Thor is trying to get my attention. He wants his dinner. Up onto the counter he goes, to knock little things to the floor intentionally. I know his routine and I'm not dealing with it right now. I slap his little cat ass and he jumps down.
Rex wants his shot. He is pacing to-and-fro with heavy-footed abandon from the dishwasher to the stove. Soon he will try the counter-top routine but I will not budge. The apple I'm peeling for my human offspring takes precendent at the moment. They sense my tunnel vision and back off.
They are both in the middle of the kitchen now, on their hindquarters, waiting. The cats are good cats for the most part. They've resided in our household well before our two boys came along but it is becoming more and more difficult each day to deal with them. I have a guilt about this and I converse with my inner Dr. Phil about it daily.
We adopted Rex and Thor from a family in Quakertown eight years ago. No bigger than a 10 year old's hand, Thor was black as a moonless midnight sky and Rex was an orange tabby. Mind you (in case the word was is throwing up flags), they are both still here and doing well. I remember the day they came here for good, all small and innocent and cute. Those days are long gone though. The small kittens are now humongous freakazoids. Two little feline Godzillas with their individual agendas.
Thor is the smart one. The fit one. The leader. The button-pusher. I'm sure if he could talk his voice would have the upper-crust accent of a middle-aged British butler. Rex is the not-so smart one. The big oaf. Fleety. I imagine that if Rex could talk his voice would sound like the big special guy from Of Mice And Men. I may need to take credit for that since his head got in the way of my five iron when I was practicing my swing in the living room. I knocked him out cold and when he came-to, he was never the same again. He will not jump to my lap or hang with me like Thor does but he does give Sue attention and affection in bus loads.
Not long after they came into our lives I or we (don't remember) made the selfish decision of having their front claws removed. We intended on our kitties to be indoor cats. Why would they need them? They won't be going outside and have to fend for themselves. Karma was definitely in play here because while we had every intention of keeping our carpet and furniture scratch free, we gave no thought whatsoever to one of our cats forgetting what a kitty litter box was used for. So instead of removing a couch or chair because of unsightly scratch marks, we've had to methodically cutout pieces of carpet because of the overwhelming stench of cat urine. Ha Ha, the jokes on us. The kicker is, Thor tries to jump out the front door everytime a person tries to enter now. We let him. He may not have his claws but he does have his required shots.
I don't know why I sat down to write about them tonight but I guess I'm taking this tale somewhere. I get so caught up in the work of these two that I often forget why we got them in the first place. I suppose my guilt surfaces when I realize
cont'd later
Friday, November 12, 2010
Thursday, October 7, 2010
perfect games
Sports has always had a way to inspire me. I love the emotion world-class athletes show when something extra-ordinary happens during competition. The emotion these gifted athletes exude reminds me that these guys are human and maybe even reminds them of the innocent days of their own childhood. Lofty contracts and endorsement deal be damned.
I want to share some moments that I've witnessed that have moved me. I will call them my top 3 and one happened last night. I am not going to tell you why they moved me... I just want you to know that they did. If you read between the lines you may understand...
Ok, my top 3 in no particular order... (I am sure clips are available on youtube for all three instances.)
Vinny Testaverde... wins the Heisman Trophy. He is at the podium talking and thanking people and the camera switches to his father in the first row. He is crying like a baby.
Pete Rose... was on every major network for every at-bat when he was trying to get the hit that broke Ty Cobb's hit record. When he finally did it, he stood on first base while the crowd gave him an eight minute standing ovation. When his son came out to first base to give him a hug he put his hands over his eyes and lost it.
Roy Halladay... had just pitched a no-hitter in his first post-season game and his catcher Carlos Ruiz rushed him and latched on with one of the most meanigful, real hugs I've ever witnessed.
I want to share some moments that I've witnessed that have moved me. I will call them my top 3 and one happened last night. I am not going to tell you why they moved me... I just want you to know that they did. If you read between the lines you may understand...
Ok, my top 3 in no particular order... (I am sure clips are available on youtube for all three instances.)
Vinny Testaverde... wins the Heisman Trophy. He is at the podium talking and thanking people and the camera switches to his father in the first row. He is crying like a baby.
Pete Rose... was on every major network for every at-bat when he was trying to get the hit that broke Ty Cobb's hit record. When he finally did it, he stood on first base while the crowd gave him an eight minute standing ovation. When his son came out to first base to give him a hug he put his hands over his eyes and lost it.
Roy Halladay... had just pitched a no-hitter in his first post-season game and his catcher Carlos Ruiz rushed him and latched on with one of the most meanigful, real hugs I've ever witnessed.
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
been there, done that
It's hard to believe it's October again. In my mind, October is defined by falling leaves and the chilly crispness of the air. The past four Octobers, including this one, have meant the Phillies were playing in the postseason. There have been different outcomes in those previous Octobers. Some good some bad. The youth of 2005, 2006 and 2007 has matured into a team to be reckoned with year after year. Some say a dynasty is born. We will see.
My generic basement mancave has been little used this year. I guess it's time to light it up and put some life in it. Baseball is ON at my house. Friends and family are welcome.
Good times ahead. I WILL attend the parade this year.
My generic basement mancave has been little used this year. I guess it's time to light it up and put some life in it. Baseball is ON at my house. Friends and family are welcome.
Good times ahead. I WILL attend the parade this year.
Saturday, September 4, 2010
Friday, September 3, 2010
mom's are a dad's best friend
So it's Friday around lunchtime and Eric is still in the hospital. I just got a call from the MomUnit that he may be released by 1pm if he just drinks a little more. I guess cell phones are allowed in hospitals since they now provide free wifi to guests.
Anywho, this is good news and the call couldn't have come at a better time as just before, I was slowly giving in to my temptation to makeover Evan with a barbed wire permanent marker tattoo around one of his biceps and adorn his face with pretty makeup. For now, I have staved THAT desire. I'm thinking the hot pink mohawk is still ON though along with the next step in making reservations for a permanent vacation for one of our cats at the ShoeBox Hotel.
Idle hands are the devil's workshop? Diabolical!
Anywho, this is good news and the call couldn't have come at a better time as just before, I was slowly giving in to my temptation to makeover Evan with a barbed wire permanent marker tattoo around one of his biceps and adorn his face with pretty makeup. For now, I have staved THAT desire. I'm thinking the hot pink mohawk is still ON though along with the next step in making reservations for a permanent vacation for one of our cats at the ShoeBox Hotel.
Idle hands are the devil's workshop? Diabolical!
Thursday, September 2, 2010
a night at the grandview
Dear Eric,
I know it sucks to be sick. I know it hurts and burns when the bug in your belly makes you bring what little you ate or drank back the other way. But you have to drink and eat. We can avoid all that’s happened today if you please remember this in the future. A night at Grandview Hospital is not a luxurious night out. Especially for Mom.
Love,
Dad
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
perfect attendance
Tending the flock yields a spiritual reward.
I went to work.
Sue called work because
Eric barfed (vomit).
She needed help.
She needed sleep. YOU
Home I came.
Home I am.
I’m watching Eric sleep AND
…sweat.
In his sleep
He stirs and moans.
The bucket is there
The towel underneath.
I pray.
Not to G-O-D
But to all that is G-O-O-D.
I am sentry to the boy.
I will always be here.
Watching.
Knowing.
Teaching.
Encouraging.
Rooting.
Defending.
Healing.
Loving.
I will always be here.
Baseball awaits…
Sunday, August 29, 2010
woohoo
I’m using a recently discovered program on my computer to write this post. It’s called Windows Live Writer and it provides an easier interface and many more tools than what I work with on Blogger. This is the test run.
I know. Boring.
Gifts of the Earth, picked by Eric.
Friday, July 2, 2010
the secret? apple cider vinegar (shhh)
Our family vacation is over and I have a lot to say about our trip. That'll be the next post (perhaps while I'm in Jamaica?...). I'm sure I'll have some extra time on my hands while there anyway.
I've been going to North Myrtle Beach annually since 1974 either as a passenger or driver. It's all because my grandparents (who are now gone) retired and bought a house 2 blocks off the beach (with a stack of $25 savings bonds grandpa accumulated over the years). Needless to say, it's a special place and one we are fortunate to still have.
When I was a kid I would have trouble sleeping the night before we departed Pennsylvania for South Carolina (really, just like Christmas Eve). I would think about all the landmarks I was going to see and wonder if they would still be there when we pass this trip. It was always a long car ride and you knew you were getting close when the "South of The Border" signs started dominating both sides of I-95. Pedro was always on the signs enticing travelers to spend their money at the cheesy rest stop just over the line in South Carolina. Most of them had moving parts. One that sticks in my mind had sheep spinning around a moon and Pedro saying "Your sheep are all counted South of The Border!" We never stopped there though because we never made it that far on I-95 because about 20 miles before the line we would get off in Lumberton, NC and take a back way in. Lumberton was always a giddy time for me as a kid and it still is today, believe me (finally off I-95). Sadly though, most of the billboards are gone. I wish I could point them out to my kids today.
Another landmark to be seen was the Plantation Pancake House sign. This was THE landmark because it meant you've just traveled 600 miles and only have a quarter mile to go (come south on 17 and when you see the Plantation Pancake House sign, bang a left). For me, the excitement level I experience when I see this sign is much the same as it was all those years ago. Mostly for the same reasons but there are few different ones, too. Eric and I ate breakfast there this year. What did he order? Pancakes!
The last memory (although there are many more) I'm going to share with you right now doesn't involve landmarks. It involves food. Wait, we can't call it food. We'll have to call it the single greatest thing anyone could ever want to load, chew and swallow in the history of ALL THING EDIBLE. I'm talking about grandma's potato salad. You see, before we would arrive she would make a big bowl a few days beforehand. It was always in the fridge when we got there. Sometimes it would have a layer of sliced hard-boiled egg on top and sometimes not. But whatever it had in it or on it, the flavors rocked my world. After the obligatory hugs and hellos, I couldn't wait to open that refrigerator. That was all gone now, with the holder's of that amazing recipe (which was never written down) gone too. I thought it was anyway.
My sister Laura came up from Jacksonville to spend the week with us. It was nice to see her and have the cousins play and occupy each other. That would've been enough but she took her gifts of companionship a step further: she made THE potato salad. I don't know how she did. Was it divinely passed to her? Zapped down from the heavens? Or did she know it all along since she's a descendant of Linda and Lenora? Whatever the case, she made it and nailed it, without asking or announcing that she was doing so. I couldn't believe it when I saw and tasted the finished product.
Sue and my brother think I blow this reverence to Grandma's Potato Salad thing out of proportion. They just don't understand. When I eat that potato salad in that house things happen to me. Every bite I have enlightens me with visions I thought long forgotten. I see Grandpa sitting in his chair after dinner, watching the nightly news. I see him watching a sporting event on TV, standing at attention during the National Anthem. I see Grandma sitting at the table across from me, wondering aloud to someone else if I had enough to eat. I see Mom pleading with us to wipe our feet when we enter so we don't get sand in the carpet. Usually after my second helping I want to go steal quarters from the spare change pile dad keeps on the dresser in the guest room so I can run down to the arcade and look at chicks and play video games. Yes, the past floods in. All memories that weren't as special then as they are now.
Lars, Thank YOU. Thanks for making my trip extra special this year. I'm looking forward to 2011 when we can do it again.
I've been going to North Myrtle Beach annually since 1974 either as a passenger or driver. It's all because my grandparents (who are now gone) retired and bought a house 2 blocks off the beach (with a stack of $25 savings bonds grandpa accumulated over the years). Needless to say, it's a special place and one we are fortunate to still have.
When I was a kid I would have trouble sleeping the night before we departed Pennsylvania for South Carolina (really, just like Christmas Eve). I would think about all the landmarks I was going to see and wonder if they would still be there when we pass this trip. It was always a long car ride and you knew you were getting close when the "South of The Border" signs started dominating both sides of I-95. Pedro was always on the signs enticing travelers to spend their money at the cheesy rest stop just over the line in South Carolina. Most of them had moving parts. One that sticks in my mind had sheep spinning around a moon and Pedro saying "Your sheep are all counted South of The Border!" We never stopped there though because we never made it that far on I-95 because about 20 miles before the line we would get off in Lumberton, NC and take a back way in. Lumberton was always a giddy time for me as a kid and it still is today, believe me (finally off I-95). Sadly though, most of the billboards are gone. I wish I could point them out to my kids today.
Another landmark to be seen was the Plantation Pancake House sign. This was THE landmark because it meant you've just traveled 600 miles and only have a quarter mile to go (come south on 17 and when you see the Plantation Pancake House sign, bang a left). For me, the excitement level I experience when I see this sign is much the same as it was all those years ago. Mostly for the same reasons but there are few different ones, too. Eric and I ate breakfast there this year. What did he order? Pancakes!
The last memory (although there are many more) I'm going to share with you right now doesn't involve landmarks. It involves food. Wait, we can't call it food. We'll have to call it the single greatest thing anyone could ever want to load, chew and swallow in the history of ALL THING EDIBLE. I'm talking about grandma's potato salad. You see, before we would arrive she would make a big bowl a few days beforehand. It was always in the fridge when we got there. Sometimes it would have a layer of sliced hard-boiled egg on top and sometimes not. But whatever it had in it or on it, the flavors rocked my world. After the obligatory hugs and hellos, I couldn't wait to open that refrigerator. That was all gone now, with the holder's of that amazing recipe (which was never written down) gone too. I thought it was anyway.
My sister Laura came up from Jacksonville to spend the week with us. It was nice to see her and have the cousins play and occupy each other. That would've been enough but she took her gifts of companionship a step further: she made THE potato salad. I don't know how she did. Was it divinely passed to her? Zapped down from the heavens? Or did she know it all along since she's a descendant of Linda and Lenora? Whatever the case, she made it and nailed it, without asking or announcing that she was doing so. I couldn't believe it when I saw and tasted the finished product.
Sue and my brother think I blow this reverence to Grandma's Potato Salad thing out of proportion. They just don't understand. When I eat that potato salad in that house things happen to me. Every bite I have enlightens me with visions I thought long forgotten. I see Grandpa sitting in his chair after dinner, watching the nightly news. I see him watching a sporting event on TV, standing at attention during the National Anthem. I see Grandma sitting at the table across from me, wondering aloud to someone else if I had enough to eat. I see Mom pleading with us to wipe our feet when we enter so we don't get sand in the carpet. Usually after my second helping I want to go steal quarters from the spare change pile dad keeps on the dresser in the guest room so I can run down to the arcade and look at chicks and play video games. Yes, the past floods in. All memories that weren't as special then as they are now.
Lars, Thank YOU. Thanks for making my trip extra special this year. I'm looking forward to 2011 when we can do it again.
Sunday, June 27, 2010
paradise?
Evan and Eric have fevers but are doing well. We are still waiting on a prescription to be zapped down by their doctor back home to our local pharmacy.
Monday, June 14, 2010
room of miracles
Dear Tree,
You've been constant shelter in our daily life. You must've employed magic to protect them because your stature isn't very big with your wispy branches and small leaves. Still, you never wavered in keeping our most precious gifts cool from the blistering sun or dry from torrential rains. Did the Frog King have something to do with it? Even though your work is finished I give thanks to you.
Dear Moon,
You've been a constant presence in our night sky, with your glowy stars accompanying you in your mission of comfort and peaceful dreams. You've watched over our most precious gifts, a soldier in our nocturnal landscape, never wavering from the task at hand. They were protected and nurtured and have grown immensely by the power of your light. Even though your work is finished I give thanks to you.
_______________________________
Evan moved out of the room of miracles and into his brother's room last week. He's been wanting a big-boy bed for awhile and we finally obliged him. He took to it like a fish IN water. While the occasion was a happy one for Evan and a really, really happy one for Eric because he now has a roommate, we as parents can't help but feel sad. There is a unique magic in that room that only reveals itself after reflecting on the times and experiences of our youngsters. From the minute they both came home from the hospital this space was their space. A broken arm and jaundice have been healed there. Clothes have been outgrown and given away. Croup was destroyed and dreams have been dreamt in this magical space.
But really, it's not all sad. We are in the process of making the room of miracles into a kind of office space now. We have ideas of maybe moving a computer and all of Sue's embroidery stuff there. This one room will make our entire house seem bigger and less cluttered. The contents are changing but I doubt paint will ever again touch these walls as an indefinite reminder of the meaning this area represents.
The magic will live on even though our boys lay their heads somewhere else.
***An overdue message of THANKS go to Ellynn A. and Tracey S. for all you've done and gave to foster the aura of our special landmark.***
Monday, May 31, 2010
Friday, May 21, 2010
long live the king
Sue just sent me a a pic of a big candle shaped in the likes of a of a humongous penis from her Bunco party. I really don't know what she's trying to say with that pic but it's making me feel inferior right now. I should be there to video the action when they blow the flame out.
Rex is at the vet for the weekend. He was pissing on the carpets so we took him to the doctor to find out if he has a urinary infection but we found out he has hardcore diabetes. The term "hardcore" may make the juices flow a little bit from the previous paragraph but this is not the intention. We lingered a bit taking him to the doctor and we're not too proud of that. We had a couple options to deal with our sick cat. Sue wanted to snap his neck and have the kids believe he ran away but I was firmly against that. I offered that we get him euthanized in a humane manner but Eric wouldn't have it. The vet wouldn't oblige with that because the sickness is "treatable." So King Rex will live the remainder of his days receiving 2 shots of insulin a day. I just asked Eric if he missed Rexy and he flat-out said "no." Judging by the tears he cried yesterday when we told him that "we are sending Rex to a farm that takes care of sick cats until the end" I firmly believe he is full of shit.
This cat and his condition brought out the best and worst in us as a family. I wasn't too concerned with the economics but rather the time involved and the sacrifices that will have to be made for care. Rex is family. Enough said.
Rex is at the vet for the weekend. He was pissing on the carpets so we took him to the doctor to find out if he has a urinary infection but we found out he has hardcore diabetes. The term "hardcore" may make the juices flow a little bit from the previous paragraph but this is not the intention. We lingered a bit taking him to the doctor and we're not too proud of that. We had a couple options to deal with our sick cat. Sue wanted to snap his neck and have the kids believe he ran away but I was firmly against that. I offered that we get him euthanized in a humane manner but Eric wouldn't have it. The vet wouldn't oblige with that because the sickness is "treatable." So King Rex will live the remainder of his days receiving 2 shots of insulin a day. I just asked Eric if he missed Rexy and he flat-out said "no." Judging by the tears he cried yesterday when we told him that "we are sending Rex to a farm that takes care of sick cats until the end" I firmly believe he is full of shit.
This cat and his condition brought out the best and worst in us as a family. I wasn't too concerned with the economics but rather the time involved and the sacrifices that will have to be made for care. Rex is family. Enough said.
Thursday, April 22, 2010
back to it
Two months without a post was a little too long. I apologize to all my regular visitors. A big thanks to Ruxshire Drive for lighting the fire.
I'm feeling accomplished. Not for any particular reason except I've spent the last 4 hours of my pathetic life trying to get my new phone (bought last month) connected to our new laptop (bought today) via bluetooth. Finally, I did it. As I write this I am streaming music from my phone to the laptop and rocking hard to the likes of Miley Cyrus, ABBA and 2LiveCrew. Yeah, it's a party up here in zip 18073 and the Miller Lites are flowin' like shock and awe day at Niagara Falls. Useless, but I accomplished my task. I wasn't going to let this get the best of me. The kicker is, I don't know how I finally got it done because I swear, the final successful key stroke is the same one I tried approximately 357 times before it.
A big thanks to my anonymous informant down in Texas for confirming the much celebrated, even more so anticipated, demise of the darkest place on earth: Texas Stadium. I am crying right now. Not out of sadness, but rather, complete euphoria. The hatred ran deep in my veins for that place. Texas Stadium, home of the Cowboys, was a notorious place. Pure evil it was. George Lucas got the idea for Darth Vader there. Ricky Martin was livin' la vida loca in Troy Aikman's gerbil tunnel there. Napolean, Hitler and Genghis Khan were all born on the star on the 50 yard line. A big congratulations go out to all citizens of Texas as the state might seem a little a little cooler now without that gaping hole to hell blowing fire and brimstone into Earth's atmosphere influencing guys 5' 7" and under with goatees and big belt buckles to attach allegiance to that pile of shit known in Philly as the Dallas Cowgirls. I wish I had a picture of the rubble.
I can barely type right now. The last paragraph took a lot out of me. Evan can count to 12 (but misses 4 and 10) and knows his shapes and colors. Plus, he's a major kiss-ass. Eric, well he's just the man. A regular chop off the 'ol block.
Peace.
I'm feeling accomplished. Not for any particular reason except I've spent the last 4 hours of my pathetic life trying to get my new phone (bought last month) connected to our new laptop (bought today) via bluetooth. Finally, I did it. As I write this I am streaming music from my phone to the laptop and rocking hard to the likes of Miley Cyrus, ABBA and 2LiveCrew. Yeah, it's a party up here in zip 18073 and the Miller Lites are flowin' like shock and awe day at Niagara Falls. Useless, but I accomplished my task. I wasn't going to let this get the best of me. The kicker is, I don't know how I finally got it done because I swear, the final successful key stroke is the same one I tried approximately 357 times before it.
A big thanks to my anonymous informant down in Texas for confirming the much celebrated, even more so anticipated, demise of the darkest place on earth: Texas Stadium. I am crying right now. Not out of sadness, but rather, complete euphoria. The hatred ran deep in my veins for that place. Texas Stadium, home of the Cowboys, was a notorious place. Pure evil it was. George Lucas got the idea for Darth Vader there. Ricky Martin was livin' la vida loca in Troy Aikman's gerbil tunnel there. Napolean, Hitler and Genghis Khan were all born on the star on the 50 yard line. A big congratulations go out to all citizens of Texas as the state might seem a little a little cooler now without that gaping hole to hell blowing fire and brimstone into Earth's atmosphere influencing guys 5' 7" and under with goatees and big belt buckles to attach allegiance to that pile of shit known in Philly as the Dallas Cowgirls. I wish I had a picture of the rubble.
I can barely type right now. The last paragraph took a lot out of me. Evan can count to 12 (but misses 4 and 10) and knows his shapes and colors. Plus, he's a major kiss-ass. Eric, well he's just the man. A regular chop off the 'ol block.
Peace.
Saturday, February 27, 2010
i'm here and alive
February is almost over and it hasn't been a productive month with me and the ever-present house work. Although we are painting the powder room and the ceiling is finished I am trying too hard to summon the willpower to paint the walls. I can't stand painting. Compound that with the loneliness of my nights off during night shift and, well, feel for me a little, will you? Anything is better than painting. Removing fixtures, taping lines and corners fill me with such dread and boredom I can imagine doing almost anything else at anytime during painting. For example, last night I was imagining getting impaled by a rhinoceros horn and thinking it would be much more fun. But the house needs some color so I will troop on. I took some before pictures and will post the finished product when we're done.
The kids are growing fast. Evan is much more advanced than Eric was at his age. One of the advantages of having an older brother I suppose. Evan identifies shapes and is learning his colors and speaking pretty well. That's not to say he's not driving us crazy because he is. I'd say he runs the household with an iron fist. So demanding. So conniving. But yet, so cute. And for this, I've ceased negotiations with my contact in Saudi Arabia to sell him to a camel race track. They like to start their camel jockeys young but his price was too low. With that face, he is worth millions.
We are getting ready to register Eric for kindergarten in a few weeks and had to fill out many pages of paperwork about our opinion of readiness of our child to play with freakin' toys for a half day. Hell, that's all I remember about kindergarten, except for one emergency room visit. He's been going to a kindergarten readiness class that was offered by our local public library and it's definitely paying dividends on the learning and social front. That statement is not designed to take anything away from the preschool he attends but there he has his friends and at the library he doesn't really know anyone and still looks forward to it. Anyway, he impresses me everyday with his observations and out-of-the-blue statements. The other day he asked Sue why daddy and him had to go to Walmart to buy lettuce before we went to the hospital to visit mom when Evan was born. That was over two years ago and never really discussed because he wasn't really talking then but still he remembers. And that's scary because you don't know what they'll retain at any given moment. Babies, toddlers and preschoolers are like human tape recorders. I suppose I should really watch my mouth and my actions. That might be too late though. The cabbage was for Sue's boobs by the way.
Plans are under way to move the boys into a bedroom together. We stopped by a bedroom outlet and were searching for bunk beds for the boys but I was immediately turned off by the schmoozing of the salesman. Because of this I may just get one at Walmart for probably half the price. One of the criteria for the bunk bed was to have steps instead of a ladder for safety. This may be out the window. I shared a room with my brother and we had bunk beds and I think I used the ladder once. I climbed to the top and knowing Eric like I do, he'll do the same. I think the only real safety feature of the top bunk is to have side rails. My dad was such a rebel I didn't have those and woke up on the floor more than once. Eric will have rails. Anyway, it's exciting because we'll have another room for our planned office; a place to store our stuff and maybe have a computer and definitely a place for Sue's embroidery machine, which currently resides in the dining room.
About a month ago Mark and I went down to South Carolina to pick up my mom's car to sell and do some estate assessment. The house is looking good. We moved our dad in after our mom had passed and it's nice to have life there. We went up into the attic and found some old paperwork and documents stating that my grandfather was married to another woman in Italy before he was married to my grandma. I don't know why that was such a big secret but none of us knew that including my mom I'm sure. I was unsettled by this at first because if the first marriage would've stuck, yours truly wouldn't be sitting here right now. Anyway, my mom's car is sitting out front and should have been sold by now but mother nature and her four feet of snow in the last month has kept it curbside, plowed in. It's weird to think about all the things in life that happen and we have to sort out as we get older. Personally, it's stuff I never gave a dime about. I'm thinking about it now because it's in my face in full color.
To end, I watched The Hurt Locker the other night. I thought it was a very good movie but I don't think it should be a contender on Oscar night like it is. The main character was very confusing. Did he have a death wish? Did he love his family back home? Any thoughts on this movie are appreciated.
The kids are growing fast. Evan is much more advanced than Eric was at his age. One of the advantages of having an older brother I suppose. Evan identifies shapes and is learning his colors and speaking pretty well. That's not to say he's not driving us crazy because he is. I'd say he runs the household with an iron fist. So demanding. So conniving. But yet, so cute. And for this, I've ceased negotiations with my contact in Saudi Arabia to sell him to a camel race track. They like to start their camel jockeys young but his price was too low. With that face, he is worth millions.
We are getting ready to register Eric for kindergarten in a few weeks and had to fill out many pages of paperwork about our opinion of readiness of our child to play with freakin' toys for a half day. Hell, that's all I remember about kindergarten, except for one emergency room visit. He's been going to a kindergarten readiness class that was offered by our local public library and it's definitely paying dividends on the learning and social front. That statement is not designed to take anything away from the preschool he attends but there he has his friends and at the library he doesn't really know anyone and still looks forward to it. Anyway, he impresses me everyday with his observations and out-of-the-blue statements. The other day he asked Sue why daddy and him had to go to Walmart to buy lettuce before we went to the hospital to visit mom when Evan was born. That was over two years ago and never really discussed because he wasn't really talking then but still he remembers. And that's scary because you don't know what they'll retain at any given moment. Babies, toddlers and preschoolers are like human tape recorders. I suppose I should really watch my mouth and my actions. That might be too late though. The cabbage was for Sue's boobs by the way.
Plans are under way to move the boys into a bedroom together. We stopped by a bedroom outlet and were searching for bunk beds for the boys but I was immediately turned off by the schmoozing of the salesman. Because of this I may just get one at Walmart for probably half the price. One of the criteria for the bunk bed was to have steps instead of a ladder for safety. This may be out the window. I shared a room with my brother and we had bunk beds and I think I used the ladder once. I climbed to the top and knowing Eric like I do, he'll do the same. I think the only real safety feature of the top bunk is to have side rails. My dad was such a rebel I didn't have those and woke up on the floor more than once. Eric will have rails. Anyway, it's exciting because we'll have another room for our planned office; a place to store our stuff and maybe have a computer and definitely a place for Sue's embroidery machine, which currently resides in the dining room.
About a month ago Mark and I went down to South Carolina to pick up my mom's car to sell and do some estate assessment. The house is looking good. We moved our dad in after our mom had passed and it's nice to have life there. We went up into the attic and found some old paperwork and documents stating that my grandfather was married to another woman in Italy before he was married to my grandma. I don't know why that was such a big secret but none of us knew that including my mom I'm sure. I was unsettled by this at first because if the first marriage would've stuck, yours truly wouldn't be sitting here right now. Anyway, my mom's car is sitting out front and should have been sold by now but mother nature and her four feet of snow in the last month has kept it curbside, plowed in. It's weird to think about all the things in life that happen and we have to sort out as we get older. Personally, it's stuff I never gave a dime about. I'm thinking about it now because it's in my face in full color.
To end, I watched The Hurt Locker the other night. I thought it was a very good movie but I don't think it should be a contender on Oscar night like it is. The main character was very confusing. Did he have a death wish? Did he love his family back home? Any thoughts on this movie are appreciated.
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
snowed in
I just realized there are no video stores left in town anymore. One would be nice to have right now. There are 20 inches on the ground and I swear I'd jump in the Subaru and go get a DVD or two to help me get through the evening. Luckily I have the second episode of LOST on the DVR so I can watch that.
Sue and I shoveled our asses off today. It looks like we are the last family on the block without a snow-blower. Time to relax.
Sue and I shoveled our asses off today. It looks like we are the last family on the block without a snow-blower. Time to relax.
Friday, February 5, 2010
L O S T follow up
In my opinion, the first episode that aired this week was a lesson in big-time gripping drama.
As always, what the hell is going on? Why did Jack and the crew land in LA in one scene and in another, they're being held captive at this new temple place where Sayid was brought back to life, still on the island. Holy head-spinners Batman! Juliette's dead. Who is Locke? <-(I freakin' love this character: "they didn't lose your father, Jack, they just lost his body.") Why was Desmond on the plane? Anyway, it was a great show. Hell, it's probably easy for the writers now. If you're a fan, you love the characters and how we got to know them over the past five seasons. All that's left now is to wow us and I for one, need only that.
Some predictions and thoughts for the season:
Since Sayid was brought back to life at the temple pool, I'm thinking they're going to exhume everyone that died on the island and bring them back to life. That's a lot great characters.
But then again, I might retract that statement with a thought of maybe nobody's alive. Maybe they were reborn in an alternate reality after the bomb exploded. That may be a stretch but the show itself taught us nothing's out of bounds.
I am still working on an endgame to the whole show, just like everyone else. Maybe I or we can piece some theories together after a few more shows.
Any thoughts? I'd love to hear them.
As always, what the hell is going on? Why did Jack and the crew land in LA in one scene and in another, they're being held captive at this new temple place where Sayid was brought back to life, still on the island. Holy head-spinners Batman! Juliette's dead. Who is Locke? <-(I freakin' love this character: "they didn't lose your father, Jack, they just lost his body.") Why was Desmond on the plane? Anyway, it was a great show. Hell, it's probably easy for the writers now. If you're a fan, you love the characters and how we got to know them over the past five seasons. All that's left now is to wow us and I for one, need only that.
Some predictions and thoughts for the season:
Since Sayid was brought back to life at the temple pool, I'm thinking they're going to exhume everyone that died on the island and bring them back to life. That's a lot great characters.
But then again, I might retract that statement with a thought of maybe nobody's alive. Maybe they were reborn in an alternate reality after the bomb exploded. That may be a stretch but the show itself taught us nothing's out of bounds.
I am still working on an endgame to the whole show, just like everyone else. Maybe I or we can piece some theories together after a few more shows.
Any thoughts? I'd love to hear them.
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
L O S T 2/2 8pm
Tonight is the beginning of the end. The final season of my favorite show begins. I'm anxious to see how they start it because in the final moment of last season Jacob was killed, Locke was dead-alive-dead-wait, alive? (I know, you're mind is blowing) and the plane crash survivors detonated a nuclear bomb and killed themselves. Or did they? This was after they unknowingly traveled back in time to 1974. Gripping shit. I'm shaking with excitement.
Grab a beer and tune in Tuesday night @ 8pm ET on ABC to witness how the most thought-provoking show (besides anything on HBO) winds down. Creativity and drama times one million (c+d x 1,000,000).
With all this being said, it better be f-ing good. You are warned, ABC. Now cut me a check.
Grab a beer and tune in Tuesday night @ 8pm ET on ABC to witness how the most thought-provoking show (besides anything on HBO) winds down. Creativity and drama times one million (c+d x 1,000,000).
With all this being said, it better be f-ing good. You are warned, ABC. Now cut me a check.
Thursday, January 14, 2010
i'm gonna burn
While leaving the supermarket yesterday I witnessed something both sad and I apologize for even thinking this, funny. Sad on two counts, actually, because the subject of my entertainment involved a super-elderly woman in a crowded parking lot and sad again because I was so enthralled with the scene I unknowingly stepped off the curb and temporarily hurt my ankle. All's better now but karma slaps you in the face once in a while.
It went down like this:
So I come out of the store and hear a HONK (car horn). I think nothing of it and I continue on my way. Another loud HONK! Ok, somebody's trying to get my attention. I look around for the source of these HONKS and don't see anyone I know. Continue off again. HONK HONK HONKETY HONK HONK! I'm getting annoyed now so I look again and it's all right in front of me. A 90 year old woman is trying to open the passenger side door of a car and she's in a daze cursing to herself. The thing is, it's not her car. I came to this conclusion by witnessing the elderly gentleman (probably husband) sitting in the car on her backside (I'm talkin' right next to her) desperately laying on his horn, cursing and carrying on, trying to get her attention. The cars were different colors so I can understand his anger or worry.
Please note, I don't think it was funny because an elderly woman lost her bearing. I did think it was funny, with guilt, that everytime the guy laid on the horn she jumped 3 inches off the ground but didn't realize where she was until the twelfth HONK. All the guy really had to do was open his window and say wrong car sweetie or are you ok? Instead, we had an elderly couple literally four feet apart, separated by metal and glass, one HONKING and one jumping but both violently cursing each other.
I hope my readers can forgive me for deriving any sort of entertainment from this episode.
It went down like this:
So I come out of the store and hear a HONK (car horn). I think nothing of it and I continue on my way. Another loud HONK! Ok, somebody's trying to get my attention. I look around for the source of these HONKS and don't see anyone I know. Continue off again. HONK HONK HONKETY HONK HONK! I'm getting annoyed now so I look again and it's all right in front of me. A 90 year old woman is trying to open the passenger side door of a car and she's in a daze cursing to herself. The thing is, it's not her car. I came to this conclusion by witnessing the elderly gentleman (probably husband) sitting in the car on her backside (I'm talkin' right next to her) desperately laying on his horn, cursing and carrying on, trying to get her attention. The cars were different colors so I can understand his anger or worry.
Please note, I don't think it was funny because an elderly woman lost her bearing. I did think it was funny, with guilt, that everytime the guy laid on the horn she jumped 3 inches off the ground but didn't realize where she was until the twelfth HONK. All the guy really had to do was open his window and say wrong car sweetie or are you ok? Instead, we had an elderly couple literally four feet apart, separated by metal and glass, one HONKING and one jumping but both violently cursing each other.
I hope my readers can forgive me for deriving any sort of entertainment from this episode.
Sunday, January 10, 2010
are the holidays over? wow!
It's a new year. Everyone's healthy and happy. Croup trips to the ER have been noticeably absent as opposed to previous years. My check writing for anything medical is next to zero. This isn't an attempt to jinx our good fortune but a nod and overdue credit to the karma gods for keeping the fevers, runny noses and misery away. Also, big props to Sue for washing the boys hands every 5 minutes.
At work, we had our annual state of the union address where we find out our wage increase and what our discretionary bonus might be. Before we were told this eagerly awaited information, they painted a grim picture of the present and future of our trade and there is going to be more changes and deletions to the workforce, especially on the "management" side. We were assured that we (the laborers) were safe because they need us to make the machines run . This is standard operating procedure when you have a roomful of blue collars that might up rise against the well-paid white collars. I learned four things at this meeting: No wage increase and no bonus and the realization that I'm not going to retire from the place I've been working for the past 19 plus years, and ultimately, that I need to plan for what I'm going to do next when the axe does fall. Realistically I can live without the bonus. As long as the evil white collars aren't getting one. I have my suspicions. The world is getting much clearer these past few years.
We as a family are working on ways to give ourselves the wage increase my employer failed to give us. Those of you that know me know there are some things I can change and am working to do so. Anyhow, the challenge is there and we can do it. Who says you can't buy next years xmas presents at a summer yard sale? Sue is a master at saving money at the supermarket. Candle light and turning our backyard into a farm are other options. Hell, I'll sell my car and pedal around on my bike. I don't need to go anywhere. The changes may be so drastic you might question what year it is when you visit our home. Is it 2010 or 1820? Eric doesn't need a job yet but if anyone's hiring after he turns six this year he might have to quit school. The possibilities are endless!
Of course I'm kidding. Keeping it light is my M-O. I wish everyone a Happy New Year 2010. Lets work together to embrace the possibilities of a new year, for better or worse.
At work, we had our annual state of the union address where we find out our wage increase and what our discretionary bonus might be. Before we were told this eagerly awaited information, they painted a grim picture of the present and future of our trade and there is going to be more changes and deletions to the workforce, especially on the "management" side. We were assured that we (the laborers) were safe because they need us to make the machines run . This is standard operating procedure when you have a roomful of blue collars that might up rise against the well-paid white collars. I learned four things at this meeting: No wage increase and no bonus and the realization that I'm not going to retire from the place I've been working for the past 19 plus years, and ultimately, that I need to plan for what I'm going to do next when the axe does fall. Realistically I can live without the bonus. As long as the evil white collars aren't getting one. I have my suspicions. The world is getting much clearer these past few years.
We as a family are working on ways to give ourselves the wage increase my employer failed to give us. Those of you that know me know there are some things I can change and am working to do so. Anyhow, the challenge is there and we can do it. Who says you can't buy next years xmas presents at a summer yard sale? Sue is a master at saving money at the supermarket. Candle light and turning our backyard into a farm are other options. Hell, I'll sell my car and pedal around on my bike. I don't need to go anywhere. The changes may be so drastic you might question what year it is when you visit our home. Is it 2010 or 1820? Eric doesn't need a job yet but if anyone's hiring after he turns six this year he might have to quit school. The possibilities are endless!
Of course I'm kidding. Keeping it light is my M-O. I wish everyone a Happy New Year 2010. Lets work together to embrace the possibilities of a new year, for better or worse.
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