Boys and Their Fathers

     By this point in history, we've all heard the expression "It's like herding cats!" I can tell you from experience this phrase is relative to the "Cats" you are trying to herd!!!
     When it comes to these "Cats", The Shadow, The Jedi, and The Hulk; picture taking is prime-time sports! There were about a dozen taken in total and this is the best one. I love these guys, but damn they are singularly a handful; together they are a three ring show!
     The oldest brother stopped by for a couple of days. The youngest brother is getting married in a few weeks and the oldest isn't able to attend. So, as a consolation, he stopped in for a visit. It was a great joy having my three boys together. Like many of you whom have adult children. I stand in awe of them. They share such great familiarity and yet are so uniquely themselves. One feverishly claws back the layers on the bleeding edge of his career while another is engaged in mortal combat to find the top of the ladder by brute force all the while attempting to help everyone along the way (best of luck with that there Dude), and the other simply endures the modern age while struggling to come to grips with having been born five hundred years too late; as I said, "They are unique!" Despite their individual peculiarities, It's a comfort to know they're all really good guys. One might even say it's sort of a family tradition. One that may have skipped a generation?? At least for my own part. I can't say whether I am or not. I am certain you could easily find people with an opinion in both camps. Well??? Anyway, let me move forward by backing up a bit. Earlier this year through the miracle of modern science, I discovered the identity of my Biological Father. (An Aside: just looking at the term Biological Father. It's so clinical, formal, denuded of emotion. Somehow, it just doesn't seem fair though generally correct.)
     He's an interesting Cuss. I say this with the utmost respect and admiration. Perhaps Cuss isn't the best Nom De Gerre for him. There's always Rascal, Cheeky, Comical, Driven, Focused, Unique, ah hell, how about Dad. He's Dad. In the months since our discovery we've met up a few times for meals and visits. In short, meeting him has exceeded any expectations I could have held. He's married to a wondrous creature who I'm sure was created in a mad scientists secret lab somewhere. She is wicked! Wicked smart, wicked funny, etc... She's just Wickedly Awesome! Then again, she agreed to marry him, so he must have something going for him. Perhaps, he's simply a more experienced Cat. Yep, that's my father in a nutshell.
     Fifty-Three years is a long time to wait to meet your father. It doesn't take a PhD in Gerontology to know, statistically speaking, more water has passed under the bridge than there is left to pass; on this trip. It would be too easy for me and my mental quirks to feel incredibly sorry for myself. Hell, who knows, maybe I should, but I don't. I can't. There is absolutely nothing to be retrieved. All we have is the road ahead. Honestly, I'm really looking forward to it. I do have one confession to make. He does more in one day than I do in a week. If I ever had to follow him around I'd need to see if Elon Musk makes electric roller skates. Seriously, there is no grass growing under his feet.

     For those of you who have known me all of my life, this picture may give you pause. Take a good look. No, it's not me. It's my Father at about twenty. Freaky Huh!? If you thought it was me, you are not alone. I shared this picture, which I've been sitting on for a few months, with a select few of my "near and dear". Without exception, they couldn't place where this was taken. The reason is because they had assumed it was me. There was one exception; my favorite Aunt. Then again, she's her own brand of Wicked. If you get something past her, mark you calendar because you've done something. I will admit, there is a likeness, but i was never that thin. Okay, maybe I was, but the Army took care of that. Then again, there were three heat injuries that helped as well. Perhaps even a few Cheeseburgers too!!!
     One day not too long after we first met I got a call from him and he asked me if I wanted to get together for lunch in Dallas. I sat up straight and said, "yes sir, you bet." I figured he had some sort of business dealings in Dallas and he was squeezing me in between work functions, so I was "Johnny on the spot" at the Denny's where we decided to meet. He had previously told me that he would be unavailable for about a month. I was pretty excited that he had made time to grab lunch. We ate and talked and just visited in general. I told him I had gotten in trouble with Donna for not getting a picture of the two of us the first time we had lunch together and wasn't going to face her wrath on that subject again. He said he had no problem with a picture so I handed over my phone to an employee and what resulted was our first picture together. Even though, we are back lit and it makes it hard to see us, it's one of my favorite pics of all time.
     Remember when I told you about my Father in a nutshell above, spare me a couple more minutes and you'll find out how he became my Dad. I had assumed he was in Dallas for business and that it was luck or clever scheduling which afforded us this lunch. What would you say if I told you he drove up from Houston to  Dallas just to have lunch with me. Hold up a minute. We talk on the phone regularly, we share bad text messages (predictive text can make anyone illiterate), and he drove to Dallas and back for the sole purpose of taking me to lunch. "Boys and their Fathers!"

He drove up a Father and drove home a Dad.



Until I write again, Peace be with you!!!
Dave

This past weekend, I made a quickie trek out to Alpine. Really and truly I needed to reset my taste-buds and renew my nose to country air. I just needed to get out of town for a couple of days. I was stale. Berutted: if you like. For a brief case of ad nauseum, my zest was all pith!
This July would have marked two years since i had taken any time to slow down and measure the world around me. Yes, my yardstick was dry rotten. Interestingly enough, once I hit town all I wanted to do was curl up at the hotel and sleep. I'm sure Karl Jung would have a wise theory or two about that, but the next part would have caused him some contradiction. I generally don't dream. I simply pass out and wait for the next day to start, but from the first night I dreamed of running.
Years ago, in a galaxy far far away, I ran. I'd been doing it since I was a kid. If I wasn't running, i was biking. So when I left High School at 17 I weighed about 180lbs, but it was all leg and butt. I could open beers with my toes, but struggled to carry in groceries with my chicken wing arms. Well, the Army got the arms in line with the legs and my first two company commanders were both runners. I had it on good advice that if my commander was into something I better be able to converse in it without sounding like an idiot. So, I started running after hours and early mornings. A few miles here and there. I kept it to a three day a week type thing. Honestly, i was never disciplined enough to be a serious road runner. Oh sure, I did take a crack at it.
In 1984, or there abouts, I and my company commander both ran the Mule Mountain Marathon from Bisbee to Ft Huachuca. He ran the full thing, I ran a half. We both started the race as the first member of a 5 man relay. I remember i crossed the 5 mile mark right at 30 minutes. It was 29 and change and Carrington my commander was about 10 or so seconds ahead of me. (Side note: Alberto Salazar ran that year and he was about 20 seconds ahead of me)
At the half, I crossed walking at just short of 1:40. I felt good. My legs were chapped and sore and my shoes had long since failed, but I felt pretty damn good. I was invited to have beers with my friends that night and i made it through about a half of one before I fell  asleep.
That next year, I met the Hoyt's in Tucson. I'm still blown away. In those few brief moments, i learned what a Father's Love really is. In a nutshell, it's something i'll never achieve, but in my own weird way I do try. That last sentence makes me a bit sad, but it is the honest truth.
At this time in life, i varied between 202 - 215 pounds. Which is too heavy for a runner, especially one of any distance. I was reminded of this regularly. The guy at the local shoe store there on Fry Street loved me. I stopped in regularly to get a new pair of Asics. He took pity on me with some pretty great discounts and naturally I sent everyone to him.
I ran in Tucson, Phoenix, hell the Army had an MWR (morale, Welfare, and Recreation) run through Death Valley. I did that one twice and it nearly killed me. So, that little voice in the back of my head about being too big to run came to the front and with a new wife came a new life. Oh, I still ran here and there, I largely gave up on running until i got back to Alpine in '89.
That period, I would get out and run the loop road, or to the airport and back, I ran in from the road side park out west of town and from the Y. It was a great stress reliever.
One of the last times I went out for a run was pretty early on in my current relationship. I had been going out pretty regularly for a two to three mile run, when one morning I had stopped out by the airport on my way back into town to walk and drink some water and I met a guy who was also out for a run. it turned out he was in town to make a superbowl commercial for Footlocker. Oddly enough, I had gotten a day job as Assistant to the Location Manager for that same shoot. The runner was Joe Falcon. He was a real nice man and yes, he did find it odd that someone of my size was out running. I couldn't believe that I had just met a world class runner in Alpine. The last I heard, he had become a police officer or something of that nature.
So........
I woke up from this dream where I was running around loop road, waving at Roy Dodson, who was painting a door leaned up against the rock wall in front of his house, with fireworks going off at the park in the middle of the day. I sat up. Then, I stood up and my feet groaned. Today, i'm somewhere north of 300 pounds. All the years of pavement pounding and the resulting arthritis and bone spurs reminded me i'm still too big to run, but as long as I keep moving toward the next destination i'm still in the race.
It is my custom to post around my Birthday even when I post nothing further in the year. I recently turned 52 and this will have to suffice as my celebratory post. These days my thoughts are of my family. My aging parents who no longer go to bed late and get up early, but have traded that for something horrifyingly different. My children whom have all grown and found lives of their very own. My little grandchildren whom I could never see enough. Most interestingly, i'm watching all the friends from all the years have their faces betrayed by time and the crisp colors of their hair turned into a rainbow of starlight revealing the pain and wisdom hard won in races of their own.
As I keep moving toward the next destination I pray that each of you stays in the race for you are valued. A little more wrinkle, a little more silver, or even being too big to run are preferable to no race at all.
Until I write again, Peace be with you.
Dave

A Superhero In Search Of His Cape

I'm laying here with no particular thesis in mind. I seem to be stuck somewhere between "Ramble On" and "On The Road".  I assure you I am neither a Plant nor a Kerouac. I am a Truculent Grey-eyed fool playing my part on the grandest stage of all.
My elder son is a Senior in High School and will graduate in June. I have to admit, i'm a bit uneasy with the impending change looming on the horizon. In many ways, he's ready. Though, i can't help but worry about the choices he'll make in the early years after leaving the nest. He's a great kid and has chosen an honorable profession. One in which i think his demeanor and athleticism will serve him well; he'll be a Fireman. I guess it's still allowable to call them Firemen and not some super politically correct euphemism like, an onsite extrication, recovery, and incendiary containment specialist..
I believe, my shenanigans aside, i like Fireman the best!
Easy ladies, but here is a picture of the budding super hero.....

Growing up, as many of us know (though i don't really fit the description), is a perplexing time filled with wonder. As in, I wonder what i'll be when i grow up. Which has been the biggest challenge of my life to date.
I once asked my Grandfather, "Papa, how do you know what you'll be when you grow up?" To which he replied, "Many years from now you'll be cleaning out your desk for the last time and taking stuff home you've never taken before. At that moment, you'll look back and know what you were when you grew up."
You know, that was about all of the "what do you want to be when you grow up?" advice i ever remember getting. In the context of today, it's really not bad advice considering all of the people who work several jobs during their lifetime. For me, it wasn't that i didn't know what i wanted to be, rather it was that i wanted to be too many things; many of which were completely ridiculous. Now, i'm not talking about the run of the mill ridiculous like deciding at twenty to be a Rock Star or a "C" student who is weak in math that wants to be an Astronaut. (Guilty) What i'm talking about is something like; I want to be an Oceanographer! and the only ocean i'd seen was on TV. I still love Jacques Cousteau! Also from a tender age i wanted to be a Writer/Photographer. You say "That doesn't sound ridiculous". Well, let me tell you, i might as well have had aspirations of being the King of England. (More on that in a future post if i think about it.)
The point here is that when i was growing up we never talked about what we wanted to be when we grew up. I don't know if that led me to where i'm at today or if it were simply the choices i've made or a combination of the two. Be that as it may, I did talk to the boys about it. I asked them often and no matter how ridiculous their responses, at the time. I never beat them up about their choices. What i did do was to ask them how they applied to other jobs in the field. I always left them with a question. For instance: let's say they wanted to fry an egg. I'd ask them if frying an egg was all they wanted to do with it. I'd ask them if they'd like to make an omelette or possibly learn to make custard. The lesson here is about flexibility and being able to roll with the punches that life throws at us without becoming bitter and cynical.
In the short go, it has led to both of my guys knowing where they want to be ten years after graduation. Now, those of us with enough ground under our boots know that life has a way of steering you, but in the meantime they are both on a good course.
So, to tidy up the end of this visit i'll say that my little super hero will be attending EMT classes this Fall or the Fire Academy. Since he'll only be eighteen, there is a chance he won't be selected for the Fire Academy this year. Until he is though he'll be satisfying the other requirements for the job he seeks. I am proud of him, but in our Viking home it only counts when you cross the finish line.

Until we speak again, Peace be with You, Dave

Potpourri for 100 Alex and a Reunion Too

In case you haven't noticed, i haven't journaled in quite a while, even for me. I've been pretty busy lately, what with the end of the school year, my container garden, and my beloved sewing machine. Then again, i guess the largest detractor from journaling are my wonderful boys on summer vacation.

Well, i found a few minutes and thought i would catch everyone up on the goings on here in the middle of nowhere.

The school year ended and the boys are moving on to their Sophomore and Junior years. The older one turned sixteen the other day and it made me a bit sad. I am going to make a terrible empty nester!!!

As for my container garden, this has been a tough year. I ended up with an infestation of Spider Mites, Leaf Miners, and Flea Beetles (I always want to spell it Beatles). I tried all of the Organic ways to rid them, but finally aquiesced and bought some Neem Oil and i'm just waiting on the Tomatos to rebound. The peppers and other veggies are blooming and growing again like i would expect them to. So far i have gotten a dozen tomatos, a couple dozen peppers, and one bhut jalokia. I haven't tried that pepper yet, but i'll let you know what happens when i do. I guess it wouldn't be fair if i didn't show you a picture of my little container garden. So, here it is.

As for the sewing part, it's that time of year when i traditionally make Donner something summery. I sure hope that's a real word, if it isn't it is now. This year is no different. I've made a few blouses and a couple pair of pants. Next up is a dress or two.

Finally, there is a class reunion over the 4th of July weekend. I come from small town America. So small in fact the reunion covers everyone that graduated during the 1980's. Now, a little tidbit, i didn't graduate from there or anywhere. I earned my GED in the Army, but we were all such a part of each other's formative years that nobody really cares. It's more about getting the people together to celebrate that part of our collective lives than who did what. I have to admit i'm a little apprehensive about going as there are only a dozen or so people i want to see, but i'll put on my brave face and go. Those few people i want to see are worth enduring the presence of those i'd rather not. The sad thing is, i'm related to a number of those i don't. Then again i learned there is a silver lining to this. I have a set of relatives, that i really enjoy, that will be there as well. I haven't seen them in something like fifteen years or so and that is just too long.

I will go to bed tonight with a guarded sense of excitement for the 4th of July weekend.

On a personal note Painted Groove Girl and Lavender Chick, I certainly hope we all find time to sit down, split a beer, and talk a little treason.

Until I write again, as always, Peace be with You, Dave

Lucha-dedos??? What the hell is that??

Well as you can see by the picture, we have taken thumb wrestling to a whole new dimension. It's funny. The other day i was making my yearly run into Albertson's (yearly, that's a joke) when i saw the stack of gumball machines. Well, to make a long story short, one of them had these luchadores masks in them for thumb wrestling and instantly i knew i had to have a couple because the boys would freak out. Naturally, i was correct and for the next couple of weeks we played with them almost daily. I'd say that's not a bad return on a dollar. Then again how do you put a price on the laughter of children and their contentment.

I am happy to report Track and Field season is over. Yee Haw!!! No more late night trips to the school to get him after meets. Oh Wait, There is Spring Football. The big one is playing Middle Linebacker and Full Back; while the little one is a Defensive End and a Tight End. This is of course for those of you who have a passion for the game. As for me, i go because my kids play.

We had a few unwelcome guests in the house the past few days. I was telling the "Mad Scientist", that's the little one, about the first one and all he could do was ask questions. Was there a fiddle on the cephalothorax and how big were the petapulps?? I told him, all i knew was that it was a brownish spider. He asked me to take a picture if another showed up. Sure i said. After all, i smashed the first one. The next day, sure as thunder, i found a second one, but my picture taking and its longevity didn't have a harmonious climax. However, around seven that evening, i took several shots of this creature pictured at left. I then blew it up on my computer and got an hour long lesson on what cephalothorax and petapulps are. Oh Yeah, and this is a Brown Recluse or Fiddleback spider. The good news is they aren't aggressive and tend not to bite unless they feel threatened, but if they do bite the results can be severe. If you are curious, do a google image for fiddleback spider bite and you'll see what i mean. As for me, i'm just waiting on the bug guy.

We are going to DFW this weekend. I have got to get me some good Chinese food and some sewing needles. Then again, there are quite a number of people i'd like to visit with. It's going to be a short weekend, but i don't believe there is any other kind.

Lastly, the western half of my beloved state has seen a rash of range fires in the last couple of weeks. The pictures and first hand accounts are heart wrenching. I know all too well the devastation range fires can wage on property, livestock, and the people involved by them. My thoughts and prayers are with these people as i will forever be a part of them and they of me. It's little consolation, at this point, but range fires are a part of natures renewal process. I pray the grasses green up quickly.

I lied, lastly, my new phone is supposed to be able to blog to blogger. I'm going to try it out on the trip this weekend. So, if you stop by and find something unusually unintelligible, chalk it up to that.

Until i speak with y'all again, May Peace be with You,

Dave

Brain Surgery for Luck

You know your day is going to be outside the norm when you are met first thing in the morning with, "Will you give me a Mohawk today?". Being the guy i am, i was suddenly swept away to The Last of the Mohicans. You know that scene when Daniel Day Lewis and Wes Studi are eyeing each other on the cliff. If you haven't seen it, it's still a great movie and i highly recommend Netflixing it.

I don't know whether it was old fashioned day dreaming or shock, but i didn't answer fast enough to keep from hearing the word "Dad" being repeated over and over again. I somehow found my way back to reality. I'm laying in bed looking up at my son and his big smiling face with my brain screaming, "are you insane??"

At this point, my head is echoing the word NO, no, no, no, no, and i opened my mouth and said, "Why??" Talk about your disconnects! I felt like two people trapped in one body. I may have been saying "no" on the inside, but he sure heard the "why". "It's for good luck in football this year," he said. Oh Joy of Joys, This is where being an old school dad would have paid off. I could have said no and that would have been the end of it, but i like to have reasons for the decisions i make involving my kids in the hopes that they will show their own children some reason in decision making. I just couldn't dream up a good enough reason to not do it. It's not like school has started yet and his hair grows like his mother's, which is very fast. So, i just couldn't come up with any reason that didn't sound any less retarded than giving him the Mohawk. I thought, you know, we'll talk about this later. If we talk about this later, chances are i'll find a good reason for not doing it. Naturally, i said sure, we can give you a Mohawk. I don't even know how that happened. I'd like to blame it on being somewhat still asleep, but nah. He's fifteen, if he's ever going to do something ridiculous with his hair, now's the time. Besides, the likelihood that i could do it was pretty low and i figured i'd end up giving him another Army haircut after i messed up the Mohawk and he'd be satisfied we tried.

Okay, later in the day i was sitting at my table and i started looking up information on how to cut a Mohawk. Yes! I know how ridiculous this sounds. I watched a couple youtube videos and a how-to i found through Google and thought, i could probably do this.

We cut his hair.

Fortunately or unfortunately, i did it. Let me tell you, it isn't quite as easy as you might think. There is a strange bit of geometry there. A couple of degrees one way or the other and, well suffice it to say the only thing worse than a Mohawk is one that isn't lined up straight front to back.

So far, a half dozen of his friends in football have followed suit. I think it's kind of cool that there is this weird kind of solidarity between these teammates. I have to tell you though, most of the comments over this have been both positive and benign, but good old Coach Steel had the best comment. He simply looked at him and asked if he had had brain surgery. I loved it. It really made me laugh.

So that's what has been going on in my world. Well, maybe not all of it, but definitely the cutest story of the week. I am nearly satisfied with my tortilla recipe and i'll probably post it in the near future for anyone so inclined to give it a whirl.

Till then, you guys have some fun, life is serious enough,

Your friend in the shadows, Dave

Make that Fifteen for Bucketface

The calendar page fell and the temperature went up. June came in like an Acme Anvil from the roadrunner cartoon. Now i ask you, what would the world be like if the spring football game were played on a temperate afternoon instead of a blisteringly hot one?? Even being particularly susceptible to heat stress, i wouldn't have missed it for the world.

I'm going to stray from my narrative briefly, but i hope at least one of you can follow what i'm saying or perhaps even how i feel. For all intents and purposes, i'm a Catholic. I am not however a strict dogmatic Catholic and there are many notions the church has that i just don't hold in the same regard. If the truth be known, i'm about half Catholic and half Buddhist. At any rate i don't hold life to be man's dominion, but rather the dominion of God. That being said, (just to clarify that i'm not speaking of abortion) i am neither for nor against abortion. As with all things in life there are decisions to be made and repercussions surrounding those choices. As for what i am saying, God may not be overtly present in every moment of my life, but there are times when i know with a certainty that i've had help.

So, there i was with my wife and youngest son at the spring football game. My son, in the picture, was playing. He's too thin to be center, but he started every game this year, save the one he was out with the flu, and has already been given the starting center spot for next year. While it is true he's pretty much a big dumb jock, we have worked together to make him stronger and more academically sound.

This year was his Freshman year. Going in he had a history of being a "C" student and always on the verge of summer school for TAKS test remediation. I, like any parent, poured a lot of blood, sweat and tears into making himself more confident and raising his awareness that school and mom and dad are only temporary. I worked hard at convincing him he wouldn't always be a kid and that being grown up meant he was going to have to figure out what he is best at and what he loves to determine a career path. Over the year, his grades improved and he came up nearly a hundred places in his class ranking. I'd like to take credit for this but it wouldn't be fair. He did it. He was moved out of his normal English class and placed in English Honors/Pre AP. He has a wonderful written voice for someone so young and a grasp of story elements that amazes me. The only other thing he did that really stood out this year happened during the Track and Field season. He was the only Freshman from his school to consistently compete. Now before you think "hey, he must be fast" let me share with you that he competed in Shot Put and Discus. These are strength events. Although he didn't place a single time and this causes him some angst, most meets he was the only Freshman throwing against mostly Juniors and Seniors and the important thing to consider is: He was competitive.


He turns fifteen this week and after the effort he made, he ended the year as a "B" student, i pierced his ears for him. Which leads me to the point of all this drivel. I Love him as i do all of my children and i do anything i'm able to help them realize those things they want as long as they seem reasonable and their rationale is sound. The only question i've ever had, other than am i doing all i can, is do they understand why i'm so hard on them and am i a positive influence on their lives?? (So that's like three questions, but it's my blog and i can cry if i want to.) Then just when i think i'm beginning to see my kids pull away from me, God drops by to let me know what's really there. Rarely is there an instance when i can share these moments of grace with anyone. However, there was one of those moments of grace at the end of the game the other day and Donna caught it. Maybe God caught it. Who am i to say? All i know is the result is the following picture and there are no words needed to know where i stand with him. Equally, there are no words needed for where he stands with me. He's just beautiful and is going to make a fine man.


A Note to my Son:

Son, I don't give a hang if you are a Model, Wrestler, Actor, English teacher, or Tattooist in this life. Ultimately, i only want your life to be rewarding and for you to be happy with the "Skin you are in".

I Love you Bucketface, Happy Fifteen



To the rest of you, that's all the sap i have at this moment. My tree has once again gone to winter. Until the next time we meet, take a moment to notice the grace in your world

Be Very Well My Friends, Dave

One lit in my face and one burning in the ashtray...

Well it's three in the morning and i just cracked a Dr Pepper and choked down a couple BC Powders. I say choked down, i think I'm starting to take them for the same reason some old people eat dirt or corn starch. I'd like to say that i have a headache every time i take them, but I'm not entirely sure that would be accurate. One thing is for certain, i endure chronic headaches. Oh, and no my BP and sugar are both fine, but thanks for asking. I think it has to do with when i fell out of the sign at the Bien Venido Motel some years ago and i whacked my neck pretty good.

My 14 yr old has sprung from his chrysalis and come out the other side a social damn butterfly. Thank God we have an unlimited plan because between his one ring tone for text messages and his myriad of ring tones for his friends, I've made him set it to vibrate anytime it's within ear shot of me. Some days it's maddening!!! He has really started coming into his own in school too. Well, Football for sure, I'll know about the academics in a couple of weeks and as all of you know that's where i live. It sure isn't football. Anyway, he's gotten his permanent position as the starting center. He really didn't think he could do it because, evidently, there is a lot of responsibility in that position. However, he likes to yell and block and tell people when they aren't doing what they are supposed to. Stupid me, i thought the center just gave the quarterback the football and then blocked, but he's told me tons of other things that he has to do to make sure the play comes off the way it is designed to. I have to admit, i look at him when he starts explaining, the same way i used to look at Mrs Davis when she tried like hell to explain to me the objective and nominative cases in English in 9th grade.

OK for the next part to make any sense at all i have to preface this with a little bit of an explanation. Our boys are 15 months apart. The one mentioned above is red headed, six foot and built like Adonis. The 13yr old is 5'4", sandy blond hair and the closest he gets to sports is the chess club. Yes, the older one is a fair student and a great athlete; the younger one is totally an honor student and no athletic prowess what so ever (save possibly the remote for the TV)

I pick the little one up from school everyday and i always ask him the same thing. It's kind of like a catch phrase at this point, i say,"good day, bad day, or okay day??" He'll usually give me the old "good day". Then I'll ask him what the best and worst part is, this is where he goes into a soliloquy on par with "Song of Myself" and will talk for thirty minutes about how unrealistic it is to put kids like him into regular classes with kids that don't want to be there and only want to cause problems or tell him he's retarded and give him the finger. Here again, i digress into my own school experience and have much the same look on my face as when Mrs Morgan tried so desperately to teach me, "Order of Operations".

Then my lovely wife locks up the administration at her school around eleven most evenings and calls me. Naturally i am twenty minutes from the end of a movie i am completely buried in like Wednesday. I was watching, i really love Netflix!!!!!, this movie called "Elegy" with Penelope Cruz and Ben Kingsley. It was so tragically amazing. I'd say that it made me cry, but we all know guys don't do that. Just like the first time i saw the movie "Philadelphia". (Vamos Aver) I was buried in "Elegy" and there was about twenty minutes left and my phone rang, i saw it was her and i hit the end call button. See that way it could go to voice mail and she'd think i was on the phone and i could finish the movie. I'd tell you what they were doing but i won't in case the odd one of you watches it. If you liked the "Notebook" or "La Puta Y La Ballena", you'll love this. Anyway, about two minutes later she called back and i hit the end call button again. The movie is just that good! Well, then that old devil on my shoulder started talking to me about her car being broken down or of her getting mugged in their parking lot and i had to stop the movie and call her. So i did. I asked her if she was OK and she said yeah, she was on 35, blah blah blah. Here again, my face went as blank as it did every time Mrs Matley used the words several (serval) and she had another one she used to screw up too, but that used to just send me into an out of body experience.

(and Yes, i made that dress)

The wife blathered on for her entire thirty minute ride about things that happened at work that were funny and some stuff that was un-called for and the like. All the while, I'm blindly listening to these things and i don't know any of the people or anything about where she works other than it's on 35. I went there once to start her car and thus the sum total of my knowledge of the events in her world. About two hours later i restarted the movie and watched it from beginning to end and it was worth the interruption just to get to see it again. I have to admit that i, probably from being a man, needed to see it twice to understand what it meant and that was fine too.

I guess it's days like these that make me love that new Zac Brown Band song "Toes" so much. There is a verse that goes:

I got my toes in the water, ass in the sand

not a worry in the world, a cold beer in my hand

Life is good today, Life is good today

I have got some more of "Perfect" to put up, but i just have to get my arse in gear and do it. Plus, here a while back Paige had asked me what it is that i sew and that is such a hard question to answer this way. I don't want to put up a slide show on facebook, but if blogger will let me, I'll throw up a slide show. I just have to figure out if i can or not. If not, i may just have one huge posting of pictures. But those are the things on my horizon and i plan on doing that in the next couple of days. If it starts to look like I've gone blog happy don't worry it's only the 24hr kind.

Till i share with Y'all again, Take care of Y'all, D