More camping. Nothing like tent camping in Texas in June. Should be a nice, comfortable 95 degrees in the shade! And, did I mention…..the Mother-In-Law is coming along for this one….but staying in a small cabin nearby. Ugh!
June 4, 2006
O.K. So 6-6-6 is serious shit to me. Not something to be messed with. By mere fact that I have already typed it two times into this entry, I feel as if I am tempting things. I have twice erased it from the title or this entry, and twice put it back. So, in effect, I have actaully typed 6-6-6 a total of five times at this point…..and yet I still breathe. Good Lord, please don't let me see Bloody Mary in the mirror when I brush my teeth tonight….(which, I have to admit….I have NEVER said "bloody Mary" in the mirror three times…..AND NEVER WILL!). Yes folks, I am a believer. Some shit you just DO NOT SCREW WITH!
Dirk, my pal and only reader, you must post a review of The Omen that comes out this week. The first one freaked me out enough that I don't think I'll rush to see the new one. Perhaps wait for video and watch it on a bright sunny afternoon. No need to have lights off for that one.
So, almost three years ago, we adopted my precious TDC from China. We brought her home (which I believe it haunted to some degree, but will never post specifics because I am convinced that will only cause increase in strange activity). Better the ghost you know. No need to piss it off. But at any rate….
TDC comes home with us. Within the first few months of her arrival (at a mere 8 months of age), we have opportunity to take her a few places in town. One…to a nice Chinese place to eat. Dim Sum to be exact. Large acquariums. Lots of fish. TDC becomes a little crancky at one point, so I decide to take her to look at the fish. Again, LARGE AQUARIUM. TDC seems amused by all the fish in the tank and touches her hand to the glass. I swear to you, each and every fish in this acquarium flocked to the spot her hand was. As if somehow drawn. I pull her away, and they disburse. I put my hand there, NOTHING. Her hand back…here come the fish.
Take her to the zoo…reptile house to be exact. Place where mama never sets foot, so papa, being creeped out by them, find myself a little braver when they are behind thick glass. Come to the python cage. TWO HUGE PYTHONS live here. In my many years of zoo going, I have never seen them move a muscle. Often I thought they were plastic. A trick of the zoo. Well, as sure as the stain in my britches, when I hold TDC up to the glass at the exhibit….BOTH huge ass pythons raise their heads and almost come eye to eye with TDC. They moved….towards her….as if somehow drawn.
Both times my mind recalls the scene in The Omen when mama takes devil boy to the drive through safari joint and the monkeys unleash on their car. BOTH TIMES I THINK ABOUT THIS. Then I retreat back to my world of denial and plug ahead.
UPDATE: Thankfully TDC has lost her ability to attract animals is eerie ways. Good thing we had her baptised, or our front yard would be a zoo in itself.
Anyhow. That's what I recall as The Omen approaches this week. Great memories, huh?
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We have a mega church in town. I have always been pretty skeptical of these, myself. Have never been. Well, we up and decide to check it out Saturday night. We get the kids dressed up and haul off to what used to be the town's basketball arena, now transformed to holy ground. Drop TDC and LA off at the daycare areas and find us some decent seats (much better than any seats I could afford when I had to pay for a sporting event there!). Heck, if they didn't do a great job converting the place to a nice looking little church.
Long story short (because I could write for days on this visit), the service was great. The congregation so multi-racial, multi-cultural, welcoming, uplifting. We had a great time. Born and raised a Catholic, I am still uncomfortable with a few aspects of what went on at this place….but I can tell you I hope we go back soon and give it another shot.
Raised in a religion where guilt guides your steps, it was refreshing to be in a place where acceptance and hope abound. What's wrong with feeling positive about where you are headed? What's wrong with leading a positive, hope filled life and encouraging others to live their best life. What's wrong with man and wife co-preaching to others who can follow their lead as a loving couple (O.K….so I have major issues with "preists" and no women leaders in my religion). So, my only issue lies in the fact the the preacher and his family live in a huge mansion, are young Ken and Barbie types, and are just way too happy. But I'm not close minded enough to write them off. I think I'll give them another chance or two.
Wish it wasn't so late. Would love to write of some of the things I saw in our short 1 1/2 at the local Mega Church. Maybe after my next visit!
May 31, 2006
Kids were running low on milk. Despite the fact that we buy four gallons of milk a week, we always seem to run low by the end of the week. Can't buy more than four on our weekend trip to the store, because there would be no room for it all. So I usually make a Friday run to Kroger for a gallon to hold us over.
Well, I'll be a monkey's cross dressing uncle if EVERY gallon of Whole Milk (in the brand that I buy) didnt' expire on June 6, 2006. So, I am a tad superstitious. Sue me. Milk (and for that matter, anything) with a 6/6/06 (666) date on it just wasn't what I needed to make decisions about. After fretting for a few minutes and weighing the pros and cons of buying this milk (Pro – kids have milk to drink. Cons - they both immediately become possessed by the devil), I spied another brand of milk one shelf over that had an expiration date of 6/8/06. Hmmm…but before I got too excited, noticed that it cost $.59 cents more than my brand. I'm not cheap, by nature, but as gas prices pretty much have me in a constant state of pissed-offedness, I decided to take the gamble. I convinced myself that that as long as the milk is finished (and the milk jug hauled off the premises) by 6/6/06, all demonic associations with the milk would be gone! So I saved the $.59 and went on my merry way. I have had two big glasses of milk today….doing my share to make sure this bitch is long gone by next Tuesday!
May 15, 2006
O.K. So hate may be a strong word. "Strongly dislike" would better suit my feelings for the beach. Give me a nice chlorinated pool anyday over the beach. I can't recall a whole lot of memories of the beach that were pleasant ones for me. I have always lived approx. an hours drive from the beach. When we went (growing up, all the way up until now), 99% of the time it was in the heat of the summer. And being in Central Texas, it was HOT! And being a white boy, I needed a good amount of sun block on. HOT from the sun added to sticky from the sun block plus sand equals misery. I HATE SAND. I hate the feel of it on my skin. I hate when it blows in my eyes. I hate having it all over the inside of the car when we get home. I hate having to rinse it out of the shower/tub for days after returning home. I just don't like it.
I can stomach the beach a lot better now that I am a papa. To see the joy in my kids faces and the fun that they have makes it much more palatable. I can now be at the beach and smile, because to see them happy brings me joy, no matter what personal feelings I have towards the ocean. My kids have a way of making things not be all about me. I can't even begin to verbalize the absolute joy and fulfillment being a father to TDC and LA is. And sand or no sand, if they like it, then I like it!
We spent two days at the beach. Most of the day Saturday we just played in the water and collected shells until our bucket couldn't hold any more. Then we released them back into the sea. It was amazing to see the beauty in the shells through my daughters eyes. Even the most jagged, plain fragment of a shell amazed her, and me in return. Day 2 we spent about an hour. Shortly after we got in the water, we watched dark clouds roll in. It got quite dark for 2 in the afternoon. But I think I enjoyed the beach at that moment more than ever before. A cool breeze hit (almost a chill in the air) and the beach minus the heat was actually a pretty nice place. We did make it out before the rain.
I do feel rested and am glad for the recharge.
May 12, 2006
O.K. I am a blogoholic. No doubt about it. Not ashamed to admit it. I read way too many freakin' blogs….then read the comments. Click on links. I am beyond sure that at any time, I am seven blog clicks away from meeting Kevin Bacon.
I spend WAY too much of my day reading blogs. But I love them. What can I say??
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Today LA needed a checkup with the doctor. Trying to get out the door early. LA very cooperative and sweet. TDC making me near lose my mind with whining and throwing things, taunting LA with the fact that she was going to get two shots today. So I say to TDC, "If you don't stop yelling, I'm going to call the doctor and tell her you need a shot to help you stop." TDC hates shots…I mean, she HATES them. And she grew quiet and she got in the car. Kicked into tantrum mode in the car, so I pick up my cell, fake dial a number, and say…"May I speak to Dr. XXXX. (pause), Hi Doctor XXXX. This is Mr. YYYY. We have an appointment for LA this morning for some shots. TDC is coming with us and I was wondering if you have a shot that would help her to stop yelling and throwing things. You do? But it's a big needle and will hurt? O.K. I'll see how she is doing when we get there, and if she's still yelling, we'll give her the shot. Thanks. Bye."
Dead silence from the back seat. I felt awful enough for having pretend called with one of her fears, but son of a bitch…the worst part of the whole thing….IT WORKED!!!!
Now I'm afraid I'll not be able to stop. My first thoughts turned to my blog friend Dirk's entries about his mama's parentling….uh…"abilities and methods". I was thinking that maybe she could write a book on effective parentling using fear as a motivator.
I do feel so bad for doing this and have been promising myself it won't happen again….but, hell, it worked and will be difficult to not resort to this tactic in desperate times.
Good lord, I hope this trip to the beach clears my head and gets me to a happy place!
SERENITY NOW!!!!! DAMN IT!!!! NNNOOOOWWWWWWWW!!!!!!!!
Later!
May 11, 2006
…and just in the knick of time…the day is almost up…
One of the duties I agreed to pick up in my new career of staying home was the laundry. No big deal….or so I thought…
Turns out there are different temperatures to wash certain items in. And there are color separations to be done. All my life (until now), my criteria for separation and temperature were "Clothes" and "Warm" which seemed a nice happy medium between hot and cold. And by gosh, it has worked for my just fine. AND EVERYTHING WENT IN THE DRYER. NO QUESTIONS ASKED.
Imagine my surprise when dear wife (DW) starts telling me the "rules" of washing her clothes. Oh my freaking hell. If its this material, it needs to be in cold, this in hot, this should always be washed by itself. This should be in warm, unless you wash with other clothes the same color that specify cold…then use cold. And on …. and on… and on. And some things need to NEVER go in the dryer…only dried on hangers or on a rack.
Wha'?
Well, I listened attentively. Took some notes. Must admit I am doing pretty darn well. **Two pats on the back for myself***
Until tonight. Wife needed some jeans to wash to wear for casual Friday. Reminds me that they are dirty and need to be done, but she is exhausted and going to bed early. Fine, whatever.
Now, I wear jeans pretty much 100% of the time now. They have been my main leg covering for pretty much all my life. As the day progresses, I stuff everything in my pockets….mainly receipts from the day's purchases (groceries, gas, etc). Almost 90% of laundry time, there are wet clumps of paper on my pants when they come out of the wash. No biggee for me…I just pick them off. DW however would go on a long speech about how I should check my pockets, blah blah.
Well tonight, I decide to wash my jeans with hers. I check all my pockets. Not a single piece of paper in them. So my jeans and hers go in the wash. 20 minutes later, go to move jeans to the dryer and hear a loud click in the washer as I pick them out. I just about shit my pants to see one of my wife's lipstick containers in the wash. Ultra Last Lipwear – Mauve Gold…and empty!!!
Sure enough, inspection of the jeans showed various spots of mauve gold on them. So I rubbed them out of the wet jeans with some paper towels. Then inspected and cleaned every square inch of the washer for mauve gold residue (and there was quite a bit). Then back the jeans went for a second wash…and they are currently in the dryer….and it's late….and I wait…..and I hate.
I am tired and want to SLEEP, DAMN IT! But fear of DW is my motivation to stick it out and make sure all is well for tomorrow mornings request for her clean jeans!
Now, aren't you glad I came back to share?
Peace out, friends. Taking a few days off to take family to the beach.
Papa
May 11, 2006
How does one even begin to pick a topic to blog on? I think I need a small notebook. I swear that at least four times today I told myself "Hey, this would make a great topic", yet being the father of two toddlers and operating in a perpetual state of exhaustion, I can't remember one of them. I was so excited when these topics came up, I even asked my three year old to help me remember one of them. I have no doubt she remembers (SHE REMEMBERS EVERTYHING AND USES EVERY OPPORTUNITY TO THROW PAST CONVERSATIONS IN YOUR FACE), but she has been asleep a good few hours last night.
So here I am just a mere few days into my blog and I have NOTHING!
Oh well, tomorrow is another day.
Off to find a small notebook and pen.
See ya'.
May 10, 2006
I thought about my dear Granny today. She was quite possibly the most generous, kind, fun-lovin', amazing, beautiful woman that walked this planet. Over the course of 10-12 years, we watched her succumb to the horrors of Alzheimer's. And right up to the end (about 3 months hospice care at home – as my Grandfather who married her 70 years prior would NEVER consider putting her in a home) she had a twinkle in her eye and a smile on her face. She forgot kids, grandkids, friends. Hell, she forgot up from down by the time it was over….but she never forgot the man she married and spent her life with….her "babyface".
I don't have one memory of the 32 years of my life I that I was able to know and love that woman that were not filled with laughther and happiness….right up until the night I leaned over her hospital bed…in the middle of the living room of her home…where we had so many great, fun memories…and gently kissed her on the cheek and told her goodbye.
Right up until the last month of her life, she was happy. She didn't know what was going on around her a lot of the time….who she was with…but she always smiled, explaining that she had "something" and sorry if she didn't remember us. Then she would smile or laugh….and explain that she had "Something" and sorry if she didn't remember us. Lather. Rinse. Repeat. All with a glowing smile and welcoming warmth in her eye that somehow made this terribly painful time for our family not quite so bad.
I think about her a lot. I see her in my kids smiles and hear her in their laughter. I only grieve for the fact they were never able to know her.
Love ya' Granny! Miss ya' bunches.
Papa
May 10, 2006
So, TDC (defined in post #1) decided to go extra pea soup spewing on me today. I swear, a three year old as stubborn and tantrum throwing as she was today can only be possible with the help of some serious demon power. Good Lord! Had to dig in the old boxes and blow the dust off my old book of prayers. Do you have to be a priest to correctly do the prayer of exorcism? Because it didn’t so squat when I said it….besides make my own skin burn and head spin a few times. LA (also defined in post #1) just laughed and squealed with delight while I convulsed my way through to the Amen. Can’t wait until she can read……she can be in charge of prayers. Finally, they are both asleep….recharging….oh shit….I’m screwed.
And WHAT THE FREAK WITH PLASTIC WRAP! My 20 plus year battle with that shit continues. I can not think of ONE FREAKING SINGLE TIME that I have tried to tear some plastic wrap along the little cutting edge of the block that it was a success. NOT ONE! And tonight was no exception. I usually get about half way through the cut before all goes terribly wrong. Then it gets all stretchy and shit and just kind of pulls apart from the box…..folding directly over and sticking to itself. Next few moments usually have me with one corner of the wrap I need in my mouth, and two hands frantically trying to unstick the wrap from itself….all while balancing on one leg, in case I need to get my other foot in the action. WHAT IS THE SECRET TO PLASTIC WRAP??????
anyone?
Papa
May 9, 2006
…maybe I cry because I would rather be watching THE SIMPSONS.
