Take a moment to make someones day. Hold a door, pick up a dropped object, say please and thank you. Go that extra mile that leaves someone else smiling as you walk away. No recognition, not because you have too, but because it’s who you are and you know in your heart it will pay forward.
Carry on that is all…
RANT ALERT, RANT ALERT, RANT ALERT, RANT ALERT, RANT ALERT
Oh yeah ladies and gentlemen its time for Betty to bust out the pain! Lay down the smack! Bring up the blazingly obvious that all of you notice, bitch and complain about to yourselves but never to anyone else!
Drivers Licence Mayhem
As far as I know if you own a driver’s licence in the great United States of America then it means you passed a test allowing you to hold said licence. Correct????? It means that when you decided it was time to obtain these valued credentials you studied, went to drivers education classes, partook in valuable drive time on both freeways and surface streets with a certified instructor? Right???? Last but not least, like the rest of us valid card 
holding members of the united front of commuters you sweated buckets while a DMV representative sat alongside you, with a clip board in hand, guiding you through a designated course, determining if you had the ability/talent allowing you behind the wheel of your current 3400 pound bucket of rust! Didnt you??
Yet with all that being clearly stated why on earth do you lack the ability to safely merge onto the freeway? At what point and time in all those hours of behind the wheel training did anyone ever show you how to pull all the way down the on ramp at elementary school zone speeds to then stop, look over your shoulder and pray for an opening you can squeeze into from 0-75 mph? With your Prius! It’s not going to happen! Unless you own a Lamborghini Gallardo and are a very talented driver you are not going to make this move without serious consequences!
Of course it must run in the family because this morning I met your cousin Captain Oblivious! You know Captain Oblivious don’t you? 
Yeah, he’s the one that comes down the on ramp at freeway speed and never looks over his shoulder! Stereo up loud, hands at the ten and two position, head faced straight forward! Tractor Trailer? He don’t care! Giant 4×4? Better get out-of-the-way! He coming down that ramp like a skateboard to hell and there’s nothing you can do about it! He figures you will move out of fear! Apparently he missed the chapter about safely “merging”! Under the definition of “merge” it must read Merge: to ram large object into small or non-existent space without repercussion. The rest of us missed that chapter of the book but not you Captain Oblivious! Not you!
Of course my rant wouldn’t be complete without a visit from out other traffic family member! 
Flat floored Fred! You see Fred enjoys driving really fast! Fred runs the stops signs with the skill and grace of even the best California stop artist! Fred can’t help himself as he moves between lanes like a skilled race car driver. Drafting off a Lincoln, cutting the front of a Ford and pushing his way into position at the next stop light all so he gets the jump on you the moment it turns green! But Flat floored Fred has a serious flaw. Dont put him in the fast lane on the freeway! We have all seen him at his best! 
He darts down the on ramp at full throttle, smoke billowing from his 1993 Cutlass Supreme! He is coming fast, faster, faster than BAM! Across three lanes like Steve freaking McQueen! That car settles into the fast lane looking strong and stealthy until suddenly the anchor falls out of the trunk! Now Flat floored Fred shows his true side, its 55mph. Yep he’ll break every intown speed limit all damn day long but get him on the freeway and suddenly we are driving Ms. Daisy! Heres a hint for Flat floored Fred. If everyone (and I do mean EVERYONE) is passing you from all three of the right hand lanes. 
Get out of the fast lane!!! You are just frustrating everyone! They all want to kill you! That is defintley not the “your number one” sign they’re flashing you!!!!
And what the heck is up with roundabouts? These little freaks of roadway nature are nothing more than an excuse for most people to see how fast thier cars can go while drifting! No kidding! They may work in Europe to ease traffic congestion but here in the states they are just an invitation
for the Red Bull Drifting series to have try outs! They are perfect! How many times can I go around this thing sideways, smoking the tires and blocking all others from entering into the circle of trust? 
You know whats an even better idea? Place the round abouts right next to high schools! Yep thats the ticket! Then the teenagers can all pretend to be Tanner Foust! Its pure genious!
Man I feel better! Its true purging is good for the soul!
Now piss off all of you before large 4×4 guy with dents in his truck loses his temper and shows you the bumper of the Betty mobile!
Forget candlelight and romance! Throw away the preconceived notion of dancing until dawn. 
A night at the opera in the city followed by a moonlight stroll along the shoreline, ridiculous! You see, I have found the ultimate date night for parents! An evening filled with laughter, food, shopping and a stroll along the parkway! Oh yes its true! Wine, it’s there, gourmet fare, got it! Supplies to cover any unexpected emergency? Yep, right inside the door! Movies? Ah yes! Dessert? Only as much as you can eat!!! Valet parking? Sadly no. So there isn’t everything you’d ever want for a date night but it’s still pretty fantastic!
If you are a parent or married couple with kids this is the place for you!
COSTCO
Yep that’s right ladies and gentlemen, my wife and I have been clamoring to go on a date quite some time. Between Softball, swimming, horses, fair animals and 4-H it seems our calendar is full 99% of the time! So tonight after a long day of breaking apart domestic disputes between our four lovely (sarcasm) children! My wife mumbles an exasperated “I have to go to COSTCO”. We are never going to be alone ever again are we? This is usally where the sobbing begins….
Hold that thought honey!
Enter the infamous COSTCO! Entertainment mega, all in one, grocery, everything household and then some superstore to the masses. I use the word entertainment in describing COSTCO, because once you look around it’s quite obvious you arent in Kansas anymore. (Unless of course you are at a COSTCO in Kansas then it’s a moot point)
So being rather quick at deducing problems I arrived at a summation; the only way we’re going to achieve some alone time would be to abandon the little heathens (aaahhhhemmm our sweet children) at home to fend for themselves while we stroll the isle ways of the local COSTCO hand in hand. All together now… AAAAHHHHHHH!
So I locked up the weapons, hid the duct tape and padlocked the knife drawer. Left the 15-year-old in charge with more than ample directions to insure his success. Told said 15-year-old not to play XBox ( hard request to make with a straight face) the whole time, but focus instead on his little brother who is starving for big brothers attention. Turned to the middle two, pointed a short stumpy finger at them with a reminder that nothing should be damaged or misplaced upon our arrival home. 
I received a tweedle dee and tweedle dumb nod of acknowledgment. Then without haste I swept the misses off her feet and into the car with hopes of clearing the driveway before one of them felt the need to ruin the moment with an unfounded emergency!
My wife and I laughed as we cruised down the road with no kids in the car, stereo up loud pumping some 80′ Van Halen, sunroof open we’re pushing 75mph, whoop whoop! We continued to laugh the way I imagine D.B. Cooper chuckled after stealing $200,000.00 dollars and possibly committing the perfect crime! It was ours all ours! Two, maybe three hours without interuption! Oh sure we would be surrounded by other families, No doubt we would hear children crying and screaming, fighting and whining! But they weren’t ours!!! T-H-E-Y-W-E-R-E-N-T-O-U-R-S! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
We arrived at COSTCO immediately finding a parking spot right up front. (good sign so far) 
grabbed a cart and off we strolled through checkpoint Charlie. I flashed my “executive” members card which instantly lets the fine young security lad know that, well, I m kind of a big deal! He acknowledges my glossy black plastic ticket to paradise with a sly wink and nod! Without haste the privileged are ushered inside! Let the carnage begin! Its only once you are inside the magnitude of this building truly takes your breath away. It lays before us like a blank canvas of consumerism! Waiting for us to fill it with colors and vision. Each item placed into our cart is an expression of our lives. A snapshot of likes and dislikes. We are a tapestry smeared with food, wine and bathroom supplies!
Our evening is proceeding well, I feel a second date may arise from this encounter. We are chatting like we’ve known each other most of our lives! (oh wait we have) We also find ourselves blindly strolling down each and every isle. We have no need for a 50lb bag of kitty litter, but it’s reassuring to know if we did need some it was there! The international fare is delicious! 
There are free food tasting stations spread throughout the store allowing you to sample a little bit of everything from around the world on sale this week. Brilliant!! Halfway through the store I stopped the cart, took my wifes hand, slowly leaned forward-looking her dead in the eye, I proclaimed ever so softly: do you hear that my love? She chuckeld, snuggled up real close to me, then placed her other hand over my heart. While pressing up against my chest, she whispered I do. I hear it so loudly it hurts. Silence.
Somewhere between 20lb tubs of peanut butter and 54 packs of 4 ply toilet paper, in a Sunday packed COSTCO, two people held each other in silence. Neither one of 
us could hear the hundreds of people talking. No kids screaming at us, no little children needing something every two or three minutes. No teenagers fighting over the remote control eventually ending up wrestling where inevitably someone gets hurt. No back talking, sniveling, whining, complaining or crying and that’s just from us!
Nope a romance was rekindled today, a date was made and kept. We didn’t need all those fancy date night stereotypes to make it happen. Some may refer to me as a cheap bastard, or possibly a loser husband for not blocking out the time, creating a proper night away. I say pishaw! I took a bad situation and improvised! By the end of the day my wife professed her undying affection and I still ended up footing the bill for $350.00 dollars! (approximate cost of dinner and the opera for two) The only difference is instead of one night at the opera with dinner afterwards; the Ipod is charged up and we’re all going to eat for weeks!
Whose the loser now!!!
Today I spent the better part of the afternoon looking forward to settling in to write something humorous. Feeling the need for a little laughter in my life opened my eyes to numerous opportunities as I traveled about. Many ideas floated around in my dome, so funny were some, I was seen standing alone laughing out loud like a crazy person on the subway. Not a bad thing really, I think it’s a benefit to keep people off guard sometimes.
It felt as though my brain was on fire! Smile across my face, grinning from ear to ear, I could hardly keep my enthusiasm to blog under wraps. It seemed an eternity before the keys of my computer were clacking beneath my finger tips! Writing keeps me sane and this was my moment of pure laughter ridden sanity, waiting to unfold! I sat down at my desk with a hot cup of tea, cracked my knuckles and gazed upon my carelessly scribbled notes of hysterics. Then something occurred to me, hitting my brain like a ton of bricks! I was rocked to the core, my eyes darted across the desk top searching for my calendar, hoping praying I was wrong. It just couldn’t be, nope, no way! I really didn’t need this right now! Pure selfishness on my part really.. But I knew it was true, I could sense it, I could feel it, the pit of my stomach hurt and I began to feel nauseous. It doesn’t matter how many years go by, its always there to remind me, to haunt me, to let me know how quickly life can change. Everything changes in the blink of an eye and there is nothing any of us can do about it.
Back in time we go:
March 22 2001
A day like any other, right? What I didn’t know was this would be the last day I would ever have a normal conversation with my wife again. It was the last time we went about our business like all married couples will. Off to work, off to daycare for the boys, off to school for me. Dinner with the family, small talk before bed, studying for me, snuggling with the baby for her. It was another average some might even say boring day. Something I took for granted all to often. Something I think we all take for granted “all to often”.
March 23 2001
I awoke early and headed off to school, I kissed my wife on the cheek and told her I loved her. She mumbled good luck on your test and I love you, it was the last time I would ever hear her voice. It was the last interaction with recognition that would ever transpire between the two of us. Little did I know what test she really was referring too. It was and has been the hardest test of my life.
She had the day off and was going on a trip to the park with our oldest, the newborn and some friends. I was in class preparing to take an exam when I received the call. A friend of ours, with her at the park called me, panicked, nervously explaining that my wife was on the ground complaining of severe chest pain. “She just wants to go home” was exclaimed; our friend didn’t think that was right. Little did she know how right she was! I remained calm performing a quick assessment over the phone, quickly advising her to hang up with me and call 911! If she didn’t do it I was going too! I had the day off work for class, so it was my Engine Company that arrived on scene. My guys took care of her, my guys accompanied her to the hospital, my guys made the call, reporting everything they knew directly to me. My guys were suffering too.
And so started a 19 day odyssey of emotion, heart-break, self discovery, unity, hope, and finally complete destruction of what I thought was my life. Kimberly Nadine perished on April 10 2001 after a hard-fought battle against a failing heart. That very moment started a journey that woke me up sending me on my way. It was the test of my life and I am still living that test to this day.
A promise made, a promise kept…..
I promised Kim I would never forget those 19 days, I also promised I would never forget the ten years we spent together, using them as a lesson learned in how not to be a husband. I was selfish, self-centered, egotistical and a generally a poor excuse for a spouse. Looking back I often wonder why she chose me. She tried her best to smooth the rough edges, but before finishing the job she was gone. This left me looking into the eyes of our children, seeing her and wondering why. So I’ve made a point to never forget, every year it comes, on this day I keep my promise. To hold that in perspective one must remember, It’s hard to take a scar and never let it heal. To pick at the wounds of those lost until they bleed. But I continue to do this, as a reminder of what it takes to be a better person. The person I felt she always wanted me to become. I kept a detailed journal over the 19 days at Stanford hospital. On this day every year I take a moment to myself, pick up the journal I kept, let it fall open and read an entry from what ever page appears. In 11 years the same page has never revealed itself twice. I read it, I remember, I go through sadness, anger, and eventually peace. It’s difficult to do, it leaves a lump in my throat, and sometimes depending on the page, it leaves me weeping. Not for the fact she perished, not for the fact she is not here to see her children, but for the unknown. I will never know what she felt, or how she suffered. But I carry a fair idea due to my medical knowledge. I will never know if she gave up because I told her it was ok to go, letting her know I understood if she wanted to quit fighting. She fought really hard through two failed operations, the odds were stacked against her. I knew it, the doctors knew it, no one wanted to verbally say it! After I whispered it was ok, and told her I loved her I stepped out of the room to gather myself and bring her mom in to see her. It never happened, ten minutes later she went into cardiac arrest and died. I will never know if she heard those words I wanted so badly to take back. I will never know if she heard me say I love you one last time. Those images can never be erased from my head, images of her dead lifeless body lying there so peaceful at rest. Cold…….
So that brings me to today.
My cheerfulness depleted, my humor erased. I walked to my dorm and pulled out the books that hide my journal. In goes the good air, out goes the bad. Head pounding, weight of a rough week on my shoulders, eyes already misting, I hold the book ever so gently as to not influence the fall of pages. It opens… Here is the page it fell upon.
It’s not the greatest, I wrote it 11 years ago, tired, exhausted and emotionally spent.
April 22, 2001
Its been 12 days since you’ve gone. I am lonely and tired. Caring for both boys by myself is exhausting. I never realized how much I took your hard work for granted. I promise to never do that in a relationship again. Someday I think I will publish this journal, not just for the boys, but for all men in America. My eyes have been opened and I feel that many as I was are walking around blind.
I want every man in America to learn these lessons now and not the hard way as I have! It’s too painful, and though many will have to learn them the hard way maybe, just maybe if one listens it will make a difference.
Men in America need to understand what true love is:
True love is not sex
True love is holding hands, not because you have to, but because you want too.
True love is knowing when to look deep in her eyes and tell her its going to be OK.
A true loving marriage does not consist of coming home to find your laundry done, your meal cooked and a warm bed to sleep in, that’s called having a maid.
True love is finding a free minute during the day to remind her you love her, and not just with words, but with actions, for they speak volumes.
True love is telling her you love her every morning, you never know when it will be your last.
True love is watching the mother of your children beam with pride at the sight of your children.
True love is never, ever going to bed angry.
True love is sitting at the breakfast table with a cup of coffee listening. Even though you have some place else you should be and something you want to say, just listen.
True love is letting her sleep while you take care of the kids. Not just once in a while, but on a regular basis. They are your children too.
True love is standing back and marveling at how much one person can accomplish in your absence. Then letting the other know how much you appreciate the effort by performing the exact same way in her absence.
True love is never losing interest, marriage isn’t easy but if you can just call her once or twice a day to listen,talk, and remind her how much you love her, your relationship will flourish.
It’s a wonderful life.
I am remarried with two more children for a total of four, as most of you know who follow my blog. When I read my journal entry today I was fully expecting my annual tear fest to start storming and yet I realized something halfway through the page. I have accomplished all of these snippets. Every single one of them! I kept my promise! I kept it, I kept my word and I have a relationship that I never take for granted. I am blessed, I am whole, my family is one.
In life we are often faced with difficult insurmountable obstacles that are placed in our paths of growth and exploration. But overcome them we will, with perseverance, and will power. Remembering who we are, where we come from and trusting in where we are going. I never in my life thought at 34 I would be widowed with two kids. It was a hard and bumpy ride, I pray I am never in that position again. It would have been a shame had I not learned from the experience. But I came away from it stronger and wiser than before, able to give and receive love without question. To trust and believe that lives can be rebuilt, relationships forged. To get up off the floor dust myself off and start all over again. Death is never easy for anyone under any circumstances. Some lessons are learned the hard way. It’s just the way it is…..
Remember life is a gift for you to cherish. Dont waste it. For all you know tomorrow is your last day. How do you want to be remembered?
My life is filled with a plethora of interesting topics, filling my wordy coffers and yet tonight as I stare endlessly at my computer screens flickering abyss I find only one thing to expend my energy upon.
A Country Boy Can Survive.
Thats right the 1982 smash hit from legendary singer/songwriter Hank Williams jr. A Country Boy Can Survive was our friday night, lets party and do it right anthem. Not only did it hold some form of misguided meaning for each and every one of us, but it was one of the few songs ever played that guaranteed all of us would instantaneously drop what ever we were doing and break into chorus.
Country’s version of Grease! We sang at the top of our lungs, the louder the better! If a bottle of Jack Daniels didnt emerge before the second chorus, one of us had to go into town, obtain said bottle and reemerge with shot glasses for all as we crooned over the melodious ballad all over again. We were out of tune, some would even say tone-deaf, we were drunk and life was good!
I believe that song is as relevent today as it was 30 years ago. Take a moment to peruse this little gem of a story put to music.
The preacher man says it’s the end of time
And the Mississippi River she’s a goin’ dry
The interest is up and the Stock Markets down
And you only get mugged
If you go down town
Seriously, all preacher men have been saying we are near the end of days and as far as the Mississippi River goes, the environmentalists have been crying about that ever since Mark Twain wrote about her in 1883! Dont even get me started on the foolish travesty that continues to make up our money hungry stock market. Occupy Wall Street no way! You gonna get mugged!
I live back in the woods, you see
A woman and the kids, and the dogs and me
I got a shotgun rifle and a 4-wheel drive
And a country boy can survive
Country folks can survive
I think about how wonderful it would be to “live back in the woods you see”, especially with the “woman and the kids and the dogs and me”. I do own “a shotgun, a rifle and a four-wheel drive”. Just not sure if that is all the pre-requisite needed for a country boy to survive.
I can plow a field all day long
I can catch catfish from dusk till dawn
We make our own whiskey and our own smoke too
Ain’t too many things these ole boys can’t do
We grow good ole tomatoes and homemade wine
And a country boy can survive
Country folks can survive
Crap I need to know how to plow a field all day long? Thank goodness I can catch catfish from dusk till dawn. Now I am not sure but the last time I checked growing your own smoke could get you 4-months to 6 years! And well we wont even begin to discuss the legal ramification of moonshining! Can you say TAXMAN?
Because you can’t starve us out
And you can’t make us run
Cuz we’re them old boys raised on shotgun
And we say grace and we say Ma’am
And if you ain’t into that we don’t give a damn
I have never seen a starving hillbilly, and the big ones don’t need to run, they would just as soon shoot your city slickin butt than chase you down! My boys know how to say grace and Ma’am is really just a nicer way of saying Bitch isn’t it? Well rumor has it anyways…
We came from the West Virginia coal mines
And the Rocky Mountains and the and the western skies
And we can skin a buck; we can run a trot-line
And a country boy can survive
Country folks can survive
Now for some unknown reason the verse below always had us on our toes hollering like a bunch of starving alley cats!
I had a good friend in New York City
He never called me by my name, just hillbilly
My grandpa taught me how to live off the land
And his taught him to be a businessman
He used to send me pictures of the Broadway nights
And I’d send him some homemade wine
But he was killed by a man with a switch blade knife
For 43 dollars my friend lost his life
Id love to spit some Beechnut in that dudes eyes
And shoot him with my old 45
Cause a country boy can survive
Country folks can survive
Yeah! Thats what I am talking about! No damn cops needed there, just shoot the man right after he starts squealing about all the Beechnut spit you just splattered into his eyes! WHOOOOOOO! Thats country boy, that’s what it’s all about right? After those two verses the song just kind of wanders on, anyways we were always to busy high fiving each other to even notice that ole Hank threw in a little shout out to California!
Cause you can’t starve us out and you can’t make us run
Cuz we’re them old boys raised on shotgun
And we say grace and we say Ma’am
And if you ain’t into that we don’t give a damn
So true, once you been raised on shotgun it really is hard to give a damn about anything!
We’re from North California and south Alabam
And little towns all around this land
And we can skin a buck; we can run a trot-line
And a country boy can survive
Country folks can survive
So there it is, A Country Boy Can Survive, undoubtedly one the most recognizable country, get drunk, kick the crap out of someone, American redneck songs! So why tonight of all nights am I so infatuated with reliving my youths past digressions? What can I possibly see in a 30-year-old song that I never considered before tonight? How could I have possibly allowed myself to lower the learning curve of all my readers with this hillbilly drivel?
Well its like this.
Tonight as I stared endlessly into my computer screens flickering abyss, I heard a noise coming from across the hall. It was loud, grainy, crackling and off-key, yet I recognized this noise right away. You see inside this noise, confined in its purity was the vocal etchings of an eleven year old boy. This eleven year old boy had finished his homework, cleaned up his dishes and traveled upstairs with only one thing upon his mind. To shower. Apparently when one steps into the shower, one believes they are in fact Hank Williams Jr. With all the passion a country kid can muster while buck naked in the shower, my eleven year old son busted out A Country Boy Can Survive. It was off-key, he sounded like a wounded rabbit, and judging from the rapid footstep I heard from behind the door he was dancing to it as well. Yet he sung it from the heart and he knew every single word. For a brief moment, by himself he was a star. And for his dad, eavesdropping in on the impromptu concert. He was my hero. Another generation will be swinging from the Grand Ole Opry chandelier! Lord have patience..
5 things I despise
Recently (10 minutes ago) I decided it was time to purge a little anger. A little societal frustration. I usually do this through a singular rant but today I have chosen to drop 5 mini rants upon your superior minds. I am hoping to not be alone in these little idiosyncrasy’s as I have always felt discussion is good for the soul or at least the conscience.
So with my head held high, my britches pulled tight and my jaw squarely locked into place here they are…..
5. People who cut in line because they believe they are more important than you.
While waiting patiently for the car in front of me to finish fueling there always seems to be some A-Hole circling the islands like a shark waiting for the right time to strike. Without regards for his own personal safety, or the feelings of the twenty other vehicles waiting in line. This moron inevitably will come in from the opposite direction and try to force his way in as the last patron is leaving. 
This never works as my truck is rather large and intimidating. I am always scowled at or given a gesture of the highest moral ranking upon exit of my vehicle. To which I respond the same as I would one of my children. Have some manners and wait your turn, you are no better than anyone else.
4. The California stop.
It called a STOP SIGN!!!!! Stop means stop! It doesn’t mean think about it, it’s not a suggestion for you to ponder while chatting it up on your cell phone as you go barreling through the intersection! 
Dont you dare throw your hands up in disgust as I come to a full and complete stop either. I will just drive slower to the next intersection, in fact I will continue to slow down and more closely follow all the rules of the road just to frustrate you. Why do I do this? Because its like this you lackadaisical idiot, in the end if you don’t “STOP” someone will end up injured or killed! And statistics show it wont be you.
3. Parents who make excuses for their childs obvious poor behavior!
Yes its ok for little Timmy to express himself, but when that
involves your 8-year-old telling my 7-year-old to F@#k Off! We have a serious problem on our hands! If you don’t have the crumpets to reprimand your child I do! If my child were to speak that way I would hope you would reprimand him quickly and decisively! If that doesn’t sit well with you than politely remove yourself and your child from my inner circle of friends and acquaintances. I feel as though we as a society have forgotten in the end it takes a village to raise a child.
2. Upselling
I am a tightwad! I didn’t used to be, but my glorious wife over the last ten years has shown me the light. 
Because I am a tightwad, making a large purchase is a homework driven, educational process that leads down many paths in regards to my purchase. My point being, when I walk through your door to make a purchase I already know what I want and exactly how much I am going to pay. Dont play me for a fool, don’t shove useless purchase contracts in front of me and make sure you listen to the words that are coming out of my mouth! If I tell you I don’t want the 5 year service plan then STOP. If I make mention the added receiver for only $29.99 is something I am not interested in STOP! I am blunt, I will let you know everything I need up front, so please just STOP. Because if you dont my next STOP is your competitor.
1. The little twirp at the grocery store that wishes to “help” me out with my groceries!
Hey junior, look at me, no really look at me!
I am a 45-year-old, 188 pound man standing 5’9 who can currently run an 8 minute mile and curl 75 pound dumbbells! I am reasonably sure that I can carry my two little bags of groceries in one hand and your scrawny, “Wheres Waldo” beanie wearing ass in the other! I know you are just doing your job, but somebody needs to train you a little better in the area of qualifying customers. Someday when you have become my age I hope you will demand the same respect.
So there it is! A little bolder than in times past, if I have offended anyone I do apologize. But the way I see it the word unspoken is obviously the word most misunderstood.
Let me know if you agree or disagree with any of my 5. Also let me know what your 5 things are that you despise. Sometimes they are funny, sometimes they are serious but in the end they are what makes us who we are, and that is very interesting.
I haven’t had an orthodox career, and I’ve wanted more than anything to have your respect. 
The first time I didn’t feel it, but this time I feel it, and I can’t deny the fact that you like me, right now, you like me!”
You really like me………
I have been nominated for the Personal Blogger Award by Vanessa Chapman http://vanessa-chapman.com
This is an award bloggers award to each other as a way of showing appreciation for the blogs they enjoy. I am humbled and honored.
(I plagiarized the rules from Vanessa as I feel there is no reason to re-invent the wheel.)
The rules for accepting this award are as follows:
1. Thank the award-givers and link back to them in your post. Easy-Done
2. Share 7 things about yourself. Ok hope I don’t scare anyone, but easy-done.
3. Pass this award along to 15 other bloggers. Fail! Only could nominate 13! 😦
4. Contact your chosen bloggers to let them know about the award. Will let them know as soon as I’ve posted this
Seven things about myself;
15 bloggers to pass this award along too.
Soshi-Tech- http://soshitech.com
More valuable information in one blog than should legally be allowed in the states of California and Utah. Everyone else is OK!
A Detailed House- http://adetailedhouse.com
I love houses and the fine art of decorating them in some of the finest trim. If you are a closet design geek such as myself who also thinks you can take on any project, than this is the blog for you. The photography is very well done also.
Raising a Realist- http://raisingarealist.com
Scott is a mild-mannered high school English teacher. This blog is his attempt to capture all of his daughters moments. As a parent of four, I can relate with his tag line. “126 kids but only one will wipe my but when I am old”
Mayahood- http://mayahoodblog.com
Adventure seeker, world traveler turned mother. She has a mixture of her views on motherhood along with guest posts. It is an entertaining blog.
Bucket List Publications- http://lesleycarter.wordpress.com
This one is near and dear to me as it is a blog that completely follows the premiss of getting out there and doing all those things you keep putting off. They even pick some of your bucket list suggestions and through donations make it happen for you. It’s quite the premise and I enjoy reading it immensely
A Confederacy of Spinsters- http://confederacyofspinsters.com
This is one of my favorites! Three women from Texas, each one taking a turn writing about life trials and tribulations all under pseudo names. Grace, Mae and Kate. Its is always witty, relevant and fun! I look forward to new postings they way one waits at the window for a long-awaited package from UPS.
Musings of a stay at home Jewish Father- http://stayathometatte.wordpress.com
Another blog dedicated to a male role model at home raising his child. Its funny and real with great pictures as he chronicles the day-to-day life of a stay at home dad.
In My Opinion- http://diane-ownes.com
Diane is on a quest to ask a different, relevant question everyday for a year. Interesting concept and I find the answers entertaining.
Debut Dad- http://debutdad.wordpress.com
Brenden is a first time dad who lives in Australia. He blogs about juggling the changes in his life with the birth of their first-born child. Good luck Brenden and keep em coming.
Vanessa Chapman- http://vanessa-chapman.com
Vanessa nominated my blog, and although she is already nominated I enjoy her blog and look forward to every new edition she puts forth. From superstition to the purchase of a new pair of boots. She is funny and I find her blog to be a good way to blow a little time at work! Ha!
365 trinkets- http://365trinkets.wordpress.com
This blog is a reminder of how much crap we accumulate as adults. His mission? To get rid of 365 trinkets he has stored as treasured keepsakes over a 25 year period. The blog revolves around taking pictures of each one (for memories sake) then getting rid of said item.
maggiemaeijustsaythis- http://maggiemaeijustsaythis.wordpress.com
A blog dedicated to writing poetry and personal trials and tribulations. I enjoy the freedom with which she expresses herself.
Take a shower- http://takeashower.wordpress.com
A blog about Eloise and the raising of her five children. She writes about the past and present, reflecting on the moments in time with the raising of her five children.
I am sorry to say I only have 13 to nominate for this award. I fail! But the thirteen I have chosen I follow with great intent. I enjoy many other blogs but they are new to my collection and I havent gotten the chance to know them well enough yet for a nomination.
Vanessa you were right, I also anguished over my choices.
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Falling from the sky at an incredible rate of speed, this miniscule object hits the ground with a tremendous splash. Others follow blindly and before long it feels as though you cannot hide from their obvious presence. If try to pass by them, follow you they will. North to south, fast or slow, they come at you with incredible diligence or smother you with a windless drive. We need their presence in our lives and while some welcome them with a smile and open arms, others curse their arrival. Always at the most inopportune moment. Either way, by the look on your face and the discouraged look on everyone elses face around you there is no denying its presence.
Rain
We need rain to survive. I personally relish its arrival and can sit for hours watching it out my second story window. The view is fantastic. 
I peer across our farmland witnessing the power of Mother Nature as she rolls out of the foothills onto our flat plain. The waves of water or sheets of rain paint the landscape with a variety of colors, shades and light. These are the pictures of earths never-ending beauty I wish to take with me when I perish.
Yet, as I watch the news I am left dumbfounded by the leading the stories. We have not had any winter yet, the fields are dry, the hills are barren and we are nearer to spring then fall. One would assume people to be dancing in the streets over the prospect of an upcoming three-four day storm. But what I see is just the opposite. Our newscasters, field operatives if you will, have taken the time out of their busy morning to locate, or track down every “nay” sayer on the street. Apparently we are so self-absorbed in our personal lives we have forgotten the simple teaching from grammar school. Sun= growth, rain= hydration, the two combined through our planets cycles help keep us alive. Yet here they are relishing in their apparent 15 seconds of fame letting us all know how inconvenient this rain is to their particular life on this very day.
I bet if you were to track down the very same people during the summer months. Then ask them how they feel about the month of scorching temps we have endured, they would wine and snivel about how inconvenient it was for them to be suffering through such egregious temperatures!
Are you kidding me?
Hey idiot here’s a little hint to help you understand a simple basic concept. It rains/snows in the winter, and its warm/hot in the summer! BAMM, like that I have solved all your problems. You now have nothing to complain about in the weather department. You can go forth and plan your wardrobe accordingly, put your garden or flowers on a feeding cycle and even plan family vacations all around this little educational tidbit!
For fun let me expand on that just a titch. Some winters (get ready for this is a doozy) it rains more than others! (I know you are scratching your head in confusion) Some times during summer it is hotter than years previous! WOOOO HOOOO! Mind Blower huh? And sometimes (sit down you moron, I don’t want you to pass out at this revelation) during spring we receive light showers!! I know amazing huh?
So next time the camera gets shoved into your face and some plastic looking, game show host pronouncing, over educated, self-absorbed glory hunter asks you how you feel about the recent weather. Look them dead in the eye and expound your love for all-weather, then politely remind the field reporter all weather helps our planet to grow and survive. Finish him off with the complimentary; what a stupid question! Dont fall into the complaining trap, especially about something you can’t control.
For those who may have noticed I haven’t commented about actually having to stand in the rain. Or blanketed you with witticisms about driving in the rain, getting groceries in the rain, picking kids up in the rain or walking to your car in the rain. It’s because, I get it! Being wet and cold is no fun but it’s all part of living on this glorious planet. There is nothing you can do about it. Purchase a good umbrella or slip into an excellent rain coat! You don’t have to like it, but please don’t make the rest of us miserable because you have chosen to become “Debbie Downer”.
Now go over to your window and appreciate what ever view our world has to offer you. Because no matter where you are I challenge you to find something beautiful staring right back at you.
Look, It’s a double rainbow……
RANT ALERT…RANT ALERT….RANT ALERT….RANT ALERT…..RANT ALERT………….
Betty is fired up again! Its time for my weekly rant!!
So America please, please help me to understand..
When did it become socially unacceptable to reprimand your child in public? What exact moment in time did parents across this great nation suddenly stand up and say No I will not sternly redirect my childs poor behavior in public anymore! Who allowed this vicious and catastrophic lapse in judgement to prevail? When did we as parents decide that instead of reprimanding our children we would shrivel away into a corner becoming subservient to our children? Why have we allowed ourselves to fear the acronym CPS (Child Protective Services)? We have all heard the horror stories of a mom reprimanding their child in public only to be greeted by CPS later that evening at home because some well-intentioned busy body turned them in for child abuse! CPS is for children who are neglected and abused, not children who are held to a standard of behavior in public!
I reprimand my children when we are out and about! If they are not living up to my expectations of good behavior, 
I let em have it! If you Mr/Mrs John G Public don’t like me telling my kids to knock it off, then just keep moving buddy! Also after I tell my kids to knock it off, don’t you dare mean mug me then chine in with your little “it will be all right” statement directed towards my kid!
STORY TIME…..
One time at COSTCO while standing in line to check out. My son wouldnt quit pestering me for a smoothie from the snack bar. I asked him to stop, he proceeded to become belligerent and snotty, eventually becoming indignant about my request for him to stop asking. When I retorted with a stern; I asked you to stop and you didn’t, therefore we are not buying smoothies now. He began to cry, at which point the gentlemen behind me threw me a look as though I were the Anti-Christ and stated; Its Ok little buddy since daddy made you cry maybe he will buy you some candy instead. WHAT! What freaking planet are you from? Where do you live that it will ever be ok to punish bad choices with rewards? This is an individual that clearly doesn’t understand the parent child relationship. I showed the respect he lacked, politely declining his obvious request for redemption from my demoralizing behavior.
Now lets discuss reprimanding other people’s children with that last example clearly not meeting the appropriate criteria.
Does anybody remember the adage; It takes a village to raise a child?
Every year on mothers/fathers day I get a card for my parents, then over dinner, I say a quiet little thank you to all the moms and dads that watched over me as if I were their own. I even thank the ones I never knew! The adults that reigned me in when no else was looking! We have been extremely blessed to be surrounded by friends and family who are not afraid to reprimand our children when they are out of line. As parents we just can’t be everywhere, every time one of our little angels is mis-behaving.
Listen I get it, in today’s atmosphere we try our hardest to limit our children’s exposure to undesirable people. But when a stranger asks your child to quit running down the isles of the grocery store because they might run into someone and get hurt! Guess what mom/dad? Take the cue and tell your little Jackie Joyner-Kersey to quit running around like an idiot before they hurt someone or themselves! Dont turn on your fellow-man and rip their head off with a barrage of undesirable words in front of your child because you feel slighted! 
Dont you dare start slinging the four letter words because your fragile self-esteem can’t handle a little parenting help. It doesn’t make you a bad parent when someone else steps in to guide your child from certain disaster! But if you decide to take that path please realize you have empowered your little demon further. Now they know they can do what they want when they want in public because you are going to stand up and defend them instead of correcting them! Also you have let little “chucky” know its ok to disrespect another adult! See how that works out for you when they become teenagers. Good luck pal!
Oh yeah, another thing…
Lordy lordy, mercy sakes alive, heaven forbid some well-intentioned friend says something to your out of control little devil eyed monster! That alone will get you a much deserved berating on Facebook! The shame of it all…
I personally have no problem what so ever telling someone elses kid to knock it off. To clean up their language, act responsibly in public. I do not fear CPS or a knock on the door from the parenting police! I will always stand up for what is right and admonish what is wrong with parenting by todays lack of standards. 
But what I will never do, is stand idly by as some out of control heathen runs over grandma with a shopping cart because dad/mom don’t have the balls to stand up to their own kids…
I am hoping I am not in the minority, because some days it sure feels that way…
My oldest is almost sixteen, although that may be of concern to some parents for me it brings a sense of excitement and joy. The other day we ventured into the DMV so he could take a shot at passing his driver’s license written exam. I am proud to say he is now behind the wheel of any car we allow him drive. My son handles the pressure of driving a vehicle with incredible confidence. He remains calm and relaxed, very aware of his surroundings and for a new driver relatively smooth on the accelerator. The complete opposite of myself at his age. I was nervous. Terrified really, it scared the hell out of me driving down the roadway. I must have looked like a triathelete crossing the finish line when I finally drove on the freeway! Sweat pouring down my face, shirt soaked in perspiration! 55 mph seemed as though we were traveling at light speed! 
All those vehicles around me while moving fast, I swear looking out the windshield was like peering out the front of the Millenium Falcon at warp factor one! While we are on the subject of reported space junk, I was always relegated to driving my mothers 1972 Pontiac station wagon. Yuck! Major cool points lost! I prayed everyday that none of my friends saw me in that chocolate-brown hunk of poo with wood siding!
Yet my son doesn’t seem to care. Mini-van or truck, scooter or explorer it means nothing to him. As long as it has a steering wheel and motor he’s willing to drive. 
I don’t know if that means I had higher standards as a kid or he just enjoys the thought of driving so much he doesnt care. I really wanted to drive too! I started daydreaming about it when I was thirteen. I would spend endless hours on a Saturday just sitting behind the wheel of my dads 1963 GMC truck pretending to drive. 
I would close my eyes and see myself steering through town, waving at my friends, all while applying the clutch and shifting gears. My dream car was a 1966 Chevy Chevelle. 
Second runner-up was a 1968 Chevy half ton stepside truck. I dreamt about them, prayed I would own one. I knew exactly what they would look like, from color paint, rims, interior and stereo systems to where I would park them in the high school parking lot. I had it all figured out.
So what went wrong? Why doesn’t my son seem to care the way I did? Why doesn’t he have the same love for cars ? Why are his expectations so low? He has no answer to any of my questions when I ask him.
In my day your car was a rite of passage, a step into manhood, it defined who you were as a young male. Today no one seems to care. His friends don’t care! When I pick him up at the high school there isn’t one nice custom car/truck in the parking lot. Even the little Honda’s are bone stock! What the hell! 
Anyway I wrote this a while back in regards to a piece about your first vehicle. I entered it and it was chosen as one of the final stories. The whole reason I looked it up and am posting it to my blog is simple. I am left pondering. Will my children have the same memories of their first vehicles as I did? Or have those days gone the way of cruising and eight tracks? Gone forever, replaced by video games and techno geeks?
Anyways here it is….
My Freedom
The day I brought it home I had no way of knowing the effect it would have on my life so many years later. This machine of dreams made of steel, fabric, glass and wood. It was green and had the smell of old vinyl which hit you hard as you opened the door. The body lines curved, rolled and seemed to run on with no end. The glass was large and bulbous, when you sat inside you felt as though you were a fish looking out at the world from a mobile aquarium. There wasn’t much chrome on this metal masterpiece and that was the way I liked it. Anyone could have a flashy ride with a little money and some elbow grease, but it took someone with confidence and grit to pull off the industrialized look that it held when your eyes fell upon its shadowy form.
My 1964 Chevrolet stepside had a three on the tree with a 289 V8 that rumbled at idle. The gas tank was right behind the seat, which left a hint of petrol wafting through the cab on a warm summers day. Right next to the fuel cell I had carefully mounted a motorized windshield wiper container, which I had filled with whiskey. 
There was small tubing running under the rubber flooring towards my glove box. When you opened the glove box there were three cup rings where whiskey was dispensed through a small metal wiper fluid nozzle into your waiting glass. The entire thing was wired to a marine switch which ironically in today’s age of not drinking and driving was located next to the ignition.
I loved this truck! I hardly slept at night waiting for the morning, just so I could drive it somewhere, anywhere! I made up excuses to run errands for friends or family just so I could be behind the wheel. It rode rough, had a steering wheel the size of a manhole cover, no air conditioning, and drum brakes that didn’t stop worth a darn. It was primitive, but I loved it! Whenever I see one drive by I am flooded with memories of first dates, parties with my friends, drag racing at the end of the boulevard (yes we still cruised back then) and loading up with my closest buddies then traveling where ever and whenever we felt like it.
You see this was my first truck, my first car, rolled into one. It was the epitome of teenage masculinity, my identity, my solace. It opened the door to freedom from my shuttered world and behind its closed doors it held all the secrets of our journeys together.
Maybe he shouldnt have memories of a first vehicle after all. Sounds like trouble waiting to happen. A Honda civic will do nicely thank you….
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