to go. I thought that
location would automatically give the paper an inherent level of elevated stature. I was bold
enough to defy the unwritten rule of not putting "paper" on top of the
entertainment center. So that should have let her know right away how truly
important those words were. (Honestly, I think the unwritten rule was
actually WRITTEN but my wife was cleaning one day... well, you know the
rest.)</span><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"></span><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Also,
the words were on the back of an envelope. They weren’t on a regular
sheet of paper like mere common words. These were specially designed
words written on specially designed paper. See the connection? My
words were meant to carry a message. Envelope... message... That’s
the level I’m talking about right there. You would have had to raise
your level of consciousness to even get though the first paragraph. The
post would have been life changing. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">And I know some of you are still
doubting the idea to scribble such important words on the back of an
envelope to begin with. And to those (who are obviously not writers)...
You never know when or where the inspiration will hit you. You have
to take what is in your environment to make sure the words are immortalized. I can’t begin to tell you how many of my blog entries
breathed first life on a couple of sheets of toilet paper because that’s
what was available. (After reading that last line I realize that
sounds kinda disturbing. But it just goes to further my point that you
never know when you will be inspired. It might be a sound. It might be
a smell. You just never know what will inspire you.)</span><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"></span><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">I
did all of that warn you that the next post will not be as great as it
would have been if I had been inspired at a different place or time OR
if my wife didn’t like things to be clean and orderly. The kids and I
have been trying for years to change her way of thinking... It’s not
working. So that means you will be stuck with the reheated leftovers of one of the greatest meals of your life. And if you are ok with that I will see you in a few days.</span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09986167130467258392noreply@blogger.com10Murfreesboro, TN, USA35.8456213 -86.3902735.742652299999996 -86.5481985 35.9485903 -86.2323415