Saturday, November 22, 2008

Factoids Abound

The Missus just tagged me for another meme (still hate that word, but love the game). So now I'll be revealing seven random factoids about myself and then possibly tagging seven blogger friends to do the same. That is, providing I can think of seven people I read who don't exhibit animosity toward memes.

One
I love the smell of wire. "Wire?" you say. Oh yes, wire. "It has a smell?" you say. Oh yes. One lonely strand of wire doesn't have much of an odor all by itself, especially when it's been hiding in your walls for a long time. But when there are thousands of feet of it, coiled and waiting on the shelves at the supplier it's really something esle. It's like coming on a clearing in the woods full of flowers. Well, not really... for me it's a smell that goes along with the concept of vast potential. I love the smell of a thousand feet of service entrance cable the way an artists loves the smell of a fresh sketch book.

Two
I'm proud of the friendships that I cultivate. As an angry teenager in the awkward years I used to make statements about not caring what other attributes a person had, provided they didn't have a fatal case of the stupids. I'm glad to say I've stuck to that standard. Now, as a thirty-two year old parent some of my favorite friends are a twenty year old restaurant manager and an eighty-eight year old plumber. I would have totally missed out if I hadn't cultivated that acceptance.

Three
I think digital watches are cool.

Four
I can't stand bars. I was fascinated with them before I was old enough to go to them, but now I just think they're awful. Except O'Lacy's Pub, I'll always love that place. It's where me and The Missus went when we were "not-dating". And pubs in England? Totally different story over there.

Five
I love office supplies but I hate paperwork.

Six
I think there's something wrong with trees that aren't maples. It's like they're that slow kid in the back of the class that smells slightly of urine. C'mon guys, get it together.

Seven
I am actually a robot who does not require sleep. I just need to plug myself in for at least three hours a day.

Subscribe

Tuesday, November 18, 2008

Quote Of The Day - Piggies

Last night, J-Man came totally unhinged and was just screaming and kicking me in the grill for about half an hour. The Missus had come to the rescue of poor lil H-Bomb who was freaked out by association. After the tempest had passed I got his attention by playing a little game with him. After dinner tonight we played it again with the following result.

Me: This little piggy went to market, etc, etc, etc. (The way you all know it)

J-Man: He he he he he he

H-Bomb: HAW HAW HAW HAW

Me: This little piggy went to Target,
This little piggy stayed home,
This little piggy had a latte,
And this little piggy had none,
And this little piggy cried wee wee wee, all the way home (but with my Jonny Cash voice)

J-Man: NO! The widdle piggy had popcorn!

Subscribe

Saturday, November 15, 2008

How I Got To Be The Mister (Part 4)

How I Got To Be The Mister (Part 1)
How I Got To Be The Mister (Part 2)
How I Got To Be The Mister (Part 3)

This is the story we call Cinco de Mayo at our house because that was when it happened. The Missus posted about it on her blog. After this post I'll be ahead of her so you'll have to stalk her to see her recollection of the plot.

It was the fifth of May in 2000 and The Miss and I were on our way to O'Lacy's to conspire over a few pints. While many people are both in and out on the fifth of May to get all boozy, we were out because that is what we did when The Miss was in town. You'll have to forgive me if the narrative is somewhat fuzzy. I myself was somewhat fuzzy that night, in more ways than one. Which is not to say that I don't have clear memories of the evening. On the contrary, parts of it are etched in my mind in vivid detail.

On the way there, I even remember the particular corner we were rounding at the time, The Miss said to me, "I don't think I could ever kiss you because I'm not sure you have a mouth under there." (I still can't find a picture of me from this era, so I'm substituting this Hellbilly Deluxe era photo of Rob Zombie which isn't too far off.)I had a seriously long goatee that I had been growing for years. I stopped shaving half way through my senior year of high school and here I was, seven years later.

There was some banter back and forth about the status of my facial moss, but I wasn't really following along. In my mind I was going back to all the times in the past I had told people I would only shave it off for my wife. I was seriously considering it.

The pub was packed and we got a seat in the center of it all. After a couple pints, The Miss was innocently plying me with tequila (tequila hates me!) She got our favorite waitress involved and eventually half the bar. We were near the door and pretty much everyone had to weigh in on the subject as they were coming or going. The night wore on. This is the part that's fuzzy. I relented, somewhere along in there and found myself trying not too be sea sick while The Miss drove us home.

Then, before I knew it, an historic event took place. There, in the kitchen of my parents' house, I handed my future wife the clippers and told her to have at it. She claims I was getting choked up but it's much more likely that choking down was the operative there. I was pretty frickin lit.

Buzz, buzz, buzz and I was a new man. It was a pretty serious thing for me. There were a good number of people in my life that had never known me without my beard. It was my defining physical characteristic. But the very next thing in the story made it all vanish from my mind.

Our. First. Kiss.

And I can't remember it. Yup, too drunk. I remember that it happened and it was all fire-worky and made parts of me melt that I didn't even know existed before that. But I mostly remember what I felt like after, and what her face looked like. It's one of my favorite mental pictures to this day.

We went out and sat on the porch after that and I whispered some sweetness in her ear from the step behind her. Eventually she got in her car and drove home. I walked in the house wondering how the hell I was going to deal with being in love with a girl who lived in Cleveland. I decided that eventually I'd have to move there and try my hand at being a carpenter in Ohio. That was the extent of my mental capabilities at the time. I flopped into bed wondering what everyone would say when they saw my face the next day.

There was one more event that goes with this part of the story. I can't remember if it was that very night or the next that I was on the phone with her. She let it slip that she would be moving back home. Not, you understand, totally on my behalf. She had a disintegrating family to tend to, of course. (smug comment stricken from the record)

That's all I can muster up for this chapter of the saga. I mixed up a drink before I got started, in keeping with the boozy nature of the story and now I'm a little too sauced to type efficiently. Tune in next time when you'll hear: how The Mister proposed to The Miss.

Subscribe

Thursday, November 13, 2008

Still Lazy

I was feeling pretty much flogged again after work today. And after doing all the usual stuff just couldn't find the juice to get a post up. Lucky for me, The Missus was feeling saucy. (My baby's got sauce, yo baby ain't sweet like mine!*) So she hijacked my other blog volunteered to post for me tonight. It's a rip-roarin good time over there, mostly at my expense. But what the hay... if you can't laugh at yourself, what good are you?

Read it for yourself:
There's No Crying In Baseball

*Look up G-Love and Special Sauce on iTunes.

Subscribe

Wednesday, November 12, 2008

Still Worn Out

I'm not fully recovered from doing a theatre run on top of work last week. I'm also slacking on finishing up the miniseries on How I Got To Be The Mister, mostly because I committed to posting every day this month on my other blog, Simple Terms. I had plenty of quiet time tonight. The Missus was off at a class and the short people all went to bed early. I wound up writing about the experience over there because I was too zoned out to come up with another post if I put it over here where the parenting-type-stuff belongs. Here's the link:

Mortality

Yeah... it's a doozer. I'm feeling better though, and I promise I'll get back to finishing up about how I got where I am.

Subscribe

Monday, November 10, 2008

It Takes A Village

We had two of our fabulous friends over for dinner tonight. I had been told of this several days ago and it was a pleasant surprise. My brain was on show time though and so it was also a pleasant surprise when I got home from work today. We're at the stage of our lives in which inviting a couple of friends over tacitly includes a bunch of short people as well. Dinner for ten. It was pure chaos, and there was a lot of crying and yelling, but eventually we all got fed.

Which leads me to two delicious thoughts. The first was how nice it is to be friends with folks who are comfortable with shared discipline. When the grownups were vegetating in the kitchen and crying erupted from the living room, only one parent had to get up and sort things out. All the shorties know that all the tall people are on the same team and they listen. That's nice, and not just in an it's not my turn to get up for two more times sort of way.

There's a lot of disparity in parenting techniques these days. Our style makes some people wide eyed and usually the wide eyed parents make us roll ours. It's nice to occupy a warm kitchen with people who ride herd pretty much like we do.

The other delicious thought centers on being locavores. We tucked in to some pork chops from our freezer full of locally raised, organically fed piggie. Right next to that guy were some turnips that came out of the ground not too far from here. The company brought some beans and greens that no doubt had a similar origin. And to top it all off we washed it down with some homemade beer and hard cider that had been percolating on the porch. (Some of the kids weren't in to the menu, so we fed them some scrambled eggs that came from chickens we've actually met and raw milk that came from a friend's cow.)

I guess it must look like we're some sort of hippy community, but that is so not the case. If you've read my blog or The Missus' you know were not exactly the dirty dreadlock type you'd meet at a Dave Matthews concert. (We don't puff the Sweet Cheeb either.) You might be surprised to find out who around you is taking an interest in locally grown food. Anyway, I'll avoid the soap box this time and wish you a good night... don't let the additives and preservatives bite.

Subscribe

Wednesday, November 5, 2008

Just Playin'

I wish I had a picture on hand of my short people playing in the leaves today. I only had about an hour to spend with them and I was just bone tired. At best I figured I would just be a lump on the couch and let them climb on me. But then my Mom called up from down the street and said that they had a huge pile of leaves and invited us down to enjoy it.

So we bundled up and trudged down there. Once the boys got in the pile I just couldn't resist. Mom had her digital camera and a couple lawn chairs out but I couldn't stay seated. J-Man was a veritable cyclone of destructive activity. He was practically the Tazmanian Devil. H-Bomb nearly exploded with the joy of it all. Every toss of leaves, every plop in the pile, every emergence from being buried by Taz elicited a huge, open-mouthed squeal of delight. Pretty soon I was in there with them, making it rain leaves, burying , getting buried, surprising passers-by when I launched the boys out from their concealment. It was sthe best time I've had with those guys in a long time.

Then the boys got interested in J-Man's backhoe which freed me up to play Indians with Sis. It was an elaborately staged production, complete with a woodland fort, weapons, wolves, warriors, tragic casualties and heroic rescues. Then Grandma had plates of goulash ready for them and we all got to go inside.

Pretty sweet hour. It's nice when the screaming and hitting stops and you can just see them enjoying themselves and loving each other.

Sigh...

Subscribe

Saturday, November 1, 2008

This Is Just Nuts

My brother-in-law and his girlfriend have moved back to the area after living two hours away for the last two years. We're very fond of them and the short people are absolutely ga-ga. So now they're a mere forty minutes away and nicely settled. A visit was in order.

Unfortunately we were not at our best today. The shorties are all recovering from one type of malaise or another. The Missus is preggers and her body is up to its usual let everything but the baby fall apart tricks. And I'm just plain beat. But... we promised.

The Missus was off to work this morning and I was home with one kid who was just a lump on the couch and two others that just wanted to scream and throw things. Fortunately for yours truly I'm somewhat hearing impaired and most of the stuff in the living room is relatively soft. Only one of us got a decent nap and a decent meal. Come departure time everybody was more or less ready to get into the bourbon.

So my cranky family took twenty-five minutes to get crammed into the mini cooper van and we were off. Surprisingly the trip involved only a minimum of complaining and then there we were with our beloved relatives walking out to greet us. They then took our short people to a nearby playground while The Missus and I passed out on their couches. We were awoken in time for dinner. Frickin sweet! (!!!)

Dinner wasn't so much a meal as an extended yell-a-thon, punctuated with the occasional mouthful of food going into the shorties. But then we all had dessert three times 'cause hey... when there's Girlscout Samoa ice cream, homemade chocolate chip cookies with brownie centers and Halloween candy on hand... why not? (Sometimes calories are just calories and you don't hold being dessert against them.)

Somehow we managed to cram in a few minutes of pleasant, adult-type conversation in between cleaning up poop. (It's the little things, you live for em.) Finally, an hour after their usual bedtime, the short people had reached the end of their meager coping skills and we packed it in.

I was the only one awake for the drive home. Alone with my thoughts. All I could think was... how screwed up is it that we can go through all that nonsense and look back on it fondly as having been a good time for all? That's just nuts, but that's what being a family is all about.

Subscribe