Tag: Fathering

A snowball effect….

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The other night after a long day of he said, she said, don’t touch me, and leave me alone along with all the other phrases (both appropriate and inappropriate) reverberating through an active family household.  I found myself stressed beyond belief.  My chest hurt, the lungs yearned for air, a mildly cold sweat lay across my brow and my stomach hurt.  The only thing I could ponder was how much longer until they all were grown.

Of course I have no room to complain because there are the 48 hours straight I am at work, holed up in my firehouse the last bastion of supposed sanity from the trials and tribulations of being a full-time parent! My poor wife does not enjoy such luxury.  But then again aren’t all us firefighters really just kids with badges and super cool toys we use to help the public?  Anyways that night had taken quite the toll on both my wife and I.  All we could think about was the peace and quiet that came with bedtime.  Then something wonderful happened that brought me back to reality.

We baked cookies…

Yep that’s right its Christmas time and nothing says “I care about you” more than fresh-baked cookies! It really is the best Christmas present ever! I would personally take 20 tins of delicious cookies from loved ones over someone spending money on something they hope I will like!  Cookies, chocolate, brownies, mince pies they all say “hey buddy its Christmas and I was baked just for you” enjoy! But these cookies, oh these cookies are super special! Every year we bake these little doughy droplets of gold and place them in specially purchased Christmas tins then set out across town “ to snowball”.

Definition: To Snowball; During Christmas time only, place a tin of cookies with an anonymous uplifting note on the front porch of an unsuspecting family.  Ring doorbell, knock loudly on door and run!!!

Snowball has become a very special part of our Christmas traditions! The children look forward to it every year almost as much as Christmas morning itself!  Snowball is treated like a covert mission, complete with blacked out car, dark clothing and squealing tires. Giggling is inevitable as mishaps are also a part of the fun.  Falling over hedges, tripping before reaching the car, only to beimages (29) grabbed by an older brother and pulled in as the car rips away from the scene! No man left behind is our motto! On one occasion one of the boys had to hide under a hedge just feet from the front door as it was opened by the homeowner before a full retreat was completed! It’s just plain, good old-fashioned Christmas fun! We hand out yummy goodies; hopefully make someone’s night with no expectation of reciprocation.  Then hope it leaves a snowball effect on its recipients, passing good cheer forward for the holidays. This is the way we enjoy observing Christmas, it truly feels better to give than receive!!

As we are preparing for our night of Christmas ninja stealth, the children all do something unheard of lately.  They begin to get along, working together as one to complete this monumental task.  My wife and I step back out of the kitchen and even though the urge to take over and correct small mistakes is astronomical we don’t.  She moves into the family room to watch TV, and I hover around the front room images (28)tending the fire and staring in awe.  My oldest works like a baker, carefully tossing out flour, and rolling the dough out to perfection while the others take turns cutting out cookies made of angels, snowmen, stars and mistletoe.  The middle boy handles placing them carefully on cookie sheets and transfers them back and forth from the oven only asking that I place them inside while removing the cooked ones.  It was seriously the happiest, stress less, most magical moment I’ve had around our children in a while.  It truly made our night.  My wife iced them with green and white frosting then placed them carefully into round Christmas covered containers.  She wrote another fantastic letter and we all called it a night with smiles upon our egg-nog covered faces.

One simple act of doing for others as a family can erase hours of selfish bickering.  I am often reminded of a very simple saying; you only have one childhood with your children. Enjoy it!

When things get stressful, bake some cookies together and let them be children.  All will look better in the end and your stress will subside. I promise…..

Merry Christmas!

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A Horse of Gold……

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This is the story of a horse. A very special horse..

Now if you follow my blog then you know here at Betty’s house we ride horses competitively (cutting horses, gymkhana) and for fun (trail riding, etc.). Nothing brings our family greater satisfaction than introducing a child to the joys of riding horses. The feeling of freedom so many never experience in a lifetime that comes from loping in an arena aboard a 1500 pound animal.

But it wasn’t always that way here at our ranch.  There was a time when if I never saw another horse again it would be too soon.  Growing up on a horse ranch as a child, I had my fill of horses and the chores that went along with raising these four-legged beasts. I never understood why they came before us children? My self-centered life revolved around much more important things than feeding and watering them twice a day.  It was always an inconvenience for me and I was a sniveling pain in the ass to my parents.

Why?

Simply put, I was too young and self-absorbed to realize these chores equated to valuable life lessons instilled by my parents.  Lessons that would form who I became, as life away from home molded me into the man I am today.  Animals have a way of inadvertently teaching, by forcing you to learn responsibility, punctuality, empathy, kindness, courage and patience.  I learned all these important traits from begrudgingly taking care of horses and sheep on our ranch.

So what does this have to do with a story about a horse?

When I left home, animals had left a bad taste in my mouth. I swore to the heavens above I would never, ever own a horse again.  As a young adult I worked with a few horses on a dairy and would ride them any chance I could while hanging out with friends. My skills were average but I could hold my own using lessons taught by my mother.  The reality? I never was looking to head down the old equine trail ever again.  You see all those years of watching my parents struggle to make ends meet while raising, training, showing and riding horses combined with the responsibility of feeding, watering and caring for these creatures left me feeling very strongly in regards to never owning a horse.

When I was a teenager my parents dissolved the horse business, selling off all their animals, taking jobs in town and soon purchasing and raising ostriches for meat. No more horses! Hurray! Life seemed pretty good.

Then one day my dad purchased a horse named Gold Piece.  He was—–Gold—– I know hard to believe huh? He was a Tennessee walker.

The Tennessee Walker or Tennessee Walking Horse is a breed of riding horse. Originally bred in the Southern United States to carry the owners of plantations around their lands,[1] this breed is known for their unique four-beat “running walk.” The breed is rarely seen in any of the sport horse disciplines; however, they are popular in trail riding because of their smooth gait, stamina and easy temper. They are also seen in Western riding disciplines and in harness. –Wikipedia—

Gold Piece was a tall horse with a wonderful gate, he was friendly enough and my father adored him.  My parents built him a fine paddock at their home and Gold Piece quickly became my father’s four legged friend.  There doesn’t seem to be a recollection of my father ever riding Gold Piece although my mother claims she has been atop this steed.  For years Gold Piece just roamed his little 3 acre patch coming in to eat in the morning and talk with my dad (as dad puts it) repeating the same schedule of events in the  evening.

I never understood why someone would own a horse without riding it. Horses to me at the time werent pets, but livestock and should have been used as such. It’s in the animals best interest to be worked and exercised everyday, used to their potential.  So needless to say it bothered me that this horse just walked around, eating his way through my parents finances.  (Complete self-absorption huh?)

My parents eventually sold their home and moved onto our ranch, Gold Piece in tow, allowing them to ease their financial burdens while growing older.  We made a home for the horse and before long seeing him out there ignited a passion inside our children. We acquired a few horses (against my better judgment) and all my children began to ride.  My wife took the lead as her love for all animals carried over into caring for these creatures as well.  All the while Gold Piece just stared blankly from his paddock while watching us do our thing.  I would go pet him and tell him I was sorry he wasnt being ridden then remind him he was dads and I really didn’t want to cross that line.  During the winter my wife found an affordable arena for us to board our horses so the children could ride out of the rain as our place would turn into a bit of a mud pit.  After a few weeks and some favorable reviews to my parents, Gold Piece soon joined us at my father’s request.  It made dad feel good to know his buddy was out of the weather, and socializing with other horses.  My father had developed some health issues that year which slowed him down a bit; so he dropped by the barn everyday when he felt good, every couple of days when he didn’t, but his horse was always there, head hanging out of the stall, happy to see him. In fact it used to make me chuckle, because I could never figure out how the horse knew my father had arrived on the premises.  But sure enough, trucks would come and go, then when dads truck arrived Gold Pieces head would pop right out and he would start licking his lips in anticipation of the apple/oat cookies my dad always carried in his pocket.

One day while watching the kids ride, I tired of sitting on the sidelines, if my dad wasn’t going to ride this horse well gosh darn it I was! I grabbed a saddle, pulled down his bit, tacked him up and moved off into the arena.  Within fifteen minutes my head was abuzz with all the memories of riding horses at my parents ranch as a kid, with friends while growing up, and on trail rides as a young adult. Gold Piece had reignited a passion I had suppressed for far too long.

This horse, single-handedly or Hoofed as the case may be erased my ignorance, awakened the realization my parents hadn’t been punishing me with all those chores as a kid; he helped me understand what I needed to do as a father with my own children and brought back my need to ride, enjoy the thrill of riding, along with competing against other trained animals working as team towards a common goal.  During his tenure at the barn Gold Piece gave many of our young friends their first rides in the arena and he gave my oldest a reason to ride with his father. Always willing and full of steam Gold Piece would go until the verge of collapse if you asked him too.  (Pretty cool horse.)  My younger children seeing their parents ride this big Gold trotting machine wanted to ride every chance they could.  If it wasn’t for Gold Piece my wife and I wouldn’t have met and made friends with a wonderful group of people that we ride horses with to this very day! He and his stubbornness also introduced me to my “sister from another mister”. For that I am very thankful.

Gold Piece wasn’t always perfect, he challenged me every chance he could, made me earn my way around the arena on more than one occasion and taught me through sheer will to ride again, for that I am very appreciative.  But what he lacked in patience under saddle he more than made up for in personality outside the arena.  He never kicked, bit or pushed his weight around. If you were small he side-stepped out of your way while carefully keeping an eye on you. He always let you pet him and was happy to do so.  The little ones had no problem grooming him and he eased under pressure from the brush, much like a cat would purr at a belly rub.  He was just a good old horse.

Gold Piece passed away today.  My daughter found him down in his stall this morning when she went out to feed. He was close to 30, fighting cancer and we all knew the day was coming. But it didn’t make it any easier. My father is devastated.  As I sit here writing this I believe this horse was probably my father’s last true friend; always there when he needed him, never argued or disagreed with him and listened with nothing but the best of intentions. Nothing is harder than watching your dad cry. My mother is doing her best stiff upper lip imitation as always, but I know deep inside she is hurting as well, not just for herself but for the loss of my father’s dear friend.

A funny thing, for all he taught us he never asked for very much in return. He ate his hay, talked to my dad and went about his daily business like that of a proud Tennessee walker. Upon hearing of his passing, a friend of ours dropped us a note on Facebook that read; I think he (Gold Piece) heard there was a little girl from CT that needed him…..It may sound a little crazy but I looked it up on Yahoo news and it’s true. Little 6-year-old spitfire, Jessica Rekos, one of the 20 children that perished at Sandy Hook Elementary School had desperately wished for a horse and was going to get cowboy boots for Christmas.

Because I believe there is a God, because I believe that everything happens for a reason and because I know that horse would never have left my dad for anything in the world, maybe just maybe it’s possible to believe there was a higher calling and he (Gold Piece) answered that call, meeting up in heaven with a little girl who wanted nothing more than a horse of her own. I could think of no greater comfort for such a little soul, and maybe, just maybe her parents can now rest a little easier. The lord will take wonderful care of her as she rides the heavens above upon her beautiful horse of gold.

Rest In Peace both of you, the fields are endless, you are both safe now, god speed…

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Gold Piece-

12/17/2012

Santa Claus or am I really baby Jesus?

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Ah the tinsel, the lights, Christmas music flowing from every car, coffee shop and grocery store around; People buzzing about trying to find the perfect gift for that special someone. The season is here, like it or not, we are enveloped in the Christmas season, may joy and laughter fill the air.

Sooooo on the topic of gifts let’s just take a moment to recognize the mangermain man by saying thank you baby Jesus, cute little baby Jesus all cuddly and snuggly in his precious little wool wrap, perfect in his Jesus like way. For if wasn’t for your birth on that magical manger morning sire, three wise men/kings wouldn’t have traveled from afar (really afar?) to bestow three (Super Lotto of the period) wonderful gifts of Gold, Muir and Frankincense! Whew, HELLLLOOOOO; can you say JACKPOT!!!! Cha-Ching!!

What’s that my little snow angels? Santa is the sole reason we receive gifts on Christmas you say? Not the baby Jesus you say! Well myimagesCAI541T4 misguided little peppermint elves how wrong you are! The jolly red man wasn’t always jolly and he certainly wasn’t always fat! He was a man like any other, only he did what any good christian would do, stole the concept from religions much cherished three wise men! Seeing a definite need (oh yes his heart was in the right place) he practiced giving (gifts, shoes, dowry’s, food etc..) for a while selling the image santaof nobility to the masses. Eventually he was sainted and became forever known as St. Nicholas! Flash forward 1,669 years, St. Nicholas’ image has passed from generation to generation evolving into the much celebrated fat man in a red costume, driving a sleigh pulled by eight tiny reindeer! No really they are tiny! You would think they were huge with all those gifts and all but really they are tiny!rudy

Upon seeing positive results within multiple test markets (Poland, Turkey, the Netherlands) the idea of a St. Nick or Santa Claus was marketed to the right folks, obtaining copy writes to his likeness and catchphrases then sold, sold, sold and sold again slowly evolving into the much celebrated fat man in a red costume, atop a shiny red sleigh! Happy picture huh?

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                                         Wrong sleigh… or not?

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There we go that’s better….

Not being the greatest of mathematicians, I took it upon myself using the internet, ABC NEWS, and a few simple formulas to help me determine the sleigh was obviously developed by aliens or possibly held in captivity at Area 51 until our government could extract the compounds used to make this bitch fly! You see, Santa’s sleigh needssantas sleigh to travel 175 million miles in just under 31 hours (time/Dateline, staying under the cover of darkness and all), Santa himself needs to visit 1,178 homes per second-every second of those 31 hours.  That means when the “big” man arrives he has just 8/100,000ths of a second to park the sleigh, shimmy down the chimney, stuff the stockings, eat (what is hopefully delicious) cookies, drink milk, shimmy back up the chimney, get his parking slip validated, tip the valet and go! boltHusain Bolt I think you have a second career waiting for you when this whole world’s fastest Olympian runner thing doesn’t quite pan out anymore!

How about the gross weight of the sleigh? I mean a rig like that needs to be agile and light! Made from the finest carbon fiber money can buy right? Someone must know the overall gross weight of this vehicle at the very least possibly California does since knowing means billing for registration and new registration leads to another source of revenue. Well don’t let the snowflakes melt from your cap just yet! Yes there is a calculation for this as well! Let’s say every child receives one two-pound toy,(hahahahahahaha one toy, that’s a joke) multiply that by 330 million children under the ripe old age of 18.  That’s 660 million pounds of toys! No wonder Rudolph’s nose is red! The lad needs to drink like a union dock worker after moving that much weight in one night! Wonder if Rudolph receives sopranoskickbacks to pad his stable when bags of toys mysteriously fall off the sleigh while flying over New Jersey? Aye yo Vinnie that damn reindeer dropped us another load! Youz better have is cut ready or your kids won’t be seeing any evidence of the Fatman on Christmas morning!

So there, the baby Jesus is the reason we have Christmas! The Santa story is absolutely charming and I truly don’t mind playing the big guy every Christmas morning! The straight up fact is it brings endless joy to all the little boys and girls across this wondrous globe of ours. With or without the help of Macy’s, Target and Wal-Mart. But doesn’t someone think maybe lying to our children about a fictitious person, from a make-believe place, who brings toys and gifts to all the “good” little boys and girls after making a list (segregation) and checking it twice might really be sending a bad message? Plus how do you explain the whole “he bad santa 2sees you when you’re sleeping, he knows when you’re awake” bit? Sound like someone needs to be registered on the Meagan’s law web-site! Creeper!

 

I have decided since I receive gifts on Christmas morning I need to work on tricking my children into believing I am the baby Jesus instead!  Pretty sure I can pull of the three wise men part with a little help from my friends. Someone know where I can get some Frankincense? Maybe three camels????

 

My Words of Wisdom for the Day

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Accomplishing a series of small tasks on a daily basis allows you to complete the larger task at hand with little too no effort.

Carry on that is all….

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is Santa a Lady?

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is Santa a Lady?.

via is Santa a Lady?.

Is Santa a lady??? I have often pondered this very question! I mean the organizational skills alone are mind numbing!  There is not a man alive that can hold a candle to Santa when it comes to logistics.  Yet there are several ladies I know who could handle it quite well, all while still holding a second career, writing a thesis for their Masters degree and schooling their children on homework!  Could it possibly be the woman in red is standing behind the man running everything quietly, out of the spotlight, using the “its a mans world” theory to sell the notion of masculinity when it comes to delivering toys to all the good little girls and boys???  HHHMMMMM???

Anyways that is my question but please check out this blog (click on “is Santa a lady?”link above)  as I found it to be quite humorous.  Then ask yourself, could the man in red, really be the woman in red? Or is it a front?

DR. FRO-YO is in….

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As a parent my world revolves around our children. They bring to our lives purpose and a fulfillment that just can’t be achieved by denying their existence. No really you can deny they’re yours all you want but try leaving Chucky Cheese unnoticed when one of them yells; Hey dad where ya going? That damn family hand stamp you received when you arrived ties you right back to the little darlings! Anyways I only tried it once, no harm no foul right?

Yep those little ones fill our days with delight! From the moment their sweet little angelic eyes open in the morning, birds begin to sing! They’ll float down to breakfast as ifimages-13 Miss Mary Poppins herself was their nanny! Poise, confidence, smarts they are perfect and all yours. Every day is greeted with excitement because you’re able to cherish hundreds of precious moments with these wondrous gifts from god!

Often times in the morning I am heard across the neighborhood hollering out our back door as they skip off to school, backpacks in hand, looking sharp dressed in their finest knickers; Have a great day children and remember daddy loves yoouuuu!! They always stop, hold hands and in unison shout: We love you to daddy!!!! Sweet visualization huh?

Parenting is a calling, you don’t realize how important it is until it happens to you! Becoming a parent brings together all the unknowns about your existence, solidifying them in one complete, mind altering, unrelenting realization.

At some point you are going to need a drink!

Because after that Disney fantasy world of morning departure, as the door closes and you’re left all alone with nothing but your thoughts, life becomes very clear. You may need a drink! It starts out harmless enough; the house is yours so you figure knocking out a few chores such as laundry sounds like a good idea. I mean you are the maid right? So images-17you grab a cup of coffee, haul a few hampers, wash a few loads it all sounds so easy? But oh no my friend how wrong you are because it’s then and only then you see the light! For example, apparently all four of my children were performing on America’s got talent last night! How do I know? Because every single one of them went through at least three wardrobe changes yesterday leaving two of them scattered across the bathroom, bedroom and hallway floors! Only someone who performs on stage needs that many wardrobe changes to get through the day right? The laundry basket is filled with an equal amount of clothing exchanges from the previous three days as well and by the time it has been transferred to the basement it appears the bottom of the basket is filled with clothes I washed and folded on Friday of last week! Those clothes now smell awful because apparently the littlest one peed the bed and has thrown the urine soaked clothing on top of the aforementioned clean clothes! Feeling the need yet?

Did I mention the bathroom? Between cleaning up piss scattered about the base of the images-6toilet and poop that has made its way miraculously down the side of the bowl. (Serious skill or a disturbing problem) There is an endless river of shampoo and body gel making its way around every part of our bathroom except (judging by quantity only) onto the filthy bodies of my pristine little gems! Thirsty for a snort?

As I feel happiness slowly draining from my body like the last remaining droplets of coffee from the pot downstairs, I decide grabbing some chocolate will harden my resolve and strengthen my nerves.  One problem, it’s all gone!  I don’t know when or where but it’s gone all gone!  Hands shaking, teeth grinding, creating new curse words, the laundry is dragged to the basement and tossed into the machine, our bathrooms are cleaned to perfection,  the floor is swept, mopped and left to dry while I burn time folding clothes. I call it “burning” time because it’s not what I want to do it’s what I have to do so I prefer to burn it with my hatred!! After an hour I start missing my children again (I know freaking crazy huh?).  The bottle on the counter doesn’t seem quite as tempting anymore, yet Jack is always a gentlemen and he remains smooth as silk in his delivery.

The day trots’ on with more highs and lows; high when I find a bedroom closet cleaned, low when I find all my missing chocolate wrappers under a bed, high when finding a note left behind by one of them saying how much they love me, low when realizing all the words are spelled backwards, leaving me worrying about his education! High while realizing they are all taking fairly good care of their animals a very big responsibility, low when reaching into a box of Hot Pockets to find it has been placed back into the freezer empty!  AARRRGGGHHHHH! Getting thirsty again…

By the time our children are let out of school my emotions have traveled a gambit of expressions and yet even though exhaustion is ruling my body, and sleep would be a welcome sight even for just a few minutes, I pull my boot straps up, put on a smile and rush off to gather them for the return ride home.  A trip into town takes but 15 minutes, just enough time to sing a few songs on the radio, down a beer and let the Percocet take hold! Just kidding!!! Don’t get uptight now my belligerent story has almost concluded!

images-18While waiting in the hallways I take note of many other children, some are sweet as pie, others in need of a good old-fashioned ————-! (You fill in the blank! Really anything you want! Time out, walk in the park, smack on the tush, trophy for being the most obnoxious, whatever works for you! This is the kinder gentler, stranger society we occupy so live it up!)

My conclusion is this; our children will always be sweet little angels, the stuff Disney movies are made of, no matter what anyone else says!  They could do whatever they wanted and dad would stand behind them all the way! Ok except for getting arrested and maybe starting a fight, yeah that’s never good, also selling drugs would be a hard one to back all the way unless junior is gonna hook a father up with some sweet green!

I digress….  So my children walk up, hugs are given and no longer do I feel the stress of a long day!  Life is ok; all is right with the world.  We climb into the truck and before we leave the parking lot three of them are fighting in the back seat, one is crying two are punching each other all while words such as butthead and fart face are thrown about as frequently as a bug hitting the windshield!  So with the calmness of a school librarian Unknown-2(they still have those don’t they?)  the truck is turned north, our home is no longer an approved destination for I have determined they (our children)are feeling the very same stresses I feel  day after day.  Their stress revolves around working hard, strengthening the farthest reaches of their little brains during a long day of school! So it would make sense for them to release stress exactly the same way dad does, through spastic, angered verbal retaliation.  Of course mine is directed at no one because I am usually home alone. A feeling of daily stress that just can’t be contained from sitting in ones room for being grumpy.  Since children can’t drink (not legally anyways) it’s on to the next best thing! Pulling into the Frozen yogurt shop a hearty FRO-YO chant bellows comes from the back seat, sharing the very same exuberance a dock worker feels when his ride home at the end of a long day stops at the local pub for a pint… or two….

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Everyone pours out of the truck, piles into the store, flavors are picked, toppings are served and we take our little pint-sized treasures out to the tables in the shade.  Not a word is spoken, peace and harmony exists, the only sounds to be heard are that of; thanks dad and mmmmmmmmmm!  Ok except for my littlest who between spoonfuls is conducting an imaginary orchestra with his spoon! Holy cow people are staring at him….. Cooollll…… Climbing back into the truck all is right with the world.  They have de-stressed, genuine conversation is at the forefront of our ride home.  We are a communicating caring family once again!  All because of a little sweet FRO-YO.

At home they are playing joyfully in the backyard. Chores completed with smiles and homework finished. I pray they have the ability to stay in Disney/Happiest place in the world mode a little while longer; I’d like their mother to enjoy some of this FRO-YO high as well?

Now where did I put my old friend Jack?

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(this story is sarcasm based, no alcohol, children, parents or animals were harmed in the telling of this story)

Somewhere in the Halls of Justice…..

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A tub of chocolate chip cookie dough has been discovered open.  Now this is no giant revelation in the grand scheme of things around Betty’s house, but this time is a bit different. You see lately there has been a sudden rash of midnight food thefts.  Of course one might wonder if it’s the result of us starving our children to the point of  emaciation? After all they are always screaming about how they are starving, there is nothing to eat, they are dying! Hypochondriacs! Maybe it’s because our food stamps ran out this month after I traded them for cash to a local street entrepreneur so I could score some vodka and cigarettes? Don’t judge me a guys got to do what a guys got to do right?

But sadly no, Betty and spouse have stocked the home quite well with food for all.  Three squares a day and all the snacks one could handle. Not even the prison commissary has more crap than Betty’s Basement for snacking and munching.  But what makes this crime of chocolate chip passion so incredulous is the fact we have been mired in a swamp of lying lately.  Several attempts have been made through modern-day practices to arrive at the truth, trick questioning, good parent bad parent role play, single chair in the room hot spot light grilling, even a little military action has been used, but alas the waterboarding failed miserably. Thank God for AFLAC! Yet no matter what we tried the famed culprit “Mr. I don’t know” is usually to blame! What to do, what to do??

On this particular occasion while staring at the evidence a moment of brilliance overcame me! Sheer genius really as too many nights of late night crime TV took over, guiding me through a fair and just investigation.

Calmly calling the main accused subject to the front of the room I leaned down and gave the suspect every opportunity to answer me truthfully the first time.  Each time I asked, the suspect stood their ground claiming no knowledge of a crime committed.  Finally I held the subjects hand, slowly pulling the forefinger out straight.

Once the hand was firmly in my grasp over the bucket of sugary goodness with the forefinger pointed out straight I said; (Law and Order moment here) My dear, this bucket of chocolate chip cookie dough has been picked out by a single solitary finger.  The great thing about fingers is no two are the same.  Therefore if I place this finger inside this bucket will it match the marks made by the thief? She calmly stated no, stood her ground while beginning to look very confused.

Slowly lowering her hand I said; this is your last chance.  Her brow furrowed, her resolve was set. Down went the hand and behold the finger mark was a perfect fit!

Now one could point the opposed bony finger of justice at the accused and scream GUILTY! But that’s not how Betty rolls.  In a smooth almost sweet voice I asked the accused to step back, explained it was a perfect fit but in the interest of justice we would call in the other accused suspect to appear before our Kangaroo court.  The call was made and suspect number two was brought downstairs and placed in front of suspect number one.  Now suspect number two doesn’t have quite the moxy suspect number one carries.  So there was an instant look of guilt upon his reddening cheeks.  He tried his best poker face with a loud; whats up dad? (insert nervous laughter here)

The same investigative speech was provided for suspect number two and when he recognized the significance of important scientific data such as “no two fingers leaving the same mark in cookie dough” the confession spewed forth like that of man carrying heavy guilt for some time!  No splayed out finger, no hand-held over the tub, no look of shame needed! Just the fear of scientific data, fact, serious CSI shit, to break his silence and expose a true culprit.  The crime had been solved or so it seemed, but as with any criminal facing significant prison time this young lad was no different from any other! He started singing and he sang like a freaking canary, throwing suspect number one under the bus in the process.  Hearing the overwhelming load of evidence thrown her way she lowered her shoulders and confessed to it all.  The facts of the case had been revealed, two culprits one definitive finger match and all with a little knowledge learned from watching to many Law and Order episodes late at night.

The investigating officers report read as such:

On the night of 25 November 2012, One 8-year-old female suspect made her way into the family’s basement, avoiding detection from the parental units through stealth measures developed over an unspecified period of time.  The female suspect finding the Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough tub in the main downstairs refrigerator carefull removed a tool from the adjoining refrigerator intentionally piercing the cellophane cover, exposing the dough goodness held inside.  Using her fingers many samples were had/stolen until the sounds of people moving her direction stopped her from enjoying more of the holiday treat. She retreated through the shadows into her room retiring for the night.  Sometime later in the evening suspect number two seeing the lid had in fact been opened and fully knowing who the main culprit may have been felt as though the perfect crime would be committed by helping himself to the same sugary goodness then leave suspect number one taking the fall for the crime. A thorough investigation was held, both suspects were apprehended and suitable punishments were doled out through the use of plea bargaining. 

Case closed.

Now if only I can use this late night psychological shit to figure out who is stealing my underwear and socks….

Black Friday is just the Beginning…

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Black Friday is just the beginning!

Without so much as a decent burial to Thanksgiving the nations marketing firms have once again proceeded with a full frontal assault upon your financial statement or loss thereof.

Christmas past

As a child I would count down the days towards Thanksgiving (purely due to my mass enjoyment of gorging delicious holiday food), then the day after would begin another count down towards Christmas.  Lying in bed at night thinking 29 more days, then 28, then 27 and so on until Christmas Eve was upon me! During this period I looked forward to Christmas activities at school, Church, Christmas lights hung around the town square, cold wet weather, Christmas music, all the holiday specials (Rudolph, Frosty,  the Grinch and so on) and yes even a little Christmas shopping.  You see when I became a little older my mother would drop me off in town to spend some time Christmas shopping on my own.  It was fun, made me feel as though I was becoming an adult and there was always just enough money left over for a one pound bag of M&M’s that inevitably made it home to my sock drawer where I would gleefully shove handfuls into my face when no one was around! Christmas was fun, easy and all within the context of roughly 30 days.

The marketing guru’s of the time, while still looking to vie for every penny you held, hoping to help adjust their year-end statements; held to Christmas being a sacred, specified period of time.  Values were still present and accounted for; family was still a number one priority!

Christmas Present

Today my children can’t wait for Christmas! Which in today’s  high stress, high pressure environment astounds me! They chomp at the bit in anticipation of that glorious morning when their year-end performance reports come back.

Dad: Hey little Peter wont you step into my office? 

Peter: Sure

Dad: For this year end review which qualifies your interests (Santa’s wish list) to be forwarded upstairs, I am trying to get a feel for how you spend your day … so, if you would, would you walk me through a typical day, for you? 

Peter: Yeah. 

Dad: Great. 

Peter: Well, I generally wake up at least fifteen minutes late, ah, I use the side door – that way mom can’t see me, heh heh – and, uh, after that I just sorta space out for about an hour. 

Dad: Da-uh? Space out? 

Peter: Yeah, I just stare at the ground outside; but it looks like I’m working. I do that for probably another hour after lunch, too. I’d say in a given week I probably only do about fifteen minutes of real, actual, work

(In case you didn’t notice that was an obscure “Office Space” reference)

But those 15 minutes of actual work pay off as little Peters Santa’s list makes the grade and is pushed up the ladder to corporate! Santa will be placing little Peter on the nice list today. 

Today Christmas is filled with pressure! Pressure brought to you courtesy of the retail industry! It’s not enough to have a wonderful Christmas surrounded by family and friends. It’s not enough that you live on a fixed a budget and are doing the very best you can with what you have.  It’s not enough to be thankful for your health, a roof over your head, well adjusted children earning a great education. It is not enough; it’s not enough it’s just not enough! No! During Christmas you are supposed to stand in long lines, maxing out every credit card, singing Christmas carols, sucking a Starbucks while getting shoved to floor during a Black Friday event. Buy, Buy, and Buy! Who cares what the economy is doing! Just ask the car industry! Buy a Lexus! Who cares that you are on welfare! Purchase a 52 inch TV that you can never pay for! Who cares that your family is now down to one income! Its Christmas Damn it and for it to the very best Christmas ever you need to outspend, outlast, and overcome all financial obstacles for people to still love you!  Just ask the talking navigation system in the Jarrod commercials.

What exactly is the message most marketing agencies are passing along today? Holiday cheer? Uh no. Betterment of mankind? Uh no. Helping your fellow man? Uh no. Nope its nothing more than buy, buy, buy! My littlest reminded me yesterday that Black Friday is the only true savings day! It seems that it’s perfect for all parents to score really cool toys! Who are ad executives speaking to again?

Apparently Christmas is so all encompassing within our lives that it needs to be celebrated starting in October! Visited a Wal-Mart lately?  That’s right, over by the gardening section; nothing says chrysanthemum like a new set of Christmas lights and a blow up Santa! Scare the Halloween right out of Halloween by spending Christmas dollars now! Santa knows how to make Halloween its bitch!

(Actual picture taken at a Wal-Mart in October)

The phrase “holiday season” has been stretched to its useful limit when Target starts advertising the “holidays” during the World Series!  Snowflakes, Christmas Presents, couples hand in hand walking blissfully through the snow as a big white dog with a target on his eye (presumably an injury from the war) strolls down main street spreading Holiday cheer that can only be obtained after spending all of your hard earned money at Target! Also from watching this commercial, when you shop at Target in the snowy regions you don’t get wet or have a runny nose! Just an observation.

Back to Black Friday.  Marketing genius I tell you!  Not only have you stressed every shop-o-holic to the limit by announcing this day of spending infamy, but ad executives have created a self generating existence that will go generation after generation! No longer, on the day after Thanksgiving will the sound of father bellowing down the hallway; let’s all climb in the mini-van and go get the Christmas tree, be heard! Or the family tradition of pulling Christmas boxes from storage to decorate the house! Nope the marketing gods have ensured that over time, one mom will take her kids to Black Friday, a couple of moms friends will do the same, then their children will start participating in this yearly purchasing orgy, before long they will tell two friends, then they will tell two friends and so on and so on… Eventually they all will succumb to this newly created family tradition of unbridled consumerism on the day after Thanksgiving! Death to the old Christmas period, birth of a new! Maybe it shouldn’t be called Christmas anymore, I mean it is after all a religious undertone and we all know how well that flies these days.  Maybe we should call it 30 days of debt? National pay down the nation’s debt day? Giving day? Giftmas?

Yeah Giftmas! GIFTMAS, that’s the ticket!

Christmas Failure- ahem! I mean Future!

I can see it now, no longer does our country celebrate the birth of Christ, and no longer do we recognize three wise men bearing gifts for the newborn son. Our Nation, an enlightened nation now only recognizes Giftmas. A day that every faith, and culture and stand behind! Giftmas is 90 days of advertising, 14 days of Black Friday style shopping, 10 days of ridiculously low internet specials, 7 days of no credit report checked credit card offerings and two days of amnesty for people who are a little behind in their credit card payments but want to apply for more credit.

The new Giftmas will still be held on the same day as Christmas, Santa will remain as patron saint of gifting, he mastered this thing a couple a hundred years ago when as little old Saint Nic he left shoes outside the windows of those who had none! Talk about a long range growth plan! So let’s not mess with a good thing, all though I am pretty sure that once Giftmas has gone corporate the elves will unionize and then pension costs will drive up prices, but hey that’s in the future and if the present has taught us anything it’s that pension money left in the right hands is always the culprit of greed, dishonesty and theft. Which means it will be dealt with long after it’s too late.

No more Christmas trees in the household, there will instead be a Giftmas stand! That’s right a 6 foot, 8 foot or 12 foot stand with multiple levels and platforms to place your gifts upon or under.  The Giftmas stand will be lit from every angle with computerized lighting.  It will spin 360 degrees to show off every side, so even the smallest of presents look great!  And best of all its fire safe! No more worrying about a tree going up in the middle of the night!

Want to place lights on your house to celebrate the season! Great! Advertisers will do it for you! All vying for the chance to display through electronics their personal holiday message designed just for your neighborhood! Live in a gated neighborhood? Great! An electronic, flashing Mercedes Benz ad will now be running along your roof line   Live in the country? Tractor Supply will be dancing in holiday spirit as it advertises this week’s feed specials along your fence! Genius really, the same effect as Christmas lights but with a message!

The morning of Giftmas should remain relatively the same as Christmas used too.  Wake up; tear through presents then lay in a gift induced coma after eating breakfast and watching “A Christmas Story” to help you remember the good old days.  In a few hours the whole family arrives and more gifting carnage ensues! See it really isn’t all that different! No more silly religion to get in the way, no more thanking God for all that has been provided, no more needing to pray at dinner.  Just good old fashioned greedy consumerism to hold dear for generations!

Yes sir, Giftmas will ring true in the hearts and minds of every little boy and girl! Sleigh bells ring, are ya listening, it’s the UPS truck bringing your Amazon order! In the lane snow is glistening, that’s just low blood sugar! A beautiful sight, the shopping’s just right, walking through a Macy’s once again!

Happy Black Friday Shopping!!!

The Future is yours!

 

Skyrockets in flight, Thanksgiving delight?

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Skyrockets in flight, thanksgiving delight, ohhhh oh thanksgiving delight!

Gonna find me a turkey, gonna rub it right
gonna cook me some afternoon delight.
My motto’s always been; when its right, it’s right.
Not gonna wait until the middle of a cold dark night.
Everything’s a little clearer in the light of day.
Thanksgiving turkey late at night is gonna be dry anyways.

Sky rockets in flight; Thanksgiving delight. Ohhh oh Thanksgiving delight.

Thinking’ of it is workin’ up my appetite
looking forward to a little thanksgiving delight.
Rubbin’ sticks and stones together makes the sparks ingite
and the thought of smokin’ you just seems so right.

Sky rockets in flight. Thanksgiving delight. Ohhh oh Thanksgiving delight.

Started out this morning feeling so uptight
Mashed potatoes and gravy I cannot wait to bite
Drumsticks and thighs I will soon be nibbling
a little afternoon delight.

Sky rockets in flight. thanksgiving delight. Ohhh oh thanksgiving delight.

Please be waiting for me baby when I come around.

A tryptophan coma will not keep me down
More giblets and gravy before the sun goes down.

Sky rockets in flight. Thanksgiving delight. Ohhh oh thanksgiving delight.
HAPPY THANKSGIVING EVERYONE…..

Who Am I??

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Who am I?

Several times in my life I have pondered this very question.  Now of course I know my name, where I live, who my parents are and where I came from not only geographically but through genealogy as well.  But really, who am I? One would believe the answer to be forthright, rapid in response, easy to answer, yet it never has been in my experience.

Who am I?

Father                                  

Husband

Friend

Firefighter

Cowboy

Biker

Athlete

Writer

Fisherman

Oh sure they all sound great! Are these labels I have placed upon myself the answer to who I am or are they the answer to what am I? After all I am a father of four who is married, leaving me the husband to one awesome woman. I try my very best to be a good friend to those who have decided to keep me in their “circle of trust”.  Firefighter is my day job; it has definite highs in conjunction with incredibly heavy lows which leave enormous scars upon my soul. I live the life of a modern day cowboy, riding horses and working cows a couple of times a week with other cowboy friends.  Cleaning stalls, fixing fence and building barns are all part of my daily routine. I used to be a solid steadfast biker (motorcycles), anything with two wheels was my motto, but that was before children. Occasionally I am blessed with the ability to ride a friend’s bike and I look forward to the day when I am back on two wheels of my own.  In my youth I was an average athlete and as of late I have reconnected with my athletic, competitive side.  A writer only in effort as nothing I have written has ever been published.  The majority of my writings are nothing more than the rambling drivel of a father looking to express his feelings laden with humor and sarcasm.  I am always hoping to connect with other parents so we may all laugh at not only our own shortcomings, but the trials and tribulations of raising our two legged little spawn to adulthood. And as for being a fisherman, well I love to fish, enough said.

These all describe through title various aspects of my being, but like I stated earlier; are they who I am? Or are they nothing more than the byproduct of my existence?

Who am I?

Every time I ask this question of myself the answer seems to drift farther away.

Who am I? Then, when trapped and stunted by my own inability to answer this question to satisfaction, my brain decides to throw a curve ball by asking; can I become more and will that sustain me?

As a father I stare into my children’s eyes and pray someday they will be able to answer this very same question; a question which has haunted me my entire life!  A moment in time when they will no longer go through life feeling as though a piece is missing or there is an unanswered question that looms on the horizon as is with myself.  But a solid foundation of fact that leaves them proud of who they are and what they have become. Able to stand up and answer the question; who am I, with conviction and pride!

Sadly I cannot.  I can spout reflections on journeys past; live through the titles that bear my name, yet for some strange reason I cannot tell you who I am.  Maybe it’s a philosophical question that can never be answered?  Maybe my expectations are set so high that I may never achieve true knowledge in this regard, maybe I have A.D.D. which leaves my wheels spinning and my brain chasing butterflies.

Maybe I yam what I yam and that’s all that I yam? 

But I wonder,

Can you answer the question; who am I?