Birth Order

Warning: This story could be cute or inappropriate--but it's funny!

My parents raised 6 kids. They had 3 girls, followed closely by 3 boys. I'm the youngest. Supposedly, birth order affects our personality—as does whether any older/younger siblings are brothers or sisters. I’m skeptical, because there are so many variables. In my family, for example, my oldest brother is sort of like Fredo in “The Godfather” and my middle brother much like Sonny—the oldest in the movie. So that makes me…um, oh…never mind. This post isn’t really about that anyway. It’s about my eldest brother (let’s call him Fredo) and why I’m glad I was NOT the first-born male.

I think I’ve mentioned before that I have good timing. Despite having no one to hand my chores over to as I grew, I lucked out in the birth order dept. Two of toddler Fredo’s sisters were only a little older than he was—18 months older and 3 years older. They were going through a “playing doctor” phase. It was obvious to the young doctors that something was wrong with their brother. But what was it? A hernia? An odd growth of some sort? To be safe, they decided to wrap it in bandages. All they had was scotch tape. It would just have to do. They wrapped his little toddler pee-pee up like a mummy—in scotch tape.

When I came along 6 years later, those same sisters were in a school teacher phase. So, I was able to read, write and do simple math long before I started school...and scotch tape was only used to fix rips in sheets of paper. I'm very happy with my place in the birth order.

PS – Fredo has the WORST luck with women. I’m not saying that’s related to anything, but…

PSS - Cute or Inappropriate????

A Missed Tradition

I messed up a tradition this Christmas Eve. It's been a long month! My father-in-law had knee surgery at the start of the month and just got out of the rehab center this afternoon. So it was a month spent going back and forth to visit him every day (but 2) and also spending time at his house every day to take care of his cat (a cat allergy exempted me from that).

Now that I've gotten one excuse on the table, I can admit my failure. I finished wrapping presents and arranged them under the tree around 11:30. Then I looked up and saw the stockings over the fireplace. The STOCKINGS! Argh! Every year we put oranges, walnuts, Kisses, and candy canes in the stockings...along with some practical items. This year I forgot to buy those things. I usually pick them up at the grocery store after work on Xmas Eve--I feel like Bob Cratchit getting the "special pippens" (in the 1938 version of "A Christmas Carol"--and only that version). This year the office was closed, so no stop on the way home from work. Plus, I've got a bug, probably just a cold. Going to the store never crossed my mind.

Oh well, at least we had our traditional Chinese takeout for dinner. Maybe the kids won't mind finding apples, Moose Munch taffy, and 1 candy cane each (leftover from last year I think--I found them in a drawer) in their stockings. I'm sure they won't. As much as we love our traditions, they know it's not what tomorrow is all about--they've heard Linus' explanation, "That's what Christmas is all about Charlie Brown." =)

I wish you the peace and love of the season, my friends!

Christmas Past

Every year my dad put our tree up on Christmas Eve. He would wrestle it into the stand while speaking the same strange language as the dad in "The Christmas Story." I always helped decorate the tree. After arranging ornaments, we placed tinsel on the tree one strand at a time. Our tree topper is to the right—the beard hair came from Santa himself (haircut clippings).

One year we went caroling. My dad and sisters always went to midnight Mass--they were in the church choir. After my chores, I made macaroni bracelets (or something like that) for my sisters, cards for my parents, and tried to play Christmas music on my grandpa’s ancient electric organ (we had a “by the numbers” guide). A turkey was usually soaking in salt water.

Since Santa had so much ground to cover, my folks told him not to wrap our presents. He created a pile for each person--so the excitement was figuring out which pile was yours. Every year I got a some combination of pants, a shirt, socks or underwear—somehow Santa always knew what I needed most. And there would be THE present. One year it was a doctor's kit. One year a plastic trumpet (no parent would give a noise-maker like that to their son). When I got older, one year I received a chess set.

We visited family during the holidays, including my dad's sister. She made amazing homemade cookies. But at her house the kids had to sit and listen to the adults talk for what seemed like hours…often debating the shortest route to places I'd never been. Snore!

Favorite Christmas Memory:
Instead of going to midnight Mass one year, I stayed home with my mom. We watched "A Christmas Carol" (1938 version). She let me have eggnog and fruitcake. I like eggnog. I like fruitcake. But combined they made me sick. Despite the upset stomach, that night with my mom is one of my favorite Christmas memories.

Least Favorite Christmas Memory:
Taking tinsel off the tree! My father wanted to keep the tinsel to reuse the next year. So we had to take it all off one strand at a time. The tinsel was older than I was.

Christmas as an Adult:
The tree goes up mid-month with no hassle--not until the 18th this year. Santa always wraps my kids' presents, even though I've asked him not to. When we get together with family I always start a conversation about the best way to get to a particular place…to keep the tradition alive and to annoy the kids a little. They’ve heard the story and know why I do it.

Hopefully this Christmas season will create new fond memories for my family and I hope it does the same for all of my friends. Whether you celebrate or not, I wish you and your loved ones the peace and joy of the season!!!


PS - When I was 15 I asked my mom for another doctor's kit. I told her ALL teenage boys enjoy playing doctor!!! She didn't think that was funny.

Pronouns: Friend or Foe?

I've watched too many episodes of "How I Met Your Mother". Roma commented on my last post that she wouldn't be surprised if I did a post on pronouns. After I read that, I heard myself say, "Challenge accepted!" So here goes...

Pronoun: The part of speech that substitutes for nouns or noun phrases and designates persons or things asked for, previously specified, or understood from the context.

Thanks to that last part, "understood from the context", the pronoun can be the most helpful or most dangerous part of speech. Helpful because sometimes we like to be vague ("we broke your window") and dangerous because sometimes people try to mislead us.

Imagine a guy approaching a female co-worker and saying, "Hey, we're going to happy hour. Can you make it?" Just exactly who is this "we"? Is he talking about himself and the 3 other people who live inside his head? Are other co-workers really going? Or is this a sly attempt to get the girl to have a drink with him?

If it's the 3rd possibility and the person asking is Itchy McScratchy (the office oddball), the girl will likely be on guard and ask who is going. That is how it should be. But if the person asking is the handsome, witty, single guy in her office, she might just say yes w/out checking. That could be bad--he could be the one with 3 other people living inside his brain.

So, when it comes to the use of pronouns, feel free to be vague when you need to be, but don't let others get away with it. ALWAYS confirm what's being implied. Don't be a pronoun victim!!!

PS - I hope to do a post soon on the ways in which I'm high maintenance, not bitchy. I don't want to rush that and paint the wrong picture. =)

It was a typo

Have I commented to you that, "I hope you sin!"?

Or that, "The food looks greta in your pictures"?

Or, "It's aobut time for me to change jobs"?

Those are some of my more common typos. It's not my fault the "w" and the "s" are so close to each other on the keyboard. Hopefully you knew I wanted you to win, not sin. That one-key over (or up or down) error always produces strange results.

Almost as embarrassing are the times I type the wrong, there, their, or they're. I know the difference. When I'm composing I think the correct version, but on occasion my fingers go rogue. I can't explain the disconnect between brain and fingers. Once in a great while I type a completely random word in place of what I meant to type (i.e, make instead of like).

I'm not sure why I so often type the "t" before the "a" in great, but it happens almost every time. I'm really not trying to invent a new adjective. If "great" appears correctly in a comment or post, it's probably because I caught the mistake in editing. Same goes for "aobut".

We all commit typos, right?

Okay, that's it for my biannual typo disclaimer. If you see a typo or a misplaced word in one of my posts or comments, please remember that grunting was my first language and I probably did know the correct spelling or word to use (probably), it just didn't make it onto the page.

Happy Wednesday!

I need the mirror

One gray, overcast day, a former boss of mine (a guy) and one of his female peers had to attend a meeting across town. It was drizzling a little when the meeting ended. Neither had an umbrella. They had to decide whether to walk to the subway station (about a block) or wait 15 minutes for our shuttle to swing around on it's neverending circuit (it ends at 4pm).

Girl: Let's walk to the subway, I don't care if my hair gets a little wet.
Guy: Maybe you don't, but I spent a lot of time on my hair this morning.

My old boss was VERY fussy about his hair. It had to spike in just the right way. He and I are at opposite ends of the spectrum in terms of the amount of time we put into our appearance. I've had the same hairstyle (with only the length varying) since the 5th grade--when my dad stopped giving me the buzz cut you see in my profile picture. If my comb comes out of my pocket more than once a day, it must be a windy day.

Anyway, the lady who told me the story above, also said she didn't like men who spent more time on their appearance than she does. How about you? Do you prefer men who primp, lotion and pluck or guys who shower and go--and can walk by a mirror without looking into it???


Edit: That boss said he was going to turn my going away party into a roast. I thanked him and said that would give me an opportunity to share the "hair" story with everyone. He didn't roast me. LOL!

Working together

In some families, teaming up to prepare a single dish can be fun. It's become a holiday tradition for Kristieinbc's family. But it doesn't quite work for us. Thursday night my wife and I collaborated on a simple tuna salad for dinner. I didn't put in enough mayonnaise and she put in too much celery. It's an old story for us. We do better when we split work up into discrete efforts. As an example, for holiday dinners, I make the stuffing while she makes the yams. One chef per dish is the way to go for us.

We've had similar experiences outside the kitchen. When we moved into our house, it had an above-ground pool. We winterized it after our first summer and something unfortunate happened. For those who've had a pool, you know that you need to empty some of the water, add a HUGE amount of chemicals to the remaining water, place a float (inner tube) in the center, and cover it all up until summer. I handled all the preliminary work, but needed my wife's help pulling the cover on the pool. She was on one side and I was on the other. It sounds simple, but the cover kept getting caught on the inner tube.

We agreed to both lift on the count of 3, but lifted at different times. I tried counting, she tried counting, but we just couldn't coordinate our efforts. We tried 5 times, 10 times, 15 times and failed over and over. Finally, I knew what I had to do. I jumped into the pool, despite all the chemicals. It was then a simple matter for me to lift the cover over the float and lock it down tight after I got out (so no one could get in over the winter).

Because of the chemicals, I hoped I might develop super-powers...and my wife thought it would be a good idea if we didn't have any more children!

Gosh, I forgot my point. Oh yeah, try to be flexible in dealing with others and learn to work together or you too may end up in a toxic stew. Even a metaphorical toxic stew is no fun.


PS - Splitting up projects and working on them seperately IS a form of teamwork. It's the American football version of teamwork--offense, defense, and special teams, all important, all part of the team, but never on the field at the same time. ;P

PSS - I always open and drain the tuna when we have it. My contribution usually stops there.

That was my idea!

Have you ever had a good idea or what you were sure was an original thought, only to discover that someone beat you to it? I hate it when that happens! I don’t have any crazy claims like, “the toilet was my idea,” but I have experienced this.

One idea was the Paleolithic diet. A college friend argued that humans are herbivores and we were never meant to eat meat. I replied that humans are omnivores—seeing me prowl the kitchen after dark proves that. I conceded we (in the US) eat too much meat, the quality is questionable, and we could probably get along fine without it. But our ancestors who started hunting in the Paleolithic period definitely ate meat. I suggested we might be healthier if we stuck to a Paleolithic-style diet. {Light Bulb} What a great idea! Unfortunately I was not the first to think of it. The Paleolithic diet was already a real thing.

But today I had an idea that may be original—I don’t see a lot of evidence of it on the internet. The idea is to teach people to control their spending the same way they control their calorie intake (except more successfully). A large percentage of girls can tell you how hard it is to work off calories (if you eat an Oreo, you’ll have to pull a plow 12 hours to work it off), but do many girls think of their fashion/accessory purchases in terms of how many hours they’d need to work to pay for it? I'm just using women as an example, it applies to guys too. I thought a brief book on the subject (targeted to the 17-to-22 age group) might sell. What do you think???

Happy Thursday!

What about the dad???

While I can tend to be overly optimistic, I don't walk around with my head in the clouds--I live in the real world. I know that my dog is always going to get more attention than I do. I teased eQ recently about putting her fella ahead of her pup on her list of things for which she is thankful. But it truly was just teasing, her list was not a ranking. Life's not a competition, and yet, within my household I do occasionally wonder, "What about me?" Here are stories my son likes to retell about two such occasions.

Last summer I started digging up old metal fence posts. It was really hot that day. My wife suggested I wait, but I wanted to get at least one out of the ground--whoever installed them used a ton of concrete. She said she would keep an eye on me, just in case. I dug up 2 and kept going. I started on the 3rd post, digging, shaking the post, digging some more. Quite unexpectedly, the 3rd metal post snapped off in my hand as I pulled on it.  I fell backwards and landed in the grass. I refocused within a few seconds and noticed the clouds were very pretty, so I decided to lay there in the shade until my wife came to check on me. I always liked looking at the sky (day and night). I'll make a long story a little shorter and just tell you no one ever came to check--and I was feeling pretty stubborn about it, so I stayed there quite a while. When I finally went into the house to get a drink, my wife and kids were playing with the dog. They said, "Look what Bandit's doing!"

Last winter we had a lot of snow in DC, with back-to-back record-breaking storms. I worried about the weight of the snow accumulating on the roof. During the 2nd storm, I broke a snow dam from the roof. When I did that, it was like a mini-avalanche all around me. I might have worried a little, but I knew my wife and son were on the back porch watching in case I needed help. As I fought through the snow and finally emerged, I could hear them laughing. But they weren't laughing at me. They had let the dog out and were completely captivated by the sight of him frolicking in the snow. When I joined them on the porch they again said, "Look what Bandit's doing!"

When my son tells either of those stories, he finishes them with the line I said on both occasions: "The dog! What about the dad???" and he laughs.

But seriously, look at Bandit. He's so cute and I DO understand. I would have been watching him instead of me too. LOL!

Random Ramblings

This was a long week, very tiring, with good moments and bad. Before I go any farther, I want to share that I received my annual performance evaluation at work. My boss wrote in it, "Rick is the most patient person I know." Granted, she doesn't get out much, but still, it means something.

I shared that because I found myself having to bite my tongue this week. One evening after work I was standing behind a fellow on the escalator down into the subway station. He was looking down and I thought he was paying attention. The bottom of an escalator makes no attempt to sneak up on you. It pretty much just sits there. But he was not paying attention, he was texting. He had a case of some sort sitting one step ahead of him and he got tangled up with it when it caught on the lip of the escalator's base plate. I managed to jump to the left to avoid rear-ending him, but he caused the tourists behind him to pile-up and some fell. No one got hurt. I moved his case so people could get past and then started to say, "I hope that's not the smartest thing you've done today," but I bit my tongue because I could see he was shaken. Hopefully he realized it was dumb to put his case down so he could text during a 15 second escalator ride.

The next morning on the train a young man (maybe 16?) was loudly mumbling along with the song he was listening to on his iPod. Many DC children use the subway to get to school. As he and I exited the train together, a comment popped into my head, "I hope what you're listening to sounds better than what you shared with us." But again, I bit my tongue...he was just a kid and I knew I was overly tired and in a mood.

I was out of sorts because I worked way too many hours this week and my organization's senior management made a decision to throw away a HUGE amount of money on an IT system. I told our budget director that unless the system will be programmed to steal money from people's bank accounts, there's no way it will be worth the investment. He agreed, but no one listened to him either. Hopefully our Board will kill the idea when it's presented to them.

Okay, other than that it was a good week. My father-in-law's knee surgery went well and everyone is healthy...so no more grumpy-gus--or Mr. Wilson (from Dennis the Menace).

It's the weekend, so smiles all around!!! =)

Disconnected...and singing

I’ve had only very limited access to the internet since Friday—my router burned out. Hopefully Verizon will replace it soon and I can begin catching up on all of the posts I’ve missed the past few days. It's odd not being able to go on-line whenever the mood strikes. It makes me miss my magic encyclopedias.

I wanted to share that my wife did a little Black Friday shopping. She managed to snag the last copy of an “Office” DVD in Target. Sadly, as she continued shopping, someone took it from her cart. It’s a small thing, but who does stuff like that??? Not getting a DVD that we don’t need anyway isn’t a big deal, it’s just such an add thing to do for a DVD. I’m thankful the person didn’t steal her purse, but that at least I could understand.

On a happier note, I’ve been practicing my singing—the happy part is you didn’t have to hear it. My poor kids. I’ve decided that instead of singing an entire song on my blog, it would be better if I pick a few lyrics to focus on. Since I have a number of really terrific Canadian blogger friends, I wanted to include something that was uniquely Canadian to celebrate our friendship. It didn’t work as I'd hoped. No matter how I tried, “Hey, hey, you, you, I don’t like your boyfriend” just didn’t sound right coming from me. **smile**

Okay, sorry, that small piece of gentle teasing is an expression of fondness; I’m not making fun of Canadians (honest!), just being silly. If it would make you feel better, you could tease me back. Is that guy who sings “Shawty’s like a melody” from the US? You could tease me about that. I would sing that for you, but my daughter has forbidden me from even speaking those words. I think she’s afraid the lyrics might get stuck in my head and I’ll absentmindedly start singing it in front of her friends…maybe when my iPod’s stuck on replay (replay). :P

Wherever you are, whatever you’re doing, I hope you’re smiling!

Edit: When I was a kid, my sister and her hubby spent a few years living in Calgary and Regina. When they came home after their first winter in Canada, I noticed a power cord dangling under the hood of their car. Of course it was for an engine block heater, but for a few moments I thought, "Wow, they have electric cars in Canada!!!"

A Unique Visit to Starbucks

I was planning to write a second post on old song lyrics today. But after the mushroom story, I need to rehabilitate my reputation—I’m usually a good person to have around. So I’m going with something more serious.

One afternoon in August '09 my office was too warm, I needed something cold. So I made my 1st visit to Starbucks. Like most office buildings in the US, mine has a Starbucks on the first floor. I headed downstairs.

The line was very long—which was good, because I needed time to look at the menu board (and wonder, “What’s a ‘Venti’?”). I vaguely heard a man speaking loudly behind me, but that’s not unusual and I was focused on the menu. He started yelling and at first his words didn't register, but eventually started to sink in. “Aren’t you Vietnamese? You should be at the protest!” He was yelling about a protest against the US that evening at the Vietnamese Embassy (agents of the US were beating and killing some-one, somewhere). Finally I heard a small voice say, "I'm a US citizen and support the US government." I turned to see a fellow dressed all in black (like a commando-wannabe) standing over a tiny woman (I guessed late-40’s, so she was probably mid-60’s) who was nearly in tears. I asked her if they were together…she said no. I asked if she wanted to talk to him…she said no. So I invited her to go ahead of me in line and I stepped in between her and the crazy man.

Since he couldn’t get to her, he turned on me and for some reason that amused me. Loud and angry, he told me I couldn’t do that, I didn’t even know her. I told him we were old friends. Then he said I couldn’t tell her who she could talk to. I told him I get jealous when she talks to other men (she smiled at that) and assured him no one wanted to talk to him. He started rambling about Fox News and the US government. Then he wanted to know what evil agency I worked for. So I told him my boss controlled the entire government, that I worked for the devil (I don't! ;P). Next he asked my name so he could reveal my evilness on Fox News. I almost gave him the name of someone I don’t like, but decided against it. At that point I noticed the lady had her drink and was walking out the door, so I turned to place my order. For some reason he grabbed my shoulder. When I slapped his arm away and turned towards him, he just walked away, talking quietly to no one in particular. When I headed out later, he started walking towards me. But when I stopped and glared at him, he turned and walked away again.

It was a very weird visit to Starbuck’s. Since the place was so crowded and no one else said anything, part of me wondered if I had just been taped as part of a Dateline special on whether people will try to help in that kind of situation. But no one asked me to sign a release, so I guess it was all real. I looked for both the man and the woman the next few times I walked past the place, but so far I haven’t run into either of them again.

I have a handful of stories like this. This one is the most unusual--but also the most boring. If I share another, it will have a little action.

Have a great weekend folks and thank you for stopping by. I truly appreciate it. As my friend at Pop Champagne mentioned about tweeting, this wouldn’t be fun if I was writing to myself. :o)

PS - I went with a grande mocha frap.

Darkside III: The Mushroom

Last year I wrote a few stories about bad things I've done (Darkside I and II). Nothing too serious. It's time again to feed my confession compulsion and share the story about my neighbor Billy's encounter with a mushroom. But before I go any further, I want to state that I tried to cut him a break, but he failed to heed my escalating warnings. Remember that!

I was 12 and wrestling in my parent's yard against Billy and another boy. It was going well until I felt a finger in a bad place. Apparently I had a small hole in the crotch of my pants that I didn't know about. Billy thought it would be a good idea to stick his finger in it. I threw them both off and asked him what was wrong with him. He said it was an accident. I gave him a stern warning not to do it again. We started wrestling and the little goober did it again. I threw them off, punched him in the shoulder and told him if it happened again I was going to shove a mushroom down his throat. I'm not sure why I picked that as a consequence, except I could see mushrooms in the yard. For good measure I told him they were poisonous. The 3 of us started wrestling and before long he did it again!

I'd let him off with a warning the 1st time, given him a slap on the wrist (well, a punch in the shoulder) the 2nd, and this was strike 3. That's huge in the US! I HAD to follow through on my warning. Just as with good parenting, it's important to follow through on your promises for both rewards and consequences. Right? Right???

Anyway, I dragged Billy over to the mushrooms, picked one, and shoved it in his mouth. I didn't make him swallow it, but I did hold him there a little while before letting him get up, spit it out, and run home...crying.

On the one hand, I thought he deserved it. But at the same time I felt guilty about it. I should have punched him in the shoulder again and sent him home. You should know I'd seen my brother chew the mushrooms and spit them out. They never made him sick. But Billy had no way of knowing that--he thought I had just poisoned him. On the bright side, as far as I know Billy never tried to do that to anyone again.

I hope he's not working for TSA now--don't let anyone named Billy pat you down as you pass through an airport security checkpoint.


PS - I'm going to have to post about some of the good things I've done to try to balance out these Darkside stories! =)

Be Careful Where You Aim

I think some visitors have noticed that I'm generally pretty lucky (knock on wood). I've done some really dumb things, some I would do again and some I wouldn't. One dumb activity was playing with homemade slingshots when I was growing up. Most of the boys in my neighborhood had them. If we'd only shot at targets to see who was most accurate, that would have been great. But we just HAD to shoot at each other. The luck? I still have both eyes!

Many times we had duels (quick-draw style). We'd start with slingshots sticking out of our pockets and one rock in our hands. On the count of 3, we drew and fired. If we both missed, we would reload using a pile of rocks conveniently placed at our feet. It always ended badly. My brother once nailed me right between the eyes just above the nose. I had to run into the house for a pack of frozen veggies (to ease my pain). OMGosh that hurt. But I went back out to do it again. The next time it was my brother's turn to run for an ice-pack.

During one game of army, a boy from next door (Billy) and I were trying to hit his little brother. He was such a rotten kid--his dad let him get away with murder. To make a long story short, he was standing near his dad because he thought we wouldn't dare hit him. Billy shot and missed, so I gave it a try. I missed the boy, but hit his father square in back--he was shirtless!!! He yelled so loud (what a baby).

I knew I was dead, so I just stood there waiting for the end. What the heck, I'd had a good 10 or 11 years. But instead of coming for me, the man ran into his house (probably for a pack of frozen veggies). His wife did yell at me for 2 minutes, but that was it. They didn't even tell my parents. I was so lucky--my dad would've killed me. I got away with it!

But I didn't. I felt really guilty about hitting the dad. Years later (after the neighbors moved) I told my parents what I'd done and my dad laughed--he already knew. The neighbors DID tell my dad, but he didn't mention it to me because then he would have had to punish me. This was VERY unlike my dad, but he let it go for a reason. I knew my victim spoiled his youngest son rotten and was tough on Billy, but I didn't know he was abusive and I didn't know Billy was his stepson. The guy was a real jerk.

I don't excuse my bad judgement--I shouldn't have played with slingshots. But I stopped feeling guilty about that errant shot. I should have suspected something at the time just from the way Billy smiled when it happened. A few years after the shot, I made Billy have an unfortunate encounter with a mushroom, but that's another story.

The origin of a name

I got my name thanks to a misunderstanding. My dad’s nickname was Dick, so my mom assumed his given name was Richard. It wasn’t. The first time his birthday rolled around while they were dating, my mom bought him a belt buckle with “Richard” on it. He got upset—he thought it was a gift she’d bought for someone else and was now trying to recycle to him. They cleared up the misunderstanding, but that raised the question: How did he get that nickname?

He claimed that his favorite baseball player as a kid was Dick something-or-other. So people started calling him that and it stuck. He had a brother they called “Shin” when they were kids—because the guy could shinny up a tree in a flash, but that name didn’t stick. Why did “Dick”? I learned the real reason a few years ago, after my dad passed away.

According to my uncle, my dad was a very stubborn kid—he wouldn’t listen to anyone. That really annoyed their German grandfather, who said over and over and over that my dad was “thick headed” (which helps explain the time he circumcised his little brother--which is a much more interesting post than this one!). Eventually the grandfather just started calling him “thick”. Because of the man’s heavy German accent, it came out “dick” and before long everyone knew him by that nickname.

I tease my oldest brother on occasion that while he was named after our father, I’m named after the man our mother hoped he was. Hey, I HAVE to be the annoying little brother once in a while. LOL!

Have a great weekend!


PS – I’ve been Ricky (before elementary school), Richard (in elementary school—I was a formal child), and Rick (ever since elementary school).

Blog Awards

I want to thank MeiBelle of Beauty is Not Caused for giving me the Blog With Substance Award! This means a lot--I was surprised to see I'm on your blogroll (yay)! The award calls for summing up your blogging philosophy, motivation, and experiences in five words.

My blogging philosophy can be summarized by these 5 words: Try to not look silly! Haha, no, you know I don't mind looking silly. The 5 real words are: Sharing; Learning; Connecting; Laughing; and Supporting (each other). Blogworld is a great community.

Like MeiBelle, I'm picky about who I follow--every blog I follow has substance. If you're reading this, I'm passing it to you and would love to see a post about your blogging philosophy--even I can manage to pay attention for 5 words! ;P


I also want to thank IamNoOne of In Between Breaks for the Lovely Blogger Award. She's been on my missing person's list, but hopefully she'll become a regular poster again.








I'm very delinquent thanking London's-beauty @ London's boutique for passing me the Versatile Blogger Award. I'm supposed to list 7 random facts about myself, but since I've over-shared here they may be things you know already.

1) I was corporal in the safety patrols--walker division, as opposed to bus division. Okay, there were no divisions. But what did the bus riding patrols do? Nothing! The walking patrols actually kept the other kids safe, making sure they waited until there was no traffic before they crossed the street. We had no crossing guards.

2) I traded a tricycle for my first bicycle.

3) I rarely drink alcohol--but that's not because I once got stuffed into a car trunk. I just never developed the habit beyond the occasional social drink.

4) The best burger I ever had came from a no-name greasy spoon that you could only get to by going down an alley. I had lunch there too often during college.

5) I like Star Trek, all of them, and I have an idea for a book. I would share it, but last week I heard a Geico commercial and I swear it was ripping off a story from my blog!!! I know it's a coincidence, but...

6) I recommend the messy fun of eating a half-gallon of ice cream outside with a tiny wooden spoon. One summer my grandmother's store lost power for two days and she decided to share ice cream with kids in the neighborhood. A too big slice of watermelon is almost as much fun.

7) Why are the A and M in RicAdeMus capitalized? To help people know how to pronounce it. The first person I shared the name with wanted to know if "re cad e mus" was an illness. LOL!

Bonus #8) As far back as I can remember, I've never missed the Charlie Brown Christmas Special. It's a tradition. I like that it contrasts the true meaning of Christmas against the commercial aspects ($10's and $20's and real estate--this makes sense if you've seen it).

All of my blogging friends are versatile, but today it's time to learn more about: Blair; Dawna; Becks; Shingo T; Roma; Karen; and Shop N' Chomp. I hope you'll accept the award and participate.

Sisters' Keeper II

The youngest of my 3 sisters is a little over seven years older than I am. She’s the one who took me into the woods (and left me there) when I was 2 years-old because she decided we had too many kids in our house. She wanted to give me a chance to catch on with a different family. LOL! Of course, I don’t remember that day at all--I only know it because it’s her favorite story. But I do remember a day she needed me desperately.

I don’t recall my exact age, it was probably 9—which made her 16. We were home alone that day and I was enjoying some peace and quiet while she enjoyed not having to compete for time in the bathroom. She was in there a long time. Eventually I heard her banging on the door and calling for help. My first thought was, “I’m not going in there!!!” But I did go to the door. She was yelling that she couldn’t get the door unlocked and she was freaking out about it. She was prone to panic, but it usually involved bees. Short of kicking in the door (which I couldn’t do), there was no way anyone could open the door from the outside.

I tried to coach her, suggesting she turn the lock to the right. She said that wouldn’t work. Guess what I suggested next? But she said turning it to the left wouldn’t work either. Fortunately for her I was very good with and on ladders—@ 6 I planned an after-dinner escape by placing an old sliding board ladder under my bedroom window. My dad’s extension ladders were too heavy for me, but I could carry his wooden step-ladder. I got it out of the basement, leaned it against the house and climbed in the bathroom window. By that time my sister was crying. The lock worked fine, I just turned the knob to the right and she was out the door in a flash.

Right about now you might be thinking I was a nice brother (I was), that I could have left her in there until someone else got home. But I couldn't do that to her.

I needed to use the bathroom. ;P


PS - Sisters' Keeper I was about how I helped my dad make sure there was no hanky-panky in our driveway when my sisters' dates were dropping them off.

Prejudice

I have been trying to write a post on prejudice for quite some time now. Words flow, but they are disjointed because I get too annoyed. So I erase and start over. I let it sit a few days and then circle back to it. I tried leading with the definitions of prejudice (noun and verb), racism, ignorance, sexism. Then I’d get annoyed and need to start over again.

A post by my friend RML made me realize I don’t really need to write a post on prejudice. The words and ideas are all already out there. They have been for a long, long time. Her wonderful post referenced "To Kill a Mockingbird", Huck Finn, Shakespeare and more. The lessons are there to be learned! Why do so many ignore them? What does hate accomplish?

My favorite part of her post was the explanation of prejudice she received as a small child from her mom. It was perfect. It ended with, "intelligent people don't ignore something like prejudice - they fight it". I love that. If you think you might ever need to explain prejudice to a little one, visit her post and read the whole thing.

I failed at writing a post about prejudice, but I do have a story. I hope RML will allow me to write a guest post about the night I confronted my racist/homophobic brother-in-law about his attitude and comments. If you knew what a jerk he is and how calm I usually am...well, I'll just say that when I shared the story with my uncle, it made him so happy and he laughed so hard that I was afraid he was going to keel over. Please visit RML's blog and encourage her to let me tell the story.

GUEST POST, GUEST POST, GUEST POST!!! =)

PS - Happy {belated} Birthday, Bekah!!!

Old Song Lyrics

I've learned that many of my blogging friends like old songs. The ones you still hear on the radio on occasion have a great sound and great lyrics. Right? Well, I've been searching for an old song I heard on the radio just once. Kym warned me it could be "1 of 2,313,312,342,342 songs," but I searched anyway. I couldn't find it. But I did find some old songs with interesting lyrics. Interesting as in disturbing. I'd like to share a few:

"I know you want to leave me--but I refuse to let you go!" Sure, it's cute when the Temptations sing it, but would you really want to hear that from someone you're trying to get away from?

And speaking of getting away from, there seemed to be a lot of stalker songs, "I'll be watching you--every single day!" Yikes.

I found some educational lyrics. "Strange as it seems, you know you can't treat a woman mean." Really? That came out in the '70s. The 1570's, maybe???

Thankfully, attitudes have progressed a long way from, "She always knows her place." But I like Tom Jones anyway--it's not unusual!!!

If you ever hear anyone singing this next lyric, start inching away. It might be the most disturbing I've heard. It's "Pardon me miss, but I've never done this with a real...live...girl." Forget "inching away", just run and dial 911 as you go!

And don't forget, "She was a long cool woman in a black dress." Actually, there's nothing wrong with that one, I just like it! ;P

I could go on and on, but I won't (I may get writer's block again and need that material for an "Old Songs II").

Hope you're having a great weekend.

Edit: "It's Not Unusual" was Tom Jones' other big hit.

Sorry for the Scare

On Saturday night the family watched "Scared Shrekless". Not great, but it was cute. In one of the short stories, Pinocchio climbed up the wall and across the ceiling. I assumed that was a sign he was "possesed" by some Disney spirit. Then I wondered if a similar thought had crossed my dad's mind, many years ago.

When I was young, I had trouble getting to sleep. Well, I continue to have that problem. But when I was 8 it was more likely to get me into trouble. Some nights I would sneak behind my dad's chair to watch the news--until he noticed me and sent me back to bed. Other nights I practiced an activity my brothers and I used to do for competitive fun on rainy days. The hallway outside our bedroom was no wider than the door, so if we pushed one hand against one wall and the other hand against the other wall, we could lift ourselves off the ground. Once we started using our feet we could actually climb up to the ceiling.

One night after my dad went to bed, I was feeling restless and decided to visit the ceiling to see how long I could hold myself up. While I was up there, looking down at the floor, I heard my dad get out of bed. I knew I didn't have time to climb down, so I stayed up there, hoping he wouldn't see me. Of course the first thing he did as he walked out of his bedroom was look up. I scared the heck out of him!!! Tonight I realized I must have looked like a possessed Pinocchio in the dim light of the hallway. Sorry dad {but at least it helped you figure out how all those little finger prints got on the wall up near the ceiling}.

At the time, I thought him making me wash every wall in the house as punishment was a bit of an over-reaction. But maybe not--it did keep me from ever doing it again. And to this day I can't stand to see someone touching a wall with dirty hands. LOL!

Happy Halloween folks!!!


Warning: Don't try this at home! Little kids are very light and walls can handle the force required to lift their tiny bodies. If I tried that maneuver today, the sheetrock would give way--and I would get seriously hurt!!!.

Halloween: a Gun and a Girl

Guess which one was most dangerous.

It was an interesting Halloween night--I was 14 at the time. I decided I was too old to trick or treat, but too young to stay in. So after re-stocking drinks in my grandma’s store, I headed for the nearby sub-division to meet up with friends. It was a quarter-mile walk in the pitch black. Perfect for a spooky night. I never would have guessed what awaited me.

As I neared the subdivision, I heard a commotion near one of the houses. I rounded the corner of the house and saw a man in his 30’s pointing a very shiny handgun at four boys who were huddled together. I was out in the open and he pointed the gun at me briefly. Without thinking about it, I continued walking normally, gestured towards the kids and asked, “What did they do?“, as if I was not a kid myself. He turned the gun back towards them. I walked over next to him and he explained his mother’s house had been egged—and he was tired of her being harassed. I introduced myself as the grandson of the woman who ran the little store down the road (everyone knew her). I told him I’d talked with his mom many times, she was a nice lady (she wasn’t), and I was really sorry it happened (I was).

Then I turned to the only one of the accused I knew:

Me: Andy, did you and your friends throw the eggs?
Andy: No.
Me: Do you know who did?
Andy: We saw guys running that way just before we got here.
Me: Okay, you two go look for the other guys and try to get names. You two help Mr. Wilson clean the egg off his mom’s house.

Mr. Wilson put his gun away, apologized to me for losing his temper, and then they all did what I told them to do. Thank goodness!!! That’s when I realized if you act confident, people will usually cooperate. It all happened so quickly, I didn’t have time to get nervous. But I did feel shaky as I went in search of my friends. That’s when I encountered the girl.

She and I had recently started talking on the bus and at school. I had just started this new thing where I actually talked with people. It was a conscious decision to change my behavior. I’d been VERY reserved up until then. She was dressed as a flapper for Halloween. Being a gentleman, I offered her my coat. She didn’t accept--she didn't want to hide her fringe. We talked, walked with the group, and looked out for the little ones. When it was time to head home, she wanted to tell me something. We walked off to get some privacy. She said her family was moving out of state that weekend and she wanted to kiss me good-bye. It was quite an experience—my first real kiss. I didn’t have anything to compare it to, but it was nice. My opinion on that would change later.

Soon, I wasn’t feeling great. By Thanksgiving I had pneumonia, which led to the discovery that I also had mononucleosis and an enlarged spleen. One of the flapper’s friends confirmed she had mono when she kissed me. I was very sick. Our doctor wanted to put me in the hospital, but my parents were frugal regarding health care (you did not want to be one of our pets). I didn’t return to school until January--there were rumors at school that I'd died. =)  I wasn’t supposed to exert myself, but I joined the wrestling team. Boys have no sense!

Was it sweet that she snuck out of her house to kiss me goodbye? Or was it thoughtless to give me mono? After being so sick, I decided it was the latter. Oh well, at least it was a memorable first kiss--and it was kind of awesome to get a month off from school. See, boys have no sense!!! ;P

When you read the title, would you have guessed the girl would turn out to be more dangerous than the gun??? LOL!

Family Curse

Are there things that your family, in general, is really good at? Or really bad at? It could be anything. My family has both. I’ve worked to improve the bad, but one thing seems to be catching up to me. I think it may be the cause of my writer’s block. My family is almost universally bad at telling stories. If you think the knock-knock joke I wrote (when I was SIX) was bad, you should hear what passes for interesting at my family gatherings.

Rick: Hi Jim (no, not that one ;P). Anything interesting happen lately?
Jim: I cut a branch off the tree in my backyard. I didn’t have a pruning saw, so I used a regular handsaw.
Rick: Was the branch damaged or getting too big?
Jim: No, but the funniest thing happened. When my neighbor noticed me in the yard, he came over and said, “You know, that’s the wrong saw. You should be using a pruning saw.” I said, “I know, but I don’t have a pruning saw.” So then he went in his house. About 5 minutes later he comes back out.
Rick: Did he bring you a pruning saw?
Jim: No, he just sat there on his back porch. Why do you ask?

Jim told me “the funniest thing happened”. Did it? Is it me? Did I miss the funny part—and the point—of the story???

And there is the uncle (by marriage—the curse affects in-laws too) who has told me 250 times that his grandfather was from Saskatoon and the man once told him, “There are 2 types of Dutchmen—smart Dutchmen and stupid Dutchman.” And then he laughs (a-hent, a-hent, a-hent).

Why does he laugh about that? What was the point? At least he laughs about something.

Now I can feel myself becoming one of them (one of THEM!!!). What little story-telling ability I had is slipping away. Maybe it’s related to the fall lunar cycle—and temporary. The moon WILL be full tomorrow.

Just my luck! I don’t get a cool family curse that turns me into a werewolf (or an Aswang) a few nights a month. I get to be Toby (from The Office).

{sigh}

Madam, you are mistaken!

Several times in my life I have been mistaken for someone else--once it was because of my name. Some woman called my house for weeks looking for that other Rick. But the "you look familiar" thing happens to everyone at some point. Usually it's someone who thinks you went to elementary school together, you used to date one of their friends, or that you were on the same team at some point. It never involves a former best friend or other really close relationship. Well, almost never.

Several years ago I was out shopping with the family in a small town just outside Baltimore. We decided to have an early dinner and stopped at a chain restaurant my wife likes. Since it was early the place was almost empty. Just as the hostess asked "how many" we heard a woman yell "What are you doing here?" We knew she wasn't talking to us, so we ignored her and followed the hostess to our table. As we looked over the menu, my wife whispered that the woman (who had shouted) and the older woman with her were both glaring at us.

After the waitress took our order, the woman stood up at her table and yelled at me "Jim, What are you doing here and who is that woman????" She was so mad she was shaking. I asked her if she was talking to me {but not like in "taxi driver"}. She squinted, took a few steps towards me and asked me to speak again. I told her I didn't know what she was talking about. She blushed and apologized. She said I looked just like her EX-HUSBAND and that both she and her mother thought I was him--Jim. Thank goodness I have a deeper voice than he does. They left pretty quickly after our exchange.

My wife has fun with this. Every once in a while she'll bring it up and say she wondered if I was going around pretending to be "Jim Kirk." Then she smirks a very pleased smirk. I don't mind being teased, but it does bother me a little to think there is someone out there who could be mistaken for me by his ex-wife and ex-mother-in-law. Because of her anger towards him, I thought of him as my evil twin. But really, I shouldn't have judged him by the reaction of an ex. He could be a great guy.

Maybe I'm the evil twin. ;P

PS-I shared this story once before. I'm sharing it again because it's one of my favorite stories that very few have read--plus I'm hoping it will help me get over a case of blogger's-block.

Feats of strength

Like most little boys, I thought my dad was super-strong. I saw him lift things I couldn't budge, plus he had stories about doing what seemed impossible--like installing the monster air conditioner in our living room window all by himself. It was huge and weighed a ton.

So I grew up thinking I needed to be able to move or lift or fix anything by myself. It's what men do! Now it's become a running joke with my kids. Whenever I move something heavy, I tell my them to write it down as one of dad's "feats of strength". It's a joke because my kids know the next part of this story.

When I was 12, my folks bought a console tv. My oldest brother tried to pick it up, but it was too big. So that night my dad and I brought it home and we carried it into the house together. Ten years later I heard my dad telling the story about the night we got our first console TV. That son-of-a-gun told everyone HE carried it into the house all by himself. I thought "Liar!" But I just smiled and kept my mouth shut. I didn't want to take away his moment. Honesty is great, but sometimes it's nice to let people have their little illusions.

Hopefully some day my kids will do the same for me--if I ever claim credit for something NOT on that list they're keeping. LOL, who am I kidding! I'll never be able to get away with anything! =)

Small things that make us smile

A commentor on my last post reminded me to think of small things that make me smile. In no particular order, the source of a few recent smiles:

A smell. For weeks I had the most amazing smell in my car, especially in the evenings when I got off work--it was sort of a warm, fruity danish scent. I thought a bottle of hand sanitizer was over-heating during the day. Everyday it was a nice surprise that made me smile and release whatever aggravation was trying to follow me home. One evening this week I stopped at the grocery store for a few basic items--milk, bread, TP, a caramel apple (fruit IS a basic item). When I put the groceries in the back of my car, I found two old bags--one holding a single slice of birthday cake (w/melted frosting) and the other containing (thankfully, literally) a bag of grapes that was starting to ferment. I don't know how long the stuff was in the car, probably one day longer than the great smell. I'm glad I found the bags before this turned into a story about things that make me frown.

Have you ever discovered aging perishables hiding in your car???

A memory. Someone in my family has a recording of me telling a knock-knock joke that I made up when I was six. I wanted to be Governor and the joke is about that.

Knock-knock
Who's there?
Apple
Apple who?
Apple sitting in the Governor's chair!

Apparently I thought "apple" sounded enough like "I'll be" to make it work. It doesn't. In the background you can hear my older brother saying it didn't make sense, it wasn't funny. So I told it again. The second time I got the giggles. I started laughing so hard I could barely get the words out. I'm sure I had tears in my eyes as I tried to croak out the punch line, but couldn't. Before long my brother was laughing almost as hard as I was--and begging me to stop so he could stop laughing. Of all the things that are contagious, smiles, laughter and happiness are among the best.

Blog friends. This is not a small thing. I include it here because I want to thank you for your great comments, especially on my last post. I appreciate the support--and part of me got a real kick out of the one's questioning if I'm sure I'm related to my brother. LOL! This blog is and will be a happy, sometimes strange (in a good way ;P) place. Thanks for taking that little detour with me.


PS - Happy Thanksgiving to all Canadians! If you want to drool a little over a delicious sounding holiday menu and enjoy a tasty serving of humor, you should travel just North of 49 into Canada. But don't try to bring back any tomatoes into the US.

A downer post about my brother

I need to vent. One of my older brothers and his wife are separated and headed for divorce—someday. She threw him out 18 months ago because he wouldn’t stop dating. He said he stopped seeing the girl, then got indignant when his wife wanted to know why he was continuing to disappear (I’m a grown man, I can do what I want). His lies caught up to him when his GF called his wife. He had his 1st affair before celebrating his 1st wedding anniversary. He spent the night with another girl the same day his wife gave birth to their 2nd child. His wife found out and threw him out. They got back together and I thought he learned his lesson. He didn’t. He continued to have affairs. He’s now living with the GF.

A few months ago he called my house and ended up talking to my wife. She tried to talk sense to him, but he said he didn’t understand the problem—he had been dating this girl for a long time and things were fine at home before (before his wife knew). Why couldn’t they just go back to that??? And in case it’s not clear, he was wondering why his wife wouldn’t take him back and let him continue to date.

As adults, I have been able to help him in the past, calm him down (he has a bad temper) and help him see things logically. But this time I’ve failed. I’ve gotten frustrated to the point that I don’t want to talk to him anymore. To justify his actions, he complains about his wife. But he doesn’t want a divorce, he wants her to take him back and let him continue dating. His wife isn’t interested in having an “open” marriage. Oh wait, now I can see how this is TOTALLY her fault. Oh, my brother!!!

I could write a book about this brother (just this post was originally 5 pages in Word). He was annoyed that our father insisted on putting an agreement with him in writing—he felt dad should have trusted him. He continued to be indignant about it even AFTER he broke his word. He still tells the story about how dad should have trusted him, but not around me. I remind him that even though he put his word in writing, he didn’t keep it.

He called me last week to complain about his wife turning his kids against him. I told him he did that when he hurt their mother. We’ve had the conversation before, he never listens. He went on the say it’s funny that his family thinks he’s a piece of #&%$, but his co-workers and friends think he’s a great guy. Instead of trying to reason with him, I just asked, “Who do you think knows you better?” Those words hit him hard. I didn’t really mean for it to come out the way it did.

I’m supposed to be my brother’s keeper, but I’ve run out of ideas--and our sisters make excuses for him. So who will help him???

PS - It's interesting how often my brother gets indignant about people not trusting him!

Would you rather...

Tag post! The wonderful Georgina of coffretgorge tagged me {thank you!} to answer some interesting questions--a long time ago. I bet she thought I forgot! But I was saving this until the time finally came that I had nothing to say!!! That time came a few days ago and it took me a while to accept that it happened--I always have something to say!!! Anyway, I have two more I can do next if I continue to have writer's block--and nothing interesting happens to me. Where's a crazy truck driver when I need one??? ;P

Rules:
1. Copy this picture & put it into your own post
2. Answer all questions (I deleted a few instead)
3. Tag others

I want to pass this on to a few new followers so I can learn more about them: Karen of cfbeauty; Kristie of North Of 49; Stephanie of Life in Pink; Oliver of Overville; Eureka of Winter Eve.

Here we go...

Be extremely beautiful or extremely intelligent? If I choose extremely intelligent, how not beautiful would I have to be??? LOL, jk, I go with intelligent. People who matter won’t care what I look like and my friends are already stuck with me.

Go without brushing your teeth for or washing your hair for a year? Without washing my hair—eventually the itching will stop, right?

Be rich or famous? Rich and anonymous so I can do whatever I want.

Be able to sing or be able to dance? Dance! If I could sing, I might get famous, don’t want that. But being the best dancer in the room could be fun.

Be stranded on a Desert Island or in the Desert? Would I be alone in both places? Usually desert island questions involve a girl. But either way, I’ll go with the desert island. A tropical beach sounds better to me.

Have a computer or a TV? As long as I have a working internet connection, I’ll take the computer.

Wear spots or stripes for the rest of your life? No solids??? I don’t like this game.

Drink out of a teacup or a mug? A mug.

Receive a bunch of flowers or a box of chocolates? Chocolates! Any will do, but I have a fond memory of dark chocolate w/almond @ orange.

Have a hug or a kiss? I prefer a nice, warm hug. Both are good, unless it’s one of those fake kisses on the cheek.

Wear Converse or Stilettos? CONVERSE!

Be a fairy or a mermaid? Yep, I don’t like this game! :D

Coffee or Tea? Iced tea…or Coffee ice cream.

Live somewhere sunny or somewhere cold? I prefer changing seasons, but I’ll say sunny.

Have an amazing house or an amazing car? Just a nice house—with a fully equipped Bat Cave underneath.

Be kind or funny? Kind and a bit funny (Georgina’s answer)

Be hated or be a hater? I'd rather be hated and not know about it. It takes too much energy to hate someone.

If you had to choose, lose your sight or hearing? Hearing, but could I just get a hearing aid that I can turn on and off, as needed?

Have lots of money or lots of friends? Would the friends be willing to loan me money? No? I didn’t think so, but I’ll take the friends anyway.

Love or be loved? Love. If I didn't love, would I care if I was loved???

What did you say???

Since we cannot read minds, it can be a challenge to ever be sure we are effectively communicating. You could write or say something and mean it one way, but have it taken another. And sometimes, individual words can be misunderstood.

I had lunch at my desk today and a friend called to say hello—we had a brief chat about our weekends. She and her husband are volunteering at a senior center in Rockville on Saturday. I’d heard a restaurant near there was running a promotion during September and shared the info.

Me: There’s a nice tapas restaurant in Rockville that’s offering an all-you-can-eat special during September. It’s $20 for lunch and $30 for dinner.
Friend: Hmmmm.

It was weird she didn’t ask about the food. Normally she would, so I decided to talk about it.

Me: Not all of their dishes are great, but their vegetable and seafood dishes are really good. $20 is a good deal—you get to try a wide selection of their small servings.
Friend: I wouldn’t go there even if the food was free!!!
Me: Why not?
Friend: I would NEVER go to a topless place!
Me: Tapas! Tapas! T-A-P-A-S!!!
Friend: Ahahahahahaha!

We both laughed for a long time, but…friendships can be ruined and wars started that way. I was surprised my friend didn't question what she had heard. I asked her what she was thinking and why she didn’t speak up immediately—for all she knew I was having a personality-changing stroke and needed medical attention!!! She said it was so out-of-character and unexpected that she was just too shocked to say anything. I'm glad we cleared up the misunderstanding and had a good laugh.

So, the next time someone says something completely out-of-character, make sure you heard him/her correctly. If you didn’t hear it correctly, you can laugh about it. But if you did, well, maybe only men work at that topless place. LOL!!!

PS – In defense of my friend’s listening skills and my enunciation, I AM stuffy today. But unlike Becks who very cleverly wrote, “I hab a code” earlier this week, my yuckiness is due to allergies. Hope you feel better now Becks!

Have a great weekend everyone!!!

Bad Dad???

When my daughter was first learning to sit up, she heard machine gun fire on TV and started giggling and flapping her arms up and down excitedly-she liked the sound. Several years later, she liked the explosions in Bond movies—edited for the Family Channel!!! When she and I were in the car together, I would pretend we were driving a “Bond” car—and the cigarette lighter was the missile launcher. She wasn’t in the front seat often, but when she was I would let her start the launch sequence by pushing in the lighter. When it popped out, the missiles launched (and dad provided sound effects)—always in the name of saving the world.

One September Sunday we were driving to our annual family reunion. We had to take so much junk, my daughter was in the front seat with me and my wife was following us in her car. I usually stay within 5 to 10 miles of the speed limit and my wife…well she drives faster. Anyway, my daughter and I were playing our game and she pushed the button. A few seconds later my wife pulled alongside, waved, and passed us. Then she got back in the right lane—right in front of us!!! My daughter and I looked at each other, I said “abort, abort”, but it was too late. The button popped out and the missiles launched. And then we both laughed hysterically. I’m not sure why, maybe it was just that our game had taken such a shockingly unexpected turn.

The first thing my little angel did when we got out of the car at the picnic was to shout, “Mommy, we blew up your car!!!” I had a LOT of explaining to do. LOL!

The positive side of this was that it gave me a great opportunity to talk with my daughter about being careful when we set things in motion. Whether you’re throwing something, saying something, or firing imaginary missiles, you can’t control what happens next—you can accidently hurt someone.

But I do worry that I shouldn’t have played that imaginary game with her. We weren’t blowing up people for driving like idiots (although, now that I think about it, I may try pushing in my lighter the next time it happens) and we were clearly just exercising our imaginations. Was it a bad thing to do??? She is a sweet, mild-mannered girl.


Next "Bad Dad" topic: How I got my son to start voluntarily making his bed.

Guest Post @ BaaB

My friend Dawna at Beauty and a Budget asked me to write a guest post on what makes someone beautiful. I started to just write "I do" because if I think someone is beautiful, what difference does it make if anyone agrees with me??? Although, I'm almost positive I think you are beautiful (unless you're a male follower--see the post!) and it would be really nice if you agreed with me on that.

Just don't ask me to explain what makes someone hot...or lovely--my rarest compliment!

Have a great weekend--after you go there and comment!!! ;P


PS - Of course, I do know guys who are beautiful people!!!

Just My Imagination

Okay, a few days have passed and I'm sure it was all in my head when I felt cuts from the glass (previous post). It was just my imagination. And speaking of imagination, over the weekend I heard an old song by the Temptations--Just My Imagination. I've heard it before, but forgot how much I like the first 20 seconds or so of music (the music starts at the 10 second mark). It's very cool. Usually I'm a sucker for acoustic guitar, but I really like the sound of the electric guitars in this. Plus, how often do you hear a xylophone? I'm linking a video for the first time--so you can hear that intro and maybe hang around a little longer to take a look back at how "boy bands" dressed way back when. LOL

In addition to that great intro, there's an amazing line in the song:

"To have a girl like her, is truly a dream come true."

Also very cool--just like my readers! It's too bad the guy in the song isn't doing anything to meet the girl. "Faint heart never won fair lady." Right?

Extra Crunchy Ravioli

I had supper at the Olive Garden on Sunday--it was a family thing. The toasted ravioli in the appetizer was okay, as was the calamari. I ordered the Shrimp & Crab Tortelli Romana--it's crab and smoked mozzarella-filled ravioli, topped with sautéed shrimp in a three cheese and sun-dried tomato sauce. It was surprisingly good. Until I found the hidden prize.

I was 3/4 of the way done when I felt a disturbing "crunch". I thought I broke a tooth. I had no choice but to spit everything out into a napkin. After removing the food, I found four or five little pieces of tempered glass. On the bright side, I was almost finished when it happened; I was not hurt; and I saved $27 (the cost of the ravioli and appetizer). But I don’t think I’ll be going to the Olive Garden again--and maybe you shouldn't either!!!

Two funny things: 1) when I picked up the biggest chunk of glass to show the manager, he took it right out of my hand and started examining it--even though he knew I had just spit it out of my mouth. Yuck!!! 2) Halfway home I started imagining I could feel tiny little cuts on my tongue. There are none--it was just my imagination. Wait, I think I feel it again now! :P

Back to School

Do you remember your very first day of school? Is there one thing that really stands out? I have one memory that overshadows everything else.

An aunt who lived nearby was driving her daughter (3rd grade) to school and offered us a ride. My mom went to make sure I ended up in the right place on my very first day of school ever. My older brother rode along too. Once we were in the car, my cousin started crying. Then she started screaming--she was a nervous child, very high-strung.

I sat there quietly in the backseat, next to her. My brother was on the other side of her. I think my aunt wanted her in the middle so she couldn't try to get out. I tried to make eye contact with my brother, but he was looking out the window. I didn't say anything, but I was thinking, "Where are these people taking me???" I wasn't afraid when I got in the car, but once she started screaming I was terrified. Everything was fine at school and I got over that first day scare within...oh, maybe a month or two. She really screamed!!!

At the start of the next school year the aunt offered us a ride again and again we accepted. My cousin was a year older and I was sure she wouldn't repeat the terrible scene from the year before. I was wrong. I think she was worse.

At the start of the 3rd grade it was raining, but I refused the ride and walked to school. I could hear my cousin screaming as the car pulled off. Thankfully she grew out of her 1st day jitters before she got to high school.

So, any significant memories of your first day of school? Were you a first day screamer?

Silly can be expensive

Last night my father-in-law dropped by to visit. He received a notice from the county that his fireplace wood is stacked improperly--it's not. He went on to say that the neighbors across the street need to trim some oak trees that have gotten too large.

FIL: Some of those trees are over 200 years old.
Wife: Yeah, they were there when I was a kid.
Me: Then they must be over 300 years-old.

LOL, my wife laughed harder than anyone, but I got smacked on the arm anyway. I feel I was set up. I mean, 200 years ago James Madison was the US president and people were making fun of Dolley. Of course the trees were there when my wife was a kid! I was set up--how could I NOT make a silly comment in that situation? But there are no laws against that sort of entrapment, so I'll have to do something expensive this weekend to make amends for my silliness...maybe flowers.

The Go-between

When I was 15 I bought my dad's old car. I gave him the money and "my" car stayed in a little parking area off the driveway that I created with old railroad ties. Once in a while I started it to keep the battery charged and one day I decided to drive it--just up an down our dirt road. After a few trips back and forth, I decided to practice parking. My brother came home and made the mistake of parking next to me. Yep, I hit his car the next time I tried to back out. The rear quarter panel was just pushed in a little. We popped it back out and you couldn't tell anything had happened. It was spotless.

I told my mom what happened and we had the weirdest conversation:

Mom: How could you drive that car after all of your father's lectures???
Me: He never told me not to practice driving the car.
Mom: Well, he lectured me and I was supposed to tell you!!!

Hahaha, being a go-between sucks. Have you ever been in that position? Having a friend or family member make you responsible for telling someone else they can't do something?

PS - My dad never heard about the accident. But 2 months later I came home from a friend's house to see my car was gone. Dad got an offer from an uncle and sold it to him. I asked for my money back, but instead he got me another car--one that I could only drive for 20 minutes before it overheated. I had to keep a 5-gallon can of water in my trunk. It was a brilliant move on his part. I couldn't get very far from home in 20 minutes. LOL!

Shameful Secret

Secrets have a way of leaking out and embarrassing us, so it’s better that we share whatever it is ourselves (like Victoria’s Secret—that she’s a dude, but who cares? It doesn't matter.) My secret revolves around the e-mail account I use for blogging. It’s actually my junk mail account…the one I use to order things on-line.

But that’s not the secret, I’m sort of working my way up to that. You see, my wife is a… well, she was a… she was a Farmville addict. Wow, it feels good to finally admit that! Yes, she was & I enabled her, as you will see.

While she’s better now, I’m still living with the shameful aftermath. The big thing, involving my e-mail address, is that it links to a fake Facebook page. My wife needed a new neighbor to be able to expand her farm, but couldn’t find one. I set up a page for a Mr. Wilson (I rooted for Mr. Wilson against Dennis the Menace) just so I could give her that extra neighbor. While I did admire Mr. Wilson in my youth (and more than once said the words “rotten kids” while I was still one myself—a kid, not rotten), I am not Mr. Wilson. Besides, I really like kids (except the rotten ones). ;P

I never intended to mislead anyone. I only did it to support my wife--she appreciated it! It never occurred to me anyone would even see that FB page until Mr. Wilson received his first FB friend request. It was from a blogger—others followed. I’ve learned my lesson, I won’t do that again.

I’ll do other, new, stupid things, but not that.

My Sisters' Keeper

If you’ve looked to the left on this page, you may have read that I wanted a little sister—someone to watch out for. While I didn’t get one, I did have opportunities to help my older sisters in various ways. Of course, I could have done without helping one sister move a piano in and out of 4 different apartments, but that’s part of being a brother.

The first time I had to look after my sisters came during the summer I was 10. I've always had trouble getting to sleep, so when I was tiny, I'd sneak out of my room to watch TV from behind my father’s chair. When I got a little older (10) on non-school nights I would just stay up--and keep quiet. My dad got used to me staying up with him. Sometimes he would talk about the actors or director of the movie and eventually I could ask questions without that reminding him I should be in bed. =)

When my sisters were on dates, he waited up for them. But some nights he was too tired and told me to do it. Dad gave me specific instructions. When the boy’s car pulled in the driveway I was supposed to turn on the front light. One minute later I was to go out on the front sidewalk and look at the car until the sister came in the house. My sisters hated that! But when I had a job to do, I did it. Once I found out it annoyed my sisters, it actually became a really fun job. I remember standing on the sidewalk, arms folded in front me, just staring at the boys. That was so much fun! One boy offered me a quarter to go inside. A quarter? I was insulted for myself and my sister. LOL! I want to thank RML for reminding me about this story.

Edit: I removed a "PS" about a scary experience I had helping one of my sisters--it made the post too long.

Heavenly Conversation

Don't worry, I'm not hearing voices and I didn't have an odd dream (not lately). The "conversation" was something I witnessed in a cloud on my way home last night. It was after dark and the sky was completely clear, except for one big fluffy cloud.

One side of the cloud would flash and then a few seconds later another section would light up, as if it was answering back. Back and forth and then electricity would crackle across the cloud making it look like one of those plasma globes you can touch and have the electricity follow your touch.

It was so beautiful. To me it looked like a spirited conversation was taking place in the cloud.


PS: I have a question for the guys out there. When you were little, did you watch your mom put on make-up? I did and I just wondered if that's a common story--it seems like it would be. My mom didn't go out much, so when she did it was interesting to watch her sit at her vanity and "play" dress-up. I'd go back and forth between lying on her bed and standing next to her, watching in the mirror. A video post by MizzJ sparked this fond memory. =)
.

Summer Vacation

Who doesn’t love summer vacation??? Whether you’re a child or adult (or a little of both), it’s something to look forward to. I’m not taking one this year, but I’m managing to have fun anyway. When I was in school, just having it end was good enough, we didn’t have to go anywhere.

Each year during my dad’s summer vacation we would have a Sunday picnic next to the creek on his family farm; we’d spend an evening at a carnival (funnel cake and cotton candy!!!) and then we would spend one day at a beach on the Chesapeake Bay. The rest of the week we would do one special project or another. One year we built a carport, other years we shingled the roof, dug ditches, cleared a field on the farm for what would be our annual garden, built a shed, well, you get the idea.

But this isn’t a story about work. It’s about the annual trip to the beach on which I learned to swim. It was a great little beach. There were trees close to the sand, so you could sit in the shade on cool grass if you got overheated and there were inexpensive arcade games and skee ball. Aunts and uncles joined us and they usually had good food to share.

The year I turned seven, my dad took me out in the water to teach me to swim. He pointed to an aunt floating by (on her back) to convince me that people float and swimming was easy. He held me at water level so I could practice—I was working my arms and legs like a pro. He kept saying he wasn't going to let go, I should just keep paddling and kicking.

Then, of course, he let go. I kept working my arms and legs…and I sank like a stone. Within seconds I could feel that I had settled on the bottom and I was lying on my dad’s feet. But I was still paddling and kicking!!! Eventually he reached down to pull me up and we made our way back to shore. I took my little bucket and shovel to a different part of the beach so he wouldn’t get the idea to try to teach me to swim a second time—I thought he was just a little too slow pulling me up that first time. LOL!

Okay, so this wasn’t really a story about me learning to swim…it was a story about me learning to sink! But I was REALLY good at it. ;P

I did learn to swim two years later, in a pool. Soooo, how did you learn to swim???

That's not me.

My posts have been too long lately, so this is just a quicky about how people, including parents, can have the strangest ideas about who we are. For example, this brief discussion took place on the drive home from my dad's family's farm--we planted a huge garden there every year. I was exhausted after digging up sweet potatoes, but still curious. I think I was 13 or 14.

Me: Dad, what crop is that? {planted in the field next to the road}
Dad: What? A country boy like you doesn't recognize winter wheat???
Me: Winter wheat? I didn't even know I was a country boy!!!

Sure, I know the difference between a leaf rake, a garden rake and a potato rake...and how to use a pick, an axe, and old-fashioned scythe to clear a plot of land, but I don't know nearly enough to qualify as a country boy. Maybe my dad was confused by the flannel shirts I wore as a teenager. =)

Do friends or people in your family see you as someone you're not???

PS - What my dad called "sweet potatoes", I'm 85% sure were yams. So even though he grew up on a farm, I'm not sure how much of a country boy he was either!!!

Motivation II: Tough Luck Harper

Motivation. It comes in different forms. It can come from a desire to do better for ourselves or our loved ones, the spirit of competition, wanting to prove a point, and sometimes it can be, well, not as positive!

I did reasonably well in school, but didn't get really serious about it until college--except for one history class. The material stuck with me even though at first I didn't study. As long as I listened to the teacher’s lectures, I had no problem with the Friday tests.

One Friday halfway through the semester, the teacher started laughing when I turned in my test. I asked him if I did badly. He said, "No, haven't you noticed? Miss Harper wants to finish first, but you keep beating her." I had not noticed. The following week, it was the same thing, except her frustration started to boil over. She wanted my paper graded right away because she didn't believe I could have finished so quickly. I scored 100 and she was MAD. I had a chat with her after class:

Me: Why do you care about my tests?
Harper: I study every night and you’re not…, well, you play sports. You don’t even take your books home.
Me: There’s a book for this class???
Harper: Grrrrrrr

I said that about the book just to aggravate her—I thought she was about to say I wasn’t smart. It was on!!! She was right about one thing, I usually didn’t take my books home. I decided she needed to learn a lesson and I started putting effort into making sure she stayed frustrated. Evil, right?

I began studying for the weekly test to make sure I finished as quickly as possible. Every week I rushed through the test and waited to hear that little groan from Harper. But I never appeared to hurry or appeared to care that I finished first—I was very blasé about it all because I thought that would aggravate her even more. It did.

Harper had to settle for second every week. If she had not been so insulting, I would have held back one week to ease her frustration. But because of her attitude, I dismissed the thought and allowed karma to do its thing through me.

Bonus Story: Another motivation moment came when my parents signed me up for tennis lessons. I was the least experienced player in the group. Most of boys had been playing for years--and the kid with the pastel sweater over his shoulders had been playing his whole life.

But then the coach decided her girls’ class would join us once a month for mixed doubles. I'm embarrassed to admit it, but that motivated me—I didn’t want to look bad in front of the girls. I was teamed with a young lady who was an average player. Together we crushed our opponents and won the mini-tournament that day—beating sweater boy in the finals. He couldn't believe it. His reaction to losing was worse than Harper's—and that motivated me more.

PS: I believe in being gracious in victory and defeat. It's great to learn the lesson about trying your best and being humble. But it's also kind of fun to help certain other people learn that lesson too!!! I don't like poor sports...or arrogance.

Motivation I

With the right motivation, we can do almost anything. I've had some experience with this and would like to share a few stories. This first one happened when I was playing soccer.

Every day before practice, the coach had us stretch and warm up. Then he made us run a mile. It was competitive and I'm happy to say I routinely finished second. Normally that wouldn't be great, but the guy who always won was a long-distance runner on the school track team. He had won the county meet the year before and was only on the soccer team to keep in shape. I was happy.

Then one day in science class, I heard a girl (Harper) ask a fellow from my team why he lets me beat him. He explained everyone tried, but that "Rick wins." {No one considered the track fellow part of the race} Harper then pointed out that "Rick only comes in second" and started teasing me about losing to such a thin (as most long-distance runners are!) fellow. She teased me pretty good about it. So I decided I would beat that guy.

If you've been reading my blog for a while, you probably know what happened next. Every day I pushed harder and harder. Then, finally, it was our last day of practice. That would be my day! When it was time to run, the track man and I were both practically sprinting from the start, both determined to win. He pulled ahead. I pulled even, back and forth. He was ahead of me coming into the last 50 yards. I gave it everything I had and pulled even again. Then he gave it everything he had and he beat me! Again!!! You thought I was going to win, didn't you??? Me too! LOL, but not this time. That scrawny kid beat me every day, fair and square. Not my favorite memory! ;P

But it was a good lesson. That's how it goes sometimes. We can do our best, do everything right, and still not come out on top. But we keep trying because each day brings a new opportunity to succeed.

PS - That "scrawny kid" won both the county and the state championships that year. I felt good about that--maybe I helped motivate him.

Oh, there will be another story about Harper. She motivated me in the classroom too.

A piece of me....August 2010

It's time again for the monthly game started by Toothfairy (I hope she's doing well). The game is to share info about yourself on the 1st Sunday of every month. So, this month....

I like: That we're inching closer to fall, my favorite season. Also, the local baseball team has had a great week--beating good teams, which they are not.

I don't like: That this summer has been dominated by work. We're short-handed and management seems to be going out of their way to create extra work--some of which is pointless.

Me: How will this report be helpful?
Director: We'll know when it's done.
Me: But whether it equals X or Y, neither will change A!
Director: I won't know that until I see the report.
Me: But, they can't change A. It's impossible!
Director: You have to prove that.
Me: {It's basic accounting. How did you get your job?}

I want you to know: I think my wife takes Bejeweled Blitz too seriously. One of her friends gets insanely high scores once in a while and my wife will say "someone else must have played for her!" It doesn't matter. It's just a fun little game that should help release a little stress. The important thing is that I will rise up out of the ashes of the weekly resetting of scores to crush my enemies. So yeah, I don't know why my wife is so competitive. LOL!

I've planned: To save a certain amount of money before the holiday spending season starts.

I want to say to someone special: You make each day better, so stick around!!! :)