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

Smells like Summer

For as long as i can remember, I have been one of those people that, according to Kant, experiences transcendental episodes created in response to olfactory stimuli. In short, there are certain smells that take me to a place and/or time. Many times it's as though i am living it for the first time.

I would guess the first smell i really remember having these trance-like episodes over was, of all things, a hairspray. It was either Aqua Net or Final Net. I remember it came in a blue can with this kind of net pattern on it. I had a girlfriend that used it and to this day, i still have fond feelings associated with it. Then there is the weird. I absolutely love the smell of skunk. Now, not a heavy smell of skunk, just a light whiff of skunk in the distance. To me it is a peaceful and calming thing.

There are those smells that are straight forward and just stand for something, like; baking bread, babies, a clean bathroom, and leather. Which brings me to my favorite smell of all. I completely love the smell of a woman first thing in the morning. I'm not talking about that whole kitten breath thing. I mean it's not like i've been eating tic tacs all night myself. I'm talking about the smell on her. That warm, maternal, lovely homey smell she has right before she wakes to start her day. The scent of a woman could be a whole post all by itself and yet i doubt i'd deliver justice on the subject. It seems as though i have wandered pretty far from the path, but what can i say, it's just one of those things.

The other day i was at the store, in the produce section, and evidently my smell thing caught up with me. I was standing there with a lug of Village Farms tomatoes smelling them. I was frantically searching for a hint of that earthy smell home grown tomatoes have. While i was smelling them, the woman next to me said, "it's not there." I looked at her and smiled and said, "What's not there?" She said, "That tomato smell you're looking for."

I didn't know anyone was aware of what i was doing, but i had been smelling all of the produce before putting it in my buggy. The funny thing is, she was right. I was looking for that tomato smell.

That dirty, earthy, almost evergreen smell that homegrown tomatoes have just screams summer to me. It takes me back to when i was a kid and my grandmother would have this immense garden filled with all kinds of vegetables and i hadn't yet learned that produce without blemishes or natural odor even existed.

For about the last ten years, or so, i have been container gardening on our patio. This year is no different save the location change which got me started later than i normally would. I have two varieties of tomato, jalapenos, cayenne peppers, some orphaned strawberry plants my mother-in-law gave me, a few garlic, a bed of salad greens and one of carrots and radishes. I may add some green onions to that, but essentially that's it. It's a typical offering from me, but it's the first time in a few years i have planted all of it.

I was admiring my plants yesterday when i came across that familiar tomato smell that i've been longing for. I'm happy to report it smells like summer at my grandmother's.

There is one more plant i am growing this year. It's the Ghost Chili or Bhut Jalokia. It's supposed to be one hot mother. If a Jalapeno is 4-6 thousand Scoville units in heat, i can't imagine what 1.1 million Scovilles is going to be like from this monster. I am planning on drying them out and using them to augment the lack of heat winter jalapenos have i use in our salsa here at the house in the latter months. I'll let you know if i can still taste anything after i try one. In the meantime, it's an attractive plant and doesn't really look like a pepper plant. The leaves aren't shaped right. That is the plant i am holding in the picture above. (The first picture is of one of my tomato plants) Oh, and that piece of glass you see behind me is the top of my solar water distiller. I'm getting a couple cups a day, not quite a quart yet. I'm still tweaking it.

So, there you have it. A somewhat intimate look into one of the things that drives the person i am.

Until i find you again, Peace be with you.

Dave

Truculent with a subtle touch of recalcitrance

Today i add another ring around the oak that is my life. My leaves are tattered, my trunk is sturdy, and i don't bend like i once did, but i hope the shade i cast is comforting to my family and friends.

I saw some of those friends this past weekend in Dallas. Those few hours reaffirmed just how precious those people are. I am thankful for being entwined such that we are and I love you. I haven't the ability to articulate it any better than that. Rest assured there will always be a branch to hang a swing on.

And in response to the general state of things, i will indeed take a few minutes for myself today. I Promise.

Again, I thank all of you for the enrichment you have brought into my world.

Till we talk again, 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

Bi-Polarism and the unresolved symptoms

Hello Everyone,
I hope that y'all are doing well and you haven't had too much severe weather where you live. Save for a few fast moving storms the weather here has been pretty nice, but we haven't had the wind we look for this time of year. Ya see, when we aren't shooting up heroin or smoking crack (I'm Kidding Of Course!!!), we fly kites this time of year. This year has had the lowest average daily wind speeds, in our area, for more than twenty years. Which leads to some pretty miserable outings if you expect to fly that day. All things considered, it's probably just as well in some regards. For those of you that don't know, i have, for brevity's sake, Bi-Polar Disorder. Now, in as much as I'd love to say i have a garden variety case and it's well managed, i can't. In true Greyeyes Family style, i am so far out on that branch, treating me is an exercise in resolve, patience, and forgiveness for my doctors, close friends and family.
I have been battling, as of late, with the thought that we will never find a drug combination which will either arrest my BPD cycles or at least slow the rate of them down to a point where i will be able to return to some sense of the life i once lived. I'm reasonably sure someone reading this will tell me not to give up and advances in neuroscience happen everyday, but i have already been told twice that there are only a few meds left for me to try and i shouldn't give up hope, but i shouldn't be looking for that silver bullet either.
This subset of meds that i haven't given a try are the new anti-psychotics. I just love that term! Although, they don't call them that, they call them mood stabilizers today. Such a handy little euphemism isn't it?? Out go the anti-psychotics and enter the mood stabilizers. ACK!!! The problem with these pills, for me, are the side effects. I mean have you ever seen a commercial for a medicine and they list the side effects and while they are reading them off, do you hear yourself saying, "Geez! the side effects are worse than the disease." Well i know i have. In this, lies the problem. I need to supplement what i take now with a "mood stabilizer", but i want to avoid the major side effects and i just haven't found the right one yet.
This may seem a bit personal, but I'm pretty clear headed this morning and i thought i would put it down before i forgot what i was thinking.
You know there was a long time when i didn't put too much credence into BPD and the progression of symptoms during a lifetime. I remember a time when i went about a year without any extremes, neither up nor down. Sadly, that med combination only made it about three years before i, rather suddenly, nearly stopped responding entirely.
I have been actively treated for this for nearly fifteen years. Add to that a hit or miss, as symptoms arose dosing practice for another decade and it's little wonder why there are so few meds left to try. It's not all bad news though, as of today, i am nearly weight neutral. Trust me, that's a tremendous step. In the last fifteen years i have gained about a hundred pounds. It would make me ill if i thought about that part much. I have also managed to get my extreme depression under pretty good control. So what's left you say?? Only the anxiety, poor sleeping, and the ever present threat of losing control into a rage filled state. Okay, so i need a "mood stabilizer" that aids in control of anxiety, in sleeping, and arrests the bouts of rage with a minimum of weight gain and no link to type II Diabetes. I guess that's not hoping for too much.
I have a son going to a special high school next year and is in a program called Medical Academic, who's curriculum is specifically designed for kids who want to grow up to be doctors. Maybe one day he'll find my pill or your pill. At the very least, i would hope he never loses his kind demeanor the way so many of us have by the things that jade our lives.
I bid y'all a pleasant day filled with satisfaction and gratitude. Dave

A few notes on the Language

I must have been in my playpen, forty some-odd years ago, when the phrase "It's not what you said, it's the way you said it" was introduced to my lexicon. Perhaps, there are those of you that would prefer i use the term Broca's Area, but either way it's where we store our language. The interesting part of this is in the transport and delivery of language. Don't let me lose you, yet! This isn't going to be one of those dry academic things, more to the point it's going to be a quick examination of some language oddities that are on my mind. Oh Boy! I used the word quick didn't i?? Well, like the man said, "You get what you pay for." Back to, it's not what you said, it was the way you said it. Since the transport of our language is a living being, so must our language also be a living being. For instance the devolution of expletives for happiness or joy: sweet, dope, fly, awesome, cool, far out, peaches, berries, capital, and the like. Ah would a rose by any other name... Okay, so chalk that one up to generational catch phrases. How about the way technology has effected the language. if you misspell emulate (to mimic or attempt to pay homage to) you will end up with immolate (to destroy, usually by fire) another good one is rife (meaning a great amount of) and you get ripe (ready for harvest). These two can have overlapping contextual agreement. One could use either word to describe a quantity. Finally, we come to ascetic and aesthetic. The former is a person who trains in self denial and mortification and the latter is of beauty and what's pleasing to the eye. I'm not even sure i can find a parallel for those. Make no mistake, i'm not an English snob. If you look for grammatical problems in my writing, i promise you'll find them. I am the King of the Comma Splice.


All of this has been merely prologue to a few of my personal pet peeves. These are in no particular order and i hope you get some kind of giggle out of these. First off there is "alot". Alot is not a word. It is two and as two it doesn't mean many or several. However, many and several do substitute for alot just fine. Next, I want to remind y'all that y'all is spelled y'all. The argument has been made that y'all isn't a word either and the only reason it is in the dictionary is for common usage. WRONG! If you want to blame someone for y'all, then blame Queen Isabella of Spain. She needed to unite her country and commissioned a man named Nebrija to write the first Grammar. It is in this the Spanish form of the, plural and singular(in some cases) second person pronoun (you) (vosotros) was set down and hence, y'all is ours through assimilation.


Which leads me to my favorite email of the week. Yes! i'm telling secrets out of school.


I received the following:


Dude like my bff and me was hangin at the park just kickin and like her genes ript omg so funny cause her azz wuz hangin out and everything can you sew up her azz call me


In a word, WOW!!! I don't know if they need a geneticist or a seamster. So, i replied to my little friend with the following:


Dude, If she's over eighteen and has a good personality, bring her over and let me see if i can get her under the presser foot.


Remember, it's not what you say, but how you say it. I wonder if she'll want quilting stitches on her azz.......Y'all be great, D

Why else, because i can.

Well it's about three in the morning and I'm sitting here with my intrepid Dr Pepper listening to Bette Midler. It's hard to believe she's my mother's age. If she were playing anywhere but Vegas, I'd find a way to make a show. However, i just don't trust myself in Vegas, so I'll settle for the CD. However, if anyone ever makes it to a show i want the biggest T-shirt they have!!!
Okay, so the Christmas cards are done. I say that, but Donna K still has to write her notes in them to those she'll write notes too and I'm currently printing out a couple recipes that will get stuffed in them too. Listen! When you get a card from us, you don't soon forget it.
One of the recipes this year i got passed on to me by one of my homegirls from El Paso that lives up here. It's for a cheese ball, a chocolate cheese ball. It's not bad, a bit sweet, but maybe it wouldn't be if Donna would put something with it other than vanilla wafers!!! You know, just sitting here thinking about it, i bet it would taste a bit like a canole (kuh-no-lee) if you served it on water crackers. It's just a thought. Anyway, here it is in case you want to try it.

Chocolate Cheese ball
1 8oz package of cream cheese
3/4C powdered sugar
2T Brown sugar
1/4t Vanilla extract
3/4C Miniature chocolate chips
3/4C Finely chopped Pecans (However, it is my personal opinion this is better with sliced almonds that you have lightly toasted. Again, just my opinion)
Put it together:
In a medium bowl, beat the cream cheese until smooth. Mix in the powdered and brown sugar and vanilla. Stir in the chocolate chips. Cover and chill in the refrigerator for about an hour. When chilled, place cheese ball mixture on plastic wrap and form into a ball. Mine has been a little loose so after you form it into a ball with the plastic wrap, have a bowl that you can put the wrapped mixture in while chilling an additional hour. When it's re-chilled, remove from wrap and roll the ball in the finely chopped Pecans or Almonds, whatever you decided to do.

It's okay. I'm not real big on it. I've made it three times since i got the recipe and it seems to get eaten. I'm not sure who eats it, men or women, but it does get eaten and for me that's the important part. Nothing sucks worse than making something and then having to drag it back home with you because their dog didn't even want it. Anyway, so that's that.
It's like my stupid Tortilla Soup recipe. I HATE IT!!! The soup, the recipe, even the fact that i took on making it the first time. Deb will never hear the end of that one. Don't get me wrong it's probably my most requested recipe and that part is gratifying, but i certainly don't get the fascination with it.
There is another soup recipe i have i do like. Well several, but I'm talking about the one i made for today. I first made this soup, or something like it, about ten years ago. I was looking for a soup that was fairly hearty and had a real good Asian flavor to it. What i ended up with is something that has become Ginger Chicken Soup. Now i have to tell you with two teenage boys in the house i tend to make enough food for a medium sized enclosure at the zoo on any given day of the week. This seems only fair i guess when you consider the apes i cook for. Now i don't stand over the stove all day in my frilly apron and my pearls. Donna Reed I'm not, but i do spend my fair share of time in there. Since i do spend an amount of time in the kitchen and I'm extremely lazy, i have made an art out of delivering on one without compromising the other. My partners in crime for this are my crock pot ( roughly the size of a small bath tub) and my roaster. There is my showtime rotisserie too, but don't ask. I love that thing so much that i have replaced nearly every part that can be replaced and i have about three years left on the super extended warranty i got when i replaced the glass door. OOPS!!!
Well today, it was me, my crock pot and Ginger Chicken Soup.
Ginger Chicken Soup
( i have converted some of the items in this recipe to prepared items for the expedience of others, but feel free to adulterate it at will)
Take 4 Chicken breasts and marinate them overnight in a mixture of Teriyaki baste and glaze, a little soy sauce to thin that down some and a good table spoon or two of fresh grated ginger.
Take one of the three pound boxes of chicken stock and pour that into your crock pot on the day you want to make the soup. To that add a table spoon of Chili and Garlic sauce, usually it can be found on the Asian aisle in most grocery stores and add a quarter cup of lite soy sauce. Take a good sized finger of ginger and peel it. I slice it thinly in two directions so it makes little sticks and add all of that to the soup stock. Take your marinated chicken breasts and cook them up in a grill pan or cast iron skillet or whatever you like. Hell you could do them on the grill the night before and then pull them out of the refrigerator the next morning. Take the cooked chicken and cup it up into small bite sized pieces and add to the pot. Now for the hard part. I don't put much else in the soup, so if you want to add to it knock yourself out. The night before cut up a head of napa cabbage. I usually slice it like cutting up a water melon when you are giving kids quarter slices and put that in a bowl. Then either buy pre-cut mushrooms or cut those up and put them in a bowl. Get a bag of snow peas or those real thin green beans. If you get those you'll need to snap them to an inch long or so. Now with your soup stock and chicken and other stuff in the crock pot on low you can go to work or whatever. When you get back about an hour or less before you want to eat start adding the veggies to the pot. The peas or green beans take the longest to cook but that really isn't all that long. All you are really trying to do is to get a good wilt on your veggies before you eat. They'll be bright and have a little crisp still and the broth is just great. I know this sounds really confusing, but this is the first time i have ever written it down. ( Donna made me!!!) She doesn't like soup, but she had it for lunch today and will again tomorrow. She and my big boy had a rock, paper, scissors thing to see who got the last bowl and she won. You know, if they wanted more all they had to do was ask i think i have enough stuff in there to make another pot. Shhhhhh, I'm planning on using the rest of that chicken to make a version of sesame chicken on Thursday.
Okay, i got that down. Now i can go do something. Who knows, maybe i'll try to go to sleep. Hey, stranger things have happened.
Till the next outburst, y'all take care of each other, D

Rainy Days and Odin's Days

Okay, so sit back and enjoy the view:

Zeke: Dad, which mythological character would you be??

Dad: I don't know, maybe Odin.

Zeke: You wouldn't be Poseidon?

Dad: No, i think Odin would fit me just fine. Who would you be?

Zachary: Why wouldn't you be Thor

Zeke: Cause Thor is like you. I'd be Hephaestus!

Zachary: What do you mean like me. He kicks every ones butt with a hammer.

Zeke: Yeah, and a tiny brain.

Ain't love grand??

Just to be fair in all of this, it all started due to a series of books. If you liked the Harry Potter series or the movies of same, listen up. The 5 book series, currently, is called, Percy Jackson and the Olympians. The movie from the first book is due out in January. Search out the trailer for it on YouTube, it looks like it ought to be a hoot. It's a modern retelling of the pantheon of Greek Mythology. Oh, and it's in America and Mount Olympus is above the Empire State Building.

Well Zeke has read all five of the books and believes himself to be a subject matter expert on Greek Mythology. Okay, The little fart has read everything he can get on the subject short of Homer. Which he claims will mess up the movie for him. Whatever, is my comment.

Now, with that in mind, he has also been reading up on the Nordic Pantheon as well, though there is no modern literature that makes it fun, and has a pretty fair grasp on the cast of characters. Zachary on the other hand, is here to play football and maintain a B avg in school.

Although his English teacher, you might say, drew him off sides.

In Zachary's English class they read selections from the Odyssey. (Wait is that Homer??) It irritated him greatly that they couldn't read it all. I told him that there probably wasn't enough time in class to read it all but that if he wanted to read it, just do that in the evenings or when he had time to read. I assured him there was no law against him reading all of Homer. He seemed shocked and shaken, like how can this be? I can read outside of school?? Oh Wow!! When did i get old enough to do that. It was funny.

Now, being the guy i am, i bet him ten push ups that i had a copy of homer that he walks by everyday and if i didn't I'd do the ten push ups. He started laughing. He said, how about a hundred, i said sure and we shook on it. Then i winked at him and told him to start pushing. hahahahahahahahaha!!!!!!! He simply said, Crap and started bending for the floor and i went and retrieved my copy from the bookcase. I just love it when they are so positive they are correct and i know differently. So, he's happy and reading, the little one is happy and reading, and I'm just happy they're happy.

You guys take care of Y'all, Dave

The canon that is my life

As a person of letters, that i like to fancy myself as being, i have a canon of literature that is my life. Many people remember what year something was because a certain band or song was popular or perhaps an event like an election or the Olympics were held. For me, There is a story for every event in my life. Take for instance the first novel i read, Robinson Crusoe. I remember toddling my little third grade ass to the school library on library day and checking it out. This caused a tremendous uproar in the school because that book was for fifth graders not third graders. When i got to my grandparents that day i was a little bummed out by the whole thing and the next day my grandfather convinced them it was completely alright for me to have that book. At the time i had already begun reading some shorts by Chekhov and Poe, what was Defoe going to do to me.

When i got married the first time i was reading a book on Sam Houston called Six Foot Six. I didn't know it then but i was feeding my need for all things Texas. I know what i was reading when all of my children were born and what i was reading the day i got the news my daughter Jackie had died. That day, i was reading The Things They Carried, by Tim O'Brien. The irony in this is still so horribly faceted that i reread portions of it to remind me of how i felt and to feel closer to her. I love to hate that book and it's one i never loan out.

The day that Donna and i decided to get married i was reading the National Electric Code. That should have told me that our life together was going to be something. Though i am unable to articulate what i mean by something, It can be said that there have been sparks, short circuits, and plenty of blown fuses, but the lights are still on.

Even as the years crept by, every landmark seemed to be punctuated by what i was reading. When the guys started school it was Catholic School and i was reading a series of books on the Saints. After Sept. 11, 2001, i had to sell my '72 Mach I Mustang because i, like so many others, lost my job and the Tech Writing market went to shit. I, just by happenstance was reading How to Win Friends and Influence People and The Chicken Soup book. When i met my best girl friend i was reading Eudora Welty and five years later when i heard she was pregnant i was reading A Hundred Years Of Solitude.

Today I'm not reading anything. This is quite unusual for me. I wonder if this period of not reading is a hallmark in my life. A great empty void where i can't continue on to what is next until i have put to rest those things that most prevalently occupy my mind. Some things are easier said than done. In this case my mind and my head aren't on speaking terms and it makes it nearly impossible to develop a solution to the quandary. There's a great line from The Prince of Tides that goes something like this: "I learned that I needed to love my mother and father in all their flawed, outrageous humanity, and in families there are no crimes beyond forgiveness. But it is the mystery of life that sustains me now. I look to the north, and I wish again that there were two lives apportioned to every man - and every woman."

Sometimes it's the cake (warning goofy prose alert)

Sometimes it's the Cake

It wasn’t long after Cam told the Pope to kiss his ass that Stevie B., started coming around. I always saw her as something of a predator. Not in the sense of when a bear lumbers in a stream to fish out salmon, but more like a buzzard that hates carrion. She’d circle and circle and in that last moment of life she’d take hers. You might think of it like the loud ass brother-in-law that circles the turkey on Thanksgiving so as soon as everyone’s back is turned he can scavenge a morsel or begin pecking out the last remnants of flesh still clinging to the bone.
Cam wasn’t his real name, just a handle he went by because he hated his name. At least, that’s what we all believed. Cam wasn’t his whole nick name either. Cam is short for Camo, which is short for camouflage. We called him that since we were kids. His dad had tons of Army grease paint left over from his reservist days, the kind they use to camouflage their faces with, and Cam wouldn’t play “Forts” with us without it. This usually meant we had to wait on him to get it just right. He always said, “Heavy on the bone, light on the meat.” Something his dad undoubtedly picked up being in the Army Reserves, though none of us knew what it meant. So Camouflage was shortened to Camo, and then to Cam and it stuck. Just so you know, his real name is Grant Lee Eisen-something-or-other. I don’t know, it just doesn’t seem all that bad to me, but then again I was the only white kid in the neighborhood and my name is James Brown. Like they say, nobody’s perfect.
For some time, Cam had been in a downward spiral. I say for some time. If you consider his high point as birth, then it has been a bit more than merely some time. On his eighth birthday, his older sister choked on a hotdog and died. It wasn’t really as simple as all that. She had been walking around with a hotdog in her mouth, the way kids do, when Cam, while swinging at the piñata, hit her in the mouth with the stick. When he brought the swing forward again the piñata split in half raining gold coin chocolates down over the flock of kids diving for the candy. In all the excitement, his father had missed the part where Cam’s sister had fallen to the ground. Cam’s mother died giving birth to him, so if it hadn’t been for the Pastor’s wife, his sister would probably still be lying there.
Eileen Underwalther, the Pastor’s wife and frequent visitor to the Eisen-Something-or-other house, called Mac’s attention to his unconscious daughter on the ground. Immediately, Mac sprung into action. He knew just what to do. He elevated her head and checked her for breathing. It was kind of hard to really discern what condition she was in given the location of the hotdog and the amount of blood on her face. He checked her for breathing and listened for a heartbeat, in the middle of all of us kids screaming. When he didn’t hear a heart beat, he started CPR. The Medical Examiner said there really wasn’t any way to know for sure she was alive when her rib punctured her lung, but just know he tried his hardest with all of his training to save her and didn’t. I guess what I remember most about that day is the cake was really good.

Missing the Font

I sit here tonight with about a thousand things racing about my head. I have rats tearing flesh from bone and worms devouring the scraps. The echos of this carnage bounce around my skull with cavernous abandon, while i attempt to make sense of it all. The raging thoughts inside are leaving me out.

I find myself sitting in the parking lot of Our Lady of Perpetual Recreation and yet, can find no courage to enter. No candle will be lit and my bemedaled ladder Rosary will see no daylight today. I simply admire the facade. I can't afford myself enough grace to enter the house. If my peace lie in thee, I'm on the outside and shall not know.

The sins of the father are nothing more than a road map. The repetition of history cast along another generation. Will the son walk this same highway and if so will they all or just one? I ache for them. I hope for them. I pray for them. Will they find grace in all things or will they be chained by the sins of the father in all aspects of their life? I burn for them. I give myself freely that they might never bear the yoke or feel the lash. All i am is for them and still I'm merely looking in.

Nearly all of my life i have been blessed with a tremendous font. Dipping my tired fingers every chance i got. I have now returned to that font to find only promises and dust. There is no font. What i had grown so accustomed to is gone and shall never return. One day i am sure i will catch up with my font and by then the rats in my skull will all be dead. It is my earnest wish that the sons have a font that doesn't disappear, but when it does they have the courage to be on the inside.

Looking in is not life, but it isn't death either. It is an earthly purgatory, one to be endured until you can rise up and open the door.

This is the last blog i am going to share on FB. I hope you got something from it, even if it is only that bemedaled isn't a real word. Besides, it's mine, so it is a real word. Bemedaled, having medals, usu. several.

Y'all take care of Y'all, Dave