Spring Has Arrived, and Life Is Still Here.

Spring is finally rearing its head back around. FINALLY! While this last winter has been much easier than the winter before, and I should be thankful for that, I still, as a matter of principle have to complain. I hate the cold weather, The fact that snow soaks my boots and makes my socks wet and thus my feet are long term grape-ified from a night of work walking around businesses and houses that weren't kind enough to ensure me a dry manageable route to traverse at all times. But finally the snow has melted and the temperatures have gone up somewhat. It still gets cold at night, and during the day while it is considerably warmer, the moderate spring breeze keeps it too chilly for me to go out and about in a t-shirt and shorts. I have a heck of an issue with holding body heat apparently, since I have other friends who complain that they get hot in their apartments, even though the windows are open and the breeze is blowing thru and I feel like I have to put my coat back on just to be comfortable.

But, that will all come to an end soon enough. I now have rain and thunderstorms to complain about coming soon, and once those quit, I'll have the high humidity levels to complain about that make me sweat profusely and cause me, a guy who will sweat like Richard Simmons at the very thought of physical activity, to take 2 showers a day, just to avoid being as smelly as the landfill. But I much prefer the heat of summer to the cold of winter. Much more that can be done outside, whether its a game of football or basketball, walking or biking the trails, hiking through the woods with the kids, or taking them to the lake to watch them have fun in the water. I'm not much of a water person...and for some reason the local authorities have not seen fit to heat the natural waterways to a comfortable 75 or 80 degrees as of yet for my swimming comfort.

As spring represents a new beginning, I got some bad news this weekend that I have to stat a lot of things over. The computer we had last fall crashed and burned. SO bad that a computer genius was unable to pull the 7000+ photos we had amassed over the years, nor my book writings. Now many people might ask why I didn't have them backed up. Well, I intended to back them up, but never got around to it. So now, with the exception of what photos I have posted on previous blog entries and elsewhere online, pictures from holiday events, family get togethers, and vacations are all lost, never to be seen again. This was quite disappointing, given all the years of memories encapsulated in those photos are gone forever. My electronic form of my book writings was also gone. This, I considered less important than the photos, since I can always rewrite anything, and I had the majority of the book printed out. I only have to manually re-copy all that, and rewrite the few chapters I hadn't finished and/or printed out prior to the computer dying on us.

Since I have cancelled my netflix, deactivated my facebook and will soon rely on the public library for my Internet, I will have time to get on with my writing without the excuse of distractions such as facebook. As of Monday April 11, I will be devoting 2 hours a day to rewriting everything until it is done. Then I will work on submission to some agents I looked up and think might be favorable to my writing style for representation. Then maybe I can sell some books and make some money. I don't expect to be able to retire on that kind of money, but it would be nice for an unknown author to set some sort of sales record, and be able to concentrate on either more writing, or whatever whim catches my fancy on any given day. It's a dream to keep in mind I suppose. And since I doubt I can convince the government or taxpayers to beginning allotting 1-2% of their income to supporting me and whatever lifestyle I choose to lead, I guess I'll have to keep plugging away until I figure out what's going to work best for me. This overnight work as a rentacop has served a basic purpose providing something resembling 'making a living', but just as I am, its getting old, and BORING.

There has got to be way more to life than going to work, coming home, eating and sleeping. And I don't mean all the things you see in luxury magazines, but even the simplest lifestyle where one can find the fun activities to participate in (such as skydiving, family vacations without worry of having enough money to do anything AND pay the rent) or observe (like live sporting events, without worrying if I'm going to have to sacrifice sleep before work time arrives). I remember growing up, I had all kinds of plans for life. I was going to make life my bitch essentially. Life was going to be your average sitcom. Nice house, family pets, money to go on vacation or get gifts for people, all your problems solved in a half hour with simple fatherly wisdom, or an hour if you couldn't fit the script in a particular week's episode. I would have all the great perks in life, including the well paying job I loved to go do in between well balanced meals served to me by my loving spouse and getting to eat it with the family, while they tell me the tales of their adventures throughout the day while I was away.

I also was going to be some sort of real life action hero. My plans included the military life. I was going to be like a one man wrecking machine. The guy the President and Pentagon requested whenever something went wrong in the world and some bad guys needed killing. What's this? Libya is acting up. Quick, call up Mook, apprise him of the situation and give him whatever he needs. WE need this taken care of now, for the good of the country and the rest of the world. And then I would go parachuting into some far off land loaded down with twice my body weight in weapons and ammo. Who knows, maybe I'd just get into a tank and have it air-dropped in while I was at it. I'd have all the know how of MacGyver and the ability to drop my enemies with deadly Chuck Norris like moves (I am a ninja after all), in the eventual happenstance of my weapons all jamming up. I figure no war would outlast a single week. Then I'd go back home, get the ticker tape parade, commercial endorsements for GI MOOK action figures, free sandwiches at Subway or Jimmy Johns. More official visits to the White House...as Forrest Gump said: AGAIN! Eventually I'd probably end up being elected President of the United States, and all the fun that comes with that business. Of course being a one man walking army, I'd abolish the Secret Service... after all, when you're as awesome as I am, the few crazies who might want to harm me needn't put up with amateurs like those guys.

You know, all that crap that only screenwriters can come up with. But, with any luck, I can chase down my own piece of the American Dream, where I can at least have a nice house and some dogs to terrorize The Colonel. Maybe go catch a few MLB games, and if they still play in the future some NFL games (Maybe I can catch a 49ers game where they actually win!), drive back and forth across the country checking out a few of the major touristy spots, but mostly the lesser known local haunts that make each place interesting in its own way. Or just get up at 0-dark-thirty with a thermos of coffee and go fishing. Wouldn't matter if I caught anything. The supermarket has fish that I don't have to gut and clean!

As for right now, I'm just happy that I have Scentsy stuff and a new brand of cat litter that seem to be doing the job keeping the smell of The Colonel's latrine and his acid pee from overtaking the apartment. And I get to hammer my kids over doing their homework and then going outside to play for a couple hours. Even if they find me boring and decide they'd rather play with their friends and not their dear old dad.

A Tale of Two Friendships

WARNING: this may be a long post. To my friends with ADHD, try to follow along, and if you can't well, I love you anyways.

As we go through life, we often find ourselves with different sets of friends through each phase of life. You have the friends you went to school with, the friends you work with, the friends who grew up with you in the same neighborhood. Old friends, new friends, lost friends, ex-friends, and acquaintances. If you look at any given person's facebook profile, or email contact list, you may very well find hundreds of different friends. Along with family, that list probably contains a cross-section of people from every one of those categories. How you made friends with, or ended friendships with them varies as much as each individual person. I've had a lot of friends over the years, some I still see from time to time, others I haven't seen in years, and others yet that are friends almost strictly through the internet. You know the kind, people you interact with constantly online and get along well with. Enough so that if you actually met in person, you could go have a beer with, or coffee or soda for you non-drinkers, and carry on a conversation with them that would make onlookers assume you've been friends all your lives.

If you're lucky, you find yourself a friend or two in life that stick with you for life. No matter where you go, what you do, how long you may have been apart, that bond of friendship endures it all. Differences of opinion make no difference to the friendship. Honesty will always come out, especially when your friend thinks what ever you said or did was quite possibly the stupidest thing imaginable. And while a dose of that honesty may irritate the hell out of you, the very fact that they weren't afraid to tell you that you were wrong is always appreciated, and only further serves to strengthen your friendship. It builds the loyalty between you, and shows the commitment towards each other, despite any differences, because you see the integrity and credibility your friend displays.

Honesty, Loyalty, and Commitment. These words used to mean something across the broad spectrum, and adhering to these qualities would earn you respect, even among your adversaries, but especially amongst your friends. Now these terms are more likely to apply to a dog rather than a human. To display these qualities may make you the nice guy everyone likes, but it wont necessarily get you anywhere in the world in a material success sort of way. I try to live these qualities as best as I can, towards not only my good friends, but to even the most casual of friends. Some days I feel more like an old soul born into a soulless generation, who view these terms as mere words and cliches, and will ditch them as qualities if it means getting whatever they may be after in the moment.

I've been lucky enough in my life to have two people in my life who have reciprocated these characteristics when it comes to me. One is a man, one is a woman. They have been with me for a long time, through a variety of situations.

The man, is my lifelong friend, Jed. We've literally been together since the diaper years. When my family moved out to Iowa from California shortly after my younger sister was born, they somehow hooked up with his parents, who are basically a second set of parents to me and have been all my life. For Jed and I, when it seemed life at home sucked, we went to the other one's place. It was a small town, the doors were always unlocked, and for us, there was no need for knocking before entering. Now that could be scary for our young minds walking into a possible nude parent in the open kind of situation, but I think the frequency of our visits encouraged our parents to keep their clothes on. Well, during the day, anyways. Jed's dad, at night when we would be sleeping over, didn't much care. With a house full of nothing but boys, when he got up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom, he wasn't covering up for anybody. And the path to the bathroom always seemed to go right in front of the TV we were watching. I've seen way more of Dad #2 than I ever cared to see.

When Jed's parents went through divorce, he came to me. This was my first real exposure to the idea, at least in real life and that close to home. Being maybe a teenager, it's not like I had any words of wisdom to make up for my lack of experience in that arena. But as his friend, I was there to let him vent, re-direct his mind, whatever, I was just there. Later in life as adults, when I went through a rough patch in my married life, I went to him. He could relate, and offer advice to me, let me vent my frustrations out on him, and just be there for me, making sure I didn't go take a dive off the deep end and do something stupid and permanent that I may or may not live to regret down the road. He gave me a safe zone to stay while I worked things out in my own mind. He definitely kept me centered, and did his best to make sure I stayed on the straight and narrow. He lives two states away from me now, has a beautiful wife and soul mate, and they recently adopted two beautiful little girls to make their family complete. We still talk, and see each other on visits from time to time, picking up where we left off, as though we'd just been together the day before. He has never been afraid to be honest with me and tell me when I'm being stupid. His loyalty shown through brightly when we were teenagers and I ran away for a few days, leaving him hanging with a paper route to do by himself, with no car (and I cashed out our collected money..oops), and at the mercy of both our dads. I never told him what I was up to, but when questioned, not only did he not give me up (because he couldn't), he went a step further and made sure they knew, at risk to his own life, that even if he knew anything he wasn't going to rat his friend out. His only really serious beef with me over the entire deal was that I didn't bring him along. He's my best friend, my brother for life. I love the guy- and before you use your words against me later- that love is in an entirely non-homosexual way.

The woman friend, we'll call her "Sara". This part is going to be a doozy. My thoughts will be honest, but a lot will be withheld for reasons of both privacy and decorum. I guess I should start at the beginning with her. We met at a park in Sac City, while she was in town visiting her relatives. My initial interest wasn't even with her, but a friend she had brought along for the trip. I, on one very rare occasion made the approach to the girls. Sort of. I used my buddy Jed's bike, because I didn't want to embarrass myself the first go around by showing off my mom's old John Deere bike I was using until I could get my new bike. I rode past the girls, eyeing them a on a swing set, with full intention of hitting them up. However, they saved my scared bacon, when they called me to quit chickening out and come over and talk to them. Have I ever mentioned I'm a bit on the shy side, especially when it comes to girls? So I took interest in her darker haired friend, because well, I prefer darker haired ladies over the blonds (which she denies she was, but I know what my eyes saw). They lived a few hours away, so a normal courtship was clearly out of the picture, but when you're 14 or 15, who really cares.

The letter writing (which was the extent of our relationship) between Sara's friend and I fizzled out pretty quickly. then one day out of the blue I get a letter from Sara. I didn't actually know her last name, so I was a bit confused as to who was sending me a letter, but not having much in the way of mail coming to the house in my name, I was all too glad to have something to read. Instead of me seeking out her as my friend, she sought me out on her own terms. And I'm really glad she did. Before I knew it, Sara and I exchanged a flurry of letters, quite possibly being responsible for keeping the United States Postal Service profitable all by ourselves. We exchanged letter so often, that when we ran out of things to say about the events in our lives, or our thoughts, I would occasionally find myself with a portion of a letter dated for one day that was a repeat of the same sentence "This is my new (insert color here) pen I'm trying out." She had 7 new pens she used, a couple were duplicate colors. But she was committed to making sure I got mail, which always made me feel important. Dad got bills in the mail from people committed to taking his money. I got letters from someone who didn't want my money (well maybe she did, but I didn't have much washing dishes for $3/hr after spending it on stamps and phone calls), but just wanted my friendship. I felt pretty friggin special. One major problem for our little pen-pal relationship we had going on was that her mother did not like me back then (I couldn't tell you her opinion of me now, some 15 years later). But Sara, being Sara, wrote me even though I couldn't write her back because her mom would confiscate the letters I sent. Eventually her loyalty to our friendship led her through the repeated process of setting me up with her friends' addresses (this changed from time to time), so that I could respond to her letters and she'd have something to read. To hand write out 8 pages per letter was nothing, and occasionally some would hit almost 20 pages. These of course were written over multiple days and sent out together. Otherwise, I think we'd both be suffering from permanent hand cramps from all that writing. Eventually her mother relented after finding out she was still communicating with me, and the fact that I was in Oklahoma attending Basic Training at Ft. Sill. The postal stamp confirmed where the letters were coming from, so apparently she thought her daughter safe from my evil boy ways with a few states between us.

We had a running commentary on our family life and parental woes, reasons why the world is a stupid place, the fact that I was (in my opinion) an athletic god among men (if you compared me to babies that haven't learned to crawl yet anyways), while she was unable to even do a single pull up. She really was such a girl about it. We'd discuss our plans for the future. I had deluded my own mind into thinking my future was this life of grand design. We discussed our flings and romances with other people. You see, she and I were kind of like the couple that never was. We were very close in that aspect. While respecting our right to date other people we could actually see, we often didn't much care for each others' significant others of the moment. She was the girl, I never dated, but still put her up on a pedestal to measure all other girls to the level of standards I assigned to Sara. But eventually, while Sara was always there for me, and would always in my mind be "my girl", I found another girl, who would eventually become my wife and the mother of my children. And true to nature, Sara eventually found herself a man to marry and they now have a new baby. He's a cute baby too.

The other day, while visiting my parents, my mom brought me down a box I had given her to keep a LONG time ago. It contained letters from people to me from when I lived in California and in the military. It contained a collection of notes and letters from my (soon to be ex-) wife. And then there were a couple of envelopes that contained the majority of letters Sara had written me over the years. I poured over those letters in no particular order. I was transported back all those years to before my marriage, remembering what life used to be with fond memories of that little girl I met at the park who stole my mailing address from her friend just to write me. I also found a reminder of her honesty in dealing with me. After I had a quick rendezvous the night before I was sworn into the National Guard, that resulted in my losing my virginity, she cussed me out in one of those letters, and swore hideous things about the girl that took my v-card away from me the only night I knew her.

We've met up from time to time throughout the years. I once even stayed at her place over a weekend to visit after we hadn't seen each other in a few years, as she showed me around her town and the wonders of living in frigid ass Minnesota (where people don't drink for fun, but to help stay warm). Even though our lives took so many different turns and paths, we remained loyal to the friendship we started a little more than half our lives ago. She's met my family, and maybe someday I'll get to meet her husband and their baby. Her husband is obviously a really good guy, considering she actually decided to marry him. He also has a rare spot that most men in her life never held: I never pre-judged him. Which is probably a good thing. I'd hate to think she married someone I didn't like, especially over something as dumb as he's another guy in her life. I'm not so sure I can say the same thing in reverse. But she never let our friendship go, even when I was being a jerkwad and concentrated only on my own life. And for that I love her, like always (and again, in a non-homosexual way...I am after all a lesbian trapped in a man's body). She really does embody what it means to be a best friend.

I'm sure I had other ways of going on and in conclusion to this post, but, I doubt I can really improve upon what I have written down. So I'll leave it at that.

Valentine's Day 2011

Even though it's not until tomorrow, and I no longer have my kid's mother as my Valentine like I did the previous 14 years, I know exactly what my plans are. I'm working...Apparently I heart my boss. And he'd better heart me back because I also offered to work next Friday which is normally my first night of two off during the week.

However, I had my boys with me this weekend. And I was rescued a well, by my buddy Miah and his wife Holly. They had us over for supper both Firday and Saturday night. The boys got a little Valentine gift bag from them (probably only because of Holly. Miah is a guy afterall and we don't consider such things without a LOT of help), so they got a bit of candy to boot, in addition to Pizza delivery Friday, and a nice meal grilled by Miah Saturday night. And Soda...lets not forget that they were allowed to have some soda this weekend.

I too was treated to a nice lil Valentines gifting as well. Apparently, my friends think I stink or something. I got not just one, but TWO different colognes to add to my collection of one brand that I have been using. I guess my stuff only covers up the fact that I only shower once a year for so long. Its as though my own funk has become immune to the current stuff. Guess body odor works like bacteria in building up its resistance. Someone once suggested maybe showering more frequently, especially since I don't have to pay the water bill in the apartment, but I'm sure you understand that such an idea is born out of pure madness! I mean who really wants to waste perfectly good clean water just to wash off a nasty funk that's only goign to return again?? It's kind of like those people who actually bother to make their bed in the morning after they get up...it's just a pointless exercise in futility since you're going to mess it all up again later on!

So yeah... I now have new cologne to sport...I sure hope my boss likes it, since he is the one who gets to spend the actual Valentines Day with me this year!

Changes

Changes in life are often gradual and only noticed by those closest to you, and to those who haven't seen or heard from you in years. For everyone else, everything is just what it is at the moment.

For me, I am in the process of changes to be made in my life, for better or worse has yet to be seen. Some are known changes to my readers, others are new and hold the potential for me to get an earful over it all from certain specific parties whom I have not consulted as of yet. Well, For those people, I guess this post is the notice they're being given, I'll probably have to start screening my calls to avoid certain conversations I don't want to have, as I'm pretty sure I know just how they'll play out.

When I was younger I always lived for the present to lead me to the future. As I got older, I found that most of my life has been consumed with work for the sake of paying bills. Nothing really goes on in my life, with the exception of those that surround me providing me with something interesting to talk about for the moment. All I have is this profound attachment to the past, and all my stories come from there and there alone. I'm sure some people have heard the same damn things come out of my mouth over and over and over again. Meanwhile life passes by like a long movie. Only I'm not in the movie, but merely one of the people who spent $15 on the ticket, $350 on the popcorn and the soda, and sit idly in a semi-comfortable seat alone in the theater watching everyone else play out their parts in the movie. I try to get involved in playing a part in the movie, but as soon as I get started I just stop. I don't know why, that's just the way it always seems to work out.

So, some of my changes.
1. Well, first off I killed my facebook page altogether. Without warning to anyone whatsoever. I just decided it was a big distraction and time waster. All I did was hold disjointed conversations on other people's comments or on photos, and the occasional game. As I have thought about it, I realized that my application of facebook is essentially useless at this time. So it's dead now. I realize I once wrote a post about people killing off their facebook is just the first step before they end up killing themselves. I can assure you this is not the case. Believe me, I'm just too damn stubborn to die. I have too much of a juvenile and perverted joy in irritating people by merely existing as an incorrigible ass.


2. As some of you know that I've been on again/off again on writing books. I think I'm about 85% of the way there on one, as far as my writing it goes. On the other, its been stop and start, as I keep re-editing as I go along the confusing world of politics and how I see the world and how I think the world should be. Both however have in common with each other the fact that I have taken way too long to write short books, when I see authors churning out sometimes as many as 2 and 3 books within half that time period. It leaves me in awe, and makes me wonder if I have what it takes to even put one out. Nevertheless I intend to see these two books through to completion by the end of the year, and then I have to figure out the process of how to get them published and maybe make a few bucks.

3. Simultaneously, I have another mission to occupy my time besides reading and writing. I have dental work that needs to be done. However, it being me, my dental work is never simple and relatively inexpensive. With my current insurance coverage, I still need to come up with about $850 or so to cover the costs. My paychecks currently don't allow for this extra money to come along in any timely fashion. So I have done some job searching. During the day I am confined to how far I can walk, which limits the availability of places to be employed. As of yesterday I was given a bicycle by a guy who is probably a much better friend to me than I have or could be to him. He seems to give me and my family things, even though I have nothing I see of any value to offer him in return. To be honest I don't even know why I was chosen by him as a friend in the first place. Either way, the bicycle will allow me to stretch out my boundaries as to where I can go for a part time day job to supplement my full time overnight job. I am only looking for something temporary so that I might use that income to take care of my teeth situation, which will allow me to take care of the bigger mission in my life...

4. Military service. I was officially released from the military after 2 1/2 years of service. Due to unforeseen medical issues, I fell short of my initial contract by a good 3 1/2 years. That has always bothered me. And because my current dental issues arose since I have left the service, it is something I must take care of before being allowed to sign up again. In my eyes, the sooner the better. At this rate it's looking like next spring, but we'll see if it doesn't happen quicker. I look at it like this. By re-signing up, I can complete something in my life that had always been my goal growing up, and maybe in the process recover a bit of the confidence I seem to have lost over the years. I know, some weird psychobabble stuff, but something that I think may actually be true in that realm, concerning me anyways. I would've joined years back, but I essentially used my family as an excuse, that I had to stay and take care of them, working away at some meaningless job with crap pay just to pay some bills, maybe knock down some ill-gotten debt, and put food in their bellies and a roof over their head.
My plans are to go back to the part time duty with the National Guard, pick a job that will allow me to serve at the camp up the road from me here in the Des Moines area when drill time comes along. It is also my desire to go through the entirety of boot camp, and be on a standby volunteer list for deployment as soon as possible after graduating from AIT. A lot of units here in Iowa are currently deploying, or preparing for their deployment to Afghanistan right now. So most likely, I'd have to request a temporary assignment with a unit out of state to accomplish this, but those are my intentions. It's not that I'm some kind of war junkie or anything. I've never experienced a real war, and so my desire is two-fold. One is to quickly dissolve any false romanticisms of war that resides in the minds of many young American boys before they get there and realize that long standing axiom, 'War is hell.' The second part of it is, that I might replace someone else who has already done more than their fair share of tours, and actually protect the necks of those that have been braver than I. If and when I come back from that scenario, hopefully I will be more of the man I'm supposed to be.

5. To be a better father and husband. While I work myself into total apathy providing for the most meager of family needs and little else, I find that I have continually and steadily disengaged from my family. Occasionally there are moments where we do things as a family, or my wife and I do things as a couple. Most often though, family activities consists of what my wife and kids do while I'm either working or sleeping. My kids lives are playing out like that movie I made reference to earlier. My days and weeks seem long, yet the years go by so fast I can barely keep up. My kids will still wrestle with me once in awhile, or follow me to the park or on a walk in some blind allegiance, merely because I'm their dad. I hear a lot more though about me being mean, or mad dad, mostly because my interactions with them seem to be geared more towards telling them they can't do this or that activity, or to stop whatever loud activity or bickering is going on. I also know that slowly my wife has been changing over the years while I'm just the lump in the bed that needs fed occasionally before he goes to work. I don't understand much about her anymore, I let a lot of my efforts sluff off into the abyss. I spend more time examining bank balances, paycheck stubs and bills, along with time trying to forget about them for a few hours while online or watching the idiot box across the living room, maybe concentrating my thoughts on my actual work to avoid any real issues. I used to be my wife's best friend. I know now that I am not at this point. And unfortunately for the lazy-natured Mook, only I can fix that, as much as I'd like an easier route of outsourcing that task. It will take massive amounts of effort to develop my ability to communicate verbally and with multi syllabic words and complete sentences, as well as open up some form of emotion that can be expressed. I know it will take some time before I can make my wife see that maybe I am worthy to be her best friend again, and that we can share a love that we once had when we were just kids. But again, only time will tell on that case.

So yeah, I have a full plate and no idea which course to partake of first, next, and on down the line to the dessert. Having been essentially the living dead for the past few years, floating aimlessly along, the task of being emotionally and actively pursuant in life is not exactly what you would call underwhelming. I can only ask that you wish me luck in my endeavors to go from being nobody special to someone who can be acknowledged as an actual living breathing person.

Facebook-Suicide Link

Increased rates in mental illness and the rise of social networking sites appear to go hand in hand. First there was MySpace. Get a bunch of friends, one person says something that offends their 'friend'. Then the blogs, comments, and messages between these parties and their friends goes berserk. It's a virtual snipefest, just like the good old days when I was in school, and little cliques would form, so people could sneer and snarl at each other while attempting to spread rumors and make themselves look like they have the high moral ground with all their friends. But everything was face to face sooner or later. Not some anonymous postings on random internet forums.

Yes, Myspace is just like high school. Populated with 14 year old girls, or at least people with the same mentality as 14 year old girls. Full disclosure notice...I am not ashamed to admit I have a myspace site still. I am still a kid at heart and have no problem with meaningless conversations or blog reading over stuff that is even sillier than this crap I write.

But then came the college level of social networking. Facebook (motto: We have more people than the planet Earth) emerges. Some of us grew up, and can show an ounce of maturity when interacting online. Relationships are more easily tracked and people grow close. Then, some dumb rumor gets floating around, or some snide comment is made and people de-friend each other again. Only, instead of chalking it up to simple high school moronism, it is much harsher on the psyches of these social networking geniuses. They can hide behind their computer screen and pretend to be okay, but honestly, they are emotionally wounded. Just now, unlike back in the school days, you aren't forced to show your emotions. Why? Because you're sitting in your living room, or office or wherever behind a friggin computer screen. you can type anything you want, shielded from the atrocities that your words can cause. But the person on the other end knows the hurt all too well.

Being an ego-controlled heartless bastard, I am immune to these things. I couldn't care less what the people at some other IP address think about what I have to say. Not to say that I don't appreciate the kind comments and intriguing positions of commenters here on this blog, or anywhere else for that matter. But if someone truly has a problem with what I have said, well, that's their problem. They can either deal with, get thicker skin and deal with it that way, or they can just go away and leave me to my own little world over here. Either way, I don't care.

But not everyone is like me. You see, I have this coworker. We'll call him Irish, to protect his real identity which is Trevor McCarthy. Oops, blew that one. Anyways, he gets bored at work and likes to call me to have random discussions about whatever comes up that evening. But last week he had to train a guy for 2 days and then took two days off. He didn't get to talk to me much more than say 5 or 10 minutes. Then, after he finished his days off, it was my turn to take a couple days off. Which meant more time for him to not be able to talk to me. I can see how this would take a toll on his mentality and emotions. For he is a strange individual, and yet extremely in touch with his feminine side, in that he needs to talk on the phone all the time. Anyone who knows me, knows I hate the phone. However, my ego, having sympathy for those who can't help their pathetically inferior lifeforms, entertains his whims so I talk with him. As long as it doesn't interfere with my work, so be it.

Trevor had acquired himself a Facebook profile and had 'friended' me. Everyday a new comment from him would show up. Then a friend of his enjoyed the commentary and decided I was fun and cool or something ridiculous like that. I am not fun, nor cool. I'm merely so mysteriously fascinating, that they couldn't help but be drawn to me and figure out just how such a brilliant mind like mine works. (Hey, it isn't bragging if it's the truth!) So Irish's friend decides to be my Facebook friend as well. Then, less than 48 hours later, I noticed signs that pointed to a life changing emergency.

My email inbox notified me of a comment from Irish. I deleted the notification and would read it when I logged into the Facebook. So I get to Facebook, and look for the comment, but it is nowhere to be found. In fact, Irish is no longer on the Facebook at all. Gone from my friends list, my friends' friend lists, and after doing a search, he was completely erased from the world of Facebook. So I wondered to myself..okay I was talking to myself, all 23 of me...what had happened. Had my brilliance just been so intimidating that he had decided he had to limit his exposure to me merely to our late night phone conversations? Maybe, maybe not. But then I noticed, that my new friend....his friend that thought I was fun...was also no longer on my friend list. Well, this boggles my mind.

I call Irish's phone, to see what had gone wrong. It immediately went to voicemail. I leave a message to call me. He had worked the night before, so maybe he was sleeping. But then later that night when he should've been going to work, I still had not received a call back. Something was clearly wrong. You just do NOT ignore the Mook. The Mook can ignore you, but it doesn't work the other way.

Anyways, I checked published works on social media as found in the James Institute of Medicine's Journal of Faux Medical Conditions, and found a Facebook-Suicide link. You can read more about it right here. It seems, that people with Facebook profiles who become suicidal do things in steps. It starts with erasing their facebook profile. After all, if one does not feel worthy of existing in this world, why would they allow themselves to continue an existence in the virtual world and close knit community of Facebook. The next step, for cellphone users is to shut off their phone. For they have no reason to await any messages from anyone. That, and in their sadistic minds, it gives detectives something else to investigate. All good detectives have to check the phone records in case one of the callers is somehow connected to the suicide...or the murder made to look like a suicide. And also, it may help to determine the timeline of when the person left their mortal world.

So, not having a Facebook page at all, my ego naturally jumped to the conclusion that Irish must've killed himself. As for the other friend, in a petty way of dealing with Irish's sudden death, decided that if she couldn't be his friend, than she couldn't be my friend either. That's just the way things work. Now I know what you're thinking. This guy is off his rocker. That's just not anywhere in the neighborhood of rational thinking. And to that I say, "I never said my ego was rational, it's just all powerful. Just because you don't understand it and find it odd, doesn't mean that my mind isn't functioning properly. I just see the pre-formed conclusions and work my logic back later to make it fit.

Turns out that Irish had not committed suicide. Someone somehow hacked his account, and there was a big mess, and he terminated it, and got himself a new page. Now you're thinking, "But Mook, if your thought process and ego is all powerful, how could it be as wrong as it was?"

Well, it wasn't wrong. You're lucky it doesn't smite you for questioning its grand authority. Clearly Irish did commit suicide of a virtual nature when he killed his Facebook page. He shut off his cellphone. The next step was obvious, but my ego in its infinite wisdom intervened, and made him go take a nap instead of killing himself. It works in mysterious ways, and I can't fully explain it to you. As for the other friend, no longer being my friend, she had assumed the worst between Irish and I and de-friended me as a sign of solidarity with him. Pure defense mechanism stuff, which is all easily explainable in the worlds of psychology and sociology. But he is back and she is back, and my Facebook friends list has been re-populated to its old numbers. Which is a good thing. Had I been a normal person like you, it might have caused me to go get depressed, delete my Facebook page, go shut someone else's cellphone off (I don't own one), and then gone and killed myself....of course, only if my ego didn't interfere and spare my life. I couldn't afford to test the theory out twice in 2 days.

Halloween Weekend- The good and the bad

So this Halloween brought a mixture of good and bad in a variety of areas. So, let's take a look at them.

College Football

Good: The Iowa Hawkeyes made an amazing comeback in the 4th quarter to win and maintain their perfect season, allowing them to stay at #4 in the BCS ratings

Bad: Oklahoma State couldn't take down the powerful Texas program, that would've allowed Iowa to move up, and whittle down potential national championship pairings.


NFL

Good: The Green Bay Packers lost (I've hated the team for years!)
Bad: Brett Favre won (I've hated him just as much as the Packers, his old team, for years)

Good: My 49ers broke Peyton Manning's streak of games in which he throws a touchdown pass
Bad: Indy still won, because their RUNNING BACK threw the go ahead/winning touchdown pass.

Work

Bad: I had to work a 12 hour shift. A 12 hour shift that was actually 13 hours long, because of the time changing back to standard time. I only get paid for 12.

Good: I didn't have a single disturbance or alarm to screw up my night the entire time, so it was a peaceful shift.

Trick-or-treating

Good: Kids went out for candy here on Friday night, and Sac City at my folks on Saturday night. I reap the rewards without the work, two times! Josh went as Darth Vader, Buggy as Storm Shadow from G.I. Joe (not sure about the kung fu grip on this occasion!)

Bad: No one around to amuse me on Saturday or Sunday. Realization that for the best treat-fare, I have to get access to the small town, and not just down the street.

Friends' Adoption Fundraising

Good: They raised some good cash towards their goal, along with help from friends and family. See here for more information on how that went.

Bad: No one showed up with an extra $5-10,000 to boost their efforts over the top. Oh well.

What Makes Me The Way I Am?

This question popped into my mind late last night, after speaking with my wife on the phone. And, as with most serious questions, my all to often used answer is 'I don't have a friggin clue.' And sadly, it isn't a cop out answer, I really and truly have no idea.

A little over 9 years ago, the pastor who was to marry us, asked us in a pre-marital counseling session "Why do we want to get married?"

Well, being young, immature, and parents for only about a year at this point, the words didn't come too freely. About all I could seem to articulate was the idea that I loved my and wanted to be with her as we raise our child in a (non-broken) home together. Apparently the pastor wasn't overly impressed with my boundless wisdom and the ability to express it.

My wife asked me last night what I expect out of our lives as a couple. Well, apparently the last time I gave such a question a single thought was when the pastor asked us that question 9 years ago, and have expertly brushed the thought off ever since.

My wife and I can basically complete each other. Her strengths and abilities are usually found where I would classify my weaknesses, and vice versa. There is little to no overlap. And when she posed this question to me, I struggled to answer and deflected the question back to her. She gave a very insightful and well thought out idea of what she expected out of our companionship. And of course, being the social genius that I am commented (with strong expertise, I might add) that she is definitely a woman, because I've never EVER heard a man say things like that. Only a woman could ever spew out all that stuff.

As I was growing up, I found myself in an odd social position. I had a few close friends, and then there was everyone else. I liked people, but then again I didn't like people all that much. I was a self-professed loner. I like a crowd, for the surrounding atmosphere that simultaneously provides me with a sense of anonymity. I think I re-invented myself about once a year or more in an attempt to 'fit in', unsuccessfully, and it pissed me off, and yet I alternated between almost hatred and apathy toward the people I sought so hard to impress. I was always best on my own. Whether I was just out wandering in the woods, sitting in my room listening to music, or working out in an empty gym, I felt best. Noone to bother me in any way shape or form. My wife can be apart from me or the kids for a short period of time and start to miss us. Whereas I can go out into the middle of nowhere and be gone for extended periods of time and not really be the type to miss people, even my family. Maybe there is something wrong with that?

I concentrated mostly on activities I could physically control. I got lost in my own thoughts of the world. When pushed into activities with others, I just melted into the background as much as possible, or in the event of me being the expert I pretty much tried to run the show according to own expectations. I only assumed leadership when I had to, and was sure of what I was doing. If I was in an unfamiliar realm, like acts or thoughts of emotions being put on display, I was more likely to withdraw to my own world, and let others figure it out, while I just go along with whatever.

I like to think I know where I stand in the world, and yet I am a conundrum unto myself. I am the walking contradiction, at least in my own estimations. I have really complex thoughts inside my head, but when I try to express them, the words get jumbled up, come out way different once they are verbalized. I've never been very confident in speaking out. Writing is my preferred method of communication, and even then my thoughts (just like this writing is turning into an unorganized and directionless rambling) still come out in type different than in my head.

I want to say that what I expect out of marriage would come out all eloquent, and yet I know it will come out not so much that way. I want to be able to spend time with my wife, have conversations at length with her that don't center on our jobs or what needs to be done concerning housework and bills. More often than not, she does the talking, and I hang out with my great barely monosyllabic retorts from time to time. Something I learned as a teenager and in my early 20s was the more that I spoke, the balance of credibility and baloney tipped more towards the latter. I felt it easier to save my credibility by just shutting up. Better to be silent and assumed stupid, than to open one's mouth and confirm it! That and I sometiems feel I have nothing new to say, and since I hate repeats, I project that onto others, especially my wife.

I've noticed also that when we get onto topical conversation about whatever, I hate it when we disagree. Not that we disagree in itself, but that I marry myself to my idea and end up making some counterproductive statements that may support my side the argument that go so far as to crush her spirit of wanting to even talk to me. And that does bother me. I hate conflict, despite the fact that I'm highly competitive, and always have been. I love winning, and hate losing--at anything. I've been working on avoiding going for crushing defeats in arguments. Not that my arguments were ever truly sound, I just used the bully-pulpit and a loud voice to ensure my opponent's forfeiture, and then bask in a glory that soon felt rather empty. Of course, if my wife and I are talking aout something and she agrees with me, it for some reason ticks me off, especially if she spouts out something that makes my point, only in a much more eloquent or decisive way.

In my mind last night I thought about this some and compared it to the Cold War. During the Cold War, there was the sphere of influence from the U.S. and the Soviet Union. Those were the clearly defined sides. Then Reagan goes and spends the Soviets into collapse, essentially. I remember loving that idea, that WE (the U.S.) won. Like I said, I love winning. And then as I was thinking through this, I had the oddest thought. Did Reagan just commit the ultimate act of dividing the population? Sure we always had partisan politics, but ultimately we were unified against this "Evil Empire." Sure, it's an oversimplification, but it was 'us and them'. Once we beat them, things changed and became more openly complex in the public arena. Maybe those Presidents before him who engaged the Soviets as a matter of the opponent to be tolerated had a higher wisdom, and Reagan ultimately committed a true evil by shifting the balance of power. Yeah, I know, odd thing to pop into my mind when the thought started out as a question posed by my wife, but it relates to my thinking a bit...

It has always been my wife and me. It just "was/is". And now she's (in a loving way) trying to make me think more complexly, and drive me out of the shell of my comfort zone. I work, I blog, I clean sometimes, I play basketball sometimes, and I think. She, on the other hand, FEELS. And she wants me to consider my feelings as well, so that we might be more compatible with each other, and expand our ability to communicate with each other.

As I'm sure I have mentioned before, I easily can emote anger or excitement at things like sports, board games, or certain "mike-type" activities. But when it comes to FEELINGS and EMOTION on the other more humane side of the scale, I have always turned them off. I view crying as a weakness. If I cried for someone else, like a friend or family member, that would be different. but the few times I have allowed myself to cry in my life, it was always for me and my own pity party, which only made me hate it even more, because that's just stupid, in my mind. I hate the fact that I'm ticklish, because its a weakness. And expressing myself in a more beautiful way makes me feel like I'm speaking 'sissy.' And that bothers the living crap out of me. I know, intellectually, that such thinking is farcical, and that a true man is capable of a balance between being the stoic rock to be leaned on, and the caring loving and communicative man. And yet, depsite the truth in that statement, putting it into action is so foreign to me, after all these years of trying to eliminate what I perceived to be weaknesses.

I begin to wonder if I missed something important, some type of life lesson, during all those years of trying to re-invent myself to make my life more exciting than it really was, instead of just being the me I was and accepting it and growing from there.

I mean my wife and I can talk about dreams and hopes and goals. I can dream with the best of them. I usually get to the end product, but the stuff in between to get there...not so much. And of course this frustrates my wife. She wants a partner to share the experiences of the journey and a clear cut plan put into action. I've always been an idea guy, and get myself lost from there. Rather than expose myself to my weaknesses and charge forward to overcome them, I slip back into my comfort zone and continue to churn ideas tha may or may not ever leave the confines of my head.

I guess that's why I like politics so much...it's easy to pick a side on an issue and go with it. There's always a way to objectify anything and keep it as simple, even if that's not the reality of the situation. I can attack it with the exuberance of a 5 year old on a jar of cookies,a nd I don't necessarily have to move past it. And sometimes I wonder, despite my thoughts on what is mature, immature, stupid, or smart....maybe I never matured past the adolescent stage in life. And maybe I need to get past that.

Wyoming- Part II

SO most of these pictures came from a daytrip my buddy Jay took us on our first day at his place. This monument stone, while unreadable here, denotes this place as Dead Indian Summit. Apparently during the Nez Perce march away from Union soldiers, one had been injured and left at this summit, where he was found dead by the soldiers. And thus came its name. It is along the St Joseph Scenic Byway.
And here is one picture of a cactus and its rosebloom, one of many dotting the landscape in this particular area.
A look over the river canyon. As usual, us boys just need some good rocks to be out on, and Buggy of course is quite content chucking rocks into the river. Ahhh, to be a 5 year od again, when the biggest decision of life is "Which rock should I throw over the edge first?"

And finally a nice look over the mountain ranges lying in the Yellowstone National Park area ahead of us.

An Update From The Colonel

From The Desk Of:

Col. Beauregard Sterling Lovell, Mookified Army, Feline Brigade, Commanding

Well, it has been awhile since we last updated all you humans on the state of affairs within the feline world. We have, as most of you know, completely and totally eradicated the terrorist fleas in our protracted War On Pests ('07-'08)

With the weather getting colder by the minute, our other small enemy forces have died off. Besides that, catching flies and eating them became a rather dull activity to pass the time.

Christmas is coming up and the General's wife put up the annual Christmas tree, complete with their stupid decorations. I like to call this thing, The Curiosity That Almost Killed The Cat. I have successfully attacked candy canes and random artificial tree branches, and managed to escape prior to a swift death blow from the wife.

Fecal matter manufacturing production rates have gone down for unknown reasons. We have engaged ourselves in a fiber intake exercise by eating cardboard boxes, random pieces of paper, and other such items in order to keep the General from getting into a slower relaxed routine when it comes to cleaning my catbox out. Recently, the General's youngest son, Private Bug The Terrible had out a Santa Clause Coloring Book. I ate part of it, right along the spine, essentially dissembling the books structural integrity. Served the little punk right. He's always harassing me anyways.

After many instances of psychosis from the child factors running rampantly about the place, I have taken to luring the general and his wife into a false sense of security. I cuddle up on their lap and act all loving with them. This lets down their guard for when I choose to sneak attack them and bite their toes, or attack loose pieces of their clothing. It really is entertaining. And since they wont let me outside to wage preemptive war against other undesirables such as the rabbits, squirrels, chipmunks and birds, this is really my only option.

They have banned me from my practice of patrolling the perimeter of the upstairs neighbors' deck, and running rampantly through the hallways awaiting some poor unsuspecting child to let me sneak out the door when they come in. It really is a shame, and they will pay for this eventually. I do know where they sleep, afterall.

I have learned how to manipulate the General as it is, for my own amusement. It seems one of his previous cats used to make him escort the cat to the food dish and pet him in order to coax eating. I could eat on my own, but it sure is funny making the General cater to my wants, and walk me to an obviously full food dish. It really irritates him, which pleases me of course.

Nothing else to report at this time.

Sincerely,

Col. B.S. Lovell

The Godfather Sends A Message!

going back to an earlier post about meeting up with the Godfather: Here

He has fired back....It's a great comment, so please read and....enjoy. The Godfather is watching you right now....and if you gotta problem with that you can see him at www.theslowbleed.com, or by clicking here

Here's his comment, if you're too lazy to click back to the original:

According to recordings, here is what was actually said during the lunch in question…

Godfather: Why did you go to St. Augustine, FL? Why didn't you come to me first?
Mookie: What do you want of me? Tell me anything, but do what I beg you to do.
Godfather: What is that?
[Mookie gets up and whispers in the Don's ear]
Godfather: That I cannot do.
Mookie: I'll give you anything you ask.
Godfather: We've known each other for many months but this is the first time you've ever come to me for counsel or for help. I can't remember the last time you invited me to your house for a cup of coffee, even though you are a fellow blogger. But, let's be frank here. You never wanted my friendship and you were afraid to be in my debt.
Mookie: I didn't want to get into trouble.
Godfather: I understand. You found paradise in the northern part of America. You had a good readership, made a good living, the police protected you and there were search engines and you didn't need a friend like me. But, now you come to me and you say "Godfather, give me web traffic." But you don't ask with respect. You don't offer friendship. You don't even think to call me Godfather. Instead, you come into my house and eat my ribs.
Mookie: I ask you for justice.
Godfather: That is not justice; your wife is also eating ribs.
Mookie: Let them suffer then. As she suffers. How much shall I pay you?
Godfather: Mookie. Mookie. What have I ever done to make you to treat me so disrespectfully? If you had come to me in friendship then your blog site would not be suffering this very day. And if by chance an honest man like yourself should make enemies then they would become my enemies. And then, they would fear you.
Mookie: Be my friend... Godfather.
[kisses Godfather's ring]
Godfather: Good. Someday, and that day may never come, I'll call upon you to do a service for me; an additional link to my blog perhaps. But, until that day, accept this justice as a gift.
Mookie: Grazie, Godfather.
Godfather: Bene.

Pre-Florida Meeting

And so it was, I had the pleasure, upon landing in Florida, of meeting our fellow blogger, The Godfather, from theslowbleed.com

Being a Godfather, of course he met with my wife and I at the Italian version of Applebees, Tony Roma's. WE had a good conversation over a midafternoon meal, before my wife and I departed in our rental to go to St Augustine for my sister's wedding. The first thing I noticed about The Godfather, is that he didn't look like he does in his little comment picture on the blogs. In truth, for those who are curious, here is the "real" Godfather's picture:



As a responsible blogger who feels the need to expose the truth in less than newsworthy headlines, I felt it necessary to make sure you all knew exactly who the Godfather is, so you'll know him when you see him. You'll also need to take note about what he ordered. The Ribs!!!! And not only the ribs, but with a wink and a nod to the waitress. Being such a great investigative force, and having seen fictional and nonfictional mob accounts, I knew what his real meal was. Ribs!! Yes, and not just your normal restuarant prepared ribs, but judging by the size, I'd say he ate the ribs of his enemy's newborn child. He was clearly sending me a message. I was on his turf, and we didn't want me to mistake his friendliness for weakness. That if I crossed him, the next meal on his plate would be my kid's ribs. Interestingly enough, my wife also ordered the ribs. I can't help but think my wife ingested the ribs of the Godfather's nemesis, in some sort of way of making her an unknowing accomplice, thus buying our silence.

Of course, now having met this man, and exposing the truth behind him, I will be out on the lamb. For he will come for me, albeit too late, as he has been outed!

July 4th Is Coming! July 4th Is Coming!

Independence Day, July 4th. The birth of our nation, as the Declaration of Independence was written, signed onto by American Colonial Delegates, and submitted to the British. It would mark the beginning of a long struggle to separate ourselves as free men and women, out from under the heavy handed rule of the Crown located across an entire ocean.
Today, the 4th of July means many things. An extra day off for workers (day off number 2387 for the year for federal workers and bankers) Sales with major discounts from every type of retailer imaginable. A day of solemn reflection on the actions of a few men, willing to sacrifice their lives by penning what might be considered treasonous literature, followed by the actual sacrificing of men's lives in the name of these foreign ideas of freedom. To kids, it often means parades, candy, and local celebrations with rides and attractions.
To me, it is the last two ideas. Mostly because I find myself working most holidays, and have no need to go buy "a top quality mattress at crazy low prices from some idiot on the tv box who calls himself completely insane for trying such a never before heard of sale." (Like 50% off never happened before) I already have a mattress, and probably only because I have a wife...I always found comfort in an old beat up couch anyways.
But most importantly for me, on a low-level personal need, it has been 5 years since I have been able to participate in any 4th of July celebrations. Mainly...fireworks. I had been helping put on a private fireworks display for a few years, then I started my current job. But this year, as mentioned in a previous posting, I have proactively opted to take more time for family and life outside of work. So this year, I again get to help in blowing things up.
Now this may not seem like much, but to those who know me, they already know I am a pyromaniac. (my credentials include setting my parents living room on fire in one house, their yard on fire in another, multiple "campfires" in the old ravine, lighting my shoes, armhairs, eyebrows, and God only knows what else into a nice flaming extravaganza)
You would also know that I enjoy explosions, and being the reason for them. As with all shows I have put on, people have enjoyed the displays, as much as I have enjoyed putting them on. Although, in a tribute to the troops, and a line from our national anthem-- "And the bombs bursting in air"-- as the show goes on, things can get a little scary. Artillery rounds with multiple breaks being put in hot tubes, tend to cook off the fuse line a bit sooner than anticipated. I have been seen running from this mishap I helped to create in order to keep all my body parts intact, sometimes dodging multiple rounds as they disperse in all directions. The adrenaline kicks in, the heart pumps really fast. I find myself excited and scared to death all at the same time. Roman candles fall from their post and begin shooting errantly, multiple launch "mini-missiles" rock from their stand with the force created from the explosion initiating their launch. Pretty soon, it's like I imagine a firefight in combat to be. Projectiles small and large whizzing through the air in all directions, exploding at unpredictable points and intervals. Naturally, my mom begins to fear not only for her safety, but mine as well. But she won't dare come out, for fear of being hit with a little fireworks action herself. It is the greatest thrill in the world for me and my underused adrenal glands, knowing full well that I could burn and/or decapitate myself.
One week from tomorrow, I get a chance to experience this all over again. And with much tighter spacing than ever before, I get to see how many neighbors of my parents I can scare, as well as how many house will come close to falling prey to the ever-constant onslaught of some light artillery shelling! I can't wait!

An excerpt from my hopefully upcoming book

City Confidential: Criminal Idiocy (also titled: Not As Slick As We Thought)

For adults, like I am now, there is a saying out there that “nothing good ever happens after 2am”. Well, after attaining the age in which our parents let us stay out past the streetlights coming on, that time might as well have been “after 8pm”.

During the summertime, we would spend our time looking for the town cop, and then running away from him like we were guilty of something. It relieved us of our boredom and gave him something to do, when the local kids driving the loop weren’t speeding and driving recklessly all over the place. And sometimes we were guilty of being out after curfew, which really gave us some exercise. We would walk out on Main Street, wait for the cop to drive up on us and begin to turn around. And suddenly we would bolt like our lives depended on it. Sometimes we just dodged through yards and behind people’s houses. Other times you could find us running from the old Corner Store all the way downtown, and hiding in the big spools of wire behind the telephone company building. Lucky for us, the cops weren’t too keen on getting out of their patrol cars for something as dumb as a couple kids running around. This activity only lasted so long, as I think the cop finally caught on to what we were doing, and left us alone on purpose. It kind of took the fun out of staying out late.

The wintertime was a whole different ballgame. My best friend, Jed, and I had a little rivalry going on with who we thought was an unsuspecting ex-school teacher. Every winter around Christmas we stole a light out of the decorated trees in his yard. He had the strands that if one light went out the whole strand went dark. So we took great pride in putting a dark spot in those lighted trees. And every day he would go and replace them. It was a nightly game of back and forth. We even took extra care to approach the yard from behind the trees and out of view of his windows. After a while of him replacing the lights successfully every single time, we thought we could outsmart him. Instead of taking the bulb out altogether, we began to take a little extra time to loosen a bulb, thinking that it would make it harder for him to get them replaced. And every night, to our dismay, we would find that he thwarted the previous night’s plans. My buddy and I always thought we were anonymous in our after dark activities. It wasn’t until we were in our mid teens that we found out this just wasn’t so. I was working at the Carlson House restaurant in the kitchen, and Jed also worked there as a busboy. One night, Mr. Harklau, his wife and another couple came in to dine at our establishment. As Jed was pouring them all some water, Mr. Harklau looked up at him and proclaimed, “Well, good to see you have a job. Now you and that Lovell kid can afford to buy your own damn Christmas lights instead of stealing mine!”

This statement goes to show the common sense approach of small town folks and that of an older generation. Harmless fun doesn’t warrant calling the cops, or lining up a lawyer to sue the pants off a kid’s parents. He’d just bide his time and deal with it on his own. Although I’m sure, had he caught us in the act, rather than finding us in a highly public setting of a restaurant, he may very well have throttled us to within an inch of our lives. To save face, we would’ve left the cops out of it, and if our parents inquired, out of pride we would concoct a story about being jumped by a big group of, oh, say a dozen kids we didn’t recognize.

Anyways, Jed came back to the kitchen to relay what had just happened. Both of us were in shock. Again, our sneaky factor was far below where we thought it was supposed to be. But then again, I guess everyone thinks they’re more mysterious than they truly are. Of course this didn’t stop us from our little shenanigans. We still went out confiscating decorations from time to time. We just chose different targets, in other areas of town, occasionally returning to the Harklau’s for old time’s sake. Eventually our collection of lights and lighted ornaments became the decorations for us. Pretty stupid thing to do, but that’s the life of bored children in a small town. It was enough entertainment for us to avoid going beyond petty crime. Of course nowadays, as an adult with kids of my own, I settle for merely looking at other people’s decorations. Somehow stealing with my kids in tow doesn’t seem to be the example to set. But as we’re out admiring the decorations, I sometimes find myself smiling about the old days when I wouldn’t have thought twice about doing a little collection work! The kid is still alive and well in me. I just have a better moral compass now, when it comes to the action part anyways.

And So Goes The Last Brother

So, maybe I'm stealing some thunder from Jay, but I decided to write about his younger brother, (Jere)miah having taken his last steps as a free man, and into the world of marriage. I'm sure he'll have his own, and more well written take on the events from his point of view, as well.
You see, the Burns boys are practically my brothers as we grew up from the diaper days together, and still maintain contact with each other. Josh, the oldest was the first to marry, then Jay, and then came the day I truly and honestly never thought I'd live to see: (Jere)miah took his vows with his beautiful bride. Did he grow and mature, or merely find someone willing to put up with him for the rest of her life? I suppose it was probably a combination of the two!

We found the kid who would pee anywhere and everywhere, meet the family man he became (who probably will still pee anywhere with little provocation). The ceremony was beautiful, and included a rather humorous pastor. Then we went off to the reception. The entire trip sent us from one end of the metro to the other, then back. Nothing like a free metropolitan geography lesson to go with the celebration!
I saw many people I haven't seen in years, including their parents (my second set of parents), a step brother, and some of their cousins, aunts and uncles, and an odd assortment of old friends. And of course, her side of the family whom I have never known, and doubt I'll ever see again.

A couple highlights from the reception. (Jere)miah getting cake in his eye from his new bride. During his thank-you speech, he acknowledge my birthday the following day (also his birthday...he'd better never forget his anniversary now!). If I had been thinking I would have told him keep me out of it, and pay attention to his wife, but I was caught off-guard and could only wish him a happy birthday back. Made me feel a bit lame that I wasn't quicker on my feet. During the dollar dance, Josh's wife, Bethany, paid (Jere)miah back for his 50 cent contribution to her. It was priceless. Following that, I danced with him myself, sending him into a dip, and having him take a dollar bill out of my mouth with his.....yes, we are still kids at heart, I suppose.
I think the best humorous part was when "Dueling Banjos" was played...Jay and (Jere)miah played the part of dueling dancers, which has been captured on video, and will in the near future, be found on the internet.
My two sons spent most of the reception running about in an attempt to dance that usually turned trying to knock over as many people as possible. This seems to be their best talent at social functions. My youngest got himself in trouble for pouring a perfect cup of beer from the keg, and then trying to tell my wife he got it for her, as well as playing with a fire extinguisher he "found". As for the beer incident, apparently one of the other nephews was caught attempting his own shenanigans.
Later on, some of us met at the hotel for a little after-party fun. I was convinced to actually use the hottub, and then enter the pool. This is something I haven't done in years, and surprised my wife after I told her about it. I've not been much of a water person ever. Eventually, (Jere)miah showed up. A plan was hatched to throw him into the pool fully clothed. The only snag was the expensive and delicate little cell phone attached to his hip. I was sent in to release him from the phone, by borrowing it to "call my wife". He never questioned my motive, and as soon as I had the phone, his brothers and a few other guys grabbed him and moved him toward the edge of the pool. He tried to fight them off, and his mom was in the water right in front of them blocking it all. I handed the phone off to Trevor, moved over to mom, and removed her from the target area, and next thing you know there's (Jere)miah in the pool in completely soaked clothing.
Karma caught up with me at the end of the night. After having changed into dry clothes "against my better judgement" as I told Jay, that sentiment of mine was passed on to Trevor. I, mom, and another were attempting to send cousin Blake into the pool, and as Blake went over the side, I felt a push, and followed him into the water. So my last pants, shirt, shoes, socks and me were newly wet.
So that is more or less how (Jere)miah and I started our birthday. Completely soaked and no dry clothes to change into. We also happened to be the only people there who had to drive home that night.....that was one cold ride! And , um, yeah...so that's my memories of the evening.
On a personal note, during the reception I saw the all the guys I knew, still having fun with each other,just messing around. On the way from my house to the hotel afterward, I had thoughts of inadequacy. I've spent the past few years doing nothing but work, and hanging out at home. I felt as though I had forgotten how to loosen up and have fun with other people. I really needed that night, as I enjoyed myself as well as enjoyed the company and the fun we had.

What Would Be Your Perfect Day?

I have often thought about this question. I don't think it is ever the same, as all the things I enjoy could not all be easily fitted into one day. I imagine a day out with friends paintballing each other, or a day exploring nature while on a hike, sometimes by myself, other times with my two sons. Other times I would be satisfied just sitting at home with my wife watching movies. I imagine being able to get together a group of friends to play flag football (I'm getting to old to play tackle with people my size!), or hang out socializing while barbecuing some chicken. I'd love to again be able to take a road trip across the country, hitting all the little known out of the way attractions, with no concern of money or time.
I'm new to this blogging community, so I'd love to hear your thoughts on what a perfect day for you would be, and by all means, send your friends here so they can add their 2 cents in!