Running Shoes

My last post (about losing a race) reminded me that when I was very young I had a few pairs of magic shoes.  Most of my shoes came from a cousin--I think he wore only wing-tips.  So when I got new shoes when I was little, they were almost always sneakers.  Somehow, those sneakers gave me the power to run super fast. I would go outside and let them work their magic. At times I almost felt like I was flying, like my little legs wouldn’t be able to keep up with the shoes. I loved that feeling!

During one of my mad dashes across the yard, something was headed the opposite direction. A huge bumble bee.  It nailed me right in the forehead. Thanks to my reckless speed at that moment and the bee’s speed, I ended up on my butt. My head stopped when the bee hit me, but my feet kept going (like in a cartoon)…so of course I ended up on the ground. I didn't get stung, but I did end up with a big, red welt on my head from the impact.

I really wish I could find that same brand of shoe today to see if they're still magical. The store where my parents shopped is long gone.  But the brand may still be available.  Please let me know if you see them anywhere.  The designer label stamped on the bottom read “irregular”.  Is that an Italian designer???  :D


PS - Hand-me-downs circulated around my extended family--mostly my mom's side. When my folks did buy clothes and shoes for us, they went to a store that sold factory rejects--items that had defects. They were always marked "irregular" somewhere.  Irregular shoes weren't bad, but having "irregular" sized clothes (that fit) could give a kid a complex.  lol 

Each day brings a new opportunity to succeed

With the right motivation, we can do almost anything. I've had some experience with this and would like to share a story.  It 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. 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 pointed out that "Rick comes in second" and started teasing me about losing. She was trying to get my goat.  It worked.  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 that time. (I did say with the right motivation we can do ALMOST anything.)  The scrawny long-distance runner beat me every day, fair and square.  :D

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.


Remember that.  If you had a bad day, week or year, it's okay.  That can change tomorrow.

It Started in Homeroom - Part II

My experiment to be more out-going started in homeroom on the first day of 9th grade.  Fate (alphabetical seating) placed two nice girls at the science table behind me.  I talked with them.  It was surprisingly easy.  After homeroom I saw a girl who’d been in my English class the prior year.  I asked how her summer went.  After she did a double-take, we talked for a few minutes.  I talked with everyone I encountered (including teachers).  That’s how I ended up with the school misfit as my science class partner—no one else would talk to him (he was strange, but a nice guy). 

 

I tried out for the school soccer team. The coach was late the 2nd day, so I organized the other boys and led them through warm-ups. The coach saw that and made me team captain (I was not the best player).  I noticed kids (including Harper) sat in the bleachers to watch practice after school most days--enjoying the fall weather.

When I missed a month of school (December), a rumor started that I'd died.  People were shocked when I returned in January.  As a result of my new openness (and being the subject of a rumor) it seemed everyone at school knew me.

I joined the wrestling team and was made captain.  Oddly, people watched wrestling practice too--peeking through the windows.  Kids at my old school never showed such support for the teams.  That's when things started to get weird.  Or at least that's when the weirdness was pointed out to me.

 

During a break at a school dance (February), the kids all sat on the floor.  Not me--I kneeled (floors are dirty), so I was a little higher up.  As one of the chaperones walked by, she asked if I was someone special. I didn’t understand the question and asked what she meant.  She said every kid in the room was sitting facing me. I looked around and saw she was right.  I wasn’t in the middle of the room, but I seemed to be the center of it.  That was weird.  I asked my friend if kids were watching me.  She laughed.  She said I was popular and kids were always watching me--including at soccer and wrestling practice.  It was the weirdest thing I'd ever heard.  I was amused.  In spring I made the baseball team and, once again, people showed up to watch me practice.  I noticed that my friend was right, people were pretty much always watching me.

 

You know what? It was fun at first, but it started to annoy the hell out of me.  Most of those people didn’t even know me.  How could they like me?  They didn't.  But I was "popular" and that attracts phonies.  And when you have people liking you for no good reason, you end up with people not liking you for no good reason.  Kids got mad at me for being friends with other kids!  Three times I found myself surrounded by gangs of boys wanting to beat me up--some of whom I thought were friends.  A set of twins started telling people that I slept with them (I was 15!!!).  As a result of that lie, some female friends stopped talking to me.  I was shocked when I found out why.  There were other weird goings-on, but this post is too long.

Finally, the last day of school arrived.  When I got on the bus to go home, a group (led by my two homeroom friends) gathered on the sidewalk and started shouting goodbye to me.  As the bus drove off, they ran along-side, waving (some of them crying).  It was nuts.  As the bus made its way back to my neighborhood I thought, “Thank God that’s over. Those people are #$%^#$% crazy!”  I was so happy to be out of there. 

 
That experience helped me realize being popular doesn't mean much--and can be a bad thing.  You can't tell who your friends are.  People want to associate with you even if they don't like you.  And sometimes they don't like you for no reason.  I knew I was better off with a circle of true friends.  Being out-going is good, but it's good to know when to pull back too. 
The experience helped me realize that others being popular is also pretty meaningless.  My "school misfit" friend was a nice guy.  Why should I have cared what other people thought of him?  Or anything?  After my experiment I found I had no interest in the "in" crowd.  They were no better than anyone else.  I didn't care what they thought, wore, etc.

I learned to go my own way. 


There was a downside.  Everyone peaks at different times.  We usually feel bad for the poor souls who peak in high school.  But I peaked in junior high!!!  :D

It Started in Homeroom - Part I

Long, long ago in a place far, far away…I had what may have been my weirdest experience.  I've been saving the story, thinking I might make it my final blog post some day.  But you're not that lucky.  I'm not retiring yet.  I just decided it wasn't worth saving.  :)

When I was in the 8th grade, the local school board changed the boundary lines for the junior high schools.  The new boundary line went right by my parent's house.  All of my close friends were on the other side of the line—I was literally on the wrong side of the railroad tracks.  So in the middle of the 8th grade I headed off, essentially alone, to a different school in another part of the county. 

It turned out to be a wonderful gift.  First, none of the new teachers knew my 5 older siblings.  I had a clean slate--and got better grades, except in French*.   Second, it was a great experience being dropped into a different (and sometimes hostile) environment on my own.   And it gave me an opportunity to conduct an experiment.  I knew I would never see most of those classmates again (I'd be back at the local high school in 10th grade), so at the start of the next year (9th grade) I decided to be more outgoing and talk to more people…see what happened.  I’d been pretty reserved up to that point.  If I made a fool of myself with the new approach, so what???  

The experiment started in homeroom on the 1^st day of school. 

To be continued...

*  I'd been a B+ student in French at the old school, but the new one used a different book and the teacher spoke very differently--I couldn't understand a thing she said.  Also, my new French teacher had a mean streak and often belittled her students.  After a month in her class I was fed up with her behavior.  So when she said, "Mr. Ricademus, I'm getting gray hair waiting for your answer" I responded with a very cold, "I can see that, but I don't think you can blame it on me."  That was the 1st time I was less than respectful to a teacher. 

Thanksgiving Surprise

I'm going to skip another annual classic--the story about the first Thanksgiving dinner I ever cooked (for my future in-laws)--the message was don't stress about the food, it's the company that counts (even in Texas).  Instead, this year I'm remembering a different Thanksgiving.  A year that I was particularly thankful--I think I was 8.


My mom wasn't feeling well that November and that usually meant I would get shipped off to my grandmother's house.  And I was.  "Shipped" is just an expression--she only lived 80 yards away.  The 2 bedroom apartment behind her little grocery store was tiny, but cozy.  I didn't mind being there, but I didn't like being sent away, if that makes sense.  I wanted to be with my family for Thanksgiving.


This is where the surprise comes in.  My parents and siblings had Thanksgiving dinner with me at my grandmother's.  I know that sounds like a normal thing--but, again, grandma's apartment was tiny (teeny, tiny).  We never had family gatherings there.  Never, except for that once.


Because it was so small, the three adults ate at the kitchen table and the kids scattered in the store.  Two of my sisters sat at the counter on stools to eat their dinner.  I hopped up on the ancient Coke box (I have a picture of a similar cooler, but it won't upload).   My two brothers shared the large, flat freezer.


It was odd, but memorable.  We were all together and I was thankful for that.


What am I thankful for today?  Like every day, I am thankful for my immediate family and good friends--especially the very special people I've met through blogging.  I appreciate the chance to know you and share a small part of your lives--and the chance to way over-share about my life.  :)


Thank you! 


PS - Let the Christmas music begin!!!

"You shouldn't do something... II

...just because someone tells you to!"

In my last post I explained the memorable way in which my dad taught me this lesson.  A few times my dad regretted teaching me so well.  I almost always did what needed to be done. I went on SWAT maneuvers with him, stood on tree branches (far off the ground) while sawing off the tops of trees (with no rope, no protection), and listened when he explained the best way to get a German Shepherd to go for my throat--I never put that one into practice.  :)

But there were a few things that were just too far outside my comfort zone-- DELETED


PS - This isn't a great post, just a few weird examples of the oddball stuff I did (and didn't do) as a kid. But it may be related to a question my daughter asked me this week. She heard me talking about a task that was going to be quite a physical challenge.  

Her question was, "Why do you always just assume you're going to be able to do these things???"  (my wife and I both laughed, but I'm not exactly sure why).

In answer to her question, maybe I'm an optimist.  Maybe I'm delusional.  Or maybe my dad's odd projects helped me learn what I can and can't do (along with what I will and won't).  I probably should have pushed my kids harder when they were little so my daughter would know which one of the three possibilities is true.  :D

Note: I deleted most of this post because it was too "blah, blah, blah". But the first paragraph isn't awful and I like the PS, so I left them in.

"You shouldn't do something...

...just because someone tells you to!"

My dad taught me that lesson well.  Here's how you do it...

When I was 10 I helped my dad work on a lawnmower.  It was my grandfather's old riding lawnmower.  Dad removed the spark plug and looked at it as I pulled the rope.  I didn't know why he was doing that.  How could the mower start if the spark plug wasn't in the little hole???

After I'd pulled the rope many times, dad wanted to switch places with me.  He said "Hold this" and went to pull the rope.  What happened next set me free, in a way.  When my dad lightly pulled on the rope, my left side exploded in pain.  I jumped (or was thrown) back from the mower.  I felt like I'd been shot in the left elbow and shoulder.  As I rolled in the grass, I heard my dad chuckling.  Then he said, “Now I know the spark plug is getting power and you know not to grab a spark plug wire. That could kill you.” Through gritted teeth I said, “But you told me to!”  Dad shook his head and said, “You shouldn’t do something just because someone tells you to.”

Those words made perfect sense!  Why should I do something just because someone tells me to???  Of course I shouldn't!  Learning that lesson helped me a LOT--especially during the teen years.  It allowed me to laugh at peer pressure--which doesn't mean I didn't do dumb things.  It just means I only did the dumb things I wanted to do.  :D

In my next post I'm going to share a story about why my dad later regretted teaching me this lesson so well--BTW, it had nothing to do with how he taught the lesson.  :)


PS - In case you think it was mean for my dad to have me hold that wire: 1) he knew not to pull the cord hard enough to do any damage; and 2) this is a classic, 3 Stooges kind of funny to guys.  Not to me, but to any guy who wasn't holding the wire.  I've shared the story with several friends over the years and each one busted out laughing.  So it's okay if you smiled--and okay if you didn't.

PS II - DO NOT TRY THIS AT HOME!!!  I wasn't hurt because my dad was an experienced mechanic.  To quote him, "That could kill you."

More poetry

If you let me take your heart
I will prove to you
We will never be apart
If I'm part of you

Open up your eyes now
Tell me what you see
It is no surprise now
What you see is me

Big and black the clouds may be
Time will pass away
If you put your trust in me
I'll make bright your day

Look into these eyes now
Tell me what you see
Don't you realise now
What you see is me


What do you think?  Is this one a winner?

I won't be offended it you don't like it.  I'll be shocked, but not offended.  Because I did not write this.  John Lennon and Paul McCartney did.  It's the first half of "Tell Me What You See" (a Beatles' song). 

It goes really well with music.  :)

Did you hear that???

I'm skipping the annual gun/girl Halloween story and instead re-sharing a different tale.

One October afternoon I went with my dad and brother to do chores on my dad's family's farm. We went after finishing chores at our house, so it was late afternoon. I think I was 10.

We took our beagles along to let them run in the woods (chase rabbits). When we were done, the dogs were NOT done.   They ignored us when we called them. In a move that completely shocked me, my dad decided to leave them there.  We went home, had dinner, and then headed back to the farm. It was well after dark.  I'll skip the details of how we got the dogs.  But it did amaze me that somehow my dad knew just where to wait to head them off (as they chased a rabbit).  The two dogs were pretty surprised when we popped up.

Within minutes we had them in the very back of my mom's station wagon, which was parked right next to the farmhouse. The ancient (Civil War-era) two-story house on the farm was abandoned at that point. Local kids shot holes in the roof years before and the house was beyond saving. It stood there, completely dark and spooky looking.

Guess what? The station wagon wouldn't start. The battery suddenly was very dead.

My dad walked to a nearby uncle's house for help. We (my brother, me, the beagles) stayed in the car. I'm not sure if we waited there a long time or if time was just passing slowly. But it seemed as if my dad was gone a VERY long time.

As I sat there, I heard something familiar. It was the faint sound of sawing. Where could it be coming from? My brother asked if I heard it. We agreed the sound was coming from the house. The abandoned house!!! It got louder. We pretended it was nothing.  But soon we could hear hammering along with the sawing. Something terrible was going on inside that house. I told my brother we needed to do something (not sure if I meant investigate or run). He did something. He jumped into the back of the station wagon with the beagles. They would save him!

Suddenly, all was quiet. But as we listened, the sawing started up again. This time my brother could tell where the sound was really coming from.  It was the sound of the dogs wagging their tails. A slight wag made a "sawing" sound across the carpet and an excited wag made the dogs' tails thump against the side of the wagon--making a "hammering" sound.

I shared the story with my dad that night, which upset my brother. Since he was older and tried to hide behind the dogs, I suppose he was embarrassed. But not me!!! I'm happy to share an almost-ghost story to go along with my real ones.

Haappy Halloween!!!

Eek the Cat was wrong...

Despite what Eek said ("It never hurts to help."), sometimes it DOES hurt to help. 

I have a co-worker who annoys me a lot.  I don't like her.  Never have.  It's the lady who showed me how smart she was by explaining (3 times) why she buys value meals instead of getting the items ala carte.  It's because the value meals are less expensive than buying the items individually.  Who would have guessed?  That's actually not an example of why she annoys me.  It's her attitude towards her work.  She does the minimum, interrupts people (with dumb stories) who are trying to work and wants to be praised for it.  The result is I have no patience for her. 

Anyway, a few years ago her mom passed away.  She and her mom lived together and shared expenses.  So in addition to dealing with the loss of her mom, she started having money problems (which were resolved once her mom's estate was closed, but that took time).  I felt like I should do something to help--anonymously.  So late one evening after everyone was gone, I slipped money into an envelope and put it under her keyboard.

You know from the first paragraph that she's not the brightest person.  But she is...I'm not sure what to call it...cunning?  No.  But somehow she knew the money was from me and not from the office in general.  She thanked me, but I denied it and I know I didn't even show a hint of acknowledgement that she was right.  It shouldn't have mattered either way.  But it did. 

Over the next few months she came to me three times with tales of woe about needing money for this or that.  That would be fine, but she also gave me that look of expectation.  That she was telling me so I would give her money.  I did not.  I only gave her advice.  The first two times she left looking disappointed.  The 3rd time it happened she gave me a dirty look when she realized no money would be changing hands. 

That made me mad...and made me not want to help people. 

For about a week.  Then I got over it.  We're supposed to help people.  But that doesn't have to include people who annoy us, right?  Right??? 

Grocery Shopping Evolution

I have no good ideas for a post!  But I have spent a lot of time in grocery stores lately.  So much that I've noticed my past, my present and my future in the other shoppers--and their approach to grocery shopping. 

No cart:  Teenagers, running in to grab one item for their parents (or party supplies); Men who think they can carry 12 items

Hand-held basket:  College kids; Early career folks; Men who think 12 items will fit

Mini-cart: Elderly retirees; Men who refuse to get a full-size cart for 12 items

Full-sized cart:  People who cook; Parents with one small child; Men who finally wised-up

Two full-sized carts:  Tired parents (who may or may not cook) with multiple children; Human members of dog packs

Back down to one full-sized cart:  Parents waiting for their kids to move out


This post is mostly nonsense--I've probably done all of the above (except use 2 carts) over the past few months.  But I really can see the evolution of my life in the store.  I used to be the guy who thought he didn't need a cart.  Someday I will be the little old man pushing the mini-cart through the store every other day, browsing everything, trying to talk to people.  If you have a moment to spare, say "hi" when we're in the same aisle.  :)

Hopefully I won't be the homeless guy trying to walk away with a cart.

I've been spending way too much time in grocery stores!!!

You're A Poet, But Don't Show It!

I never considered attempting to write anything meaningful, much less poetry, until a buddy asked for help when he suffered a broken heart. We were 18. He had it bad for a girl we worked with. She had a boyfriend (who was a jerk). My friend was giving up, but he wanted to send her flowers and a poem for her birthday. He couldn't come up with anything and asked me for help. I thought about what he was feeling and wrote this:

The flowers are to let you know
Just exactly how I feel.
About a love I can never show
And a heart I can never steal.

It was bad, but it did get him a pity date.  Really, he was too good for her.

The main reason I remember it is because at the time I thought, "Hmmm, I might be able to use this myself someday."  But the opportunity never arose.  Since then I've mostly avoided writing poetry.  Until...

Rooth challenged readers
"Compose a haiku or two"
Embarrassed myself

Or did she just share some and I took it as a challenge?  No, no, I'm pretty sure she invited others to join in.  I think I wrote two: one defending men and the other slamming them--I like to explore both sides of an issue.


PS - Of course my friend wasn't really giving up.  That's just something guys say when they decide to make a grand gesture after months of failure.  DO NOT BE FOOLED!  :D

PS ll - The title was inspired by a childhood taunt, "You're a poet and don't know it, but your feet sure show it.  They're Loooongfellows!"

A New Danger

Well, not so new.  This happened to me in 2010...and I blogged about it.  But thanks to an almost complete turnover of blog friends, I can share it again.  I learned about a certain danger the hard way.

It wasn't a disease or virus.  It was a special breed of women.  Unaware of the danger, I entered their lair--the hardware store!  That's right, I came face-to-face with women who (according to my wife) inhabit hardware stores on Saturday nights.  They don't care about looks or charm or money or finding a soulmate. They don't seem to care if the guy is married. They're just looking for a man who knows the difference between a flush valve and a fill valve, can replace a failed light switch, clear a clogged drain, etc. 

It was to be a quick trip.  I only needed a few items--and I always like to browse the flashlights. To make a long story short, two women took turns browsing whatever aisle I was in and standing right in front of what I was looking at--they showed up even when I doubled back (twice) to aisles they had already been in. Separately, they kept making small talk about how they didn't really know what they were doing and how nice it would be to have someone help them because they're just girls and have no idea how toggle bolts work (or something like that).

I was so annoyed I left without even looking at the flashlights (that's like a shoe girl not looking at shoes). I told my wife about it when I got home and she laughed (and laughed). She said they were trying to pick me up.  I told her that was crazy, they just wanted help with home repairs. But she insisted this is a real thing, there are women that figure a guy who can fix things around the house is a good catch and they hope to find one in hardware stores on a Friday or Saturday night.

Is that true? Have you ever heard of such a thing???


PS - As stated above, these ladies don't care about looks, charm or money.  So it makes sense they were talking to me.  :D 

Tommy (my gray cat)

I wrote this story quite some time ago, but decided not to share it.  I was reminded of it when my puppy got sick recently and, well...here's Tommy's story: 

When I was growing up, my parents had a gray cat, Tommy (he looked a lot like Kristie's cat).  He was a sweet cat and a hero (he saved my mom from a snake).  One Saturday when I was 12 (maybe 13) he came home badly hurt.  The fur over his left eye and on his cheek was torn and bleeding.  Fur was missing from bottom half of his tail and his left hip was very badly injured.  My dad didn’t believe in taking pets to a vet.  If one got injured, he put it out of its misery (his farm upbringing?).  My brothers and I (usually me) had the job of digging a grave in the woods—this had happened before.  I’d argued in the past to take the pets to a vet, but dad said no.  I had no money and no options.

 

I dug the grave and carried Tommy into the woods.  I fed him leftover tuna while I waited for my dad.  Then I would leave—I never watched.  But this time it was going to be different.  Dad loaded his .22 rifle and handed it to me.  He explained that doing what needs to be done is hard sometimes, but it still needs to be done—you can’t wait around hoping someone else will take care of it.  He gave me a choice:  let my pet die a slow, painful death or put him out of his misery. 

Dad showed me where to aim to make it painless and then he left.  Supposedly there are always alternatives, but I didn't see any.  I couldn’t let Tommy suffer.  I talked with him for a minute and rubbed his back (hopefully where it didn’t hurt).  Then I stood up, aimed, and...I shot my cat.  

It was worse than I’d imagined.  He didn’t die quietly.  His body thrashed about like he was being electrocuted.  It was awful. I buried Tommy and gave the gun back to my father.  I told him about the thrashing—I was afraid I’d botched it and caused the cat even more pain.  But dad assured me that was normal.  (Normal!)  Supposedly the cat didn’t feel anything. 

This story should end with a lesson, but I'm not sure what it is.  Always do the best you can (under the circumstances) to keep your pets from suffering???  I'm going with that one.  In fact, I know that's what my dad was doing, in his way. 


PS - Taking a pet to the vet to be put to sleep is difficult.  It's always very sad.  But in there with the sadness, a part of me is thankful I don't have to do it myself, thankful the vet is there, thankful I can afford the vet. 

Domestic Violence

I have a story.

But first I am going to pile on and comment on the Ray Rice situation.  It's sickening.  But for more reasons than the news outlets are reporting (at least the reports I've seen).  Months ago (February?), it was reported that he had knocked his fiancee out cold in an elevator.  Legally and professionally he received a slap on the wrist.  Until a video of the incident was released.  Then things hit the fan.

Why did it take a video?  What do people think it looks like when a football player clocks a woman (or anyone)?  The video was no more disturbing than the story.  Is there no justice for domestic abuse victims without a video???  Second, the talking heads on TV talk as if they know the GF/wife is a victim of long-term abuse.  They can tell because she "fits the profile."  That's BS--they don't "know" anything.  She also fits the profile of a spouse trying to protect the family income stream.  I'm not defending the guy, but there's no excuse for making assumptions and treating them as facts. 

My story:  As a teenager I gestered with my hands more than I do now--especially when I was annoyed.  One evening I had a fairly animated discussion with my GF in her parent's basement.  She was sitting on their dryer and I was standing in front of her.  At some point her oldest sister came down the basement steps and, from the viewing angle of the stairs, thought I struck my GF.  I did not (I promise, I've never done anything like that).  Several days later my GF told me what happened, that her sister thought I hit her.  She thought it was funny.  I did not.  1) I didn't get a chance to defend myself against the false accusation.  2) Why didn't the sister confront me?  Or tell her father so he could defend his daughter?  She thought I hit her sister and just walked away???

Maybe it worked out better for me that she didn't sing her accusation from the rooftop, but...

Chemistry

Before I got lucky and met my wife, I had mixed experiences with the opposite sex. 

Some girls I liked saw me as just a friend.
Some girls who liked me, I saw just as friends.
Some mutual attractions ended horribly.
Some mutual attractions ended amicably (but their friends got mad).

All pretty typical stuff (except, perhaps, for the friends yelling at me?).

At one point, after a weird sequence of events, I started running into the "prettiest girl in school" almost everywhere I went--no, I wasn't stalking her!  (I put that in quotes because while I remember her resembling a teenage Brittany Spears, she may have looked more like a Brittany Spaniel--who knows with teenage boys!)  And suddenly she wanted to talk to me.  I was pretty sure we had chemistry. 

We flirted a little. I think. She was very, very pretty (to me), so I may have misinterpreted.  But I quickly realized I really didn't enjoy spending time with her.  I didn't like her personality.  She was more than a little stuck on herself and her sense of humor centered mostly on putting down others.  One day I bumped into her at my grandmother's store.  We chatted for a minute and then she said something like, "I'm not sure if you're my type or not."  She said it teasingly, but it gave me a perfect opening to put an end to our...whatever it was.  I laughed and said, "Trust me, I'm not your type."  Then I turned and walked away.  I never spoke to her again.  She was shiny, but not the one for me.

Years later I saw her at one of my son's back-to-school nights.  She gave me the stink eye.  At that moment I thought about how lucky I was that I didn't waste any time on her.  Thanks to that I was unattached when I met my wife a few months later.  It's funny how things work out. 

Why did I share this story?  I'm not 100% sure why I share any of them.  But in this case it's just as a reminder that we need to get to know people before we build them up in our minds as something special OR dismiss them as not worth our time.  People have a way of surprising you.

Let yourself be surprised--but always in a safe, well lit place with lots of other people around.  :D


PS - Brittany Spaniel is a dog breed. 

"What did he do???"

What he did was have flowers delivered to his wife at her office.

 

And that brought out all the cynics. 

 

"What did he do?"
"Is he in trouble?"
"Did he forget an anniversary?"

 

Nothing.  No.  And no.

Sometimes it's just because.

Don't be a cynic.

Well, don't always be a cynic--sometimes you just can't help it. 
Sometimes I can't help it.  :)

Happy Thursday!  Have a great weekend.

 

 

Old post getting traffic???

A really old post of mine, "It's the fuzz!  Or is it???" has been getting a lot of traffic this week.  I'm not sure why.  Do people want to read about one of the dumbest things I've done?  Or are people googling "the fuzz"???  Regardless, I've decided to re-post it.  It took place this time of year, so the timing is appropriate.  Here goes: 

I was driving my girl home one night after a date. We were 18. Like me, she lived in a somewhat secluded area…no street lights and lots of room between houses. As I made the turn into her neighborhood, police lights started to flash behind us. I stopped.

The light from my brakes allowed me to get somewhat of a look at the car behind me.  It didn't look like a police car—not even an unmarked one. I got suspicious, but wasn’t sure. I didn’t want to sit there and wait for a maniac to walk up to the car. I also didn’t want to drive off, leading that maniac to my GF's house—or have it appear I was running from the police. What to do??? I came up with an idea (a terrible one). Like my father, I kept a baseball bat (and tools, a snow shovel, a blanket, etc) in my car, just in case. You never know what you’ll need!!!

I grabbed the bat and told my GF to get in the driver’s seat, keep the doors locked, and keep an eye on me in the mirror. If it was not a policeman, she should drive someplace safe. (Why didn’t I just do that?) Anyway, I got out of the car and walked at an angle towards the middle of the road and back towards the “police” car. I didn’t want to get too close to it. Soon I could see there were three guys in the car, but not their faces.

Me: Is there a problem officer?
Guys in car: What are you doing with that bat?
Me: It depends if you’re policemen or not.
Guys in car: {lots of laughter}

Then they turned on the car’s interior light and I could see a friend sitting in the back seat. He was out with two guys (who had a flashing light for some reason???) and convinced them to play a little joke when he spotted my car. We chatted for a few minutes. Before I left I told them they were lucky my dad wasn't driving my car, he would have shot them. He would NOT have done that, but I wanted to give them something to think about before they considered playing that potentially dangerous joke again.

Moral of the story: I got lucky. I never, never, NEVER should have gotten out of the car. I should have done what I wanted my GF to do—drive to a well lit, populated area. I hope none of you are ever in that position. But if you are, don’t get out of the car—even if you do have a baseball bat. =)

The "real" thing!

There can be only one.

That was true in the Highlander and it applies to other things as well.  In this case I'm talking about tea--which is shocking to me.  I'm not really a tea drinker. 

Of course, there are many different types of tea.  But I've discovered that for me there is only one "real" tea.  Red Rose (original black tea).  My parents and grandparents drank Red Rose.  When I had iced tea as a child (which was every day during the summer), it was Red Rose.  When I needed a hot tea bag to hold over an eye, it was Red Rose.  When I had to make...well, you get the picture.

I had a cup of Red Rose recently, for the first time in many years.  It was oddly satisfying.  The taste brought back a lot of memories.  It tasted like home.  I've tried lots of different brands and varieties over the years (while treating sore throats, colds, etc.).   Some were better than others.  But Red Rose is the one.  I'm glad I found that out.  I may be a tea drinker yet.  :)


PS - I never imagined that tea could ever inspire me to write a blog post.  Ever.

Childhood Summer Vacations

During my youth, my dad usually took a one week summer vacation each year.  The first weekend we might have a picnic by the creek on his family farm.  Or maybe go to a carnival.  On Monday we'd go to a beach on the Chesapeake Bay--aunts and uncles and cousins were usually there too.  That's where my dad tried to teach me to swim (I sank instead--but I did learn to swim later).  Those first 3 days of his vacations were usually fun.

The rest of the week felt something like this:

    You load sixteen tons, what do you get

    Another day older and deeper in debt
    Saint Peter don't you call me 'cause I can't go
    I owe my soul to the company store
   (because I got no allowance :)

The lyrics are from the song "16 Tons".  I'm being a little melodramatic here, but only a little.  The rest of the week was taken up by one physically demanding project or another.  There was lots of digging and sawing and hauling.  One year we dug a trench (down past the basement to install drainage tiles) all the way around our house.  Another year we built a 2-car car port.  We dug shallow drainage ditches all around the edges of the property.  Shingled the house roof.  Built a shed.  Built another shed.  Every year (usually twice a year) we did pick and shovel work to smooth out the dirt road that connected our little neighborhood to the county road....hauling gravel where it was needed. 

 

That was in addition to the regular chores.  We did chores year round, but the work really ramped up during my dad's summer vacation.  If I could go back and skip all of that, I wouldn't.  I can't say it was fun, but it was educational.  Plus, we accomplished a lot with our own hands and that's always a nice feeling.


I need to be a better dad--by working my kids much harder, so they can have that nice feeling too!  :)

 

 

Summer Memory

Hopefully we all have nice memories of past summers, happy times with family and friends.  I found myself reminiscing this morning about one of those times.

As I've mentioned, my grandmother ran a tiny grocery store in our neighborhood.  One summer we had a long power outage.  She bought dry ice in an attempt to save her frozen items.  But eventually she realized it was a lost cause.  Sounds bad, right?  And it may have been for her (I hope she had insurance).  But for the neighborhood kids it was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.  My grandmother was giving away ice cream!!!

We could have whatever we wanted.  The ice cream-on-a-stick selections were too far gone at that point.  So we each took a half gallon.  Chocolate chip was my favorite at the time, so I chose that.  I joined the neighborhood kids standing out in the grass, eating our huge containers of ice cream with those little wooden spoons. 

That was FUN!  And messy.  Messier than the times we ate fresh-cut watermelon outside in the yard--spitting seeds at each other.  Boys!

I hope we all have some messy fun before summer ends.  Maybe this weekend.

Have a great weekend folks!

Food poisoning!

That's what happened to me.  Or I had a bad stomach bug (there is one going around DC).  It was definitely one of those two things.  It was the worst stomach "thing" I've had since the time I got sick in NYC and ended up evading security officers. 

That's a story for another day.  Today I'm just whining about having been sick.

Whatever it was, it knocked me off my feet for 3 days and I didn't feel normal for close to 2 weeks.  On the bright side, I couldn't eat much on July 4th.  That saved me a few calories.

But I really like our traditional cookout food:  grilled hot dogs, hamburgers, boneless chicken and, this year, cedar plank salmon; potato salad; cole slaw; cucumber salad; fresh tomatoes; baked beans (with lots of bacon and a little mustard). 

And brownies and strawberry cake.

Oh well, there's always next year.

Did I miss anything while I was away?  Is your summer off to a better start than mine???

What about the dad??? II

Several years ago I wrote a post on the fact that my dog, Bandit, out-ranked me in the family--and got WAY more attention.  Bandit was a great dog--handsome, sweet, loyal.  A really great dog.  He passed away last fall.  After giving the kids time to grieve, we got a new puppy this spring--another Border Collie.  We named her Maggie.

She's a terror.  She's much more stubborn and challenging than Bandit was as a puppy.  And trickier.  My wife (not me) says it's because she's a female.  When we get her to stop gnawing on the furniture or rug, she'll take one of her many toys to that spot and start chewing on it instead.  Within 30 seconds the toy becomes a decoy as she starts chewing on the furniture (or rug) again.  I'm pretty sure it works for her whenever I'm not home.

Despite her issues, she has already come to out-rank me in the family.

After one of her more challenging days, I wondered if it would be ethical to give her away as a rescue dog--I'm not doing it, she's part of the family and I know she'll grow out of this phase.  It was just a (pleasant) thought.  Anyway, rescue dogs can be difficult to get.  We applied for one, but there was too much competition.  Little Maggie would be scooped up in a second.

As that thought was rolling around in my head, I thought, "I'M the one who needs to be rescued!"  That makes me a "rescue dad".  So I tweeted out what I thought was a funny ad:  "Rescue dad free to good home.  Has all his shots.  Sweet disposition, but doesn't always play well with others."

I didn't get a single taker.  Dogs have all the luck!


PS - Maggie was born on my birthday.  I'll be lucky to even get a card from now on.  :D

Can't Always Get What We Want

I want this today:

It's a Piña Colada cake I made well over a year ago.  Rooth gave me the recipe.  It was soooo good!  I made it myself, then did what I do best with receipes--I lost it.  That was the first (and last) time I ever made whipped cream.  I thought that stuff came from factories.

You can tell from the distribution of the coconut that I planned to share the cake.  I like coconut and toasted coconut, so I devoted sections of the cake to both.  No one else in my family likes either, so I left an entire half of the cake bare.  Half the cake for me, half for the rest of the family.

That's sharing, right???  :D


PS - I kept burning the "toasted" coconut.  What you see in the picture was my 3rd batch.  I gave up after that. 

Internal Narratives - Part II

I mentioned in the first half of this story that my wife and I continued to help her parents as we started building our own family.  We were both working and I was going to school at night.  She got laid off just before our daughter was born.  The timing was perfect.  Eight months later the company brought her back part-time, then laid her off again just before our son was born.  Good timing again.


Our son had special needs and needed a stay-at-home parent.  So my wife getting laid off wasn't a bad thing.  I changed jobs and started working longer hours.  Within 2 years I was offered a job that would require absolutely crazy hours.  As I considered my options, we discovered our son needed a combination of speech and physical therapy five days a week.  It was not covered by our health insurance...and 20 therapy sessions a month was going to be expensive.  I took the job.


As a result, my wife had to take over managing our bills.  I was so disconnected from our finances I only looked at our bank balances at tax time.  I noticed the balance in our savings account was lower than the year before.  My wife's explanation didn't sound right, but I had no reason to doubt her.  We agreed neither of us would touch the savings account without talking about it first.  We repeated that scene/conversation 3 years in a row.


After the 4th year I changed jobs and didn't work such long hours.  I planned to take over managing our bills again.  My wife asked me to wait 6 months so she could get everything organized.  I agreed.  When I brought it up in 6 months she said she thought I was kidding and needed 6 months to get things organized.  I got mad.


I 'd worked out several budget scenarios, trying to figure out where our money went.  Every calculation showed we should have been adding to our savings instead of eating into it.  Based on the variance, I thought she might have been making double mortgage payments each month.  She wasn't.  I'd hoped she was spending it on her parents.  She said she wasn't.


She was (but, technically, I didn't know that).


She felt weird about the money she spent on them because she wasn't "working" (she was working harder than I was).  She thought I would get mad...maybe mad enough to leave her.  That was the false narrative that existed just in her head.  We'd been helping her parents pretty much always.  I didn't mind that.


But I developed a narrative in my head too.  I felt I'd spent years working 100 hour weeks for nothing.  My wife was lying to me.  Which meant she didn't respect me.  Which meant she didn't love me.  I was being dumb.  "Technically" I didn't know she had spent the money on her parents.  But I knew my wife and, in my heart, I had to know the money was going towards them.  My head was being stubborn and wouldn't let me see that.  (When people ask what one thing I would go back and change, I think about this situation.  I would change how I reacted.)


The false narrative in my wife's mind, combined with the warped logic of my burned-out brain, almost caused the very thing she feared.  It was kind of ridiculous, but I'm afraid it happens to couples fairly often.  Some "thing" that's not even really a "thing" tears them apart.


We eventually had an honest conversation about this and we were able to work through everything.  It wasn't easy.  But the fact that we did is proof (to me) that people can get through almost anything if they are committed and communicate with each other.


Never assume a "thing" is really a "thing" without talking about it with your spouse, partner, friend, co-worker, whoever.  You could be causing yourself unnecessary aggravation and creating a problem out of nothing.  Talk about whatever it is.  Even if you're right, it's still better to talk about it.  "Things" rarely go away by themselves.

Internal Narratives

Two weeks ago Rooth and I were talking about the narratives people develop in their heads (not us, other people :), how they guide so much of our behavior and how we feel about certain situations.  That gave me an idea for a post on a false narrative, but first I have to provide some background...

During my senior year in high school, my mom got my future wife an after school job with her company. Just before we graduated, my future FIL had to stop working for health reasons. Thanks to disability insurance the family was okay. Then the government decided he wasn't disabled and money got really tight. My future MIL was too proud to let anyone know they couldn't get by on her salary alone and FAR too proud to accept any help. (That's it for the use of "future".)

But she fell asleep early every night.

So instead of going to the movies on Friday nights, my GF and I took turns buying groceries and then slipped the food into their house while the MIL slept. One week she caught us. She was wasn't happy. "No one asked you to do that!" I smiled and told her I didn't know what she was talking about, the food was for me. A small (bald-faced) lie to ease her pride. We kept pitching in. I'm sure she knew.

Within a year the situation stablized and I started college in the fall.

Before Thanksgiving that year my MIL was diagnosed with a brain tumor and rushed into surgery. Two surgeries later she was left unable to function. Her motor skills were destroyed and she had trouble talking. My FIL couldn't work, but he could take care of his wife. He did everything for her (EVERYthing!). But he had no idea how to deal with doctors, insurance companies, banks, utilities, etc. His wife had handled all of that. He didn't know how to write a check (which was a bigger deal back then versus today). My GF stepped up and handled most of that for her dad. I helped by organizing the finances and getting a job (and becoming Dr. Rick for their minor ailments).

That job my mom helped my GF get in high school turned out to be a major stroke of luck. It became a full-time job and the couple that ran the business provided a not-so-small miracle. Their son-in-law was a political big-shot. It took a long time (every day my FIL would ask if we had any news--it was stressful, on top of the stress related to the MIL's condition), but the politician was able to get my FIL's disability status restored. He started receiving payments again. It was barely enough to live on, but we kept helping out and money became less of a problem. 

That hasn't changed.  As my wife and I started building our family, we continued to help her parents.  It's just her dad now.  The point of all of this is that I've been on-board with helping my in-laws since before they were my in-laws.  It's the norm.  But that didn't keep my wife from causing herself (and me) grief and stress because of a faulty narrative. 

I'll share the "narrative" problem in the next post.

The Weakest Link

Over the years I have had a number of my comments disappear.  I'd wonder if whatever I wrote was somehow offensive (we're all different, so it's possible).  Did the blogger not want the comment on his/her blog?  Was I supposed to enter a captcha, but didn't? 

Closing a window without noticing a captcha was required accounted for a small number of the missing comments--usually on nights I was really tired.  But what happened to the others???

I found the answer over the weekend (I think).  I was commenting on blogs and Instagram using my iPod.  When I went back to check, none of my comments were showing up.  I believe the cause was a very weak wi-fi connection (I was at the opposite end of the house from the router).  The upload was really slow and I was too quick to close/change pages.

Or you folks are deleting my comments. 

Don't tell me if you are...like Linus (Charlie Brown), I don't want to know.  :D

Happy Mon....Tuesday!

Making a Contribution

Several times I've come up with what I thought were new ideas, only to discover someone else already had (and publicized) the ideas.  For example, I thought I invented the Paleo Diet.  But it had already existed for decades.

Now I've come up with something I think might actually be original. 

Next weekend we're going to have a sale (to get rid of some junk) at our house.  It's not really an estate sale, but it will be more than a yard sale or garage sale.  I suggested we call it a "Hoarder's Sale."  I won't say who the hoarder is (but it's not me).

So, that's my contribution to the world....hoarder's sale.  Well, that and my wonderful kids, of course.  :)

Happy weekend folks--and a happy 3 day weekend to my US friends!

Meeting the In-Laws

My friend Kristie recently blogged about the first time she met her in-laws.  That inspired me to do the same.  Unfortunately my experience doesn't make for quite as good a story...but here goes.


As I've mentioned too often, my wife and I started "dating" when we were 15.  The "dating" consisted of holding hands in school and meeting at the roller skating rink on Friday nights.  Being teenagers, neither of us mentioned anything to our respective parents.  Her younger sister ratted us out and her parents wanted to meet "that boy."  They were angry.

My parents worried she might distract me from school.  They didn't know she was girlfriend #5.  I didn't share much.  I wouldn't have told them about "this one," but I needed a ride.  I had an invitation to a New Year's day dinner that I couldn't refuse.

I also had hair down to my shoulders--every parent's dream for their daughters.  I'd met my future father-in-law once, before the "dating" started.  He had a reputation for being surly and he was huge.  But, like most parents, he liked me (for some reason, despite the hair).  That was before I started dating his daughter.  Before he was mad she had a boyfriend.  Before he wanted to meet "that boy.

On New Year's I was prepared to enter a hostile environment and remain polite.  That was important when they served dinner.  Their food was weird!  My wife asked if I wanted potato salad.  I said yes, but didn't see it anywhere.  She started putting yellow mashed potatoes (with little green things in it?) on my plate.  Next she offered green beans and asked if I wanted fatback.  Having never heard of fatback, I said no thank you.  The offer of chow-chow almost broke me--I didn't know that was also the name of a relish!

But there was no hostility.  They had questions, but just the normal questions people ask when getting to know each other.  The only bad thing that happened was my FIL got sick that night after eating oysters a friend had given him.  He had offered them to me, but I declined.  I've always been lucky...and not afraid to say "no thank you."

The visit went really well.  Disturbingly well.  I wondered what was wrong with those people.  They all talked to me and treated me like someone they'd known for a long time.  My siblings (not my parents) kind of snubbed new BFs/GFs (and sometimes spouses) for the first 2 or 3 (or 10) years.  I don't know if they wanted to make sure the person would be sticking around before putting in any effort or if the people had to somehow earn a place in the club.  It was weird (and rude).  But it was what I was used to seeing.

What were my future in-laws up to?  What was their angle???  Looking back, I realize that's just who they were.  They accepted people and treated newcomers well.  They were normal (only in that one way).  And they liked me.  I was "in" right from the start.  Part of the family.

In fact, I was so "in", my future mother-in-law started nailing the door shut behind me.  I had no idea.


PS - My wife really misses the good old days when my siblings didn't talk to her.  LOL

Scarfing down food

Last week Lauren tweeted about a video.  My reactions was, "Oh Lord, it's like looking in a mirror!"  The video can be viewed HERE.
The video is haunting me.  I think it may have captured perfectly what I look like when I eat.  Is it just me?  Do you worry that's what you look like when eating???


Happy Monday!!!  :)

Watch What You Say

I remember seeing an old, English comedy show that did a bit on the confusion that can be caused if we don't say something the right way.  The examples I remember are:

What's in the road ahead?  versus  What's in the road?  A head?

What is this thing called love?  versus   What's this thing called, luv?

Very different meanings.  I think I shared this once before, but it was a long time ago.

I thought about this today because a post by Rooth reminded me of a story--which is almost completely unrelated to the above, except in that we have to be careful what we say.  My brain is making weird associations this week.

Years ago I went though a super busy time at work--worse than anything I've experienced lately (and complained about).  I was working 100 hour weeks.  It caught up to me.  One day I was at my desk, talking on the phone and I nodded off.  (In the middle of a conversation!)  When I jolted awake I didn't know how long I'd been asleep (it was just a few seconds) and didn't know what I had missed in the conversation.  Over the years I learned if I missed something my wife said to me, I wouldn't get in trouble over it if I said "luv you".  It worked in any situation.  So I said it into the phone. 

Then I heard a voice that was not my wife's!!!  And it was saying "I love you too" back to me in a very choked up voice.  My brain exploded when I realized I wasn't talking to my wife (did I mention I was really tired?).  I didn't say anything, but in my head I was shouting, "no, No, NO!!!"  I couldn't take it back.  It was done.  There was nothing I could do about it.  She was a co-worker and a friend.  But I have to admit I was very relieved when she retired and moved to Florida.  And even more relieved when the Valentine's Day cards stopped showing up.  :)


PS - That's the only time I've ever said or written (or even implied) that particular sentiment without meaning it.  I don't need to feel guilty about it...right???

Sitting Outside

Spring is finally here (and not just on the calendar).  We're having really nice weather this week.  I witnessed something related to the weather (sort of) and I want to know how you would have reacted in that situation.

You go to Starbucks with 2 co-workers at 11:15am.  When you get your order, you see that your co-workers are sitting at a table in front of the restaurant next door (Starbucks has no outside tables).  It's such a nice day, you want to sit outside for a while.  Soon two other groups of Starbucks' patrons also settle in at tables.  Of the 8 tables in front of the restaurant, 2 are taken by restaurant customers and 3 by Starbucks' customers.  (This isn't going to be a math test, I'm just setting the scene...and assuming you know how many tables are empty :).

As politely as she can, the restaurant manager tells the coffee drinkers that the tables are reserved for restaurant customers. 

As one of the coffee drinkers, what do you do???

Tag! 30 Random Facts About Me

I was tagged by the kind and lovely Stephanie of Beauty is Not Caused.  Please check out her blog--there are make-up reviews (that don't help me--nothing can help me) and also interesting food/personal posts. 

Since I've over-shared once or twice here, you may know most of this stuff already, but here goes:

1. When you're stuffy, sniffling and sneezing, don't bother telling me you're not contagious.  I won't believe you. 
2. But I will be happy to go to the drugstore for you.
3. And even happier to hand you a tissue so you can blow instead sniff-sniff-sniffling non-stop.  That is so annoying!  
4. I try to focus on tasks and not notice other people's clutter.  But once I notice, it starts to bother me. 
5. I usually fail at not noticing other people's clutter (shiver).
6. When I read The Hobbit and Lord of the Rings in junior high I skipped past ALL of the songs. 
7. I skipped them again when I re-read the books as an adult.
8. When I was born, my dad thought I might become a priest.
9. I was raised Catholic, but am not currently a member of a church. 
10. Despite having strayed, I don't eat meat on Fridays during Lent. 
11. I had a great idea to start my own church.
12. My wife squashed my church idea--now I'll never be a priest.
13. When I was little, I wanted to be the governor of my state. 
14. Later the dream was for my best friend and me to become veterinarians. 
15. The job I am most qualified for is lotto winner.
16. During my very first week of school (ever), a female classmate kissed me.
17. I had to wait over eight years (8 years!!!) for that to happen again.
18. Even though that second kiss made me horribly sick, I decided to be pro-active in trying it again.  (#8 was never going to happen, despite what I wrote in #12)
19. In my youth, I didn't want to get married, have kids or have any commitments, obligations or responsibilities (other than work-related) when I grew up.
20. I got married at 21. 
21. And became a dad at 24. 
22. I'm very lucky that I didn't get what I thought I wanted.
23. Unfortunately I was completely right about taking on work responsibilities.  I do that too quickly.
24. My hair is straight and brown.
25. Back when I had time to spend in the sun and in pools, my hair went blond in the summer.
26. As much as I like Speculoos Cookie Butter (Christmas on a spoon), it gives me indigestion.
27. I wish Nutella did too.  I'm afraid to try the new Hershey brand chocolate spreads.
28. I'm focusing on eating healthy.
29. I try to avoid eating things I wouldn't want to eat the day before a blood test.  That said, Stephanie's favorite pizza topping is pineapple with bacon and I agree, it is the best.
30. Her favorite super hero is Thor--he is one of my favorites too.  Batman is #1 for me, but I'm considering switching to Captain America.  People at work have started calling me that--because I'm kind of an old-fashioned square.  Very un-hipster. 

Hmmm, I had a whole list of ways in which I can be a jerk, but I forgot to include them.  Maybe next time.  :)   Have a great weekend folks!

I Never Get What I Really Want

Is it real estate?  No, that is Lucy’s wish (Charlie Brown Christmas)

 

Actually, I usually do get what I want.  I'm super lucky.  It probably helps that my wants are few.  But this year I wanted something really big and important for my birthday (which was Monday).  I'm happy to say I got it!  The test results after my wife’s surgery were all good--best gift ever!  She’s still sore, but we’re all smiles.  Yay!!!  Due to her weakened condition, I’m winning most of our little disagreements this week.  I know that won’t last very long. 

There was something else I kind of hoped would happen.  There was a slight chance I would get to share my birthday this year with a new arrival.  Two of my friends (Yi-chia and Megan) are expecting baby girls and both are due any day now.  As far as I know they are both still patiently waiting for their girls to arrive.  Why do girls always make us wait???  :D

Happy Friday! 

New Take on a Classic

I want to offer a heat-felt thank you for your support regarding my wife's surgery.  There were a few tense hours beforehand (because...surgery...and also because the ice/snow was bad enough that morning to close everything except the OR) and a few tense hours afterwards (her oxygen level plummeted every time she relaxed).  But she's doing really well now and wanting to do things for me instead of letting me take care of her.  I'm winning the battle so far, but that won't last long.


As part of my thank you, I want to share something I created this week.  Someone else may have done it already, but I came up with it on my own--so it's mine!!!  :)


Have you ever tried a peanut butter and banana sandwich?  I've seen versions where the banana is sliced onto the peanut butter and one where the banana is mashed up/mixed into the peanut butter.  Mine is different--but the picture won't upload, so I'll have to describe it.


Start with a hotdog bun (this one was a potato bread bun), put a banana into it (just like a hotdog), and add peanut butter on top (like relish, mustard or ketchup).


The banana dog!!!  It was delicious!  I'll post the picture on Instagram. 


PS - I'm sure it's been done--everything has been done.  But this time, don't tell me!!!  :D

Busy Sunday...and maybe Monday

Sunday was a pretty full day.  I delivered 240 ponds of salt to my F-I-L (for his well water treatment system), replaced a headlight on my wife's car, replaced a burner on our stove, did battle with the pre-snow storm crowd at the grocery store, took my wife to meet a buyer of trinkets from her eBay site, cleaned out our fridge, and made dinner.


I think we're ready for Monday.  My wife is supposed to have surgery in the morning, but the storm about to hit DC and Baltimore may change that. 


I'm hoping it just rains. **fingers crossed**

"cheap chinawoman"

My friend Kathy frequently refers to herself as a "cheap chinawoman".  From what I can tell, that's a good thing--something my German dad would have LOVED (German and Asian parents seem to have a lot in common, but that's a different post).  My dad was...frugal, let's say he was frugal.  My favorite example involved Christmas tree tinsel.  He had us put it on the tree one strand at a time.  The cheap came into play when it was time to take the tree down.  He had us take the tinsel off one strand at a time so we could neatly put it back into its package and re-use it the next year.  We used the same 2 packages of tinsel every year throughout my childhood.  Now that's che...frugal, let's say that was frugal.  :)

Kathy has also shared posts on her bout with depression.  She has been very open in hopes that her story might help others.  Those posts resonated with me.  I haven't battled depression myself (I'm more of a carrier), but my mom struggled through two bouts of it--the second hitting close on the heels of her recovery from the first.  Last July I shared the story of her first depression.  In my next few posts I'd like to share the story of what sparked the second--the setting was a huge snowstorm.  I think it's an interesting story--and honestly, I only think a few of my stories are interesting (but I have to post something!!!).  :D

Hope you have a great weekend (with no snow)! 

Fashion Blogger

After sharing a picture of my extreme cold weather hat, scarf and gloves, my friend rooth jokingly dubbed me a fashion blogger.  So I HAVE to do a fashion post (sort of).  Should I share tips on how to style something?  I have no tips.  Comment on current fashion trends?  Hahaha, no! 

Instead, I'm going to predict what people will be wearing next season.  Well, what I hope to be wearing...what I wish I could wear now--my swim trunks!  It's terribly cold now, but in six months I'll be lounging by the pool, enjoying the heat.

I'm going to pretend I'm doing that now!  :)

Ruined Pumpkin

I just threw out my Halloween jack-o-lantern!  It and the Christmas tree were both hauled away on the same morning this week.

We didn't carve a pumpkin last Halloween.  My son drew a face on it instead...and we decided that as long as it stayed in good shape, we would leave it on the front porch.  Everyone loves jack-o-lanterns,  Right?

That demonstrates something about pumpkins (butternut squash, sweet potatoes, etc.).  As long as you keep them in a dry, cool (not cold) place, they'll keep for months.  In my family it was normal for our Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners to include squash and sweet potatoes we'd grown ourselves the previous summer (we didn't grow pumpkins).

Thanks to the really cold weather we had last week, this happened:

The pumpkin froze.  When it thawed, it stayed in one piece, but felt like a bag of water.  I was very grateful it didn't break open when I moved it (with a shovel)...that would have been a gross mess.  Although, that would have been a cool thing for the kids to see.  Maybe next year!  :)

Did anyone else leave any holiday decorations out way too long this year???

Cartoon Moments ll

I almost named this post "Smrtr Maybe Was", but then remembered I did a Cartoon Moments post several years ago...something about a 2-foot long board becoming attached to my shoe and tripping me.  I call situations like that "cartoon moments"...they hurt, people cringe, but there's no real damage (the last part is the key).

Or maybe just a little damage?  I think I used to be smarter.  That was before a particular series of cartoon moments.  You'll see why.  There were too many of those moments, but what follows are two of the best (worst). 

One occurred on ice. All the kids in the neighborhood enjoyed going to a local "wetland" (swamp) whenever it froze over. We shuffled around on the ice pretending we were hockey players (none of us had skates). We didn't think it was dangerous. If the ice was too thin, your feet only went down about 6 inches. On a particular day when I was 8, it was frozen almost solid. We were having fun sliding around, pushing each other. Then I slipped and my feet went up into the air. Gravity being what it is, I landed on my head. The sound was pretty awful (the ICE made the sound, not my head--I was okay). In fact, it was such an awful sound that my friends and brothers were afraid to look under my stocking cap as they helped me stumble home. Again, I was okay. The headache lasted a few hours and in a few days I was back out on the ice (I was dumb). 

In the second situation, my friend Fred and I were building a tree fort.  I was better at climbing, so I went up first and nailed the support boards to the trees.  After I scampered down, Fred went up and waited for me to bring him plywood for the floor of the fort.  His job was to nail it to the support boards.  That never happened.  I handed him a piece of plywood and then climbed back down to get another one.  As I stood up with the next piece of the floor, Fred dropped the first one.  It landed right on my head.  Thankfully the long, flat side hit me (the edge might've done some real damage) and I came away from it with just a headache and a sore neck.  We never did finish that fort.  Instead we decided to dig an underground fort.  What could go wrong if we stayed on the ground??? We had a rhythm going as we dug (Fred bent over using a very short shovel, me chopping the dirt with a very long hoe). Fred must have lost the rhythm because I accidentally hit him on the back of the head with the hoe.  It was an accident, honest (I would never intentionally hit anyone with a hoe)! 

How did any of us survive childhood???  LUCK!



PS - I make light of what happened because it was me and I'm fine.  But it's really important to wear the appropriate helmet whenever you're skating, biking, riding a horse, walking through a construction site, whatever.  We don't have to bubble-wrap ourselves (or kids), but please be careful...and never walk out onto a frozen pond, stream, anything.  It's too dangerous.  Don't lose IQ points the way I...ah... What was I saying???

"Bear" Necessities

Since I am not a bear, I couldn't leave the house today without these:

(Hat, gloves, scarf--I never wear a hat!!!)

Yeah, they don't match, but they kept me warm this morning.

Keep warm folks!

Snow!

It can be magical!  Some of the most beautiful sights I've seen have involved snow.  No, not the under-dressed young lady (she was older than I was) I picked up along the road.  I mean the landscape...the trees, the bushes, the mountains, everything.  Snow makes everything beautiful.

Snow can make you happy or it can make you tense, depending on the situation.  Snow has been a part of some of my best days and some of my most stressful.  When I think of the fun my friends and I used to have playing in the snow, it always makes me smile.  The BEST of those good times came at night.  We built snow forts and had major snowball battles.  We also went sledding at night--that was the most fun while it was still snowing.  Although, that was dangerous.  One friend got a snowflake in his eye, missed a turn and went head-first into a tree (he was okay).

And the tense times..I've already shared the story about driving my dad to the hospital when I was a teenager.  I have several other tense snow stories, including one (only slightly tense) that was supposed to be GREAT!  But, well...

There was a chance of snow and we needed a few things from the grocery store (including formula--my daughter was 6 weeks old).  But He Whose Name I Won't Speak (a tv weather person) told me DC wasn't getting any snow.  It was a Friday night and I was tired after a full week of working and night school.  I decided I would go to the store on Saturday.  Saturday morning we were snowed in! 

I spent the afternoon shoveling the sidewalk and clearing the car.  But the association had not yet cleared the parking lot, so I was driving nowhere.  My wife and I reviewed the formula and diaper situation...we could make it another day.  But what if the plow didn't show up?  Or it snowed again? 

I couldn't take the chance, so I set out on foot through snow that was up to my hips.  After about 250 meters of that, I made it to the nearby highway.  It had been plowed, so the two mile walk to 7-11 wasn't so bad--I just had to keep an eye out for trucks.  I made it to the store ahead of any other panicked  parents and bought formula, diapers and a gallon of milk for my wife.  The walk home was uneventful.  As I made my way back through the deep snow, I thought "Someday this is going to be a great story...maybe even my daughter's favorite!"

But it's completely boring!  I wasn't attacked by Manbearpig, or stalked or anything.  It was just a walk in the snow.  I should spice it up a little for my daughter, but I can't.  All of my stories are true.  I don't want to ruin that.  I probably shouldn't bother telling her this one.

My apologies for the boring story!!!  My next snow story will be more interesting