This week has been a tough family week for various reasons, I’m not going to blog all of the details other than to say that I love my family. Extended, immediate, far, near or otherwise. I love you all a ton. Last night I slept half the night in Evie’s new twin bed (with her snuggled up next to me) so that she could sleep and I could sleep. I love her lots and am thankful for her, even if at two in the morning she was screaming her head off because she didn’t want to sleep in the new bed that cost us money that she can’t comprehend. Hopefully today will have a good daytime nap she likes on the bed, and tonight we’ll have her sleep happily in it.
Category Archives: Confessions
Sleeping in the Bed She Didn’t Make
Evie is getting big. And by big I mean growing up, not fat. You have to be careful how you talk about women because they can get sensitive about that kind of stuff. Anyway, Evie is growing up and she’s outgrowing the crib/child’s bed that she’s been in since she was a newborn. She’s two for goodness sake and I’d hate for her to go to college and tell other students, “My parents saved money by not buying me a new bed.” So tonight Jessica and I went to the mattress store and ordered her a mattress.
She will be sleeping in a bed she won’t know how to make for a while, but its time she gets a bed that will last her for a while and one she can grow into. I wanted to buy her an iBed, but Apple doesn’t make one. I could buy her a Windows Imobile bed to help prevent sleep walking, but I’d hate to have it blue screen while she’s asleep and scare her. There are open source alternatives, but since coding springs is hard and less fun than the foam the only project I could find had temporary code in place that simulated springs, but didn’t offer actual support. Therefore I just bought a physical bed that serves the purpose and builds a foundation for her little body to grow in.
She’s getting so big, its kinda sad, but in a good, fatherly sort of way. She’s also figured out that she can do things herself, the problem is that she hasn’t figured out which things those are so anything we try to do for her gets a fight because she wants to do it. She’s a teenager about 11 years too soon. But at least she doesn’t want us to do everything for her 🙂 Except make her bed, that is.
I’m Dumb Enough to Burn the House Down
I was just telling my friend Dave about a problem I have. I have a timing issue. As was done by Johnny Carson:
Johnny: “Ask me what the most important part of comedy is.”
Guest: “What’s the most important part of com-”
Johnny interrupts, “Timing!”
My problem is that I always ask Jessica as we’re leaving the house, “Did you turn off your curling iron?” But I don’t ask the right time. I wait until I’ve locked the door that goes to the garage and she’s often buckled into the car. That way her concern due to my asking a question that is good because it could lead to the house burning down is most costly. She has to unbuckle, I have to unlock the door (she could but often I have the keys in the locks), and then she’ll run in to check. I could do it, but for some reason she feels compelled to do so.
I’m so dumb about timing that I could surely learn a lesson or t – timing – two.
A [SIC] Letter to the Plubic
I just wanted to let you know that I’m only checking my personal email once or twice a day now. I used to check it like a crack fiend, but decided that my time was worth more than that. I want to read your emails, and I will, but I just thought I better let you know that they’re being read at a different interval than before.
Email is a great tool, and I make a living, in part, because of email – but I’m reading it about twice a day now: morning and evening. If you don’t get a response soon enough give me a call. The phone is still an instant interrupter 🙂
Hicks
My grandparents have a pond on ther farm in Northern California. A mere thirty miles from the rocky cliffs of Mendocino. I think that Mendocino is a Spanish word for hippies and liberals, but since I only took two first year courses in Spanish you should probably look that up. Yes, I took the first year course twice. Es muy bueno. El queso es viejo y tiene molde. Anyway, my grandparents pond supplies the water that comes out of their faucets. The water tastes like fish swim in it. The fish do swim in that water, so I feel good about it tasting like pond water.
The problem is that I’m on a business trip down to Grapevine, TX. The water here tastes like fish swim in it. After being filtered by a multi-dollar filtration system that I’m sure the city paid good money to have put in incorrectly. The water has probably been filtered with a fish net and a pair of used pantyhose. I know that sounds cruel, but you’ll find that they have signs that indicate that the water is ‘Superior’ by some random test that is performed by drunk people who have had their tongues cut out. The drunk tongueless people find the water superior to the toilets that they were reversing into the last time they stepped past drunk and into vomiting mode.
The upside is that our friends the Mason’s gave us several bottles of contraband. I believe we have several bottles of bottled water that has been filtered to the point of tasting like nothing. Nothing is exactly what water should taste like. It shouldn’t taste like fish, kool-aide, teriyaki or Coors. Oh , or perier. But God has grace so that when we defile the water with labels like ‘Coors’ or Naive ‘Evian’ the water doesn’t just turn into air through an instant evaporation process so that we’re smitten for suggesting that God’s creation wasn’t good enough.
I just wanted to let you know that I like water… I just like it to taste like water and not sushimi gone awry.
Oh, and I’m thankful for the Mason’s giving us water that you can drink and be proud of.
Welcome Declan!
My buddy Dave, through his lovely bride, Darlene, is now the proud father of a little boy, Declan. Congrats Dave, Darlene and the girls!
Sure, its not Thursday yet, but I’m thankful for their baby nonetheless.
One Half Hour
This last Saturday morning on the way home from Indiana we stopped at the Cracker Barrel in Effingham, IL. Shortly after we were seated an older couple sat down diagonally from us. We didn’t think anything of it as the girls were chatty and wiggling. Shortly after that a group of gals was about to be seated next to us and one of them said, “Ma’am, can we please be seated somewhere else in the restaurant? We’re going to cuss and we don’t want to do it next to the children.” They were seated elsewhere.
Our food came, we prayed and began to eat. Suddenly I felt an arm around my shoulder and I looked up to see the man who had been seated with his wife diagonally from us looking down at me and he said, “I’m glad to see you praying in public. It does my old heart good.” I thanked him and he departed with a smile.
About 10 minutes later one of the gals who was going to be seated next to us but asked to be moved came by and said, “We didn’t mean any disrespect when we asked to be moved but we have been drinking and smoking marijuana all night long and we were going to be cussing while we ate.” Huh?! Why would you tell people this? Why would you tell a total stranger that you were doing those things?
It is funny to me that in that short stretch of time two polarized events could take place like that. We got on the road shortly after that hoping to avoid the drinking, smoking gals with their potty mouths. Unfortunately there was a college game going on between Mizzou and Kansas University later on so we had to put up with crazy college drivers and birds being flipped all over the place as the drivers cursed each other for driving worse than the last crazy driver.
We made it past Kansas City and survived the day with great success arriving home at 11:05 PM. Safe, sound, and really tired.
My Favorite Self Composed Song
I did a series of Birthday Songs over the last couple years for friends, co-workers and pretty much no family. However, my all time favorite ditty that I wrote was an instrumental song I never got to finish. The music was so good in my proud opinion that I never could fit words that I felt conveyed quite what the music did. You can listen to it here.
I’m really thankful for my parents having raised me with music in my life. From a Grandpa that plays the saw to a wife who supports my crazy musical fantasies (one day I will be a famous musician, just you wait) I’ve been blessed with this talent (though I need to keep honing it for sure). I loves me some music and I love to play for people – maybe some day I can hang out with you and we’ll play some music together.
Old Man
I am an old man. Ancient. I recall Ataris. I recall Nintendo Entertainment Systems (NES) and I spent way too many hours playing Super Mario Brothers 1-3 in my youth. Abby just came in with Evie on her tail singing the praises of the Wii because it had this new game with this one guy who went into outer space. She knew to tell me that it was available at Target (a store she knows I like). I asked her if she meant Super Mario Galaxy. Excitedly she let me know that Mario was the guy.
Old. I’m just old.
Mind Games for Driving
I’ll be driving to Indiana this upcoming Thanksgiving week. The best part of the drive is the mind games I have to play with myself to make the drive endurable. I like the destination enough, its the road that makes me just a bit batty.
Colorado has a speed limit on the highway of 75, if the roads are dry and iceless then you can do a great jaunt to Kansas.
Kansas is the state that sucks. The most out of the drive. It is like driving across an empty piece of paper that is 410 miles long. There are ruined old shacks sitting in the distant empty fields and porn towns (gas station + adult store with ‘town name’ sign at highway intersection). To make my way through Kansas a little more exciting I’m going to poke my eyes out and drive with cruise control on.
Illi-noise, which is a special state where relatives live, is the dumbest state of speed limits that are falsely low. Instead of the speed of geniuses 75 MPH, they have a speed limit of 5 MPH. I know that doesn’t sound probably, but once you’ve been driving through Kansas at whatever your vehicle will do Illinoys’ 65MPH speed limit seems like a drug induced psychedelic experience of pain. I think I’d prefer to have a porcupine stuck in my shoes when I’m not looking than drive 65 through Illinaise. If you live in Illinoose how fast do you drive on the slow-ways?
Indiana has a speed limit of something I don’t recall. I think its 70. However, since I’m usually exhausted when I’m driving through it it doesn’t matter. I play the game with myself that Indianapolis is about half way through the corn state so that once I’m getting into it or out of it I’ve accomplished something.
What things do you recommend to make the drive more sane?