November 4, 2010
Hello to any of you that may actually stop by here to see if there is a post. I appreciate your faithfulness.
There have been some things going on, so I wanted to get some of them down on computer, if you will.
With cross country season done for CJ, he has really thrown himself into homework and drums. The same way a feather is thrown into a fan. Well, not really that badly, but there seem to be some distractions in his brain. No, not girls so much yet. He and Taylor....
Wait, wait...now we have a story.
Halloween was last weekend. CJ and his friends had a Latin Club thing to go to during which they collected cans for a food drive, and then it was trick or treat time. Except that CJ is an eighth grader and 13 and does not want to trick or treat anymore. That is fine with me. I see plenty of older "kids" in their twenties out there treating, but if CJ wants to end his begging career early, who am I to judge. I hope he never ends up homeless (for a lot of reasons), but he is going to lack the skill of standing on a corner and begging for food now that he gave up beggars night.
So the activity became bringing boys back to our basement. The game system and computer are all that a few eighth grade boys need for entertainment. At least the ones CJ had here. Beth and I gave out candy, and along came some more eighth graders. The group in the basement was four boys strong, and it quickly became 3 more boys, AND TWO GIRLS when I told them CJ was in the basement. One of the boys could not even actually take candy from me as his one hand held the baseball bat that was part of his bat wielding bunny costume, and the other hand held a young lady's hand. Letting go for either of them would apparently end the relationship right there and then, so the grip was maintained for the duration of their stay and beyond.
So in keeping up with the headcount in the basement, just like the Nintendo DS game, Brain Age, I had it at seven boys, TWO GIRLS. Then along came two more GIRLS, and one of them was Taylor. At least I thought it was through the costume and makeup and the "no talking to the weird dad" thing. So GIRL #1, (who is an adorable CC team mate of CJ named Lydia), did the talking and asked if they could go to the basement and say hello. Absolutely. Headcount now, seven boys and FOUR GIRLS. If you have not seen our basement, eleven toddlers down there would be crowded. Eleven teenagers all hopped up on candy with You Tube access? Smells like trouble.
However, before I could get nervous and think about getting the hose, two boys and two girls exited the house. Trick or treat was about over, Beth and I were cold, so we came back in. There seemed to be a lot of giggling going on in the basement, but that was actually one of the boys. 13 year olds mature at different rates, as do 43 year olds as it turns out.
So rather than make much ado about nothing, eventually all boys AND GIRLS leave our basement, except of course one of the boys. There is always one kid who you have to offer to drive home before they get the clue to leave on their own. No, it was not CJ, he is a keeper.
Anyway, we will call that our first boy/GIRL party, and I think all went well. Pretty harmless, I think. It may take awhile to get the smell of Axe out of our basement though.
So here are the parenting moments I have taken from this and one other thing that has happened. First, as it relates to Halloween night, I think it is cool that CJ is willing to stay here and invite kids over. I interpret it that as I am not nearly as embarrassing to him as he likes to make me think. I did make an effort to not "say anything funny", though references to hand checks and pot sniffing dogs were pulsating through my brain. Beth and I would like to keep him close as long as possible.
Second, I would like to give advice to any dad out there that has been in my predicament. I am a big fan of sports. Loved playing them, love watching them. CJ, not so much. Does not care to watch them. Isn't obsessed with playing team sports. His favorite part of the games when he did play involved the treat after the game.
Therefore, I had two choices if I wanted to bond with my son, which I wanted to do very badly. Actually, I did not want to bond with him badly, I wanted to bond with him goodly. Carp, you know what I mean.
The first choice was to force/guide/guilt trip/push CJ into sports. Keep signing him up and coaching him to be better or want it more. Try to convince him that it was more fun than he thought. Take him to games and bribe him with concession fare so that we would watch Xavier basketball or Cincinnati Reds baseball and have some awesome father/son bonding.
The second choice was for me to start taking an interest in his interests. That is the path I have chosen. It isn't as hard as you might think, and fortunately, he is not into ballet or opera. So I have found a PS3 game that I could play without becoming so frustrated that I threw the controller against the wall. Scaring your kid, not the same as bonding. Also, I go to his music ensemble practices to watch him play percussion and then ask questions about music and his part in it so that I can learn and be a part of it. Did you know that playing the triangle is much trickier than it looks? No, really.
And finally, I have started reading some of the books that CJ likes. I wanted him to read The Hardy Boys series when he was younger because I grew up on them, but he wasn't into Frank and Joe and all their mystery solving. However, he is into The Hunger Games Trilogy and now The Last Apprentice Series. I told you about The Hunger Games already, but I just finished reading The Last Apprentice, Revenge of the Witch, and now when he does his book project this weekend, we can share out thoughts from the book together. It really works.
So if any of you are dads, or play one on TV, or know one in real life that is trying to bond with a youngster, let him in on what I have discovered. For all I know, it may even work for mothers and daughters. I am not sure because I thought all girls were crazy about cooking and dressing up and have been for generations. Is it a good thing I do not have a daughter?
Thursday, November 4, 2010
Tuesday, October 19, 2010
Even Meatloaf can't write a song about this.
October 19, 2010
I went a little Deepy McDeepster the other day on ya. I can't be Hi.Larry.Us all the time don't ya know. Or any of the time, some of you are saying.
Does anyone remember the Meatloaf song Two Out of Three Ain't Bad? Not to be confused with On Top of Spaghetti, all covered with cheese...
Well, I have realized I am oh-for-three. Here is what I am talking about.
I was revisiting why I started this blog back in July of 2009, and I came up with three reasons. One was to become famous as bloggers have a tendency to be. Actually, I do not know how many famous bloggers there are, but I do know that some have gazillions of followers and I wanted to be one of those special contributors to society as we know it. As it turns out, I am not funny enough, thought-provoking enough, dedicated enough, or wild and crazy enough to have good blog fodder every day. I have some faithful readers (thank you Katie and Beth), but that falls a little short of the gazillion mark.
Wow, a little self-important you say? Yeah, it sounds like that, but that is really not the main reason I started the blog, it was just a hopeful by-product so I could quit my job and make a living sitting on my arse.
The two more important reasons I started this here blog have to do with my family. For some reason, I have had the Michael Keaton movie, My Life, stuck in my head since I saw it 100 years ago. He finds out he is dying around the same time he finds out he is going to have a child. Therefore, he videotapes segments of life-teaching moments that his child can watch in the future to know about his dad. It was a real up-lifting movie. Can someone hand me a hanky just thinking about it. However, I always thought I was Michael Keaton, or at least his character in that movie, so I decided that some day I was going to die before CJ was old enough to hear all my words of wisdom. As it turns out, I mistook which Michael Keaton movie I really wanted to emulate. It should have been Mr Mom. Beth did not really help me out with that one either as she has not gone out and gotten that corporate job with the opportunity to sleep with her smarmy boss. Thanks sweetie, no really, thanks.
So I had a brush with my mortality earlier this year. It was not a big broom-sized brush with death, it was more like one of those little paint-by-numbers paint brushes brush with death. I had this brain/ear thing for which I was tested for MS only to find out there is nothing actually in my head. Apparently, the pain in my ear when I am sleeping is actually caused by the hamster that spins the wheel in my brain taking the night off to sleep, and he falls out of bed sometimes with gravity smashing him into my inner ear. What? That is what it said on the diagnostic printout. They would not charge me all that money and lie to me.
So, I am not dying. Well, I am, but really slowly. My death certificate does not have an expiration date on it.
So the last reason I started this blog was to communicate with my family. A friend of mine from college writes a letter at Christmas time every year that he sends out to his family and friends telling what has happened with his family. It is usually quite funny, especially the year he tried to convince everyone that they had another baby and named it LeBron. He grew up in Cleveland, and LeBron James used to play basketball in Cleveland. I thought I better explain that for people that live in Portland where they do not know of such things.
It was not a stretch, therefore, to think that I could have a blog, and my brother and sister could check in on my family whenever they wanted. They could also then give me less grief about how little I phone them. However, their lives are rather hectic, and they have never gotten in the habit of checking in on my blog. Plus, they grew up with me, so they stopped finding me funny a long time ago.
So, I am finding less and less incentive to keep blogging, at least regularly. If you can call two or three times a week regular. I know people trying to poop certainly would not call that regular. So I will probably become even more constipated, or less regular. Depends on how you want to look at it. I will be posting when something comes up that I want to chronicle for CJ to refer back to someday, but how often Beth gets pulled over by a police officer is about as unforeseen as how often CJ misspells a word like "Sindy".
Perhaps I will be here more often than I think.
Finally, in other news, congrats to CJ for finishing his cross country season with a personal best time of 14:40 for two miles. He did awesome and even recovered from tripping over another runner at the beginning. CJ, if you read this, I am very proud of you and look forward to seeing you grow up. Please try to be funny every once in a while so I can find something to post about. Or you can do something awesome like joining the Junior Cincinnati Youth Wind Ensemble and nailing that triangle solo. (He is a percussionist, and they bang things to make sound-again for Portland where they are still trying to figure out if sounds are made from trees falling in the forest.)
Thank you all for reading this rather long post, but they may be longer now in correlation with being less frequent. That actually does not make sense, but I cannot think of another appropriate poop reference.
I went a little Deepy McDeepster the other day on ya. I can't be Hi.Larry.Us all the time don't ya know. Or any of the time, some of you are saying.
Does anyone remember the Meatloaf song Two Out of Three Ain't Bad? Not to be confused with On Top of Spaghetti, all covered with cheese...
Well, I have realized I am oh-for-three. Here is what I am talking about.
I was revisiting why I started this blog back in July of 2009, and I came up with three reasons. One was to become famous as bloggers have a tendency to be. Actually, I do not know how many famous bloggers there are, but I do know that some have gazillions of followers and I wanted to be one of those special contributors to society as we know it. As it turns out, I am not funny enough, thought-provoking enough, dedicated enough, or wild and crazy enough to have good blog fodder every day. I have some faithful readers (thank you Katie and Beth), but that falls a little short of the gazillion mark.
Wow, a little self-important you say? Yeah, it sounds like that, but that is really not the main reason I started the blog, it was just a hopeful by-product so I could quit my job and make a living sitting on my arse.
The two more important reasons I started this here blog have to do with my family. For some reason, I have had the Michael Keaton movie, My Life, stuck in my head since I saw it 100 years ago. He finds out he is dying around the same time he finds out he is going to have a child. Therefore, he videotapes segments of life-teaching moments that his child can watch in the future to know about his dad. It was a real up-lifting movie. Can someone hand me a hanky just thinking about it. However, I always thought I was Michael Keaton, or at least his character in that movie, so I decided that some day I was going to die before CJ was old enough to hear all my words of wisdom. As it turns out, I mistook which Michael Keaton movie I really wanted to emulate. It should have been Mr Mom. Beth did not really help me out with that one either as she has not gone out and gotten that corporate job with the opportunity to sleep with her smarmy boss. Thanks sweetie, no really, thanks.
So I had a brush with my mortality earlier this year. It was not a big broom-sized brush with death, it was more like one of those little paint-by-numbers paint brushes brush with death. I had this brain/ear thing for which I was tested for MS only to find out there is nothing actually in my head. Apparently, the pain in my ear when I am sleeping is actually caused by the hamster that spins the wheel in my brain taking the night off to sleep, and he falls out of bed sometimes with gravity smashing him into my inner ear. What? That is what it said on the diagnostic printout. They would not charge me all that money and lie to me.
So, I am not dying. Well, I am, but really slowly. My death certificate does not have an expiration date on it.
So the last reason I started this blog was to communicate with my family. A friend of mine from college writes a letter at Christmas time every year that he sends out to his family and friends telling what has happened with his family. It is usually quite funny, especially the year he tried to convince everyone that they had another baby and named it LeBron. He grew up in Cleveland, and LeBron James used to play basketball in Cleveland. I thought I better explain that for people that live in Portland where they do not know of such things.
It was not a stretch, therefore, to think that I could have a blog, and my brother and sister could check in on my family whenever they wanted. They could also then give me less grief about how little I phone them. However, their lives are rather hectic, and they have never gotten in the habit of checking in on my blog. Plus, they grew up with me, so they stopped finding me funny a long time ago.
So, I am finding less and less incentive to keep blogging, at least regularly. If you can call two or three times a week regular. I know people trying to poop certainly would not call that regular. So I will probably become even more constipated, or less regular. Depends on how you want to look at it. I will be posting when something comes up that I want to chronicle for CJ to refer back to someday, but how often Beth gets pulled over by a police officer is about as unforeseen as how often CJ misspells a word like "Sindy".
Perhaps I will be here more often than I think.
Finally, in other news, congrats to CJ for finishing his cross country season with a personal best time of 14:40 for two miles. He did awesome and even recovered from tripping over another runner at the beginning. CJ, if you read this, I am very proud of you and look forward to seeing you grow up. Please try to be funny every once in a while so I can find something to post about. Or you can do something awesome like joining the Junior Cincinnati Youth Wind Ensemble and nailing that triangle solo. (He is a percussionist, and they bang things to make sound-again for Portland where they are still trying to figure out if sounds are made from trees falling in the forest.)
Thank you all for reading this rather long post, but they may be longer now in correlation with being less frequent. That actually does not make sense, but I cannot think of another appropriate poop reference.
Friday, October 15, 2010
I wonder what district we are in?
October 15, 2010
As you may know, I am always efforting to find things for me and CJ to talk about. He is not into watching sports, so there goes a lot of potential material. We both play Call of Duty, Modern Warfare II on PS3, and that is good for some conversation. We talk about school and girls as much as a teenager can tolerate with his dad, so that takes up about 10 minutes per week. We talk about how awesome Beth/mom is, but after a lot of "isn't mom the best back scratcher ever", or "how about that delicious dinner mom made last night?", or "I want to find a girl just like mom someday", or "aren't I lucky to have picked out the perfect mom for you?", or "when will mom be home, I miss her so much!"...we need to move on to other topics.
Therefore, I decided to read The Hunger Games. A lady at Barnes and Noble recommended it for teens, and CJ has ready the whole trilogy. He really liked the first two and wrote a paper about the third one and how a better ending would be............. I don't know since he did not want to spoil it for me. So I read The Hunger Games a couple weeks ago, and read the sequel, Catching Fire, this week. Both of them end in cliff hangers that make you want to read the next. Thus, I am waiting to acquire the third, Mockingjay, as soon as CJ retrieves it from whomever he lent it to.
So, here is why I bring this up. It is a little surprising to me that this series is meant for teens. The style in which it is written is obviously at a level to aid the comprehension skills of this age level, but the content is very challenging. Partly, the challenge comes form all the killing that takes place. Additionally, the reasons behind the killings are very thought provoking. The premise is that our country has been divided up into districts after a rebellion, and the Capitol keeps everyone down by having peacekeepers in place and rules that squelch any potential rebellion. There is no travel between districts and food is scarce. Finally, every year, each district draws the names of two teens from their district to represent them in The Hunger Games. These participants kill each other off in an arena until one victor remains. Everyone is mandated to watch and the theory is that each district will understand that the Capitol is in charge and that the games are punishment for past rebellion attempts. It is a very elaborate affair that is treated like the Olympics or something similar, which is quite a mockery of the real fact that they are killing off children.
I am way oversimplifying the story as you should read it yourselves, but I hope you are getting my point that it is a rather deep premise. I wish I had read the books at the same time as CJ so that we could discuss it as he went along. Now I have to finish the whole trilogy before we can discuss some things about it. It is also not a book that the whole class read together, so CJ was on his own to come up with content interpretations. I am really curious how he went about understanding the political undertones of the story.
However, yesterday, I started to really feel the need to share part of what I was getting from the book. I know very few people read my blog, and even fewer read my blog and have read The Hunger Games. Therefore, take what you will from this thought.
Do many people realize that every thing we do is ultimately a learning experience? There is a reason that ancient civilizations used to hold their elders in such high esteem. They have experienced more of life and can mentor the younger people. I think about my relationship with my coworkers and how much I have learned from them, but one of them told me Friday night that she appreciated the fact that she learned from me what work ethic was. It came as a shock to me. I thought I was teaching these newbies about processes and best practices, and concrete things. It did not dawn on me that leading by example is still something that works for people. I mean, sure, we have had discussions about leadership style and how your mood or delivery affects it. But that seemed more concrete to me and that I was just speeding along their development. But work ethic? I always thought you had it or you didn't. But I wasn't born with it. My mom bugged me all the time as a youth about how lazy I was. As I grew older, I realized that all her nagging had turned me into a responsible adult. It would have been nice if I had been born with it so that I didn't have to listen to all the nagging. Wouldn't my mother be proud today to hear someone tell me that she learned about work ethic from me. If she weren't dead already, she may have had a heart attack.
Therefore, as you go through your day, your week, and your life, please try to remember that each thing you encounter is a potential learning experience. Every learning experience is then something you are welcome to share with others. It is teamwork, people. Ultimately, we are all on the same team. I will throw a little religion at you-the team we are on is God's team. He gave you a special skill set, just like Katniss, Peeta, Haymitch, or Prim? Do you realize the impact you can have on others? Think about it, work with it, pass it on. Thanks for reading.
As you may know, I am always efforting to find things for me and CJ to talk about. He is not into watching sports, so there goes a lot of potential material. We both play Call of Duty, Modern Warfare II on PS3, and that is good for some conversation. We talk about school and girls as much as a teenager can tolerate with his dad, so that takes up about 10 minutes per week. We talk about how awesome Beth/mom is, but after a lot of "isn't mom the best back scratcher ever", or "how about that delicious dinner mom made last night?", or "I want to find a girl just like mom someday", or "aren't I lucky to have picked out the perfect mom for you?", or "when will mom be home, I miss her so much!"...we need to move on to other topics.
Therefore, I decided to read The Hunger Games. A lady at Barnes and Noble recommended it for teens, and CJ has ready the whole trilogy. He really liked the first two and wrote a paper about the third one and how a better ending would be............. I don't know since he did not want to spoil it for me. So I read The Hunger Games a couple weeks ago, and read the sequel, Catching Fire, this week. Both of them end in cliff hangers that make you want to read the next. Thus, I am waiting to acquire the third, Mockingjay, as soon as CJ retrieves it from whomever he lent it to.
So, here is why I bring this up. It is a little surprising to me that this series is meant for teens. The style in which it is written is obviously at a level to aid the comprehension skills of this age level, but the content is very challenging. Partly, the challenge comes form all the killing that takes place. Additionally, the reasons behind the killings are very thought provoking. The premise is that our country has been divided up into districts after a rebellion, and the Capitol keeps everyone down by having peacekeepers in place and rules that squelch any potential rebellion. There is no travel between districts and food is scarce. Finally, every year, each district draws the names of two teens from their district to represent them in The Hunger Games. These participants kill each other off in an arena until one victor remains. Everyone is mandated to watch and the theory is that each district will understand that the Capitol is in charge and that the games are punishment for past rebellion attempts. It is a very elaborate affair that is treated like the Olympics or something similar, which is quite a mockery of the real fact that they are killing off children.
I am way oversimplifying the story as you should read it yourselves, but I hope you are getting my point that it is a rather deep premise. I wish I had read the books at the same time as CJ so that we could discuss it as he went along. Now I have to finish the whole trilogy before we can discuss some things about it. It is also not a book that the whole class read together, so CJ was on his own to come up with content interpretations. I am really curious how he went about understanding the political undertones of the story.
However, yesterday, I started to really feel the need to share part of what I was getting from the book. I know very few people read my blog, and even fewer read my blog and have read The Hunger Games. Therefore, take what you will from this thought.
Do many people realize that every thing we do is ultimately a learning experience? There is a reason that ancient civilizations used to hold their elders in such high esteem. They have experienced more of life and can mentor the younger people. I think about my relationship with my coworkers and how much I have learned from them, but one of them told me Friday night that she appreciated the fact that she learned from me what work ethic was. It came as a shock to me. I thought I was teaching these newbies about processes and best practices, and concrete things. It did not dawn on me that leading by example is still something that works for people. I mean, sure, we have had discussions about leadership style and how your mood or delivery affects it. But that seemed more concrete to me and that I was just speeding along their development. But work ethic? I always thought you had it or you didn't. But I wasn't born with it. My mom bugged me all the time as a youth about how lazy I was. As I grew older, I realized that all her nagging had turned me into a responsible adult. It would have been nice if I had been born with it so that I didn't have to listen to all the nagging. Wouldn't my mother be proud today to hear someone tell me that she learned about work ethic from me. If she weren't dead already, she may have had a heart attack.
Therefore, as you go through your day, your week, and your life, please try to remember that each thing you encounter is a potential learning experience. Every learning experience is then something you are welcome to share with others. It is teamwork, people. Ultimately, we are all on the same team. I will throw a little religion at you-the team we are on is God's team. He gave you a special skill set, just like Katniss, Peeta, Haymitch, or Prim? Do you realize the impact you can have on others? Think about it, work with it, pass it on. Thanks for reading.
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
I have a brother?
October 11, 2010
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YkKHsdKCG8Q&NR=1
Does anybody remember this commercial? I lived in Louisville at the time and used to see it all the time.
Speaking of Louisville, I spoke with my brother yesterday. I know. Emails go unanswered, blogs get ignored, and phone calls stay unreturned. Well, I actually never call my brother, I do not do good phone, but the other two things are fairly accurate. So why did I get a call from my brother? Well, he is selling something of course. His daughter is selling cookies for a fund raiser and wanted her favorite uncle to have a chance to get in on the ground floor. Hopefully, that is not where the cookies are right now. Anyway, like a good neighbor, and a great uncle, I have signed up for three tubs of cookies. Won't my peers at The Target be so excited to be getting cookies for Christmas? I think so too!
So they are not baked cookies, that would not contribute to the warmth of me (or hopefully Beth) baking cookies to give out for Christmas. They are frozen, pre-proportioned, and fresh cookies.
As it turns out, my brother has the same sense of humor as myself. It is one of the few traits that let us know he and I are not adopted. He is blond-haired, pale-skinned, blue-eyed, and nice to people. I am brown-haired, dark-skinned (for a white dude), brown-eyed, and not nearly as nice as he. However, we have the same sense of humor, and the same facial structure. We are also about the same height. So there you go, practically identical.
So back to the sense of humor thing.
As we discussed these cookies, I told him I liked the idea that the cookies were the same as how I liked my women-meaning fresh. He thought I meant that I liked my women frozen and pre-proportioned in little baggies. Somebody is watching too many episodes of Bones.
So we chatted for a bit and they are doing fine. He should get the cookies in a couple weeks and then we have to arrange delivery/pick up. For all his local suckers, I mean customers, his son is delivering the cookies on his bicycle. I have asked for the same service, but 100 miles is outside of his delivery window. Fortunately, my brother has a good-sized freezer in his basement to store my cookies until I see them next. Hopefully, the cookies do not smell like rotted flesh after being stored in the freezer with the limbs of missing women.
As for my family, they are off to school and work today whilst I lounge around in my jammies and enjoy a week away from The Target. Got to get the juices rejuvenated for the impending holiday season.
Today's activitiy beyond the lounging will include gathering up clothes that do not meet the one year rule qualification. If I have not worn them in a year, they get donated. There are some clothes upstairs that I do not think meet the five year qualification, so Goodwill will be seeing some clothes that are currently out-of-style. Anyone need some jean shorts or Hammer pants? Speak now or find them at Goodwill next week.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YkKHsdKCG8Q&NR=1
Does anybody remember this commercial? I lived in Louisville at the time and used to see it all the time.
Speaking of Louisville, I spoke with my brother yesterday. I know. Emails go unanswered, blogs get ignored, and phone calls stay unreturned. Well, I actually never call my brother, I do not do good phone, but the other two things are fairly accurate. So why did I get a call from my brother? Well, he is selling something of course. His daughter is selling cookies for a fund raiser and wanted her favorite uncle to have a chance to get in on the ground floor. Hopefully, that is not where the cookies are right now. Anyway, like a good neighbor, and a great uncle, I have signed up for three tubs of cookies. Won't my peers at The Target be so excited to be getting cookies for Christmas? I think so too!
So they are not baked cookies, that would not contribute to the warmth of me (or hopefully Beth) baking cookies to give out for Christmas. They are frozen, pre-proportioned, and fresh cookies.
As it turns out, my brother has the same sense of humor as myself. It is one of the few traits that let us know he and I are not adopted. He is blond-haired, pale-skinned, blue-eyed, and nice to people. I am brown-haired, dark-skinned (for a white dude), brown-eyed, and not nearly as nice as he. However, we have the same sense of humor, and the same facial structure. We are also about the same height. So there you go, practically identical.
So back to the sense of humor thing.
As we discussed these cookies, I told him I liked the idea that the cookies were the same as how I liked my women-meaning fresh. He thought I meant that I liked my women frozen and pre-proportioned in little baggies. Somebody is watching too many episodes of Bones.
So we chatted for a bit and they are doing fine. He should get the cookies in a couple weeks and then we have to arrange delivery/pick up. For all his local suckers, I mean customers, his son is delivering the cookies on his bicycle. I have asked for the same service, but 100 miles is outside of his delivery window. Fortunately, my brother has a good-sized freezer in his basement to store my cookies until I see them next. Hopefully, the cookies do not smell like rotted flesh after being stored in the freezer with the limbs of missing women.
As for my family, they are off to school and work today whilst I lounge around in my jammies and enjoy a week away from The Target. Got to get the juices rejuvenated for the impending holiday season.
Today's activitiy beyond the lounging will include gathering up clothes that do not meet the one year rule qualification. If I have not worn them in a year, they get donated. There are some clothes upstairs that I do not think meet the five year qualification, so Goodwill will be seeing some clothes that are currently out-of-style. Anyone need some jean shorts or Hammer pants? Speak now or find them at Goodwill next week.
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
Somebody give me a @#$% cup of coffee!
September 28, 2010
Monday morning was trying to tell me something. I had just worked all weekend, so it isn't the typical Monday morning other people face. Mondays are supposed to be good for me since I am off on Tuesdays. However, yesterday started with Beth offering me coffee in the morning. She had not made any because she isn't drinking caffeine right now (health nut), so I turned her down. Seemed kinda cruel to drink coffee in front of someone who loves coffee but has sworn off of it. I did not think it would matter since I normally stop at BP on my way to work for coffee anyway.
I love me a BP 20 oz mostly cappuccino topped off with french roast coffee. MMMMM! And for a mere $1.09-buy 3, your 4th one is free. Monday was going to be my free one. Perfection!
I arrived at BP only to find that they had waxed half of the floors in the store thus roping off the side of the store containing my precious coffee. I looked at the wet floor, looked over at the coffee, and tried to decide if I could successfully scale the tops of the fixtures to reach the coffee oasis. And then escape without getting arrested. Hey, no big deal I decided, there is another BP on the way to work. I do not usually frequent this one since they do not give me a 4th coffee for free. Nonetheless, today they would get my money. All $1.09 of it. Yes, I am a tight wad.
I arrived at BP #2 and entered the store. No caution tape equals good sign. Actually, in this particular neighbor HOOD, no caution tape is a VERY good sign. I approached my beloved cappuccino machine to find two young ladies pondering their cup filling decision. Empty cup in hands, they seemed ready to dispense. 5 minutes later we have: empty cups still in hand, comments about making this poor man wait for his coffee, and to hot chocolate or not to hot chocolate musings going at a snail pace. I glance at the machine only to find that they do not even have the flavor of cappuccino I prefer anyway, so I leave the store. My Target does not have a Starbucks (which is the way I like it), but they do possess my friend, frenchie vanilla cappuccino machine. I knew I would have to wait until after 8:00, but what are the chances someone will poke this coffee-less dog before 8:00.
"Take me on a store tour," says my boss. Excellent. So we tour, all goes well even though I can feel the hamster that makes my brain wheel go round struggling to stay awake.
Finally, I arrive at Target Cafe, money in hand, ready to order my large coffee. Order complete, cup in hand, we are almost home. I press the button on the cappuccino machine, and out pours clear, hot water. I pour out the hot water as this does happen sometimes if you're the first one there. I press the button again. more hot water. Grrr! My mind flashes to a scene with caution tape and me in cuffs being led away from The Target, while in the background flames shoot out of the cappuccino machine.
I am not in jail today. I poured myself some regular coffee with some French vanilla creamer, and went to read my email. I let the young lady at Target Cafe know that the machine needed tending to, and was able to go back later to refill my cup with the nectar that is my cappuccino.
I know that you may be thinking, "Is it possible that God wants you to stop drinking coffee?" You and me, no longer friends. God loves me and would never take this pleasure away from me. I spit on your coffee free world. Of course, my spit is a nice warm brown color as I have had two cups of coffee this morning already. Hyped up a little, yeah maybe, why do you ask?
Monday morning was trying to tell me something. I had just worked all weekend, so it isn't the typical Monday morning other people face. Mondays are supposed to be good for me since I am off on Tuesdays. However, yesterday started with Beth offering me coffee in the morning. She had not made any because she isn't drinking caffeine right now (health nut), so I turned her down. Seemed kinda cruel to drink coffee in front of someone who loves coffee but has sworn off of it. I did not think it would matter since I normally stop at BP on my way to work for coffee anyway.
I love me a BP 20 oz mostly cappuccino topped off with french roast coffee. MMMMM! And for a mere $1.09-buy 3, your 4th one is free. Monday was going to be my free one. Perfection!
I arrived at BP only to find that they had waxed half of the floors in the store thus roping off the side of the store containing my precious coffee. I looked at the wet floor, looked over at the coffee, and tried to decide if I could successfully scale the tops of the fixtures to reach the coffee oasis. And then escape without getting arrested. Hey, no big deal I decided, there is another BP on the way to work. I do not usually frequent this one since they do not give me a 4th coffee for free. Nonetheless, today they would get my money. All $1.09 of it. Yes, I am a tight wad.
I arrived at BP #2 and entered the store. No caution tape equals good sign. Actually, in this particular neighbor HOOD, no caution tape is a VERY good sign. I approached my beloved cappuccino machine to find two young ladies pondering their cup filling decision. Empty cup in hands, they seemed ready to dispense. 5 minutes later we have: empty cups still in hand, comments about making this poor man wait for his coffee, and to hot chocolate or not to hot chocolate musings going at a snail pace. I glance at the machine only to find that they do not even have the flavor of cappuccino I prefer anyway, so I leave the store. My Target does not have a Starbucks (which is the way I like it), but they do possess my friend, frenchie vanilla cappuccino machine. I knew I would have to wait until after 8:00, but what are the chances someone will poke this coffee-less dog before 8:00.
"Take me on a store tour," says my boss. Excellent. So we tour, all goes well even though I can feel the hamster that makes my brain wheel go round struggling to stay awake.
Finally, I arrive at Target Cafe, money in hand, ready to order my large coffee. Order complete, cup in hand, we are almost home. I press the button on the cappuccino machine, and out pours clear, hot water. I pour out the hot water as this does happen sometimes if you're the first one there. I press the button again. more hot water. Grrr! My mind flashes to a scene with caution tape and me in cuffs being led away from The Target, while in the background flames shoot out of the cappuccino machine.
I am not in jail today. I poured myself some regular coffee with some French vanilla creamer, and went to read my email. I let the young lady at Target Cafe know that the machine needed tending to, and was able to go back later to refill my cup with the nectar that is my cappuccino.
I know that you may be thinking, "Is it possible that God wants you to stop drinking coffee?" You and me, no longer friends. God loves me and would never take this pleasure away from me. I spit on your coffee free world. Of course, my spit is a nice warm brown color as I have had two cups of coffee this morning already. Hyped up a little, yeah maybe, why do you ask?
Saturday, September 18, 2010
Are you ready for some football?
September 18, 2010
Last night was the first home game for the local high school. Beth and I went together. Because she loves to go to football games? No. Because CJ had gone up there to meet his buddies and hang out? Yes. Because CJ's "girl of interest" was also going to be there? Heck yeah.
So Beth and I went to Cheesecake Factory for dinner without CJ because we are mean like that, loaded with money, and party every Friday night. No, no, and no again. CJ was meeting his buddies at Penn Station for food, Beth and I split a burger and bought no cheesecake, we had a gift card, and going out to eat sounded way better than cooking. Not even any alcohol for either of us. We are animals that party all right.
So we then walked over to the high school and watched the game. At half time, we left as we both had very tiring weeks and we could hear the couches calling us all the way from home. On the way out, we saw CJ and his group of friends...and Taylor. I tried not to stare, or investigate, or walk over and see what was going on. It was like a bug being attracted to a blue light and knowing it was a bad idea. CJ saw us as we neared and gave us one of those waves. You know, the kind that is impulsive because he likes us and wants to acknowledge our presence, but also wants to warn us off before we hit the blue light. It worked. We turned left and headed home. It looked like they were having fun and staying out of trouble, so we felt good about the situation. CJ made it home safe and sound an hour later.
I think it helped that I was able to have a teaching moment with CJ on Wednesday night due to the misdoings of the trainee I had this week. He turned in a time card for time he did not actually work, forgetting that Target has cameras and he was not going to get away with it. I was able to use this as an example for CJ that getting caught in a lie only serves to take a bad situation and make it horribly irreparable. Planting those seeds in his little sponge brain is good. He knows that if he spray paints the walls of the high school and runs through the halls singing "I want to be an Airborne Ranger, I want to live a life of danger", that chances are, word will get back to us. And he may have to become and air born ranger...when my foot meets his back side.
So today, CJ has a cross country meet in an hour. I have told him that he will get a quarter for every runner he finishes in front of. I have always been a fan of bribery...er...incentives to reach a goal. I think that when you are running two miles, it is way too easy to finish in 34th place when finishing in 29th place would take a lot of extra effort and still get you no accolades. In this case, it would increase his earnings by $1.25. He has gone up to the school to take the bus already, so I can go get some money out of his wallet to pay him his incentive.
Is that wrong? Are there cameras up there? Okay, I will do it right. Big brother is watching.
Last night was the first home game for the local high school. Beth and I went together. Because she loves to go to football games? No. Because CJ had gone up there to meet his buddies and hang out? Yes. Because CJ's "girl of interest" was also going to be there? Heck yeah.
So Beth and I went to Cheesecake Factory for dinner without CJ because we are mean like that, loaded with money, and party every Friday night. No, no, and no again. CJ was meeting his buddies at Penn Station for food, Beth and I split a burger and bought no cheesecake, we had a gift card, and going out to eat sounded way better than cooking. Not even any alcohol for either of us. We are animals that party all right.
So we then walked over to the high school and watched the game. At half time, we left as we both had very tiring weeks and we could hear the couches calling us all the way from home. On the way out, we saw CJ and his group of friends...and Taylor. I tried not to stare, or investigate, or walk over and see what was going on. It was like a bug being attracted to a blue light and knowing it was a bad idea. CJ saw us as we neared and gave us one of those waves. You know, the kind that is impulsive because he likes us and wants to acknowledge our presence, but also wants to warn us off before we hit the blue light. It worked. We turned left and headed home. It looked like they were having fun and staying out of trouble, so we felt good about the situation. CJ made it home safe and sound an hour later.
I think it helped that I was able to have a teaching moment with CJ on Wednesday night due to the misdoings of the trainee I had this week. He turned in a time card for time he did not actually work, forgetting that Target has cameras and he was not going to get away with it. I was able to use this as an example for CJ that getting caught in a lie only serves to take a bad situation and make it horribly irreparable. Planting those seeds in his little sponge brain is good. He knows that if he spray paints the walls of the high school and runs through the halls singing "I want to be an Airborne Ranger, I want to live a life of danger", that chances are, word will get back to us. And he may have to become and air born ranger...when my foot meets his back side.
So today, CJ has a cross country meet in an hour. I have told him that he will get a quarter for every runner he finishes in front of. I have always been a fan of bribery...er...incentives to reach a goal. I think that when you are running two miles, it is way too easy to finish in 34th place when finishing in 29th place would take a lot of extra effort and still get you no accolades. In this case, it would increase his earnings by $1.25. He has gone up to the school to take the bus already, so I can go get some money out of his wallet to pay him his incentive.
Is that wrong? Are there cameras up there? Okay, I will do it right. Big brother is watching.
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
Medicine cabinet for nosy Marvin
September 14, 2010
You can look through our drawers because our cabinet is just a mirror and does not open. See below.
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