I OWE MY SOUL TO MASTERCARD

My first Novel is online at Barnesnoble.com

2011-07-10T20:09:00.000-04:00

Just a note to say that my first Novel is now available online at www.Barnesnoble.com. I am excited for this as it is the first time I have had anything published. So drop by and see if it is something you might be interested in. If so, once you read it please go back and fill out a review.

Kairi and Daddy tell a Story

2010-06-28T20:46:00.000-04:00

We visited our grandaughter (and her parents) this weekend and it amazes me how very grown up this little 21 month seems. We listened to her carry on a story with her Daddy and it was so hiliarous. I am posting a video link of the action here. Let me know what you think.
Kairi and Daddy tell a video

The Long and Winding Road

2010-06-23T15:04:00.004-04:00

Many people are under the assumption, a rather false assumption, that when you have sex with someone without benefit of artificial birth control, that you are on the road to parenthood. Such is not the case.
My wife and I had wanted children from the time of our marriage. Looking back, it is most assuredly a good thing that we were not able to have children during the early years of our marriage.

We were young and in love and in no financial shape to have children at that time. As time wore on and we became more mature and more financially stable, the old parenting genes kicked into overdrive and we both began to feel the need to nurture and care for another human being.

We began to actively try to get my wife pregnant during our fifth year of marriage. We were living in Savannah and had our own business and had no desire to move. We wanted to build our family right there in the city we had adopted as our own.

My wife had always kept a careful record of her monthly cycle and she made notations in her pocket calendar. She noted every time we made love and took extreme care to note when she was ovulating.

The first time we made love was a pleasant experience. We were still young and in love. We assumed that afterwards we would just sit back and wait nine months for the baby to arrive and then we would be a family.

As luck would have it, we must have missed our objective the first month, for my dear wife called me at work and dolefully told me the news.

"I'm not pregnant." She said.

"Why?" I asked, as if she knew. “Is something wrong?"

“I don't think so. I guess we just didn't do something right." She said with hurt in her voice.

“I guess we just have to try harder this time." She said, grudgingly. I agreed and we put the matter to rest until the next month.

The next month we tried again- twice just to make sure. The results were the same. No baby.

The third month we were back in the trenches and we figured three times were a lucky number but, no avail. We began to meet almost daily to ensure that we couldn't miss. Nothing we did seemed to work. We were both becoming a little discouraged. Maybe we would never have a child.

By the end of the fifth month, the daily ritual was becoming hard to continue. After all we weren't newlyweds anymore. How could we be expected to keep going at this rate?

We came to the conclusion that there must be something wrong with one of us. My wife had been to her doctor and had been declared to be perfectly fit to bear a child. The ball fell in my court.

It was assumed that I was the one with the faulty plumbing. My wife's gynecologist recommended a urologist and an appointment was made.
It should be said here that no man likes to think that there is something wrong with him but to think that there is something wrong with him sexually is quite another matter entirely.
I had tried for weeks to think of possible reasons that my wife hadn't gotten pregnant. Maybe it was the full moon. Maybe the tests were inaccurate and she was really pregnant after all. Maybe the
Pope was Jewish.
My wife would hear none of it and she dragged me down to the doctor’s office for the appointment. He was a Korean man, Dr. Coon Cause Tin. An Asian Marcus Welby, if you will.
We were ushered into his office and the nurse informed us that the doctor would be with us shortly. In the office, the first thing to catch our eye was a prototype of a penile imp1ant sitting square on the desk in front of our seats.

“Wow," said my wife, holding the inflator. "We could have used this last night."

"If you are going to get nasty, I can just go home now." I said matter-of-factly.

"Shut up and sit down." She said. "The doctor will be here soon, just calm down and relax."

"Relax!!! And just how do you propose that I am supposed to relax? We're here to see if I can father a child. How is that supposed to make me relax? Will you answer me that?"

"Gee. Touchy aren't we. I'm sorry I said anything." She said, pouting.

"So am I." I said, pouting more. Thankfully the doctor arrived just then and kept us from the ensuing blows. He paid no attention to the half inflated prototype on the desk(we couldn't find the release valve). Looking very much like Lon Chaney in one of those horrible old horror movies, the doctor introduced himself to us.

"Your wife's doctor has informed me of the situation and I would like to tell you that we will do all that we can to help. I must get some information from you and then we can proceed with the tests." Sitting down, he took my cart and started to ask questions. "Do you drink, smoke cigarettes, or take intravenous drugs?"

“Occasionally, quit three years ago, no." I answered.

"Have you ever had Gonorrhea, Syphilis, or any other sexually transmitted disease?"

“No.”

“How many times a week do you have sex?"

“Before or now?"

“Now.”

“Every Night.”

"You are trying too hard. Every other night is plenty. If you do more often, your sperm count will be too low. You not have baby with no sperm."

"Thanks, Doctor." I said, standing up. "I appreciate the advice. Come on honey."

"Wait. We have only just begun. We have tests to run and I must give examination to determine proper diagnosis. Come, let us go to the examination room and get started; You stay here mommy."

I reluctantly followed him across the hall into a tiny cubicle of a room. It was scarcely furnished with an exam table and two cabinets and the required three year old Boys Life Magazines. (There is something strange about a urologist with ‘Boys Life’ in his exam room.)

The doctor handed me a flimsy paper nightgown and excused himself while I readied for the exam. When he returned, the look on his face no longer reminded me of Lon Chaney, but that of the Marquis de Sade.

I was poked and prodded in so many places; I began to feel like a pin cushion. I promised myself that the child better he worth it. When it was all over, he told me to get dressed and to meet him back in his office. As I dressed I could not help but feel that it was a hopeless cause and that we would never have children. I was setting myself up for a pity-party. I walked back into the office and the doctor had not returned yet. There was my wife, reading his diplomas to insure that he was a "real" doctor.

"What did he say?" She asked, her eyebrows arched in consternation.

"Nothing yet, he just examined me. He said to meet him back here."

“I hope he hurries," She said. "I feel kind of strange sitting here in his office with all these devices and things."

"Now you know how I feel when I go with you to the gynecologist; All those pregnant women looking at me as if I were the reason for their being there. I get the feeling that if looks could kill…." At that moment, the doctor came into the room moving swiftly so that his smock just barely fluttered in his wake.

"Mr. and Mrs. Dudubiel," He said in his best English. "It will take three or four days for the lab results. I would like to schedule another appointment with you for Friday in order to read the results and allow you to bring a specimen."

"Specimen?" I more said than asked. "What kind of specimen?"

"A sperm specimen, of course." He said, opening his desk drawer and pulling out a baby food jar. He sat it on the table and scooted it across to me. "You will need to fill this and bring it back on Friday when you come back."

"Fill it? How long do I have?" I asked, incredulously.

"I do not mean for you to fill it. I just say to put something in it. Do you understand?"

I understood. I wished that I hadn't, but I did. I picked up the jar and stuffed it into my overcoat. I didn't want to be seen carrying it out. We thanked the doctor and left.

On the way home in the car, my wife asked if i needed any help with the task I had before me. I smiled sardonically at her and thanked her for the offer. There are just some things a man has to do by himself.

The week passed slowly. I felt as if Friday would never come. When it finally did, I was not ready. As we prepared to leave I got my little jar and put it inside a paper bag. I put that bag inside another and that bag inside one more, and then I stuffed the bag in my coat pocket. I was as ready as I would ever be. As we walked into the office, I shuffled over to the receptionist’s desk, head low as if I were shamed, and put the bag on the desk.

"What is this?" She asked, without raising her head.

Who was she kidding? She knew exactly what "this" was. She just wanted me to say it. All doctor’s receptionists are sadistic.

"It's a specimen." I mumbled.

"What did you say?" She asked, leaning closer, this time raising her head enough to see my face.

"A specimen!" I said through gritted teeth.

"Oh, why didn't you say so?" She opened first one bag then another, and then another before seeing the jar. "Your name?" She asked.

"Stuteville." I whispered. She wrote the name Statesville down on a label and stuck it to the jar.

"Have a seat, and the doctor will be right with you.” Turning around, she yelled at the nurse down the hall. "I have a specimen for Studebaker." Everyone in the waiting room looked up and I nodded hello. I buried my head in my coat, and groped my way to where my wife was sitting.
Sitting in the waiting room, I watched as an older man, probably fiftyish, went up to the office desk and spoke to the receptionist.

My wife, noticing the man, nudged me and pointed to him.
"You should be more like him. He isn't ashamed to be here."

"He doesn't have to. Did you see the size of HIS jar?" I asked.

"Silly, that isn't what I mean. There is a man nearly fifty and he wants to have children. He isn't ashamed. He just walked in and gave the lady his jar and that was that. It's just like a business transaction."

I didn't agree with her. There is just some¬thing about being under thirty and thinking that it is your fault you don't have children. I looked up just in time to see the older man approaching the empty seat beside me; Lucky me.

"Hi," He said quietly. I nodded. He settled himself in and sat beside me. "Don't you just hate sitting in these waiting rooms? All these men, and knowing that 99% of them have Problems. It's sort of sad, don't you think?" I just looked and nodded ever so slightly. I didn't want to give away my secret. The old man continued.

"Me, on the other hand, If I could help them I would. Lord knows a man with six kids must be doing something right. If it weren't for that stupid doctor, I would only have five." I must have looked lost. On seeing my expression, the man elaborated.

"You see, two years ago the doctor gave me a vasectomy. Next week, my youngest daughter will celebrate her first birthday. I Plan on suing the pants off him.

"What are you here for?" He asked.

"Checkup." I lied. As fate would have it, the nurse called my name at that moment. I got up and went into the hallway on the other side of the door. Following the nurse down the hall, we stopped at a large microscope where the doctor was looking at something. He looked up.

"Would you like to see?" He asked. "This is your sperm." I looked in the microscope. I saw thousands of tiny creatures swimming all around. I was unimpressed. We followed the doctor into his office.

"I have good news. I think we can help you." He said as he circled the desk and sat down. He put his elbows on the desk and interlocked his fingers. Resting his chin on his fingers he looked at us as if he were forming a question in his mind. After a long silence, he spoke. "There is nothing physically wrong with you."

"Then what is the problem?" I asked.

"I'll have to ask you a few more questions, but I am reasonably sure of the problem. What kind of undergarments do you wear?"

"Beg pardon?" I asked.

"What kind of underthings..pants do you wear? Are they jockey shorts or boxer?"

"Jockey shorts. Look, I don't see what this has to do with my problem."

"You will understand in time but you must have patience. I want you to start wearing boxer shorts. Jockey shorts tend to cause heat and moisture. This will cause the sperm to die.

"Also you and your wife are trying too hard. You must not do this. Every other day when your wife is ovulating should be plenty."

"I just don't understand how this will help us." I said, not that I wasn’t glad for the respite. I was confused that it could take so much time and money and that the answer would be so simple. Surely there had to be another reason.
"Sir, you must believe me when I tell you. It is not so complicated. Trust me and soon you will be able to hold that little baby that you want so much." He stood up as if he were through.
As difficult as it was to believe, we were willing to try anything. My wife went out and bought me three dozen pairs of boxer shorts. Though, I felt a little strange with my undershorts around my knees, it was a small price to pay in order to become a parent.
As unbelieving as I was at the start, you can imagine how astounded I was when my wife called and told me the good news. Almost one month to the day from our last visit with the doctor. I received a call from my wife at work. After five years we were finally going to have a child.
As I look back now, I cannot begin to understand how things seem to work out. People who want no children seem to be able to have more than they can handle and people who really want children have the hardest time. It just doesn't seem fair.

Our daughter will be twenty-two this year and one thing is certain. Seeing as we had to wait so long, we seemed to have really enjoyed our daughter’s presence more than if we had had no problems.

Because I said so, That's Why!

2010-06-21T21:42:00.001-04:00

Now that I am a parent and a Grandparent I have begun to look back on my life and the way I was raised. I remember when I was young; I swore that I would “NEVER do my kids that way.”

I must be honest from the start. Raising a family of four children, with most of the years spent as a single parent, musthave been difficult for any mother and mine was no exception.

As I look back, I cannot complain about my childhood, althoughthere were times that I, like most children, thought my mother must have lost her mind (She claims she did and it was my fault!). It was not that she was actually crazy however, the things she said that made me feel that way.

Like the time she asked "Just who do you think you are? The Queen of Sheba?" Of course I didn't. The king of France maybe...;

Or "This is going to hurt me more than it will hurt you." (This was usually said right before a switch or belt was applied to my backside). Who did she think she was kidding? Did I really look that dumb?

Thinking back on these things, I began to recall many of the sayings that my mother had. These were sayings that mothers had passed down from generation to generation. No woman would dare call herself a mother unless she could recite these phrases, questions) and answers.

Erma Bombeck called them "Mother-ese" and Teresa Bloomingdale says it's "Mom-Sense"; to a child they are the cause of confusion and while there is no proof, it is believed that these sayings can cause acne, stunt your growth, and warp your sense of humor. There is no doubt they are the reason for my many years of therapy.

We used to play a game in high school where we would see who could come up with the craziest thing their mother ever said. There was no prize, but the winner got a pat on the back and condolences for being able to remain sane. Below are a few of the best. See if you can pick out your mother.

FAVORITE PHRASES

"Don't do as I do; Do as I say!"

"Your hair smells like Kyarn." (When I asked her whar kyarn was, she had no idea but she knew it smelled bad, just like my hair.)

"I'm going to beat the living (expletive deleted) out of you and then slap you for (expletive deleted)!"

"Children in Africa could live for a year on the food you waste in one meal."

"I suppose if (friend's name)told you to jump in the lake, you'd do that too."

"I'm going to kill you!"

"You're going to drive me to an early grave!" (I would have been happy to do that if it meant getting the car keys.)

"If I had a nickel for every time you asked me'why', I'd be rich."

"I don't care if (friend's mother’s name) does let him stay up till 9:00 p.m.,you'll do as I say! And since you like how she does things so much, why don't you go live with her? I'll even pack your bags and drive you over there!"

FAMOUS QUESTIONS

"Are you deaf?"

"Where have you been? And don't lie to me!"

"Do you think I'm crazy?"

11 Why do you do this to me?"

"Do you think I'm doing this for my health?"

“Keep your mouth shut and listen! Do you hear me? Answer me, Dammit!”

MOTHER’S ANSWERS

"Because I said so, That's why!"

"I'm your mother, I don't have to have a reason!"

"Because I'm the mother and you're the child and what I say goes!"

"I don't have to tell you why? When I say'jump', you're supposed to say 'How high?' Not 'Why'! Have you got that?"

"If you ask me 'Why?' one more time, I'll show you why!"

Pardon, Your Cleavage is Showing

2010-06-21T21:15:00.001-04:00

I thought I had heard all the excuses for not buying a shoe that a woman could ever dream of, but I was wrong.

The other day a woman came into my store and tried on a few thousand pairs of shoes. There was something wrong with every
one of them.

This one way too big. Too small; Too blue; Too
high of a heel; Too low; It hurt her heel. Her toes; Her pride.
This one costs too much. It looked cheap. She didn't want a
snake on her feet, etc. etc. Then she came up with one I have
never heard before.

"It's a cute shoe," she said, sadly shaking her head "but,
it shows my toe cleavage. I really like them, but I don't like
for my toes to show."

It never ceases to amaze me that in an age when women take
pride in their bodies and try to show as much of their breast
cleavage as the law will allow, that there could be someone who
was inhibited enough not to want her toes to show. I, for one,
am glad, that women have chosen to draw the line on just how much of their bodies that they are willing to leave on public display. The toes are an good a place as any to start.

They say that fashion repeats itself every twenty years or
so. Does this mean that we will begin to see a reverse trend in
the dress habits of women? Will they soon return to wearing
bras and start shaving their legs again? Let us hope.
I can see it now. It would be slow at first. Maybe some
woman will be helping her mother clean out the attic when she comes across a bra.

"Hey mom! What's this?" she will ask, holding it up.

"That is what used to be called a bra. We burned those back
in the sixties. I just kept this one as a souvenir."

"What were they used for?" the daughter queries.

"We used them to protect ourselves and also to make us more
attractive in a dress."

"Why did you burn them?"

"Come to think of it, I don't even remember...."

"A bra. What a novel idea." Says the daughter. "May I have
it?"

"Certainly. I will never use it." The mother says.

I know that I am grasping at straws here, but it's nice to
think about. After all, a woman doesn't have to show every curve
of her body in order to attract men. Look at the fashions of the
late forties and fifties. Women wore clothes then, and those
were the years we refer to as the Baby Boom. That should tell us
something.

I look forward to the time when we will hear "Pardon, but your
cleavage is showing. It may only be in reference to the toes at
first, but it's a start.

The Kings of Nothing

2010-06-21T20:27:00.003-04:00

It has been a while since I have posted to this blog. I would like to say I have been busy but the truth is that I have been busy doing nothing. I like to think I am the best at doing nothing, perhaps even the King of Nothing but here lately that title has been stolen from me.

Just who is the new King of Nothing, you ask? (Thanks for asking by the way) The new all time King of Nothing is the Congress of the United States of America. For the last year and a half, they have had much ballyhoo about all the mess they (and the President) inherited and they many wonderful things they are going to do for (read: to) us that we are too stupid to do for ourselves.

First we had the bailout of the banks and the car companies; both of whom needed to be allowed to go bankrupt because of their greed and stupidity. Banks loaned money to anyone with a pulse (and I am not to sure that there weren't a few of the non-palpitating in those numbers) and car companies allowed the unions to drive them to the brink of bankruptcy rather than investing their money in clean energy cars.

If we as Americans have to balance our own budgets, then why the hell does our government not have to? We have a $2 Trillion budget deficit that we were promised would not cause taxes to go up on any but the top 2% of the population--those making over $250K a year. I got news for the Congress....I am not part of the elite 2% and nearly every tax I pay has gone up this year.

Next, the All Omnicient Federal Government decides we need a 1200 plus page health care bill that no one ever bothered to read---at least no one in Congress----and we have Nancy Peolsi telling us that we just have to let them pass it to see what is in the bill. Now that makes sense.

The Health care bill has passed and it is set to become law---part AFTER the 2010 elections and the rest AFTER the 2012 elections. The thinking is that by the time it becomes law and the people realize they have been screwed once again by Uncle Sam, it will be too late and the Democrats will be back in charge for yet one more term.

The Republicans are no better. They have stood in press conferences and loudly proclaimed how they are for the real American people. The hard working, tax paying people that they represent have been fooled by them too. Neither party is worth it's salt and it is time for real reform. For over a year now, on my other forums I have touted that we throw ALL the bums out and vote in a few plumbers, hockey moms, taxi drivers, fast food workers, preachers, health care workers, truck drivers, etc to take their place.

It should be against the law for a person to spend over $100,000 for any state election and over $500,000 for any national election. All candidates should have to present themselves to the public over the public television stations that we the people fund. We should toss out every lobbyist and every lawyer in the congress and let the common man fix the problems they have made. It is time we made a stand America and our new theme song ought to be: "We're not gonna take it ANYMORE!"

Which leads me to a joke I heard years ago. What do you call 535 congress members at the bottom of the ocean? A good start.

The Beginning of the End

2010-03-22T13:42:00.002-04:00

America, much like Rome, started it's fall yesterday as the Congress took it upon itself to circumvent the Constitution by voting on the amendments and by that, passing the Senate version of the bill. With this $2.4 Trillion bill we have no way of paying for without raising taxes on every single American that alreadys pays them.

Our congress is acting like the Politburo of the old USSR, in that it thinks it knows what we need and despite our protests, have forced us to accept this bill. Comrades Obama and Pelosi and 218 other Democrats have eptiomized the Big Brother of Orwell's 1984 by giving us what they want despite our desires.

No one could disagree with needed reforms such as were suggested for pre-existing conditions, or against the insurance companies arbitrarily cutting people for using their coverage. The argument is not the substance so much as the means of reform. To be certain, anyone who is pro-life would have voted against the bill on principle alone.

We could have achieved a comprehensive reform that addressed the supposed reason for the bill--affordable health care and the above mentioned reforms--all without hijacking the constitution and without getting government in the business of insurance. The problem is, the Democrats were so damned determined to get a victory, they strong-armed and cajoled and browbeat until they got their way. No one read the entire bill, and anyone that did, should have realized that there is no way to pay for it as is.

Forced health care will cost many jobs and what fringe benefits that most companies have left to enable them to pay for it. What good is insurance if everyone is out of a job? Who is going to pay for it then?

The bell has rung and there is no way to un-ring it. Once you give an entitlement, it becomes permanent. Social Security is an example. It was designed to a temporary measure that has lasted 50 years. Social Security is broken and with Government running it, there is no fixable solution. God Help us with them in charge of Helath Care.

To make matters worse, the IRS is in charge of enforcing Health Care. Can we say Big Brother? Conservative America should prepare to remove every single person from Congress and replace them with people that will do our will or else be practicing your Communist worker songs. Health Care should be changed to Health Scare.

Never let family "Fix" your stuff!

2009-12-31T14:17:00.015-05:00

In a moment of what I considered familial love, I called my younger brother to take a look at my wife's scooter. In hindsite, I now realize that it was really a total loss of sensibilities on my part.

My brother had been out of work for about 2 years and I needed someone to look at my scooter so we could sell it to get my wife a bigger one. I thought I could get my scooter fixed and give him a few bucks. Big Mistake. Big Huge Mistake.

When my middle brother heard that I had given it to the younger one to look over, he just shook his head and said "And to think I used to look up to you".

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Did he bring you a box of small parts back with it?"

"He still has it." I said, puzzled. "He works on small engines, doesn't he?"

"Why do you think he doesn't have a job? He is a want to be mechanic."

"Great. NOW you tell me!" I uttered in an elevated voice as I slowly imagined my scooter with a box of spare parts sitting in a junk heap.

"Just make sure that he gives back all the parts." Middle Brother warned as he hung up the phone.

My mother also thought me a dummy but I hoped for the best and after two weeks of asking him if it was ready yet (I now know why he never answered my calls but rather, text messaged me back) he finally brought it back on Christmas Day while I was at my niece's house for dinner.

I arrived home that day and there it was back on the porch. It looked exactly as it had when he took it. I breathed a sigh of relief, thinking that it was not bad at all. I locked it up and went to start it. No key was in the ignition. Afraid that the dog had possibly eaten it, I called him (voice mail again) and he texted me right back that he had left them in the cooler on the car port. Now why didn't I think of that? I started it right up but it died almost immediately and I figured it was because of the cold. That was a week ago. Today, it was in the high 40's so I figured I would give it another go. My wife was in the shower getting ready to go get her hair cut.

I unlocked the scooter and placed the key in the ignition. I pressed the starter and it roared to life--actually, it purred to life (it is a scooter, after all) and then died immediately. I sat down on the scooter, straddling my Hogg like the Biker Dude I am, and pressed the starter again. Again it started immediately only to die again.

More determined than ever, I gave a tug on the throttle and then hit the starter again. And again. And again. Suddenly, I felt a little warm on my left leg. I looked down only to see flames licking at my jeans from the engine between my legs. My jaw dropped open and I remember saying one of those words we tell our children not to say.

I was off the scooter like a rocket, and I placed the kickstand down so I could run inside to get the fire extinguisher. Once in the kitchen, I remembered that we don't have a fire extinguisher (Note to self: Buy a fire extinguisher). Panicking, I grabbed a kitchen towel thinking I could beat the flames down. As I lashed at the flickering flames, I noticed the plastic body was dripping onto the carport. Not a good sign in my thinking. I think it was then that it dawned on me that the gas tank was full and that gasoline is explosive and my carport is about ten feet from my back door and I really began to panic.

Suddenly, saner thinking took over and one of the voices in my head screamed at me: "Hey, Dummy! Do you think you ought to get this thing out in the yard before it explodes and catches your house and car on fire?" Good Idea, I remember thinking, so I rocked it off the kickstand and pushed it very fast to the front yard about 25 feet from the cars or house. I placed the kickstand down and backed away hurredly.

While I was watching the flames lick ever higher toward the tree I so smartly placed it under, I thought a hose might put out the fire. We have a hydrant at the front of the house so I ran to the back yard to grab a hose. Then I realized the dog ate them both...which is another story for another time.

I looked back up front in time to see the scooter topple over and as the gas from the tank spilled out the flames shot up reaching out for the tree limbs like a firey hand from Hell. This is not a good thing, I remember thinking. The smoke was rolling higher and as the tires caught fire, there was a large column of thick black smoke reaching about thirty feet in the air.

Now we live three miles from town and I was sure that someone would see the smoke and call the fire department and I did not want to begin to think how to describe what happened to the fire fighters. I had no need to worry as car after car drove by and just stared at me as they drove by. I guess the fire department was busy watching bowl games because no one from there ever showed up.

After about ten minutes, the fire was burning bright enough to have led wise men afar and I got the bright idea that if I smothered the fire, I could put it out. Off to the house I went again in search of something to smother the fire. I spied a bag of cat litter in the pantry so I grabbed it and took off like Smokey Bear. The fire was extremely high now and I opened the bag and slung the contents for all it was worth. It was only then that I realized that the "cat litter" was actually dog litter pellets, which are really just compressed sawdust. Not my brightest moment there, as I watched the flames touch the tree limbs for the first time.

Ten more minutes, and I could see the light at the end of the tunnel as the gasoline burned away and the only combustible left were the tires--which really smell bad when burning, BTW. I grabbed the dog's water dish and after about 20 trips between the wash room and the scooter had managed to end up with a smoldering mess.

I went inside to share the news with my wife, who had managed to hear not a thing.

"Honey," I called out. "Take a look in the front yard."

"What did HE (the dog) do now?" She asked warily.

"Nothing, this time he is innocent. It was my brother." I replied.

"Your Brother?" She asked as she came out of the bathroom and looked out the double windows at the heap of smoldering metal and rubber. She stopped suddenly, turned and looked at me, then looked back at the mess out front. Without another word, she turned and went back into the bathroom. I remember thinking, "That went well."

The moral of the story is this: Never let your family "fix" your stuff. Unless of course, they are licensed and bonded. Anyone in need of a slightly charred Scooter. I can offer you one hot deal. All it needs is a little paint, and tires, and brakes, some molded plastic for the body, and an engine. Sort off gives a whole new meaning to having a Fire Sale.

Really Ribald Retail

2008-03-27T20:51:00.004-04:00

I have been in retail for about 30 years if you count from high school on. I have sold women's shoes, fish and chips, insurance, and for the last 17 years, hamburgers. Of the different jobs, I would have to say that hamburgers is the source of more of what I would call the "twilight zone" moments. Many days, I have had things happen that would cause me to look around for Rod Sterling to come out and cue the theme song. "Picture in your mind if you will....."

I have seen videos of employees walking into the office and knowing there were cameras trained on them, pick up money from a deposit and stuff it in there pocket. I have caught employees making out in the store after hours (I refuse to say where because it is just gross).

I have been pulled across the counter by a biker dude and threatened within an inch of my life because I asked him to leave the restaurant because my cashier refused to wait on him because he was drunk and made ugly remarks about her body parts and what he wished to do with them.

I have seen customers throw a shake through the drive through window and hit the manager smack in the back. I have seen managers threaten to beat me, customers, other employees. I have been called Scrooge when I had to fire a manager a week before Christmas for stealing three deposits. The man actually had the gall to ask "What do I tell my kids about why they have no Christmas Presents?" "Tell them Their present is that you don't go to jail since you agreed to pay the money back." I replied.

The job has been a really strange one and I have often thought about writing a book about my life in retail but some of the stories are so weird, no one would believe them. The strangest story I have ever heard was from my boss who has been with the same company over 30 years.

One day he was visiting with another DM and as they sat in the dining room eating, there was an older couple in the booth across the aisle from them. The man had a walker beside him and he looked like he was nearly 100. The wife cut his burger in half and he was just staring at the food.

The wife was eating her food and ignoring him. My boss and the DM made a comment between themselves that the man looked like he might die at the table. A few minutes later while they were eating, my boss looks over at the couple and sees a large puddle of yellow liquid edging out from under the booth across the aisle toward them.

"I think the man just peed his pants." He said to the DM. The DM turned to look and began to shake his head. He turned around to my boss and replied
"No he didn't pee his pants, he pulled it out and is holding it!" The wife was totally ignorant of the matter and continued eating.

It fell upon my boss and the DM to go over to the table and inform the wife, who calmly got up from the table, tucked the man's thingy back into his pants (without even a shake, I might add), helped him get stood up and hands on the walker. Then she proceeded to walk him out the door, without a word to the men. Leaving two very bewildered men standing in front of a puddle of pee in the middle of the dining room of a restaurant. (cue the music...do-do-do-do-do-do-do-do)

For even stranger stories visit Humor-Blogs.com

Picture Perfect

2008-03-19T21:08:00.009-04:00

My contemporary Jeff, from St. Cloud posted today with pics from his "Big Hair Band Days". At first I laughed that the guy with big hair now plays with a band called "The Receders". They are really very good so I would have loved the Big Hair stuff.

In thinking of the changes Jeff made over the years, I guess time was better to him than me. As a youth in high school, I weighed 145 when I graduated.

Dig the hair and part. I think this was the David Cassidy look. And the tie! that knot was bigger than my fist.

I had an overactive thyroid back then and until I was 30, I never weighed over 165 and wore size 32 pants. Then at the urging of my doctor, I had a second dose of radioactive iodine (the first was in 1980) which totally destroyed my thyroid. I went from super hyperactive to lethargic and listless. I now take thyroid medicine for the rest of my life.

I went from 32 to 34 to 36 in two years and topped the scales at 185 when I turned 40 but still I looked good! as is evidenced by these photos.

The photo on the left is my 40th birthday. and on the right is about the time I got my black belt in Tae Kwon Do. Still looked trim and devilishly handsome...and look I still have all my hair! The best condition of my adult life.

After the divorce from my first wife of 16 years, I went into hibernation mode because I was a single dad of two children under 12. I worked then ran straight home after work and fixed their meals and after they went to bed, I taught myself how to use a computer and ate till bedtime for the next four years.

I went from 36 to 38 to size 40 pants and tipped the scales at 240 pounds. I was a mess.

July 2002, I got sick of being fat and went on the Atkins diet. I started walking every day. I ate fat and meat...lots of it and salad for the next 3 months. In September I was down to size 38 and 195.

Back to the boyish good looks and svelte frame.

In December of that year I met my old schoolmate and we began to talk via email and then phone calls and IM. I began to feel like I did at 40. Continuing my walking and diet.

In early 2003, I popped the question and she said Yes. I had found the love of my life at 43, twenty-five years after we graduated high school together and 34 years after we first met.

I still look at her like this because she saved me from myself and she has the most beautiful smile.

Wedding day July 2003

The first year we were married, I drove 2-3 hours one way to work every day. With nothing to do and a teen age daughter that rebelled about not being the center of my life, I had plenty of time every day to eat and very little time to exercise. I went in to work at 6 AM every day and got home about 8 every evening. I ate dinner and went to bed. On weekends, I was too tired to do anything. By May 2004 we moved closer to my work but the damage had been done.

The jowls are back.

In 2006, my daughter graduated High School. I was now at 250 and size 42 waist.

On right, June 2006

In July 2007, my daughter got married. This is my son and I outside the restaurant afterward.

Now the sad fact. At 47, I weigh 278 and wear 42-44 waist IF I wear them underneath my massive belly.

I have started my diet and exercise routine again and now I work out at the gym most days. The weight and lack of exercise are taking their toll so I know I must make it work before the damage is irreversible. Below is what I want to look like when I get through.

Who says I don't believe in Miracles?

Truthfully, this what i look like in the morning after a rough night of tossing and turning.

I actually have this shirt in Yellow.

Most likely I guess this is what I will look like when I get old. This is my dad at 75.

When all is said and done, I guess Jeff is really fortunate to have changed so little over the years. Sure there is the hair thing, but you can at least see the resemblance between the pictures. In my case, I look like the love child of the Michelin Man and Mamma Cass Elliott. Life can be so cruel.

What's in a Name?

2008-03-14T22:50:00.006-04:00

As a man named ED, I am not happy that there is a malady named after me. Just what is ED, and why are there so many men with the malady named after me?

I call it a malady because I do not want to say there is a disease named after me. (I always felt sorry for Lou Gehrig even though he died before I was born because the claim he is best known for is not his baseball career but a disease named after him.)

ED (or Erectile Dysfunction) is the politically correct name for impotence. Until the wholesale whoring of Viagra came to pass, I never knew that there so many men with a limp rod in the world. Judging from the emails I get (10-12 daily) and the television and radio advertisements I see and hear, I would wager that ED is the most prolific disease...I mean malady to hit the modern world. I hear much more about ED than I ever hear about AIDS, Herpes, and other STD's combined (even though Genital Herpes is catching up).

I think Bob Dole and Mark Martin (the race car driver of the Viagra Car) should start a telethon to help us lick this problem (oh yes he did just type that!) because it is getting out of hand. (Groan...two double entendres in one sentence....would that be a double-double?)

Seriously though, there is way to much ED out there and I for one, am tired of it! I am tired of the emails I get daily telling me I no longer have to be ashamed of my "tiny manhood" or promising that my "girfriend" will be amazed at the "girth" and "length" of my "Massive One-eyed Monster" after I pop a few blue pills. I am tired of my good name being smeared all over the airwaves and in boxes of America. I hereby demand that the medical community change the official politically correct acronym for this malady. How about LW (for Leaner Wiener)? Or perhaps HC (for Half-cocked)? Consider PP (for Petite Penis); Maybe NR (for NOT ROD)? I personally like ADD (Attention Deficit Dong); You get the point.

I think the thing that offends me most are the new commercials (see video above) for Viagra that have a group of six men playing in a band and singing the praises of Viagra to the tune of Elvis' Viva Las Vegas.. I am sure the King of Rock and Roll would be so proud that his legacy to the music world is a song that will bring men who can't rise to the occasion a little joy in their old age.

There is now a second commercial that shows a man and wife coming home from work every day in a bland sort of way. He waves and she smiles as they meet in the driveway. Then the announcer says maybe it's time to try something different. The next shot is the same man pulling up to the house in biker garb and on a Hog and the cut away is of him and his biker babe wife traveling across the desert to the tune of Viva Viagra sung to the tune of Viva Las Vegas.

Now not only is Viagra so good that it makes grown men sing it's praises, it also makes grown men fantasize that they will become way cool like Dennis Hopper in Easy Rider. Now if that does not classify it as a hallucinogenic drug, then I don't know what would. Marijuana makes men feel the same way but it is still illegal. Viagra is touted all over the place like a wonder drug. Things just aren't fair.

I would like suggestions of a few names we can petition the government with to change the name of this growing (NOT!) problem (..come to think of it, NOT growing is the real problem) and clear up my besmudged name. ED's of the world UNITE! It is time to stand up and be counted! We can't take this lying down any more!!! We must stand erect and not be blown away with the wind of derision any longer! As George Carlin used to say: "It will be hard, but we can't lick it by being soft!"

When you are through sending your suggestions, aim your pointer over to humorblogs.com and see what kind of medicine laughter is.

The Last Lecture

2008-03-09T19:31:00.003-04:00

This Video is Astounding!

Lies My Mother Told Me

2008-03-08T21:22:00.003-05:00

I must be honest from the start. Raising a family of four children, with most of the years spent as a single parent, must have been difficult for any mother and mine was no exception.

As I look back, I cannot complain about my childhood, although there were times that I, like most children, thought my mother must have lost her mind (She claims she did and it was my fault!). It was not that she was actually crazy, however it was the things she said that made me feel that way.

Like the time she asked "Just who do you think you are? The Queen of Sheba?" Of course I didn't. The king of France maybe... Or "This is going to hurt me more than it will hurt you." (This was usually said right before a switch or belt was applied to my backside). Who did she think she was kidding? Did I really look that dumb?

Thinking back on these things, I began to recall many of the sayings that my mother had. These were sayings that mothers had passed down from generation to generation. No woman would
dare call herself a mother unless she could recite these phrases, questions)and answers.

Erma Bombeck called them "Mother-ese" and Teresa Bloomingdale says it's "Mom-Sense"; To a child they are the cause of confusion and while there is no proof, it is believed that these sayings
can cause acne, stunt your growth, and warp your sense of humor.

We used to play a game in high school where we would see who could come up with the craziest thing their mother ever said. There was no prize, but the winner got a pat on the back and. condolences for being able to remain sane.

Below are a few of the best. See if you can pick out your Mother.

Favorite PHRASES

"Don't do as I do; Do as I say!"
"I'm going to beat the (expletive deleted) out of you and then slap you for (expletive deleted)!"
"Children in Africa could live for a year on the food you waste in one meal."
"I suppose if (friend's name)told you to jump in the lake, you'd do that too."
"I'm going to kill you!"
"You're going to drive me to an early grave!"
"I don't care if (friend's mothers name) does let him stay up till 9:00 p.m., you'll do as I say! And since you like how she does things so much, Why don't you go live with her? I'll even pack your bags and drive you over there!"

FAMOUS QUESTIONS

"Are you deaf?"
"Where have you been? And don't lie to me!"
"Do you think I'm crazy?"
"Why do you do this to me?"
"Do you think I'm doing this for my health?"

MOTHER'S ANSWERS

"Because I said so, That's why!"
"I'm your mother; I don't have to have a reason!"
"Because I'm the mother and you're the child and what I say goes!"
"I don't have to tell you why? When I say 'jump', you're supposed to say 'How high?' Not 'Why'! Have you got that?"
"If you ask me 'Why?' one more time, I'll show you why!"

Get over to Humor Blogs for more of life's answers.

Born to Shop

2008-03-08T20:33:00.004-05:00

Some women are born with an instinct to shop. This is their calling in life. Some women want to be doctors or lawyers. Some women want to be meter maids or sell real estate. Others, much to the bane of their families are born to shop.

You know the type. They walk into a department store and immediately they feel faint. Their knees start to wobble and they begin to hyperventilate. The only cure is to buy something; anything—and quick.

The woman who is born to shop was born with a calculator for a brain (for figuring credit card payments). Their first words as a baby were "Charge it."

There is no logic for the buying habits of the woman who was born to shop. They will buy anything at any price and the only reason they will give is "It looks so great sitting there."
The woman who was born to shop will buy smokeless ashtrays even though she, nor anyone she knows, smokes. Women will buy lounge chairs when she lives in a dorm.

The woman who was born to shop cannot pass a yard sale without buying something. She will buy old books, model airplanes, 78 rpm records, ice trays, and even someones old clothes that are three sizes too big for her. Barbara, a friend of my wife, once bought a birdbath shaped like a pink elephant and she lived in an apartment in downtown Atlanta. The uses it for a festive party snack bowl.

The woman who was born to shop is always be on the lookout for a bargain (never mind the fact that the so called "bargain" is no bargain and will probably end up in her own yard sale at a loss). Even in her sleep. Once my wife woke me from a sound sleep shouting "I'll give you $25 you for it!"

"What are you talking about?" I asked.

"What are you talking about?" She repeated.

"You woke me up shouting about buying something for $25."

"Is that too much?" She asked.

"Too much for what?"

"What I was buying."

"What were you buying?"

"I don't know. I just figured you would say it was too much."

"You're crazy." I said, rolling over.

The biggest problem with the woman who was born to shop is the black-outs. Women have been known to buy an entire house full of furniture and not be able to remember where it came from.

"Where did it come from?" The husband asks.

"Where did what come from?" She asks, innocently.

"This furniture. Where did it come from?"

"I don't know. It wasn't here this morning?"

"No. It was not here this morning. Now were did it come from?"

"I have no idea. The last thing I remember is walking into the living room after lunch and it was there. I thought you had bought it."

"Well, I didn't." He states. "Where did you get it? It will have to go back."

"I don't remember. Since it is already here, can't we just keep it? It looks so good sitting there."

"Definitely not." He says firmly. "Either it goes back and we get our old furniture or I'm cutting up your credit cards."

"No! Please! Anything but that. I'll get a job; Sell the car; Hock the kids, but Please don't take away my credit cards."

Eventually the husband wins out and everything goes back but it is not without a lot of begging and pleading. The woman who is born to shop cannot live without her credit cards, so she will give up on the big things in order to retain her cards for the little things…like a water bed.

One day I came home from work and there was a water bed in the bedroom. I might not have noticed it were it not for the fact that it had not been there when I left that morning.

"Woman! There did this come from?"

"Did I tell you we were having chicken for supper?" She had a way of avoiding unpleasant subjects.

"I asked you where this came from." I repeated pointing at the bed.

"I got it at Water bed World. It was on sale."
“How much?" I asked.

"It was only six hundred dollars."

"What!?!?!? It was all I could manage to say.

"It was only six hund....."

"I heard you the first time!" I screamed.

"How did you pay for it? We don't have that much in savings."

“I just put it on the charge card."

"What charge card?" I asked,

"Oops. Looks like I forgot that too. I got a credit card in the mail today."

"That's just great." I said.

"I saved us fifteen dollars a month." She offered.

"How?"

"They wanted me to put it on their charge but that would have cost us $40 a month. The credit card only costs $25. I'm not as dumb as you think."

"Do you realize that the interest on that card costs 22% interest a year? By the time we are through paying for it in three years, we will have paid three times what it is worth. If it lasts that long.

"Why do you things without telling me?"

"If I had asked you, you would have said that we couldn't afford it so, why bother?”

"Why bother?" I was losing my cool. "Because we CAN'T afford it! What is the number? I'm going to call them and, they are going to take it back. We don't need a water bed, and besides, I hate water beds." I reached for the phone.

“We can't take it back. I bought it on sale and, all sales were final."

I sat down on the bed and put my head in my hands. “Why do you do these things to me?"

"I'm a good husband. I don't hit you; I don't stay out all night; I like your mother. You know we couldn't afford it and you went out and bought it. Why?”

She just shrugged her shoulders and said: "Because it looks so good sitting there?"

Now shop over at Humor Blogs for a great deal.

Where is all the Toilet Paper?

2008-03-08T19:41:00.005-05:00

When my wife and I first married we did manage to survive our first trip to the store and since that time we have relegated me to do the weekly shopping because I have a little self control.

We bought all the things that married people buy when they go to the grocery. We filled three carts with all the necessities of life: toothpaste, shampoo, deodorant, shaving cream, bubble bath, and toilet paper. The fact in that we bought so much ofthis stuff, we forgot to buy food and .had to come back the next day

A woman has an uncanny way of disposing of these personal items. I will not for the life of me understand how you can spend half of your paycheck on items such as these and still have to buy more by the middle of the week.

A man can use the same can of deodorant for about a month before he has to buy more. A woman on the other hand, requires about one can a day. I think they are snorting the stuff. How else would you explain such a phenomenon? I remember the first time I went into my wife's bathroom after we were married.

"What's going on in here?" I asked fanning the mist, my eyes burning.

"I'm putting on my deodorant." she said with her arms lifted.

"Well, why are your arms like that?"

“I’m waiting for it to dry."

"You look like a 747 ready for take-off. You know, you wouldn't have to do that if you used a little less of that stuff."

"I can't."

"Why not?" I asked.

"What if I start sweating? I don't want to stink.” She said. I gave up.

The first year we were married, I kept a running tally of all the toiletries we bought. I came to the conclusion that: 1) had I invested, dollar for dollar what we spent, I would now own over half of Proctor and Gamble.

I know for a fact that we bought 647 cans of deodorant; 413 bottles of shampoo (three hundred of which I am still using because they didn't make her hair shine as promised); 301 tubes of toothpaste; 999 bars of soap (I must admit that 16 of these were lost down the drain); and a grand total of 1,436,179 rolls of toilet paper.

I do not have the statistics for this, but I have found this to be about par for the course in married couples. I took a poll of my married friends and nearly all of them (one refused to answer on the grounds that his wife would brain him) said the same was true for them

I had one friend who got smart and invested in the Scott Tissue Company sometime after his first anniversary, three years ago. He is now a multimillionaire and a member of the board of directors.

How on earth a woman can go through an eight-roll pack of toilet paper in less than a week in beyond my comprehension. Every night. I will put a fresh roll on the spindle and when I first go to the bathroom in the morning I have to call my wife to get me another roll. My wife tried to tell me that she thought she heard someone in the house the night before. They, she explains, must have taken it.

In my mind’s eye, I can picture a band of 'toilet paper thieves who sneak into my house at night and remove all the toilet paper and sell it back to the tissue companies. Sort of a supply and demand technique designed to keep us dependant on the industry. As if we had a choice.

Toilet paper is just the tip of the iceberg, albeit the most annoying. There are many more things which every young man who is considering marriage should be made aware of. I have compiled a list of do's and don'ts which should help ease the tension of the newlywed year and perhaps save a few marriages in. the process.

I hope that it will, prove to be of some use in preparing you to live with the opposite sex. The list contains some of the little known facts about women that your mother hides from you until you are safely out of her house and. preferably living in another state. If memorized and put to use, it could possibly put you on the road to a more sound financial future.

RAZORS: It in best if you shave with an electric razor, but if you prefer a blade there are a few precautions you should take. Hide your razor after each use and don't let your wife see where you put it. If she finds it she will use it to shave her legs with and then put it back where she got it. You will not be the wiser until the next time you shave and you wind up with a deep gash in your face. It is best to have a case of styptic pencils and a tourniquet handy just in case you forget.

After I had severely wounded my face a few times I got wise to my wife's schemes and decided to teach her a lesson. I found that she would let me use a new razor a few times to get the edge off before she would use it on her legs.

The next time I opened a new razor, 1 took it to work with me and in its place, put an unused razor. The next time she used my razor she wound up giving herself a free vein-stripping and a five day hospital stay. I no longer have to worry about my wife using my razors.

HAND LOTION: Never let your wife buy hand lotion in a container that in anyway resembles toothpaste. This is especially important since there is an analgesic cream that comes in a pump. The first time you brush your teeth with Ben Gay you will know what I am talking about.

BATHTUBS: Never step into a bathtub without first testing it. This is especially true if the tub is cleaner than usual. This is a sure sign that your mother-in-law is coming to visit and your wife Turtle-waxed the bathtub. Instead, offer her mother first use of the tub.

TOOTHBRUSHES: Never use your toothbrush without first sterilizing it, especially if it has brown gunk on it. This is a sign that your wife's eyeliner brush broke and she used your toothbrush to put on her makeup.

TOILET SEAT: Always leave the toilet seat down AFTER you use it. If you leave it down during use, you will catch hell because your aim ain't what it used to be.
If you fail to let it down after use, be prepared to be awakened in the night by blood curdling screams. Hell bath no fury like a woman who thought the lid, was down.

MOUTHWASH: ALWAYS read the label before using, especially if it has a funny looking spout. Massengil DOES NOT make a mouthwash.

It is best if you can have separate bathrooms (lock yours) when possible. If not, take your toiletries to work and get ready there. It is the only safe thing to do.

Now head on over to Humor Blogs for more fun tips.

Strange But True Retail Stories

2008-03-03T18:40:00.005-05:00

I was reviewing a few blogs for Humor-Blogs.com and ran across this very strange but interesting blog that is obviously run by a few very disturbed Retail Sluts, as they affectionately call themselves. (WARNING!!! this is a very explicit site and if you do not like the "F" word, then just take my word for this as it is very crude humor.)

The premise of the blog is to rant about being in the retail business and all the hell they put up with. Having been in the retail business in some form or another for the last 25 years, I can certainly attest to some of the things I read on the blog but it has it's good moments too. (OK, so maybe it is as bad as they say but there have been a few good times over the years.)

I remember when I first started retail sales when Wife #1 and I were still newlyweds. I was a salesman for Baker Shoes in Chattanooga, Tn. On the first day I worked, the manager who had been training me suddenly decided to go buy a cup of coffee. As he walked out the front gate, a woman came into the store. This was going to be my first customer all by myself and I was pumped.

As the woman entered into the store, I realized as I approached her that she was extremely unattractive. As I got closer, I realized that she had a full mustache....SHE was a HE!

Here I was on my first day, and the manager left hurriedly because he hated waiting on the trannies. I, as the new man got to break in with a 6'2" black man with a skirt that was turned about 45 degrees off center that wanted to try on a pair of pumps in a size 12. In those days, shoe salesmen actually sat down and placed the shoes on your feet!

I admit it was hard but I made it through the trying on of shoes and while the man was looking at them in the mirror, I found a purse that matched the shoes and handed it to him. He loved it! "I'll take them both, Honey." He said in his best female voice which sounded strangely like Harvey Fierstein.

At the counter, I deftly swept up a pair of hosiery with rhinestones on the ankle. "They are only 3/$10." I said. He added them on. As I rang them up, I couldn't resist placing a bow on the shoes. "Oh that is just lovely." He said, adoringly. "Throw them in, and you better stop showing me stuff unless you plan on keeping me up, darlin'"

I wrapped the sale up, totaling $65 in 1983 dollars--that would be about$120 now. As the man walked out of the store with his purchase the manager walked back in looking rather strangely and began scratching his head.

"You mean that..that...THING actually bought something?"
"Sure." I said. As a matter of fact, I just hit a 'Home Run'." Meaning that I had sold something from all four categories. "$65 was the total." I said smugly.

"He/she/whatever you call it has never tried on a pair of shoes before. He usually just looks."

"Has anyone ever asked him to try on shoes before?" I asked.

"Hell no! I ain't putting no shoes on a Man!"

Well there ya go. I found out that if I took all the trannies and gays that walked into my store. For one thing, they know exactly what size shoe they wear and will never try and cram their foot into a shoe three sizes too small. Not so with women.

Second, if they know you are interested in the sale, they will be open to any reasonable purchase.

I have been asked by people if any ever came on to me. Truthfully, I never had one gay man come on to me in three years in the shoe business. Women, on the other hand, had a thing about shoe salesmen I guess.

I have long since left the shoe business for greener pastures. I joined the fast food industry in 1986 and have been there ever since. Now you want to hear a few crazy stories? There is a veritable cornucopia of funny stories there. Maybe I'll tell a few in the future.

My Popcorn Dreams

2008-03-02T17:00:00.005-05:00

Every time I eat popcorn late at night, I have these weird dreams. Last night was no exception. I don't know whether it was the 12 week writers strike where we were inundated with "Reality" TV or if it was just the overload of politics going on everywhere we go.

Last night I dreamed that Hillary and Obama were two of the guests on the Big Brother reality series and that the DNC decided that rather than holding a convention, they would send Billary and Obama-rama to the show to determine who should be the Democratic Nominee for POTUS (President Of The United States).

Come to think of it that just might be a fair way for us to choose the nominee but also the POTUS. Just imagine November 2007 all declared Candidates for the POTUS, both Democrat and Republican, arrive at the B.B. House ( henceforth, BBH). They have to team up and share rooms with each other, eat, sleep and generally do what they never do on the campaign trail--listen to each other.

Each Month, one of the candidates is voted out of the house by the voting public. The one that is left standing on November 2008 is crowned the POTUS for the next 4 years. There would have to be a few concessions in the interest of fairness.

Since Billary is the only woman (?) then there would have to be a rule that she could not be voted off for at least 3 months. That would be the only way to save her past month one. Otherwise, she would be the first to go due to sheer dis-likability.

This would have given Fred Thompson a much better shot of staying in the race since he is used to performing before the cameras and was well liked in his roles. I was an early supporter of his but alas, he is a much better actor than he is a political candidate. He was drafted to run; he didn't seek the nomination, so his heart was never in it.

Ron Paul, while a likable candidate to the independent voter, is pretty much discounted by nearly everyone else (as is Ralph Nader) so with the Billary-safe rule he and Nader would most likely be the first two to leave the BBH.

That leaves Hunter, Tancredo, Romney, Guliani, Huckabee, McCain, Kuchenich, Obama-rama, Billary, Edwards, Merril, Lynch, Price, Waterhouse, Dean, Whitter, and TD Waterhouse. Over the next 12 months, I could see the tension mount as the candidates had to debate each other daily. Sharing household chores and cooking meals as a group. They should have to go do the grocery shopping in groups of at least three until all have done so.

They should have to try and run a household on the same kind of budget that real Americans have. They should also have to pay for all bills out of their own pockets rather than the taxpayer's. Oh the joy of watching as Billary has to sit in the doctor's waiting room for hours as she waits for that government mandated insurance to pay the doctor bills before he will treat her.

Perhaps they could bottle up some of the abundant hot air for use as a bio-fuel to help eliminate global warming. They could also compost most of the BS they all drop on the campaign trail to make a nice little fertilizer for the community garden they don't grow with the help of government subsidies.

They could even throw in a few everyday emergencies such as cutting off their cell phone for non payment of bills; or a severe water shortage that requires them to bath only once weekly to conserve water.

The candidates could take turns handling the emergencies in the middle of the night to allow the voters to see how they react under pressure. How would McCain react if his daughter had to quit work because she made too much money and the government cut her welfare because she made too much money? How would Billary react to Chelsea having to pay $400 a week for her share of insurance that was mandated especially if it meant she had to let her car go back because she could no longer make the payments--You have to cut somewhere.

Imagine the office of POTUS after 12 months of living with and listening to each other. Imagine the possibilities of the American public getting to see the candidates up close and personal, without all the speech writers and spin doctors surrounding them. Imagine seeing Hillary without makeup--well maybe there is a line you just don't cross even for reality T.V.

Still, I think I am on to something here. We could cut out all the expense of campaigning. There would be no need to raise money because they would have a captive audience. Think of the green house gases we could eliminate on the campaign trail alone. There would be so much good to putting them all together in a house and say "Come together with a plan to run America and make it strong again and do it as a group.

We could accomplish so much bi-partisanship and get things done for a change. You learn to cut corners and make sacrifices when you share a house with others. Everyone can't have their own way all the time. Maybe for the first time ever the Democrats and Republicans could finally agree on something. Even if it is as simple as what to fix for dinner.

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Sit and Spin

2008-02-28T08:58:00.005-05:00

Let me start off by saying I am what would be considered a conservative Christian. I began my relationship with Christ at the age of 14 and have experienced the far ends of the spectrum in the 33 years in between. This election year has caused me more grief that any in recent history. I have become more tolerant of people over the years because I have seen what intolerance does to society.
In the 40's there was intolerance for Jews (Future Israeli's). In the 50's there was still a lot of intolerance for Blacks (Afro American, Negro, People of Color). In the 60's there was a lot of intolerance for Hippies (Future Democrats) and the Vietnam War (Fascist Pigs). In the 70's there was intolerance for Disco (Weird dance rituals). In the 80's, it was Punk Rock, Madonna and Michael Jackson (Come to think of it, the Jackson thing might not be so wrong). In the 90's, it was Gays (Anti-Christians, Abominations of God, Queers, Fags, Interior Decorators), Abortion (Anti-Life/Pro Choice--Depending on your spin) and Liberals (Present Democrats). Today, it is anything that is not what you believe in (Gays, Abortion, Marriage, War, George Bush, Hillary Clinton, America, Islamic People, Atheism, Christianity).
Everyone has an agenda and everyone that does not believe like you do is "The Enemy" (The Big Satan, Infidels, Whore mongers, Idolaters, Liberals, Right Wing Christians, Fundamentalists, Atheists, Godless Heathen, Secular Humanists).
As I write this, I wonder when did we all become so all knowing as to what is right or what is wrong? Whether you are a Christian or an Atheist or somewhere else on the theocracy spectrum as Time Magazine refers to it, we all seem to thin we and only we know all the answers. I have news for all of us---WE DON"T KNOW JACK!!!
It is not a matter of who's right or who's wrong, it is a matter of What is right and What is wrong. No matter if you are a Christian or a Muslim, Jew, Atheist, Mormon, ET AL, it is WRONG to try and force your views on others. America was founded because people wanted religious liberties. They wanted to be free from having to worship as the State (England) dictated.
Religious freedom not only means to be free to worship as you please, it means to be free NOT to worship IF you please. Our founding fathers created a wonderful document, that has lots of checks and balances to make sure no one group can force their will on any other. All groups have equal opportunity. With that said, I would like to address everyone in the world (Yes, I am sure everyone reads my blog) with the following thoughts:
Christians--If you fall into this category, then you probably believe that the Bible is the word of God. If you do believe that, then this section is for you. (If you don't believe that the Bible is God's word, then skip to the next section).
I want to start by saying that God, when He sent Jesus to the Earth, knew that Man (and woman) was sinful and He knew that He had given Man (and woman) free will to accept Jesus or not. Humans have a choice and it is up to them to choose. When Christ sent the Disciples out on the "Great Commission", He told them to go door to door, carrying only the clothes on their back and tell the people the good news. If the people accepted the news, they were to stay with them and teach them. If they rejected the good news, then they were to "shake the dust of your feet" and leave.
I have found nowhere in the Bible where Christ told them to form mobs and protest people that did not believe as they did. He never once ordered His followers to call people "baby killers", "Queers", "Faggots", "Towel Heads", or the like.

Jesus never ordered his disciples to plant bombs in the homes and workplaces of the Greeks and Romans (who just so happened to be the most Libertarian/Secular Humanist in all of history. If you want to read about some sick puppies, read about Alexander the Great, read Homer, study up on Caligula Caesar).
In fact, He taught that when a man hit you, you were to turn and offer him the other cheek also. When the Adulteress was about to be stoned, He asked those without sin to cast the first stone. When the woman and He were left alone, He told her to go sin no more.
Sure, Jesus got angry too. He overturned the tables of the money changers (Today's equivalent might be the "payday advance" people or the "sub-prime" mortgage lenders that prey on people who have no money), saying that they turned His Father's house into a "den of thieves!"
The ones He got angriest at were the religious leaders of the day, because they were so busy trying to force their interpretation of the law onto everyone else. Sound familiar? Moses brought 10 simple rules down from the mountain and the religious leaders turned those into hundreds of inane rules that the people were expected to remember and follow. "Remember the Sabbath Day and keep it Holy" turned into not being able to walk more than so far or it was considered work. Jesus was derided for pulling an ear of corn off the stalk on the Sabbath because it violated the "Sabbath" law.
Getting back to the Adulteress mentioned above, Where was the male of that story? There is no mention of the Adulterer, just the Adulteress. The law of the day demanded stoning of the guilty party in adultery. Of course that only meant the women, since the men would not have committed the act if not lead into temptation by the woman.
I am disheartened that after 2000+ years of Christianity, we have learned nothing from the Man (GOD) called Jesus. To be professors of the ideals He taught, we have a strange way of showing that faith.
In this election year, I have received emails telling me that Barack Obama is a Muslim waiting to take over the US "from the inside". The justification of his Muslim-ship? His Father was a Muslim and he attended school in a Muslim country for a brief period--Despite his own admission of being a Christian. To follow that logic, then noted Christian Apologist, William J. Murray is an Atheist, despite his claims to be a Christian because his MOTHER was noted Atheist Madalyn Murray O'Hare. (I am not a supporter of Obama's but I believe he believes in his cause and that he has a right to say how he feels. He is a man that reminds me very much of JFK, who possessed the power to bring the people together for a common goal. In spite of politics, that is admirable.)
I have heard of Gay people being called nasty names. Abortion activists planting bombs and killing people in the name of "Right to Life" principles.
Christians claim that they are right and that God is on their side. That is a matter of how you spin things. The argument might be made that Gays are right because they believe that God made them the way they are and He would not have made them that way if He thought it was wrong. Same for Muslims, Mormons, Hare Krishna, and any other religion. They believe that their way is best--AND it is!!!!...for THEM.
Let's just say that Christians are correct and that one day in His judgement, all Gays and Abortionists, Muslims and etc go to Hell. Then, according to Christian teaching, they are responsible for their own lives. A Christian's job is to make the "good news" known and then provide assistance if asked. It is not to force our way on them, any more than it is the Gays or Abortionists or any other religion to force their way on us. If they refuse to hear us, then we are to shake the dust off our feet and leave them to their fate.
If Christians are to gain the respect they want, then they need to stand up for their beliefs and make them known but to resort to violence and name calling in the name of God is an absolute abomination. To lie or spread rumors and half-truths to further the cause is still a lie and an exact opposite to Christ's teaching.
The religious leaders of the day crucified the Man (GOD) Jesus because he taught Tolerance, Love, and rebuked the Status Quo--We are not too far from that now. Next time, the other side gets it.

The Prodigal

2008-02-23T21:25:00.000-05:00

Here I am with my youngest son at my youngest daughter's (his sister) wedding.

When my first wife left me after 16 years of marriage, I spent the next five years as a Single Dad raising our two children. I never even considered not being in my children's lives. I would have died inside without them those first few years. I kidded myself that they needed me, however in retrospect I would guess we needed each other equally.

I gladly did many things to rearrange my life to take care of my kids and my company and boss were very sympathetic, giving me extra indulgences not normally given a District Manager. Then on what should have been the happiest day of my life to date (when I met the woman God gave me for the rest of my life) my son told me he wanted to live with his mother. I was devastated! After much prayer, I finally relented because I wanted him to be happy.

I spent much of the next year trying to get him to visit me and my new wife (his sister stayed and moved with me). I even went back to court because his mother refused to "make" him come to see me on my visitation weeks, even though she gladly took my child support checks. I finally stood up in court before the judge (after my son asked me, crying, not to force him to do something he didn't want to do) and told him that I wanted to visit with my son but I did not want to force him to see me if he didn't want to. Over the last 5 years, I have seen him maybe ten times, even though we live just 16 miles apart.

I say all this because I experienced many turbulent moments with my daughter over the next few years. At one point she yelled to me that she wished I would just drive off a cliff and die. Now, as she carries my first grandchild, I speak to her nearly every day. Many times several times a day.

My son turns 18 in just four months and says he will join the Marines at that time. I learned this two weeks ago when I met his mom at the oral surgeon's office to wait while my son had all his wisdom teeth.

I worry as a parent that he might have to fight in Iraq if he does join, but I also know he has to find himself and become what he is meant to be. I have hope that the years he was with me have been a stablilzing force on him and that he will remember the love I have had for him from the day he was born. His sister came home and made amends with me so there is that hope. Until then, Ipray that God keeps him safe. I love you son,

Tips For Newly Expecting Parents

2008-01-25T18:59:00.000-05:00

As I mentioned before, our youngest daughter who is nearing her one year anniversary in a few months told us that she is seven weeks pregnant and due in September with our first grandchild.
Since my daughter now lives ten hours away I am not able to offer her my sage advise on parenting so I have assembled a primer (instruction manual for those under 40) for her using pictures sent to me via email.
I hope that these pictures will demonstrate just how extensive my parental expertise is and provide her and her husband with the knowledge to raise a happy, functional and well adjusted child. After all, I used these same techniques with her.

This is an especially important if the baby has a "wet" poopie

I have never felt tempted to wipe my child's ass with my clothing.

This is illegal in most states although thirty-two have allowed this for ages 13-18

No wonder there are no more storks. You have to admit it made it easier to carry the one on the right in their beaks. Though it seems a few were dropped due to shoddy knots-manship.

I definately do not recommend the method on the right. Having had a child with colic, a screaming baby will keep your nerves on end.

Personally, the method on the right is preferred to using an air compressor. Note to son-in-law: Take my word for this!!!

My youngest brother was put to bed in a dresser drawer for two years. I think my sister must have slammed the drawer a few times. He is now 39 and still lives at home. Note to daughter: You do NOT want this!!!

While I am a firm believer in giving a "hand up" to our employmentally challenged brethren, your child is not the method I would suggest to do so.

If any of you have ever tasted breast milk, then I need say no more.

I fed my daughter cereal at two months just to fill her up and get her to sleep for three hours in a row. All kid's need protein but a turkey leg is not the best method.

The alcohol is recommended for the ADULT after a day of listening to your baby scream for attention.

With college entrance exams getting tougher, video teaching in the crib might not be so bad. However, HBO should only be allowed after the child is 12.

Judging from Mom's demeanor above, I think she has already hit the alcohol above.
"Gee Dad, did you wash your hands after changing my diaper? Your hands taste strange."
I know it was all the rage to birth your child underwater a few years back but I do not recommend trying this

Steroids are also prohibited.
However, Anytime you care to spring for a massage, call Dad.
Gives a whole new meaning to tumble dry
Gee Mom, tastes like dog spit!
This is just wrong on so many levels....

I can also palm a basketball and a watermelon, but why would I?
Personally, my daughter was reading Faust and doing the New York Times Sunday Crossword--in ink at two. Takes after her Dad
I did strap my daughter's car seat in the back of my Ford EXP with bungie cords, but had to trade it in when she kept tipping over every time I took a hard turn.
Everyone knows that the baby never stays in the cart. My daughter was 4 and her brother 2 when she was able to turn the cart over on top of her brother in the middle of the supermarket checkout line while her mother and I were standing on either side of the cart.

Reminds me of an old George Carlin routine: "Oh no, Martha! I'm sorry. I lost him in the sun. "

This concludes my tutorial for new parents. I guess you can see now why my daughter moved ten hours away. Her loss on the free baby sitter. For more fun reads, go to HUMOR BLOGS.

New Years in Missouri

2008-01-20T17:40:00.000-05:00

Happy New Year from Missouri!

I promised a week ago to write about our visit to see our youngest daughter and son-in-law in Missouri during the New Years holiday. I have been busy trying to recuperate from that visit and just now is my mind getting to the point that I can talk about it.

As I described before, we were two and a half hours late getting into Missouri due to inclement weather.

To make matters worse, we were sharing our visit with my son-in-law's mother and her boyfriend.

They are nice people (he more so than she) but as the saying goes--a little bit goes a long way. A VERRRRYYYY long way!

On day one, we ate breakfast at the local cafe called the Town Cafe, which I found appropriate since it was the only one in the town. Later we went to Independence where we went to the mall to buy the kid's gifts for Christmas since they live ten hours away and we didn't want to haul their gifts in our luggage and then went out to Logan's Roadhouse for dinner.

On day two, we again ate at the Town Cafe for breakfast. Breakfast was as good as the first day until my son-in-law found a dead roach in his drink glass. The waitress promptly brought him another glass of whatever he was drinking but by then, everyone was finished eating--whether they wanted to be or not. We did not eat at the cafe on day three. Later we went to Sedalia and saw the movie National Treasure, then we went shopping at the Wal-Mart, went home and I cooked my world famous meatloaf for everyone. My wife cooked mashed potatoes and a skillet of corn bread. To close out the evening, we played Guitar Hero with the kids. I am sad to say that even though I play a little guitar, I was no hero at this game.

On day three, New Years Eve, both kids had to work,

so we parents made ourselves useful first with breakfast in Sedalia at Perkins and then a driving safari over the central part of Missouri. We stopped at the Knob Noster State Park and enjoyed the frozen lake. We also found a tree growing through a silo.

Later that afternoon, we ate lunch at another restaurant and then went to the hotel to meet the kids before going to their house to fix dinner. This time, it was the Mother-in-law who cooked. Later, we went back to our motel room to watch the ball drop and we played Phase 10 until 12:30 our time, 11:30 their time because my wife and I had to leave early the next morning to catch a plane back out of Kansas City.

All in all we had a great trip, despite having to share time with the inlaws. It was good to see our kids and it was good to be back home. I am glad the kids are adjusting to married life and that they like where they live. I however, would like for the next visit to be to a warmer climate and preferrably in a city that you don't have to drive twenty minutes to get to the closest Wal-Mart.

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What Shall We Name the Grand-Dad?

2008-01-19T19:52:00.000-05:00

This week my youngest daughter called me as I drove in to work with my wife (my truck was in the shop). Any time the words "Are you sitting down?" preface the conversation, I am assured that my daughter is about to tell me something of biblical proportion. I was not disappointed.

"Sure I am sitting down," I said. "I am driving."

"Mumble-sob-Brad--mumble-test-sob-mumble-sob....."

"Honey, I can't understand a word you're saying." I said.

"Mumble--sob--mumble--sob--mumble--scared--sob...." She continued.

"Honey!" I said louder. "I need you to slow down. I can not understand you. What is the problem?"

"I"-Gasp-"Think"-Gasp-"I'm"-Gasp-"Pregnant." She managed to say. A wave of relief came over me.

"I thought it was something much worse." I said, somewhat amused. "Although I am too young to be a grandfather, I am happy for you if you are happy."

"I just don't know if I am ready to be a mom. I had hoped that we would be married a few years before I got pregnant." She said, somewhat bummed.

"Well just remember that God will not give you anything that He does not feel you can bear. If you are pregnant, then He felt you were ready." I said.

"Still, Pop I don't know if I can be a good mom. I am scared."

"Honey, I think you will be a great mom. I raised you to do the right thing and I am certain you will do just fine. Life throws us curves and we can not always go by our plans. I wish you two had a little more time to get to know each other better before a baby came along but, I am sure that you will manage just fine."

"Really?" She asked. "I mean I want a baby, but I am just not sure I am capable of being a good mom."

"Well, we are never ready to be the perfect parent but it is an on the job learning experience and you will make mistakes. Trust me, you will be fine. And honey, you know I love you and I am happy for you."

Later I text messaged her: "I know you will make a great mom. I love you more than you may ever know."

Several days later I called back to check on her and she was much more calm and actually looking forward to being a mother. I was glad to see this because I knew she could do it, despite not being planned. As she hung up, she said "Talk to you later, Grandpa."

Oh NO she Didn't! I was too young to be a Grandfather. My daughter may be old enough to have a child, but I was not old enough to be a grandpa! Later in the day, she sent me a text message: "You know you are excited about being a grandpa."

I texted her back: "I am excited that you are going to have a child that is just like you--and God have mercy on you when she becomes a teenager."

I then texted her again: "There will be no 'Grandpa'. You can call me 'Pop' or 'Uncle Dad'."

She sent me one back: "Uncle Dad? LOL. You are silly, Dad."

"We are from Tennessee.' I replied.

"So I guess it is 'Pop'" She sent back.

"You don't like 'Uncle Dad?" I asked.

No reply. She always was a difficult child. I hope she has two just like her.

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Happy New Year

2008-01-07T18:06:00.000-05:00

It is good to be back. On December 28th, my wife and I flew out to Knob Noster, Missouri (pronounced Mis-er-y) to visit daughter#2 and son-in-law #1. I call him son-in-law #1 because they married first and Daughter #1 is married to son-in-law #2. I know it sounds confusing but this is the South and we have strange family trees in many places, particularly Alabama.

While in Missouri, we stayed in the hotel at Whiteman AFB, and for just $32 a night it was a nice suite. While my daughter and her husband love it out there, I felt the hotel was the highlight of the city of Knob Noster. I lived in Malden, Missouri 16 years ago, which is in the bootheel of the state and it was much like Knob (as the locals call it)--surrounded on all sides by soybean fields, wheat and milo. The closest town with a Wal Mart is 25 miles away and the closest town with a mall is Independence--nearly an hour away.

We left our home in Cleveland, Tn and drove 2 hours to Nashville for a flight on SouthWestern because it was nearly $300 cheaper than flying out of Chattanooga just 15 miles South of us. The flight was scheduled to leave at 8:45PM and we arrived at the airport the required 2 hours early, only to find out that the flight was already delayed 30 minutes at that time due to connecting flights from the north.

We checked our luggage, and muddled our way through security--never carry on your CPAP machine--check it and save the hassle. I had been told to take the CPAP out of my bag. I thought they meant the carryon bag. They meant the zipper bag it is in. So after I took the CPAP bag out of my carry on and placed it on the conveyor belt they stopped it in the middle of the X-ray machine and called for a hand search.

A specialist came over and he was wearing rubber gloves. You can imagine my relief when I found out he only had to hand search my bag and not me. After he hand searched the bag, he swabbed the maching for explosive residue and then dumped the contents into a bin and ran it back through the X-ray machine again. I was then allowed to get the bin and try to stuff the contents back into the zipper bag and the zipper bag into my carry on while at the same time, trying to put my shoes back on and keep from getting run over by the others coming through the line.

Once all my personal belongings were back on and we were on our way to the terminal gate, I was ready for a drink. To my good fortune, there was a full bar across from our gate. I left my wife at the only two seats available at the next gate down from ours and stood in line twenty minutes to pay $11 for two beers. We drank our beers and then they called the flight before ours and that opened seats up at our own gate, so we moved over there.

On the way, I noticed that our flight was now 45 minutes delayed. Terriffic, I thought. Now we would not arrive until 11:30 and it was two hours from Kansas City to Knob, where the Air Force Base was. Then the nice man came on the loud speaker and asked us to move five gates down the terminal where we would be delayed another 30 minutes.

As we walked to the new gate, there were people in the floor, laying down and sleeping, reading or playing games. Things did not look good for us to get there on time. And since we had guaranteed late arrival at the hotel, we paid whether we arrived or not. It seemed that the cities of Chicago, Detroit and Baltimore were causing the delays since they had so much snow, the planes kept having to be de-iced. At 11:30, our flight was finally called--two hours late--and we boarded the plane.

Southwestern has a unique way of boarding. There are no assigned seats, you are seated according to your boarding passes, which are labled A-B-or C and 1-30 or 31-60. My wife and I were B23 and B 22, so we had a good choice of seats. When we went down the aisle, we saw three seats open on the right wing. Two of the seats were turned over but I brilliantly told my wife that they must have been where the two child seats I saw a man carry off were. We turned the seats over, sat down and buckled up. Another man sat in the aisle seat.

Just before takeoff, the steward (male flight attendant?) came by and said "You sat in the broken seats? Oh well, don't worry about it." He went on down the aisle toward the cabin. A few minutes later the head stewardess came to our seats and informed us that we would have to get out of the broken seats and take the only two remaining seats on the plane. Since my wife and the man in the aisle seat were in the broken seats, we decided to let him have my seat and we moved. Her to the very back of the plane and me to the middle--twenty rows apart. This flight was beginning to wear on me.

After we arrived in Kansas City at 1:30 AM, I noticed the tarmac was covered with a sheet of ice. Had I known that, I would have been praying harder. (The next day, my son-in-law's mother, who also happened to pick the same week as us to visit, informed me that a plane had went off the runway the night before) It was 3:30 before we checked into the hotel. I was ready for bed, and fell to sleep immediately. Tomorrow, I will describe our wonderful visit with our kids.

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Tis the Season

2007-12-27T08:17:00.000-05:00

This Christmas was a first for me. It is the first that my oldest (our youngest) daughter was not home for Christmas morning. Usually, since she was about three years old, she would come bounding into my bedroom and jump on the bed at about 6 AM and scream with anticipation and joy "Wake-y Wake-y! Santa's been here and it's time to open presents." Which wasn't so bad until she was about 14 and by that time she had gotten taller and bonier and she elbow to the ribs and the knee to the kidney started hurting my aging body.

As I said in an earlier post she got married last April and she and her husband moved to Missouri after his Air Force basic training and Tech school. As a father, I have tried to be sensitive to our children's needs and desires but I have also had to be firm and not show emotion at times. I did rather well at not showing emotion when they left to go to Missouri. My wife, on the other hand was a big blubber-headed baby. (I had had my tears shed when she left home in anger a year before, after graduating high school and had determined that I had shed enough tears over my children--I know ladies, but I AM a man!)

Well, THIS Christmas, I would not show emotion and I would NOT shed a tear. Little did I know how the human body works.

I am used to my son, who disowned me and moved in with his mother after I got engaged to my wife. I see him on about two occasions a year if I am lucky. I talk to him even less, as when I call he always is in the middle of something and says he will call me back and never does. With him, I determined a couple of years ago to stop worrying about begging him to see me. I decided that if he WANTS to see me, he will. If he does not want to see me, no amount of calling and begging him will work. All I can do is pray that one day he will realize that I love him and want to make peace with me.

I tried approaching my daughter moving away the same way. Problem is, the situations are not the same. On the one hand, my son does not want to have anything to do with me, whatever his reasoning is. My daughter, on the other hand calls me or my wife every other day at least. Sometimes three or four times a day. On still the other hand, (Yes, I do have three hands) She and I have always been close and I really miss the one child I have that is over the"Dad is a dunderhead" phase.

Still, my manly pride will not let me cry without good provocation. It is a man thing--deal with it! I had not cried at all leading right up to Christmas Eve, when we hosted my wife's family get together. We had 21 of the Davis clan in our 1875 square foot home, most of them confined to the living and kitchen/dining rooms. (I am glad that fire marshals do not work Christmas Eve as there were a few times that the exits were clearly blocked by humankind.)

As is tradition, we waited for one set of the daughter's family to arrive. Only this year, it was not the usual suspects. No, they were the first family to arrive. When I mentioned this to my brother-in-law, he stated that "usually my timing is better than that."

After everyone arrived, we fed our faces and then opened presents. When it came to my daughter's turn, we called her and told her that it was her turn to open presents. We reasoned that just because she was away from us, did not mean that she had to be left out. After the presents, then the real meaning for our gathering began--football bowl games and why the Vols don't deserve the bowl they got and why the Bulldogs got shafted again.

While my two brothers-in-law and their sons and my oldest son all stood in one corner of the living room and discussed the merits of a college football playoff and why the SEC does not get any respect, my wife and all the other women folk sat around the room and talked as if they were talking to a deaf relative because the men were so vocal in their discussions. As the women spoke louder, the men did also. Before long, the room was a cacophony of vocal discombobulation (this means it was a loud, confusing and head ache inducing noise).

I snuck off and text messaged my daughter. "I nd a drk!" and after everyone left, we sat down to play Phase 10 with the kids that were home and I did have a drink or three. We drank and played cards until my wife was giggling uncontrollably and I won the game. (I think instead of our tradition of going to the movies on Christmas day, I would vote to make this our new tradition) It was an agreeable evening.

Fast forward to six AM Christmas Day. I am awakened over the sound of my CPAP machine by my wife, sniffling. I took of the machine and turned to her. "What's wrong, Honey?"
"I miss my Allie. It is not the same without her here and I want all my chicks home."

I suddenly felt for the first time, just how much she was right. Our children did belong at home on Christmas, and even though at least half were here, it still was not the same without our youngest daughter and her husband here too.

I spent years trying to get my children grown and on their own. I just knew after adolescence, that I would be ready for a break from them and ready to share some quiet time alone with my wife and our friends. What I did not realize was that I can have that time anytime. I see them every day. We now have no children at home and all live at least an hour and a half away (except for the one that has disowned us), so we see very little of them. Absence does make the heart grow fonder. Damn it! This just is not fair. I was not supposed to feel this way and now that I do, it bothers me to see them leave to go their own seperate ways.

Toothless in Cleveland

2007-12-15T20:39:00.001-05:00

My wife and I went shopping at Wally-World today. For the uninitiated, that's Wal-Mart. This is the time of year I hate to even drive through their parking lot. I almost called this post "Tis the Season..." because as I was walking through the store, minding my own business and looking at the vast array of people that were braving this jungle ten days before Christmas, a thought dawned on me.
Christmas is the season where people celebrate receiving massive gifts that cost way too much money and will be used three times before they get broken (sure, Christians also celebrate the birth of Christ, but let's face it--that is no longer the real meaning of the season. The real meaning is crass selfishness and narcissism. "What about ME?"). It is the time of year that most people are happy and joyous. Hence the words to the song "Tis the season to be jolly"--unless of course you happen to be at Wally-World. Then it is every man for himself.
People will see you looking at an item on a shelf and walk right in front of you and never excuse themself. One woman actually reached right in front of me and picked up the item I was looking at, leaving me with one left on the shelf that was broken. Merry Christmas.
As we proceeded through the aisles, we were bumped into, rubbed up against, had our cart chrashed into, and that was just in the checkout line. The closer we get to Christmas, the less jolly I become and the more rude people are. I honestly don't know how Santa remained so jolly all these years. If he didn't have all those elves making his toys and he had to shop at Wally-World, he might not have been so nice.
The worst treatment I have ever had is when I had to take something back and I dared to forget the receipt. You would have thought I had stolen the item and had been caught on tape trying to bring it back for a refund. That is the way they treat you now days. I kept waiting for them to strip search me spread-eagled across the customer service counter.
I remember the old days when all you had to was bring an item back and there were no questions asked. They just refunded your money and you were on your way. Then they started only refunding if you had a receipt. Then a few years later they only refunded with a receipt within 30 days. Now they only refund if you have a receipt and never left the store. It should not be so hard to bring back a pair of underwear that only lasted three months. Stuff just doesn't last like it used to.
When we got ready to leave there were of course only 7 cashiers for 32 checkout lanes and every one of them were lined all the way back to the electronics department. We decided to go through the self checkout aisle.
I hate the self checkout aisle because every item you scan, you are prompted to place the item in the bag, which would not be so bad except that I had already put it there! You can not scan the next item if the scale does not sense that you placed the item in the bag. It does give you the choice to press "skip bagging" for those lightweight items but there is a limit of 5 skips before it locks up and tells you to ask the cashier for assistance (which would be ok if she was anywhere to be found). This, in and of itself is not so bad but once when I found a deal on Jello, I had to call her over ten times.
Today we were fortunate to have an actual cashier working our lane. When she came up to turn her key and enter the secret code for the third time she smiled and had the prettiest gums I have ever seen. No teeth, just gums. I kid you not. I could not help but stare even though I knew it was wrong.
It reminded me of a time when I was a District Manager for my company and I had an interview with a man for a management position in my area. When it came time for my interview, the man came in and sat down across from me. I swear to you the man had ONE (1) count it, ONE tooth in his mouth! It was bottom center. There was not another tooth and the gums weren't looking so hot either.
I am not one to judge, but being as I was the DM for a fast food restaurant, looking for a manager that would be on the front counter selling food to people that were hungry, I doubted that this interview would result in gainful employment for the man.
As I asked the routine questions, my eye was drawn to the tooth. As he spoke, the tooth moved! First forward, then backward. It was a precarious situation as I was afraid that the tooth might fall right out and he would start choking and I might have to perform the Heimlich Maneuver or even worse, mouth to mouth resucitation. Funny the things we remember in our lives. My wife says I can't remember what she told me last night but I can sure remember things like that. But I digress....
The girl at the checkout was nice enough but it was not appealing for me as a customer. I am not a fan of socialized medicine as many politicians are currently espousing, but I'd be willing to chip in a few bucks for this otherwise attractive girl to have a full smile again.
As we left the Wal-Mart, I couldn't help but quip to my wife, "I bet I know what her favorite Christmas song is. 'All I want for Christmas is a new set of teeth'."
As I was scanning the internet tonight looking for a picture to go with this post, I came across a website that is "the only place in the world that celebrates the attraction of toothless women" as evidenced by the photo above. I browsed through a few of the pictures and I have to tell you, the woman above is the closest thing to an attractive toothless woman on the site.
Still, I have a feeling the girl at Wally-World might have a shot at being the "cover girl".

The Fifth Circle of Hell

2007-12-07T23:18:00.001-05:00

Any person that has had children can understand when I say that there comes a time in your child's life that I have come to term "The Fifth Circle of Hell", which is not to be confused with the First Circle of Hell, also known as "The Ex" (which I will describe in another post).
When my first child was born, I was as proud as any father could be. (I was a little concerned when she first appeared because she was blue from the umbilical cord being wrapped around her neck and she looked like a black child and me being the "glow-in-the-dark" kind of caucasian--this concerned me)
I wrapped my child up in my arms and held her close as I cried tears of joy. Which was ironic because from that day forward, she wrapped me around her little finger and I cried tears of sorrow many times.
The first words she uttered were of course "Daddy" and as she grew, we became inseprable. When I went to work, she would and on the chair in front of the window and scream for me to come back. When I came home from work, she would still be standing in that same chair and screaming tears of joy, she would race to meet me at the door.
Before she could walk, I would hold her in the air with my hands extended high above my head. I had a cowl and cape from an Ewok doll that fit her tiny head perfectly and we would play "Superbaby and her pal, The Amazing Daddy-Man" fighting injustice and looking for formula to feed her growing appetite.
After she learned to walk, we would walk all over the neighborhood hand in hand, just a little girl and her adoring daddy. Her mother and I divorced when she was 11 and I was a single parent of two for four years. During the first two years she had been the perfect child. She was very helpful to me in caring for her younger brother and she was the most mannerly child for her age I had ever seen. Then in the summer of 2001, she turned 13 and my adoring, sweet innocent daughter was possessed by the demon child from Hell and was held captive for six long years.
Overnight I went from the "Amazing Daddy-Man" to the Big Dork Daddy--actually she called me another name but this is a family friendly blog. Nothing I did was right and more importantly nothing she did was WRONG!
To make matters worse, her mother and I were not on the most friendly of terms (we rarely spoke without screaming till this one got married) and whatever I did, her mother would do the opposite and my darling little girl realizing the potential, took full advantage. If I grounded her, she would go to Mom's and she was not grounded at Mom's. If I told her she couldn't spend the night with a friend, she decided to spend the night with her mother and wonder of wonders, when I called to wish her good night, she was spending the night with a friend!
Things got really tense when I remarried, five years ago. This daughter was 15, going on 36 and she would no longer be the oldest child. In fact, she and my new wife's daughter were in between two boys. The new sister was two years older and she had been the "baby" to her Dad. So now we had TWO teenage girls, One no longer the baby and one no longer the oldest. Both vying for the crown of the biggest attention getter.
The odd thing was that the girls truly liked each other and called each other "Sis" from the start but when they didn't get their way, they BOTH suddenly forgot familial love and the gloves were off! Tatanya Ali could not have taken either girl in a fight.
The oldest, grudgingly came to tolerate me and over time has accepted me as her mother's husband and as her Step-dad. This seemed to infuriate my youngest more because she no longer got ALL my attention. If I got attention from the oldest, the youngest got mad. The same held true for my wife. If the youngest gave her attention, the oldest got mad. The girls could fight like hellions one minute and the next minute they were on the way to the mall to go shopping.
Things got entirely wacked out when the oldest went to college and the youngest was at home alone. For nearly six months, we had relative peace and the house was a joy to be in. Then she discovered boys, or BOY I should say.
I got her a part-time job the summer of her 16th birthday at the movie theater and she met a boy I could best describe as "not my first choice" for my baby girl. Nothing I could put my finger on--other than the earrings and beaded necklaces--that made me not like him. I guess it was an instance of no boy being good enough for my daughter.
Once the BOY asked her out, we were in for a long two years. When she was with him, she was a different person. I used to joke with my wife that we had two girls living with us--Allie, the nice, sweet loving daughter and Allison, the beligerant, defiant, cruel daughter. It was a crap shoot. Like Forrest Gump said "Ya never quite know what you're gonna get."
It was during one of these times of angst, that while we were arguing she screamed "I wish you would just drive off a cliff and DIE!" I would not have been more shocked if she had rammed a sword into my heart...in fact, that is what it felt like. I was devastated! For weeks, we did not speak unless we had to. Then after a few weeks, she just walked in one day like nothing had ever happened. I joked with my wife that it was like I was still married to her mother.
Last March, this daughter married BOY and asked me to walk her down the aisle. See this post In October she and BOY moved to Missouri where he is stationed in the Air Force. She called me out of the blue last month (actually she calls nearly every day) and was telling me about her new job at the credit union. Suddenly she told me "You know, I was telling my boss that I have the best dad in the world. I really put you through Hell, didn't I?" I teared up as I told her "Hell, yes! You were the demon child from Hell for a while there and I hope you have three just like you!"

Where Am I And Why Am I In This Handbasket?

2007-12-07T15:56:00.000-05:00

The happy couple as the Wrestler/Minister, eldest daughter and Cousin IT look on.

I began to realize earlier this year that I am not ever going to win the Nobel Prize or be a prize winning actor, author or singer. I am at the point in my life that I realize that the best (read most active) years of my life have passed and the best I can hope for is to cruise into old age where I will be put into dry-dock and hopefully live to a ripe old age of at least eighty or ninety. Though I am sure that my children have contributed to shortening my life somewhat over the years. That is why I have started this blog.
This year my wife and I saw two daughters walk down the aisle. Since we are a blended family with four children between us, I only got the pleasure of walking one of them down the aisle. The other daughter was walked down the aisle by her paternal father. I call him that as I still look at her as my daughter, even if I did not help her mother to produce her.
Getting back to the two daughters walking down the aisle. The youngest went first in March of this year and the elder went a few months later in October. I dreamed for years that I would one day walk my little girl down the aisle. I envisioned a large grand wedding with many friends and guests and a reception that would last for hours. It was an affair that would set me back at least a year's pay. NOT!
The wedding was in a chapel in the Smokey Mountains with a former Pro Wrestler as the minister. Everything was over in about 30 minutes because they had to clean up for the next wedding. They did have a tight schedule after all!
It was a far cry from my dreams (and a lot less expensive since her future Mother-in-law chose the chapel and paid for it, so I am not want to complain that point) yet it was still poignant and a bitter-sweet event.
On the one hand, I was giving my little girl away to the man she had fallen in love with. On the other hand, my wife and I were soon to have a lot more freedom for doing the things we wanted. (When October came around, we could finally have our "Naked House"!)
The chapel was very small and nicely decorated. My Ex-wife and our son sat on the front pew. My wife and I on the second row. The Groom's family sat on the Right side of the aisle. After I walked her down the aisle and I told those gathered and the Wrestler/Minister that "her family and I do", I presented her to her husband-to-be.
That is when I got the first look at the Best Man. If you are familiar with Marilyn Manson, then you know what the guy looked like. For those of you over 40, watch "The Amazing Race" and look at the Goth "guy"--I use the term "guy" loosely here.
I very nearly grabbed my daughter and drug her back down the aisle, screaming "Hell No!!!!" I seriously did not want my daughter marrying into a family where the husband's Best Man/Cousin looked like a love child of Alice Cooper and Bjork. What would my grandchildren look like?
I stood there for a moment, debating whether I could make it out the door with her before I was tackled. I looked over at my wives (both current and Ex) and they both had this look of horror on their face because they knew me well enough to know what I was thinking. As if on cue they both shook their heads spasmodically, their eyes wide as saucers. I started to open my mouth to speak and the spasms got more violent. I was afraid their heads might suddenly snap off. I had no desire to see that happen even to my ex-wife, so I slinked over to sit beside my wife, resigned that my grandkids would look like Gomez Addams.
I made it through the wedding and after the honeymoon, my wife and I held an informal reception for them (the Son -of-Satan did not come to this event) before my new son-in-law left for the Air Force basic training.
The day my son-in-law left, my daughter moved back in with us. It seemed strange to me. Most girls get married then move OUT of the house to live with their new husband. MY daughter moved out, then got married, then moved back IN! I told her I thought she had it backwards but what is a father to do? I guess the naked house will have to wait a little longer.

Of All The Things I've Ever Lost, I Miss My Mind The Most

2007-12-07T15:55:00.000-05:00

As I get older, it has become increasingly harder for me to be entertained. I am no longer content to stay plastered in front of the television or the computer for hours on end. If I read a book, I seldom get more than three pages read before I am in the throes of slumber.
(Before I go on here, you might be thinking that sleep and throes are mutually exclusive words since throes means "a violent upheaval" however, I am here to tell you that until you have watched me sleep, do not cast stones on my grasp of the American English language.)
My children are all grown or moved away so it is hard for me to entertain myself at their expense like I did when my daughters were growing up and dating. Ah, the memories! New boyfriends were the best entertainment. I remember telling one particular boy who my youngest eventually married, that "I love my daughter and do not mind going back to prison--if you understand what I am saying." He did.
Tennessee football has lost much of it's appeal for me since they insist on winning in the first half and then giving the game away after the halftime. It sort of makes me wonder what exactly Phil is saying in his "pep talk".
I must admit that I am running out of things that make me feel entertained. I have made a comittment to find new and exciting ways to entertain myself. I may in fact, have found a new way to do just that.
The other day I went to the Wal-Mart with my wife to get items for Thanksgiving dinner. While there she wanted to look for new undergarments. While she was in the dressing room, I stood outside the door next to the discard rack and held up women's clothing and would ask passersby "Does this make me look fat?" My wife came out just when I was holding a lace thong and seeking the advice of an elderly woman. She had a conniption (I never knew what this was when my mother used it growing up but according to Dictionary.com, it is a display of bad temper--that would be an understatement).
Later as we shopped for a few groceries, I would look into other people's carts and see if they had anything that struck my fancy. One woman got quite beligerant when grabbing a ham out of my hands and asked me to leave her stuff alone. I was going to correct her by telling her that said stuff was not actually hers until she paid for it but my wife pulled me away from the woman by the ear. I managed to break free before she ripped off the lower left lobe.
As we stood in line to pay for our purchases, I began to read the magazines in the racks. You know the ones. The Globe, Enquirer, People, US, etc.
"Hey honey," I said. "We can put all this stuff back. This magazine says the world is going to end on Thanksgiving day and if that is so, I would rather not spend this money just to see it go to waste. Maybe we could save the money and go see a movie or three."
She just shook her head and then refused to talk with me for the better part of the night. I am not sure why she gets like that but I doubt I am going to ask her to go shopping with me anymore if she keeps up with that kind of attitude.

Where is All the Toilet Paper?

2007-12-07T15:52:00.000-05:00

Many many years ago, I would have never dreamed that I would be writing about the one thing that is my Pet Peeve–Again! About 20 years ago, in the first collection of stories that I wrote I detailed the delimma of “the disappearing toilet paper”. It was a story that would have made good copy for a Hardy Boys Mystery but being as those boys never had a sister or wife, they might never have gotten to the bottom of the mystery.
I have ranted and raved at my wife for years about the incredible speed at which toilet paper disappears in our household. One would think that the stuff was made of GOLD! We could go through an eight roll pack in three days. I was ecstatic when they came out with double rolls. At least we could go a week without running out. It was bad enough when there was just the two of us. Then along came the daughters.
No man has a chance when there are three women in the house. My wife would bring home a new eight MEGA roll pack (for the uninitiated, that is a TRIPLE roll), duly divide the spoils between our bathroom downstairs and the girls’ bathroom upstairs. In three days time, We might have used ONE roll. The girls however would have used all their stash of four rolls and have already stolen one of ours. By day five, we were out and reduced to using, napkins, paper towels, pine cones or whatever we could find.
It was not that there was no paper left after less than a week that made me mad. What totally enraged me is that I would not FIND OUT we had no paper until after I had done my business and reached for the roll only to find an empty spindle. No problem, I just reach behind me to the towel rack above the toliet tank where we keep spare rolls. Nothing but air!
Annoyed, I turn my head and notice that the rack is indeed empty. I look under the sink in front of the throne. Nothing there, but i did find evidence that we had a four legged friend that likes to chew cotton balls and heating pad covers.
Frustrated, I call out to my wife. Then I realize that she and the girls went to the mall for something. I mutter a few four letter words under my breath and push myself up, drawers around my ankles, I duck walk to the door of the bathroom and peek out before I open it all the way.
No sign of the ladies of the house. I open the door wide, and start out into the hall when I realize that the bedroom blinds are open and the neighbor from across the road is in his pasture next door to my house, feeding his horses. I yelp an expletive and try to rush past the window to the kitchen for a roll of paper towels, forgetting that I am bound at the ankles by my boxers. I managed to get about four steps before I became so entangled that I began to fall.
I tried to catch myself on the kitchen chair as I fell only to miss it entirely. I did however catch the floor with my knees and hardwood is not a soft landing. So there I was, drawers around my ankles, naked, on the kitchen floor. Guess who picked that moment to come home? Right! I made it back to the bathroom just in time to keep from mooning my family. The next day I bought three of the Mega roll eight packs and stashed them in stratigic places in the bathroom. I made myself a promise I would never be caught without again. However, with two daughters at home, I am not holding my breath.