New Year Wishes

As the first day of 2014 works its way westward, I'd like to wish each of you a Happy New Year! 

We don't know what the year will bring us, but I'm hoping the theme for the year will be that we'll all have too much money to spend (for me, 2012 was the year of car trouble and 2013 has been a year of odd health issues in the family).  Well, forget the money.  May 2014 be a year of good fortune and good health for all of us!

Thank you for spending part of your year with me.  Friendship (in all its forms) is precious.  As someone once sang...

My universe will never be the same
I'm glad you came (to my blog)  :D 


PS - We're expecting snow later in the week, so I think I'm going to dust off a few more snow stories this week. 

Christmas Decorations

This tree-topper is a family heirloom--it's the one with real Santa whiskers (my dad got them when he saw Santa getting a haircut). It is really old! It's also my favorite decoration.

 

My favorite way to view the Santa is with the tree lit, the house lights off, a fire in the fireplace, and Christmas carols playing softly in the background. It's a nice atmosphere to think about the true meaning of Christmas.

 

My daughter called these "mishmas mecarations" when she was two (a long time ago).

 

 

The carolers decoration is another oldie, but goodie!

 

This is the last picture of decorations. There's a sleigh and reindeer set missing. Maybe next year!

 

And Bandit...he didn't like snow.  He's really missed!

 

We didn't have snow for Christmas this year, but that's okay.  I'm thankful we didn't get ice like they did in Toronto.  Christmas has passed and the decorations will soon come down, but the feeling of the holiday should stick with us year-round.

PS - I don't like that Christmas music mostly disappears from the radio on Dec. 26th.  Christmas?  What Christmas???  Instead of starting before Thanksgiving, it should play from mid-December through New Year's.  I'd rather hear it at the end of December instead of the end of November.  If you agree with me, your vote counts.  lol!

Belated

My dad's birthday was the 14th. He passed away a few years ago.  I like to celebrate his birthday by sharing some of the things he taught me--some practical and some...weird (and some you've heard before)!

He taught me:

• to work hard and pay attention
• how to tighten a loose wood screw by placing a small, rolled up wad of paper in the hole
• to walk silently (especially important when he was sleeping--this came in really handy when I was a teenager)
• to swim silently (in case I ever needed to take out an enemy machine gun nest by swimming across a river and circling behind it—and also so he wouldn't get splashed)
• not to grab a spark plug wires (there's a story behind this one)
• how to make all sorts of home repairs (and dig ditches, cut down trees, etc., etc.)
• that rabbits run in half-circles when making their escape (he was a hunter)
• how to protect myself from a large, attacking dog (it involved getting the dog to "go for my throat", so I never tried it)
• to always ask for documentation whenever someone (him) tells me I owe them money

He gave me so many lectures--usually on the way home from church, but he could launch into one at any time.  I listened (yes, he really did teach me to pay attention), but I didn't always learn.  I did learn a lot from the lectures and from watching my older siblings make their mistakes.  But, like my dad, some mistakes I had to make on my own to really learn the lesson. 

 

Wisdom comes to each of us (or not) when we're ready.  That's going to be my excuse if it turns out I'm not doing enough to teach my kids what they need to know.  :)

Liebster Award

I actually received a blog award (no, it's not for being interesting)!!!  The Girl in Stiletto gave me the Liebster Award because...we've been friends a long time.  So I got the award for being faithful and hanging around (two of my strengths).  Thank you Stiletto Girl!  :)

The award comes with a set of 11 questions to answer: 

1) What is the sweetest nickname someone ever called you?  Dad!  Although, my performance appraisal went so well this year, I told my family they are to call me "Awesomo" from now on.  :D

2) Who is your current celebrity crush?  Jenna Coleman (Clara on Doctor Who); Man crush:  Perry Mason (from the old black and white episodes)...the coolest guy on television ever. 

3) Name 5 things you can never leave the house without.  Pants, shoes, shirt, keys, wallet...but mainly the pants.

4) Would you rather bungee jump or sky dive, and why?  Sky dive.  I don't think I would like the up and down (like a yo-yo) of bungee jumping.  Plus, sky diving gives you a heck of a view. 

5) What's your favorite month? And why?  October, because I love the fall....the colors, crisp apples, halloween, the Charlie Brown halloween special.

6) Any pet peeve?  How much time do you have to read this???  The general pet peeve categories include: work; home (with sub-categories for kitchen, clutter, bathroom, laundry, cleaning); driving; shopping; the subway; behavior in a public setting; and...I'll think of a few more later.

7) What was the last song you listened to?  Why Don't We Just Dance (it was on the car radio).

8) If you're a color, what color would you be, and why?  Blue...I like blue, it's warm and relaxing.

9) Dog or goldfish?  Dog, for many reasons.  Specifically I'd want to be my family's pet.  What would it even be like to be the most important "person" in the family???

10) What do you get complimented most about?  Well, I don't deserve the compliments, so I'd rather not say.  The strangest one comes from a guy in my office--he frequently comments on my arms.  I totally deserve that one.  lol!

11) And lastly, what's one thing on your Christmas wish list?  Good health for my family and friends.

I'm supposed to tag new recipients and come up with 11 questions.  But I like these questions.  If you've made it all the way through and are still reading this, I tag you as a Liebster Award recipient (yes, especially YOU)!

My house is full of junk

And it is all for sale!  You might think I've snapped.  It would be understandable.  I don't like clutter and the house is cluttered (very, very cluttered).  But the stuff really is for sale.  My wife's hobby is selling things on eBay.  Several times I've offered to have a giveaway for her to help promote her site...each time she said "Give away my things?"

I've decided that means she really wants to keep the stuff.  Selling on eBay is just a front for collecting.  So instead of sharing information about her site to help her, I'm doing it for me.  This stuff has to go--especially the scary doll's head!!!  LOL

If you're in need of an unusual gift, stop by Molly's Hidden Treasures on eBay.  But please don't mention my name.  You don't know me and I never said anything about selling anything.  :D

Here's a small sample of the items available:

http://stores.ebay.com/MOLLYS-HIDDEN-TREASURES

Wives need to calm down!

According to a blurb on the HHS (U.S. Dept. of Health and Human Services) news page, wives need to calm down for a marriage to be happy.  Husbands?  Apparently they can stay upset.  The story references a study done by researcher Lian Bloch. 

The two best lines are:

"This isn’t about who wins the argument – but a study of hot marital fights indicates that when the wife calms down, the couples are more happy."

 "Bloch says calm wives were able to look constructively for ways to deal with the emotions and talk about ways to solve the problems. Happiness didn’t change if the husband calmed down quickly."


Did the researcher only talk to husbands???  It is widely acknowledged that for a husband to have a happy life, his wife has to be happy.  But this comes very close to saying "the little ladies are too emotional and need to calm down/think clearly if they want to be happy."  While I am all in favor of staying calm in the face of a problem, I would never (be brave enough to) say that wives are less rational during an argument. 

Now I don't have to say it--I can just leave copies of the story around the house.  LOL!

In case you can't want to read the blurb, here's a link to the HHS webpage:
http://www.hhs.gov/news/healthbeat/2013/11/calm-down.html



PS - I joke, but I am in no way disparaging the research or wives.  Life is complicated and each person and each couple is different.

'roid problems

No, not that--the other 'roid!  I don't know how it happened, but somehow my thyroid has gotten lazy.  I found out last week it is underactive.  No one in my family has ever had thyroid issues, so it's likely that something caused it. 

I've read that dental x-rays can cause thyroid problems.  Make sure your dentist uses a lead-lined collar (in addition to the lead bib) to cover your throat whenever you get an x-ray.  I didn't know such things existed.

Some believe that Teflon can cause thyroid problems too--the theory is that when the surface of a Teflon pan is scratched, it releases a toxic chemical.  So when you cook with it...  Anyway, I'd already switched to a ceramic-lined frying pan and it works great.  Hopefully that will keep the kids from being exposed to that one particular toxic substance.  Who knows what else we're being exposed to!

I don't know much about this yet, but I'm learning.  Also, I'm looking for a silver lining.  I've read that people with "my condition" often are very tired.  So once in a while I should be able to use this to get out of some chores at home.  Right?

How else can I benefit from this???  :)


PS - My wife has a thyroid problem too, but a different one...it runs in her family.

Tears

A few years ago a blogger friend posted something she'd written when she was 11. I didn’t write when I was 11, if I could avoid it.  But she got me thinking about 11 yr-old me. That was the year I learned I had no defense against tears. It was the 5th grade. I showed up for the first day of school hoping to be assigned to Mrs. Bloom--and I was!  She was great.

She was also 5 months pregnant. She taught me a lot before she left on maternity leave, including how to sew an apron for my mom (as an Xmas present). She made it to the holidays and then we were assigned a new teacher. A brand new teacher, she had just graduated at the end of the fall semester. She was only 21. 

On the new teacher’s first day she introduced herself, talked about her parents, and how excited she was to move to DC (from Tennessee). Then she started to take attendance. Well, she tried. The kids thought it would be funny to refuse to answer. Before she got to my name, the teacher broke. She went to her desk, put her head down, and started crying. 

It was horrible, unbearable! I couldn’t take it. Someone had to do something, but everyone was looking down at their feet. Then I remembered one of my dad’s favorite lectures. When something needs to be done, you can’t wait around hoping someone else will take care of it. You need to step up and do it yourself.  So I did.

I went to her desk, patted her on the shoulder and told her it would be okay. The kids would cooperate now. She looked up and asked how I knew. I smiled and said, “Because I know their names!” That made her laugh and everything was okay after that. She and I developed an interesting relationship. A few months later she asked if I thought it would be okay if she asked the (handsome, single) 6th grade teacher for a ride while her car was in the shop. I said, “Of course, you're co-workers."  That may have been the first time I offered relationship advice. 

I try to keep it a secret, but tears still work on me. 


PS - When my daughter heard this story, she said "You were a weird kid!"  lol!

A Happy Bandit Post

As I've said many times, Bandit was a great dog.  He had the perfect personality for my kids--sweet, loving, manipulative.  He could con my daughter out of food and my son into walking him pretty much any time he wanted.

He was also an extremely atheletic dog--it was in his Border Collie genes.  He could play soccer, blocking balls and dribbling them.  He was very fast and always willing to "give up the body".  I had to train my kids to be careful where they threw Bandit's toys (for him to catch/fetch) because he would run through a table to make a catch (and not appear to feel it or even notice).  He could catch almost anything.

Except food.  Every dog I've ever had could catch food thrown to them.  But not Bandit.  If I tossed him a bit of bacon, he'd suddenly turn into "shaky-the-mohel" (Seinfeld reference) and lose his coodination.  He wouldn't even try to catch it...he'd just look awkward trying to get out of the way.  Once it hit the ground he was all over it.  But in the air?  Nope!  Tennis balls?  Sure.  Any one of his many toys?  He'd do whatever he could to catch them in the air.

But I could never teach him to catch food--or put his toys away. 


PS - My wife and daughter were the easiest touches for food, but Bandit was always polite about it--he was never pushy, he just looked at them.  In fact, he was so polite about it, one night my wife didn't think twice about putting her plate on a chair while she went out to get something from her car.  When she came back her hamburger was gone.  She left the house, so Bandit assumed she was done.  LOL!

Halloween Tradition: The Gun and the Girl

Once something becomes a tradition, I have a hard time letting it go.  (Real Christmas tree again this year?  Probably.)  I watch It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown every Halloween and I re-tell the story about the gun and the girl.  If you've read it before, don't feel obligated to slog through it again.  But the rest of you...well, here it is:

I was 14 and too old to trick or treat, but too young to stay in. So after helping my grandma close her store, I headed for the nearby sub-division to meet up with friends. It was a quarter-mile walk in the pitch black on a narrow country road. Perfect for a spooky night.

When I neared the subdivision, I heard voices. As I stepped into the front yard of the house on the corner, I saw a man in his 30s pointing a shiny handgun at four boys who were huddled together. Then he pointed the gun at me.

Without thinking about it, I walked towards him, gestured towards the kids and asked, “What did they do?“ (as if I wasn't a kid myself). He turned the gun back towards them and explained his mom’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 (everyone knew her) and told him I knew his mom. 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. I was a little shocked.  It all happened so quickly.  That’s when I realized if you act like you know what you're doing, people will cooperate (usually).

I felt a little shaky as I went in search of my friends. "The girl" was with them (I'd been talking with her 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 reserved up until then. That night we walked with the group until it was time to head home.  Then she wanted to tell me something in private. 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 soon change).

Soon, I wasn’t feeling great. By Thanksgiving I had pneumonia, which led to the discovery I also had mononucleosis (and an enlarged spleen). One of the girl's friends confirmed she had mono when she kissed me—she’d snuck out of her house that night. 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 missed school the entire month of December and there were rumors I'd died, so my first week back was a little strange.

Some might think it sweet she slipped out of her house to kiss me goodbye. Since I got so sick, I decided it was thoughtless she exposed me to mono. Oh well, at least it was a memorable first kiss.  Right?

I closed the original post by wondering who would have ever guessed the girl would end up being more dangerous than the gun. At the time, it never occurred to me a girl could be that dangerous. What a naive boy.  :D

Remembering Bandit (and Tommy)

This was a sad weekend.  Our Border Collie, Bandit, died at 3am Sunday morning.  We were all with him.  He had an "episode" last week that made the vet think his anti-siezure medication dosage needed to be increased.  But in reality he had lung cancer. 

It was clear he out-ranked me in the family, but I didn't mind.  My wife and kids love him like he was our hairy toddler who somehow never learned to talk.  Instead of me writing about Bandit, I'd like to share what my wife posted about him on Facebook:

Bandit was an amazing dog. Always loving. When you had a bad day - you could look at that face and everything seemed ok. The most sweetest temperament of any dog I've ever seen. Loved to cuddle next to you. Still wanted to be held like a baby even though he weighed over 40 pounds and had those long legs. Always willing to share his food and water with visiting dogs. His one Lassie moment came when I was moving boxes in our storage room and tripped. I fell flat on the concrete floor and the box opened and everything landed on top of me. Bandit runs in hearing the commotion. I tell him to go get the kids. All I saw was a blur of black and white fur as he ran from the room. Instead of people he brings in his toy and lays it on my chest. I realized then we didn't have a Lassie. What we had was better. The most loving and gentle dog. Greeting us at the door. Dragging us on his leash when he went for walks. Always happy to meet new friends whether they were people, dogs or cats. He will be missed by all of us and all that knew him. Love you Bandicoop!

PS – My wife called me this morning, hovering on the edge of tears.  We agreed this was a sad, but hopefully useful experience for the kids.  She said she was really, REALLY going to need my help when the time comes that her dad passes away.  I asked who was going to help her when I go.

Wife:  I can count on Suzy (a friend) to help me.  Me:  I’m not out-living Suzy???

Some may think what I said was inappropriate, but she thanked me for helping her laugh.  She needed it.  (We can never share that with Suzy.)


Edit:  Bandit deserves his own post, I'll remember Tommy (the cat) in a later one. 

That Other Bee Story

Recently, I shared an embarrassing encounter with bees.  The MOST embarrassing bee encounter happened on Labor Day when I was 5 (a little younger than my profile picture).  Labor Day was a big deal when I was a kid.  Our church held its annual picnic that day.  It was a fun way to end the summer and helped take the sting (pun intended) out of going back-to-school the next day.

I'd almost forgotten about it.  But a few weeks ago a friend wrote a funny tweet about being stung by a bee.  It had crawled up her pants leg.  That brought back the memory of 5 year-old me having a bee go up my shorts.  Since I was wearing hand-me-downs that were four sizes two big (the leg openings were HUGE), I'm lucky an entire hive didn't accidentally fly up there.  But one was enough--the little bugger stung me...**cough**, um, well, "there"! 

Most of the day is a blur, but I remember the pain.  I remember having to lie on my brother's bed bottomless with a bag of ice "there" (trying to numb the pain).  I remember my brothers leaving the room laughing...then bringing their friends in and all of them leaving the room laughing.  Other people may have come and gone (I may have heard a sister throwing up), but I'm not sure. 

The worst part?  As with the other story, it was the pain (although, now that I've been reminded of that day, I am laughing at the memory).  But it was made worse by having to miss the picnic.  Did I mention it included carnival games, a cake walk, moon bounce, lots of food and fun for kids?  Plus, I was allowed to place actual bets on the spinning wheel game (that's how I discovered 6 is a lucky number for me :).  All in all it was a great way to spend Labor Day.  Just not THAT Labor Day. 


PS - If I can remain calm around bees after that experience...well, do your best.  Panic almost never leads to a positive result.  Although, perhaps the lesson here is to be more careful about what you wear.  If I'd been wearing shorts that fit properly, I probably wouldn't have been walking funny that first week in September.  :D 

The Last (and shortest) Spooky Tale

I have several more spooky stories, but enough is enough...so this is the last one (for now).

Most of my spooky stories are from events that happened before I turned 25.  Since then, I occasionally smell stale cigarette smoke in the house and wonder if my mom is visiting--and that's not scary.

But there are other things going on that ARE scary!

--Some nights as I try to go to sleep, the blanket mysteriously slides off me (sometimes quickly, all at once...sometimes slowly).

--Some mornings I wake up with strange marks or bruises.

--Most nights I hear terrible, frightening noises in the house.

Am I being haunted? 

I wish!  All of these things are simply among the benefits of being married.  LOL! 

My wife does a tuck 'n roll with the blankets in her sleep; apparently she has restless leg (and elbow) syndrome; and recently she's started snoring (we're investigating the cause, hopefully it's nothing serious). 

Thankfully the government shutdown is over.  Now that I'm back at work I can start catching up on my sleep.  :D

Upstairs, Downstairs (The Good Ghost)

In this case, the downstairs was my parent's basement.  Cellar might be a more appropriate word--that's what we called it, the cellar. It was unfinished, with a concrete floor and cinder block walls. It flooded on occasion, so the washer, dryer, furnace and water heater were up off the floor. The cellar was lit by four bare light bulb fixtures--one in each quadrant. One we could turn on from upstairs and the other 3 had pull chains. At night it was a creepy place.

I made frequent trips to the cellar to put clothes in the dryer and to bring clothes up from the dryer. That was a regular chore. During one night time trip to the cellar (to get clothes), it felt more creepy than usual. Nothing strange had ever happened in the cellar, so I had no reason to feel weird. But I did.  It felt like I wasn't alone.  (Not feeling alone is supposed to be a good thing, right?  :)

I hurried a little and tried to show no fear. Did I mention I was 8? Anyway, I filled the clothes basket--which was almost as big as I was--turned off the light and headed for the stairs. In my haste, I slipped when I was halfway up the stairs. I fell backwards with the laundry basket on my chest. I gasped, holding my breath in anticipation of an impact--the impact of my little head on the concrete floor. But instead, I felt something touch both of my shoulder blades...like two hands catching me. Suddenly I was standing up straight again, just a few steps down from where I had fallen. As before, it all happened so quickly I wasn't exactly sure what HAD happened.

Did our ghost save my life? Or at age 8 did I have the reflexes of a cat and catch myself?  I'm happy with either answer.

That was my only odd experience in the cellar.  But when I reached my teen years, odd things started happening in the upstairs bedroom (the pink one).  Spooky odd things.  :)

Birth Month vs Favorite Season

I was born in March .  I don't like Spring--March and April are my least favorite months.

My boss was born in late Fall.  She hates the Fall.

Coincidence?  Or is this a thing???

Is your birthday in your least favorite month or season?  In your favorite?

Spooky Tales (since it's October)

According to family history (my mother), my parent's house was haunted by my dad's mother. The woman didn't get to see the house while she was alive, so she took up residence "later".

I didn't know anything about it, until one late-summer evening.

During summers, we placed a large fan in the window at the top of the stairs leading up to my sisters' bedroom. We put the fan on "exhaust" and it pulled air through the house from the open windows downstairs. I liked to stand in front of the fan and talk "through" it...the fan chopped up my words.  I thought it sounded cool (I was 6).

So one evening I'm standing there on the landing, shouting out through the fan to one of my brothers in the yard, having fun (again, I was 6).  After standing there a few minutes, something caught my eye from the right side. I turned to see a woman floating towards me along the bannister. She had dark hair and a white dress (the official uniform of female ghosts). I'm not 100% sure what happened next. One second I was looking at her, frozen, and the next I was at the bottom of the stairs on my butt. It happened so fast, I think I might have jumped. Anyway, I got out of the house as quickly as I could. I told my brother what I saw and he just laughed at me. All of my siblings did. But not my mom. When I told her, her eyes got big and she told me it was her mother-in-law. She also told me not to mention it to my dad. Apparently he didn't like the idea of his mom haunting us.

For years I thought I was the only one who had seen the ghost. But 20 years later one of my sisters admitted she had seen exactly the same thing in exactly the same spot. She didn't say anything earlier because she was afraid people would think she was crazy (like me :).

When I was almost 12 my brothers and I moved into the bedroom upstairs (yes, the pink one), where the ghost lived!!!

LOL, just kidding....she moved all over the house.  :D 

"Why did I have the bowl???"

That question had my kids rolling with laughter this past weekend.  I didn’t understand why.  They explained.  If you’re familiar with the Simpson’s, you know Bart’s friend Milhouse.  In one episode Milhouse got fed-up with Bart lying to him.  He reminded Bart of the time Bart killed his goldfish and then tried to convince Milhouse he never had a goldfish.  To which Milhouse responded, “Then why did I have the bowl, Bart?  Why did I have the bowl???”

 

Why did I ask that same question this weekend?  Well, not long after I got married, my wife asked me to take her to a Pfaltzgraff outlet.  I was happy to—we had zero money, so we could shop all we wanted. :D 

 

During the trip she spotted French onion soup bowls she really wanted.  Despite that and the fact I love French onion soup, we couldn’t afford the bowls.  Over the next two years we visited the outlet several more times.  Eventually we bought two of the bowls and my wife committed to making the soup.  I was so happy.

 

Fast forward to this past weekend…I threw out the lone remaining bowl.  The handle had broken off years ago, but I’d kept the bowl in hopes of someday actually getting French onion soup made at home.  I finally gave up on that.  This weekend I reminded my wife about when we bought the bowls and that she had promised to make the soup.  She didn’t remember any of that.

 

To which I said, “Then why did I have the bowl, K?  Why did I have the bowl???”

 

It was funny to the two of us, but hysterical to the kids.  The lesson here is that good intentions are nice, but they don't get you soup!  :)

September Bees

I have a Labor Day Bee story to share, but I need help making it not suck.  Rooth kindly agreed to help with a few suggestions and I'm going to edit it.  But in the meantime I thought I'd repeat another bee story.  It's my "A" bee story.  :)

I stay calm around bees because my grandpa assured me bees don’t want to sting us. If you stay calm and leave them alone, they will leave you alone. It works pretty well. I was good at the “calm” part, but once in a while I seemed to have trouble leaving them alone.

One painful encounter was made worse by who witnessed it (yes, it was a girl, sort of--you'll see).  Anyway, weeds were growing out of sandstones piled on the side of the dirt road leading to our house--along the portion of road on the other side of the hill.  The weeds scratched against cars as they went by, so my dad wanted me to trim them (using our whip—you swing it like a golf club, it has a blade on the end).

I started the job after school. As I walked up the hill, I noticed the very pretty young mom next door was on her porch. She waved and said hi, I tried to look cool--I had a little crush on her (I was 15). I started cutting weeds at the bottom of the hill on the other side and worked my way back towards my house (and neighbor). Soon I was half-way up the hill. I could see the top of her house, but I couldn’t see the porch yet because of the hill. I was distracted, so I didn’t think anything of the few bees I saw—bees are common in that area. I didn’t notice they were ground bees (yellow jackets). It never occurred to me there might be a nest in the rocks. I just kept swinging and cutting. 

Before I knew it, I heard the unmistakable sound of MANY bees taking flight. One stung my arm and a few got under my shirt. Here's how my neighbor described (the next day) what she saw happen.

Her: What happened to you yesterday? I heard you yell and then I saw your whip fly up in the air over the top of the hill. Then your shirt flew up in the air…next you came running up over the hill waving your arms around your head. It looked like you'd gone crazy!!!
Me: Umm, I found a bee’s nest and they found me.
Her: ahahahahahaha!!!! Oh, I’m sorry, I hope you’re okay. But you just looked ridiculous!
Me: {dejected}

What hurt more, getting stung many times or looking like an idiot in front of miss cute (well, mrs. cute)? Definitely getting stung hurt more!!! But both were caused by stupid bees. BEES!!!  *shakes fist*

That actually wasn't my worst encounter with bees and it may not have been my most embarrassing.  Hopefully with Rooth's help I'll be able to share my "B" bee story someday.

Do you remember your first bee sting???

Fire and Flood

Recently my weekends have revolved around dealing with the unexpected.  That's life.  But it gets to be a little much when things bunch together.  The water heater went bad, the refrigerator croaked, my car died, a car window got stuck open, a toilet developed a horrible leak and we had a kitchen fire.  Each one took a different weekend.  The fire was the scariest, but the leak was the most work.

Late one Friday night my son mentioned his toilet was flushing "funny".  He couldn't really describe it.  I checked and it was flushing slowly, like it was partially blocked.  I worked on it, but it wasn't getting better.  Finally I moved a towel that had fallen on the floor from the tub.  It was soaked--every time I flushed, water came running out of the bottom of the toilet onto the floor.  I spent a good part of Saturday taking the toilet apart to replace the wax ring that seals the connection between the toilet and the drain.  I don't know what plumbers charge for that job, but they deserve it.  It's gross doing your own toilet.  I wouldn't want to do someone else's!

The fire was on a Sunday.  It was too hot to cook, so I bought rotisserie chickens--one for us and two for Bandit.  We make his food on weekends and freeze it for the week.  I finished a handful of chores (including boning two chickens) and decided to take a nap* (something I never do).  Before heading to bed I asked my daughter to make Minute Rice for Bandit.  Fifteen minutes later she called me--she sounded scared (I thought someone broke in).  When I ran into the kitchen, I saw a good sized fire (18 inch flames) under the pot of water--our stove is electric!!!  I turned off the stove, moved the pot and put the fire out (ruining a good pot holder in the process).  Somehow there was oil on the cooktop and in the burner pan...the burner had ignited it.  I spent the next hour taking the stovetop apart and washing everything.   No one knows how the oil got there, but I suspect my daughter had a spill.  She HAD a bad habit of using the stovetop as if it were counter space.  This taught her that's not a good idea. 

That's the only lesson in this post (a stovetop is not a work surface).  Well, that and the fact that fate really doesn't want me taking naps.  :)

I'm hoping the change of seasons brings a change of luck. 


* A few days later I found out I had pneumonia. 

Blogger Friend News

Two bits of news--neither of which has anything to do with me.  (That will likely make this the most popular post ever on this blog.)

First, I am now friends with a published author.  Well, a very soon to be published author.  Kristie of North of 49 has written a book titled, "Ting Ting".  It can be ordered here and will be available on Amazon.  Completely without Kristie's permission, I'd like to share a paragraph from the publisher's webpage:

"Eight-year-old Ting misses her parents, but her comfortable life in China hasn’t changed too much since they both went away to Canada. She’s living with loving relatives who care for her like their own child (even though her cousin is so annoying!). She goes to the same school with the same classes, including boring history and loads of homework. She has the same friends and the same favourites: hawthorn-berry candy and sticky taffy, outings to the park, visits with her grandfather in the country. If only she could be with her parents, life would be perfect!"

Having spent part of my childhood living away from my parents, I can partially identify with Ting.  That aside, it's a good story.  I think anyone will be able to enjoy it.  Yay Kristie!!!

Other news, hmmm, turns out there's more than just two items. 

Amy from Junghwa by Amy Stewart has re-launched her jewelry website.  It may be too late for the 25% relaunch discount, but you can still qualify for 20% off.

Rooth of A MIUSMIE fame is periodically doing book reviews for The Bibliophile's Adventures Club. You should check them out.

Lisa of expandng has written a piece for...hmm...is it called Next time, Twins???  No, no, it's a site called Red Tricycle.  :)

As for me, I'm hoping for a long weekend with no appliance problems, no plumbing problems and no fires.  I hope I'm not aiming too high!

If you're in the US, have a great Labor Day weekend....heck, have a great weekend everyone!!!

Feminism has failed me!

Yes, feminism has failed me.  Me personally.  I don't believe in "gender roles".  You do whatever needs to be done.  I do laundry (when my wife's not looking).  I grocery shop.  I cook ("feed the family" might be a better way to put that--to say I cook would be a stretch).  I clean.  I changed diapers and fed babies.  But I am still trapped by the other side of the gender equation.  I hear things like this all the time at home:

Rick, help, there's a spider-cricket!
Rick, the car won't start!
Rick, check the gutters (I was reminding myself, no one else cares about gutters).
Dad, there's no hot water!
Dad, there's water leaking out of the toilet!
Dad, the kitchen is on fire!!!

I'm expected to kill bugs (I AM really good at it), take care of the lawn and the cars, shovel snow, fix things when they break and, yes, I was called to put out a fire in our kitchen a few weeks ago.  That was scary (but the leaky toilet was much more work).

It's the 21st century! Why do I still have to handle those jobs??? 

Well, in part, because I know how to handle them.  But that's not the main reason.  My wife could do them (or pay someone to).  The main reason is because I want to do them.  We have a modern version of a traditional marriage.  My wife does most of the cooking and cleaning.  (Well, she does much of it....okay, she does some of it...well, she does a little of it...just kidding, she does most of it.)   But in the end, there are almost no jobs that belong to just one or the other--except for those jobs that are only mine (like those I mentioned above...and ironing).  :D

I was teasing about feminism failing me (it made for a good post title).  I'm content.  But if anyone ever figures out a way for me to be equal to my wife, I'd love to know how to get promoted.  (That's a joke my grandfather used to make--except he wasn't really joking.  My tiny grandmother ruled the roost.)

Life with Ricademus

The alternate title for these posts is, "Pity My Family"--because they have to put up with me.  Some of the situations I share in "Life" posts require some background, some lead-in.  But I don't think the two examples below need any introduction.  They are just normal, everyday types of exchanges at our house.

Conversation #1

Me:  I need a new pillow.
Wife:  Me too.
Me:  These wore out too quickly.  No more pillows from Macy's.
Wife:  Let's donate them to the animal shelter so the animals can sleep on them.
Me:  No, I don't want the dogs to get my scent!!!

Conversation #2

Wife:  I feel drunk (she was really tired).
Me:  (half-singing) Sober girls around me they be acting like they drunk, they be acting like they drunk.
Wife:  What did you say?
Me:  (half-singing, again) Sober girls around me they be acting like they drunk, they be acting like they drunk.
Daughter:  (incredulous) Why mom?  Why would you ask him to repeat that???  Please don't ask him to say things like that a second time!!!

My friend Rooth reminded me yesterday that my kids wish I didn't have access to current pop culture (slang, song lyrics, etc.).  But like them, I live and breath and I'm bound to pick things up here and there.  And it's so much fun to see how they react when I make use of that knowledge.  :)


PS - They don't like it much better when I use slang from my grandfather's time and talk as if I lived then (You kids don't know what it was like during the Depression!).  Can't make 'em happy.  lol

Happy Birthday, mom!

My sister-in-law's psychic says you stop by once in a while.  I'm not sure why they're talking about us, but you know how people are...always talking about someone!  :)

A lot of things have changed since I was 25.  You've missed a lot.

Or maybe not!  I do smell cigarette smoke once in a while at home.  Perhaps the psychic is right.

I'm not going to smoke a cigarette in your honor, but maybe I'll see if the kids want to play bingo.  :)

Happy Birthday! 

Orange Juice

I'm not a fan.  My tummy doesn't like acid in the morning and I don't like pulp.  My wife loves it (oj and pulp), especially when she's sick.  I buy gallons of orange juice for her when she's not feeling well.

Do you like orange juice? 

Saturday a fly was buzzing around the kitchen.  I spotted it inside a dirty glass on the counter, so I put my hand over the top to trap it.  I couldn't think of a sure fire way to kill it without running the risk of it escaping.  So I decided to take it outside to set it free.  As I stepped onto the front porch, the fly went to the bottom of the glass.  The moment it came in contact with the tiny amount of orange juice in the bottom, it immediately turned over on it's back...dead!

Humans and flies don't have much in common (except for those talking flies), but I'm going to remind my wife about this story every time she tries to get me to drink orange juice.  Yuck!

Should I worry???

I currently have no good ideas for posts, so I searched through drafts and found this old one--which I lost track of somehow.  Since it's weird to mention the same blogger two posts in a row, this one is perfect for today:

Have you ever stumbled across a fact about yourself or your life that made you stop and think?  Something you knew, but never really thought about--until something brought it to your attention?  That happened to me today. 

I was visiting blogs, enjoying the usual extraordinary offerings--posts about food, books, health, personal experiences, etc.  As an aside, one of the great things about blogging is meeting people from all over, with different backgrounds, different experiences, and being reminded that people are more alike than different.  It's easy to relate to people when you give them and yourself the chance. 

Included among my destinations was a stop at Always Maylee.  The idea of wearing pink came up in today's post.  Aside from once having worn a pink shirt as an usher at a wedding, that's something I never do.  And yet it reminded me of something.  When I was 11, my two older brothers and I switched bedrooms with the only sister who was still living at home.  The "girls room" was larger than ours.  It was also pink.  My brothers didn't mind and I was just excited to get a bed that didn't fold up and roll away.  So it stayed pink.  Eventually my brothers moved out and I finally painted it yellow (over the pink it ended up looking sort of peachy--it was a nice color).

What I knew, but hadn't realized (if that makes sense), is that from the age of 11 until 20 my bedroom was pink.  Nine years with a pink bedroom.  Throughout my teen years my bedroom was pink.  Pink!!!  That doesn't sound like a big deal today, but back in the dark ages of my youth it was.  I can't believe my dad allowed it.  Part of me wonders if the plan was to make sure we didn't invite people into our room.  If that was it, it was genius--and worked like a charm. :)

Question:  Do you believe the color of a bedroom has any effect on its inhabitants?  Did the pink help make me who I am today?  Is that what gets the blame???  lol

Reading the Room

I’d forgotten, but a recent post by Yi-chia (Always Maylee) reminded me that I have a story about shorts.  At least it starts out being about shorts, then evolves into something else. 

I was 17 at the time and dating my soon-to-be bride.  We planned to grab dinner and go bowling on that summery Saturday evening.  When I arrived to pick her up, she was wearing white shorts.  She’d had them since she was 13 (and they were her favorite).  A lot of things change between the ages of 13 and 17 and, well, I’ll just say more was showing in the back than I felt was appropriate.  Especially for bowling!!! 

I suggested she change.  She said the shorts were “fine”.  I pointed out she couldn’t see them from all angles.  She refused to change.  I was okay with that, but I also wasn’t taking her out.  I settled in to watch tv with her parents.  She kept giving me the stink eye and motioning for us to leave.  Feeling playful, I smiled, turned to her dad and said, “Do you think it’s okay for your daughter to go bowling in those shorts?” 

Ka-boom!!!  He exploded, angrily telling her to change.  She exploded too, saying she was tired of everyone telling her what to do.  Her dad was very mad and she was crying.  As I sat there, slightly stunned, my only thought was, “I did that.”  It was my fault.  (I may have also been thinking “Teenagers!!!” but it would be weird to admit that.)

I failed to “read the room.”  If I’d paid attention, I would have known her father was agitated that night.  It was the wrong time for me to (even playfully) drag him into the shorts discussion.  I made mess.  I was wrapped up in my storyline and didn’t consider what was going on with the other characters—specifically her dad.  I hate being that guy.   

I ended up having to take her out to end the hostilities—but I didn't take her bowling.  We grabbed a few burgers and spent hours talking about her dad’s situation (soon he would have to stop working for health reasons), her frustrations, and maybe something about me…I can’t remember that part. 

It was a good lesson.  Always try to take heed of what’s going on around you, what people are going through, and what mood they are in at the time.  If you don’t, you’re likely to make a mess like I did.  Also, think twice before you decide to suggest someone's clothing might not be "appropriate"...and then think about it again before actually saying anything.  My wife is still mad about that (but she did stop wearing the shorts).  :D

Lucky Star

That’s what I born under, a lucky star.  I’ve always been lucky—I often credit that to having the best guardian angel ever.  Fate has put me into some odd situations (the stalking, the gun pointing, etc.) and I’ve put myself into a few too.  But things always work out (knock on wood).  It started the day I was born. 

Roughly seven weeks before I was due, my mom caught the flu.  I thought that’s what caused my early arrival.  But my mom shared with a sister-in-law (who was studying nursing) that it was a placental abruption that actually caused the emergency.  It’s odd my parents never told me that, but not surprising.  They weren’t much on sharing information or explaining whatever was going on.  I believe my SIL because the parts of the story I did know made more sense once I heard that. 

Of course dad rushed mom to the hospital (a small, private hospital).  Her regular doctor wasn’t there.  A doctor they didn't know was on duty—Dr. Shadow (I didn’t change his name for this story—the dude’s name was Dr. Shadow).  After examining mom, the doctor told dad it didn’t look good.  He didn’t think he could save us both.  He asked dad to make a choice.  As I am the youngest of 6 children, my parents already had 5 kids at home.  They needed their mother.  Dad made the only choice he could.  He asked Dr. Shadow to save his wife.

(Side-story:  When I announced I was getting married, my parent's neighbor, MrsB, wanted to help with the wedding.  She said I always seemed more like one of her kids (and less like my siblings), because I didn’t wait around for someone to do things for me.  I just did what I needed to do on my own.  That too started the day I was born.)

When the doctor returned to my mom, I had taken control of the situation—by being well on my way to being born.  Fortunately the doctor had been wrong.  He was able to save us both.  It was touch and go for my mom, but she pulled through.  Upon hearing he had a new son, my dad had his one and only hot flash.  He thought that meant I was going to be someone special, like a priest.  That didn’t work out for him—but I am more than willing to hear your confessions.  :)

My mom’s recovery was slow.  She was sickly for years.  I spent my first six months living with an aunt (who apparently spoiled me rotten and tried to keep me).  By the time I was six years-old, my mom was doing much better.  Then she had another health problem, which left her sickly for the next six or seven years.  The poor woman recovered just in time to be upset that I was openly interested in girls and they were calling me at home.  She really hated that.  LOL


PS – It may not be clear why, but the circumstances of my birth set me at odds with my siblings.  Among the five of them, they were mad at me for several different reasons.  Mostly due to misunderstandings which were easily avoidable.  Have I mentioned my parents were not great communicators?

Oh, I forgot to mention something—my parents never saw Dr. Shadow again.

**dunt**dunt**dun*!!!  :)

Happy 237th!

My country 'tis of thee,
Sweet land of liberty,
Of thee I sing;
Land where my fathers died,
Land of the pilgrims' pride,
From every mountainside
Let freedom ring!

USA!  USA!  USA!

PS - The Washington Monument is having a little work done this year.  It survived the East Coast Earthquake, but was damaged.  Soon its cracks will be repaired and it will be good as new!  I hope the same will be true for all the cracks in the US. 








Edit:  There are people on Twitter congratulating the US on turning 2,013!!! 

Tactical Mistake

Does this sound familiar?  You notice a dog in your neighborhood.  He probably belongs to a neighbor.  You don't recognize him, but he seems friendly...maybe a little wary?  You start to see him more often.  He wags his tail when he sees you and it's clear he has a sweet disposition.  You get used to him being around and you start talking to him when you see him--he almost seems to understand what you're saying.  Dogs are fun that way.  Then one day you see him defend an elderly neighbor by getting between her and a group of rowdy teenagers--and growling at them.  You think, "That's a good dog" and decide to give him Thursday's leftover meatloaf (you were just going to throw it out anyway). 

Mistake!!!  You fed him!  Now you can't get rid of him.  Sure, he's an okay dog, but do you want him hanging around all the time??? 

That's happened to me twice--I once got a dog that way* AND my friend Rooth recently fed me, now she's never going to get rid of me!!!  lol

But she's smart.  Hopefully she knew what she was getting into when sent me an irresistible treat--chocolate-filled croissants.  She'd paid attention to my babbling and knew they're a favorite of mine.  I love croissants, adding chocolate to them makes me giddy!  They arrived frozen from William-Sonoma.  Frozen, they looked small.  Thanks to the magic of rising dough, they're pretty big--I was only able to eat four this weekend.  I mean two, I ate two!!!  Eating four would just be silly and wrong  (okay, I ate four--I'm not proud, but they're so good).  I shared them with my family--my daughter is a fan too.  My wife and son both passed on the offer.  More for me.  Oh, I mean more for me and my daughter.  ;)

Thank you, Rooth, for being a good, thoughtful friend--and kind enough to feed a stray.  :)

* I was 11 and a dog started hanging around our house.  It was a different time and place.  Dogs roamed loose where I grew up.  Today when we see a stray, we immediately take it in and try to find the owner.

Giveaway Winners

Summer is officially here today, so it's time to announce our giveaway winners. As usual, I used the random number generation feature in Excel to assign numbers to each entry, with the lowest numbers being the winners. The sort revealed our Grand Prize winners and runners-up (also winners) are (highlighted in yellow): 

 

Justine is the Herro Hachi Grand prize winner and Yi-chia (of Always Maylee) is the Olive and Piper Grand Prize winner!  In case you can't see it, Elle, Kathy, Thanh Thao and Stiletto Girl have also won Herro Hachi items.  (When I made the picture bigger, it went off the screen!)

The Herro Hachi winners need to e-mail Kym (kym@herrohachi.com) your selections and mailing addresses.  Yi-chia, there's a $25 O&P gift coupon code for you.  I'll be e-mailing it soon!

Thank you all for visiting, I truly appreciate it--you're among the great people who make blogging fun. Also, a special thank you to HH and P&O for making the giveaway so easy for me. 

I hope this weekend is the start of a great summer for all of us (and a great winter for those of you in the southern hemisphere)!!!

Father's Day

Happy Father's Day to all the dads, fathers-in-law, grandfathers and surrogate dads out there!

And a special happy Father's Day to my dad.  I hope he checks in on me once in a while.  He had an interesting life (I've posted a few of his stories) and had his share of obstacles to overcome.  As for those moments when I may have frustrated him...well, he taught me not to do something "just because someone told me to".  I'm sure he didn't expect me to ever apply that to him, but of course I did.  lol

He taught me plenty of other things too--some were useful, some were interesting and some were just odd.  I devoted a previous Father's Day post to some of his tidbits of information.

http://ricademus.blogspot.com/2011/06/happy-fathers-day.html

I'm pretty sure "how to get a dog to go for my throat" was the weirdest thing I learned from my dad (what were the odds a situation would ever come up to prompt him to share that?).  Remembering that always inspires me to ask what is the strangest bit of advice you've ever received???

Also, it has become tradition for me to buy myself a Father's Day gift that's actually for my wife.  The past two years the gifts have been pieces of furniture (a curio cabinet and an end table w/two glass doors on the top--it's really an old display table).  This year I bought jewelry--earrings from Olive and Piper.  I think I did good!  :)






PS - The Olive and Piper and Herro Hachi  giveaway closes Monday at midnight (US Pacific time zone). 

No one asked, but... (and a giveaway)

I feel like over-sharing.

Am I a nerd?

I love Star Trek, Doctor Who, LOTR, The Big Bang Theory and Jeopardy, but I don't think I'm smart enough to be an actual nerd.  I do have nerd-like tendencies, though.  While watching The Walking Dead, I became annoyed when humans entered a Southern Baptist church and discovered zombies sitting quietly in pews looking towards a huge crucifix.  That was just ridiculous!  Everyone knows Southern Baptists use a plain cross, not a crucifix.  It made the entire episode completely unbelieveable.  :P

Do I have odd habits?

I say no.  My family says yes.  Early in my career I used to have lunch in my office's tiny lunch room.  The vending machine in the room stocked a variety of Pepperidge Farm cookies--for a great price.  I discovered they were cheap because they were hard as rocks.  To get around that, I dunked them in my drink.  Water!  I liked what water did to the cookies.  It softened them, but unlike milk it did not change the flavor--and it made the water taste like cookies.  I don't do it often, but every once in a while I still dunk cookies in water.  Chocolate chip cookies work the best.

I could have listed any one of many things in this section (for example, my wife says I dry off in an odd way after a shower, I get into bed funny, I eat M&M's in a weird way, etc., etc.). But this one is on my mind because over the weekend my daughter saw me dunk a cookie is water and she asked, "Do your teeth hurt???"  LOL!

Do I appreciate your comments?

YES!!!  And since I made a big deal about appreciate being an action verb (in a previous post), it's time for a reader appreciation giveaway.  Herro Hachi and Olive and Piper have offered to help me celebrate your blog friendship.  We're giving away Herro Hachi items (of your choice) AND an Olive and Piper $25 gift certificate.  To enter, please visit their websites, identify your favorite item on each site and mention them in a comment to this post.  That's one entry.  For a second (and third) entry, tweet about your favorite items (and comment that you tweeted!).  There will be more than two winners!

Well, you're all winners--the giveaway winners will be announced next week.  I've ordered from both companies and all I can say is they're the best.  Products, customer service, everything!  I'm sure you will like them as much as I do. 


Edit:  The giveaway is open to everyone!

Delayed announcement

I was planning to make an announcemen today, but Friday is the worst day for that sort of thing.  Unless you're firing someone.  Friday is perfect for that.  But I'm not firing anyone, so the announcement will have to wait.

Instead, I'd like to re-share a vacation story.  Lisa (from expandng) got me thinking about vacations.

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. 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 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, built sheds, cleared a field on the farm...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.  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 worked 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.  :D  I did learn to swim two years later, in a pool.

Soooo, how did you learn to swim???

Mayday, May Day!

I couldn’t decide which “may day” to use for the post title.  The post is about May (among other things), but in a “mayday” sort of way.  It’s a month of mixed feelings for me.  I got married in May.  Plus there’s Mother’s Day, graduations, my grandmother’s birthday, and (usually) really pretty weather.  It's a great month.  But it also takes a toll on my family, literally.  We have more funerals in May than any other month—three this year.  It’s weird.  My mom passed away on Memorial Day (long ago--but honestly, if you have to go on a holiday, that’s the most appropriate one). 

I’d like to share a story about the May night I thought I might lose a brother and for a moment, myself (we’re both fine).  It was just before my second wedding anniversary.  My wife and I talked about it the night it happened (of course), but I have only shared the story with one other person.  It’s one of those things people don’t talk about, but probably should.

By coincidence, my brother and I were living a block apart at the time.  I was working full-time and going to school at night, so we didn’t see each other.  But my wife spent time with his wife, toddler son and newborn daughter.  She enjoyed that, until my SIL started to suspect my brother was cheating on her.  He was (non-stop, almost since the day they married).  In mid-May the SIL found proof, packed up the kids and moved in with her parents.  My brother was devastated. 

At 3am Sunday morning, my phone rang.  It was my dad.  He quickly told me what had happened and that my brother was at home, planning to shoot himself.  He'd called our parents to say goodbye.  The parents were heading out of their house, but it would take them 30 minutes to get there.  I was two minutes away.  My dad asked me to go stop him.

I pulled on pants, stepped into shoes and ran the block to my brother's townhouse.  The door was locked.  I could see a front window was open, but it was too high to reach from the ground.  I had to climb over the porch railing and jump for the window.  After knocking out the screen, I crawled in.  (Who knew the experience I gained breaking into my parent's house as a teen would ever come in handy???)  Once inside I turned on the lights and unlocked the front door.  I didn't see my brother, but I could hear him.  He was upstairs, wailing.

When I got to the top of the stairs I told him it was me.  He yelled at me to leave, I told him I couldn't.  I reached into his bedroom and turned on the light.  What I saw shocked me.  I'd seen him in primal rages of anger, but that night he looked...different.  The sight brought to mind the image of an animal caught in one of those vicious metal traps, panicked and in terrible pain.  Then I noticed he was pointing a gun at me.  He yelled at me to turn off the light.  I obliged him.  I didn't think he would shoot me, but accidents happen.  I moved back around the corner.

I had no idea what to do next.  Our parents were still 25 minutes away.  I started talking to him.  I asked what happened, why he was doing this.  I told him he didn't have to lose his family, his marriage didn't have to be over if he didn't want it to be.  I told him his kids needed a father, that he could rebuild his marriage.  That didn't work.  He said he was going to shoot himself.  So I told him he couldn't do that to ME.  How could I live with myself if he shot himself while I just sat there.  That made him mad, but in a different way.  I was hoping it would.  He said I couldn't make this about me.  Then I talked about how what we do affects others.  While we argued about that, the front door opened.  I considered the possibility that it was a thief and not my parents, but either way I was glad to have someone else there.  Of course it was the parents.  My dad came upstairs.  Soon my brother handed me his gun and went home with them.

Was he really going to shoot himself?  I don't know.  Maybe that was just his way of calling mayday, sending out an emergency call for help.  We helped him, that night and for months afterwards.  Eventually his wife took him back.  To show his gratitude, he started cheating on her again--repeatedly.  Years (and two more kids) later she threw him out.

PS - I didn't know what to say to my brother that night.  But in the end that didn't really matter.  I think just being there was the important thing.  That was an extreme case, but I believe we can all do a lot of good just by giving a few minutes of our time to others...letting them talk, letting them feel like someone is listening.  You never know if that small thing might be what keeps the person from sinking into a dark, desperate place.  No one should have to go there.