Sit and Spin

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

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

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

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?

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

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

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

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

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?

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

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?

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.