Memories In Photo Part 1

It was 14 years ago this week that I first laid eyes on my wife.

Here she is when we first started dating, in the middle of two of her friends wearing my jacket. Who knew what the future would hold?
Oh Yeah, here is what it held...her hanging out with some guy who refuses to take a normal photograph!
And here she is, posing with Buggy, our youngest.
and here's Buggy, probably trying to choke out his older brother Josh!
Then she decided to catch me at some point around my naptime, just to capture a photo of us together. Very rare since she's usually on the other end of the camera!
Here's Daddy unsuccessfully trying to intimidate one of his little goobers!

Mook's Allies Put Down Insurrection (AND DENNY'S!!!)

A couple posts ago you got to read about the trip my wife and I got to take together. What was not told was a bigger story that happened at the Mookified Compound while we were away.

For those of you who know the Colonel, you know he has a tendency to be mentally unstable, like any other cat. When creating a relationship with a cat, things don't always go smoothly. The overall situation is often precarious at best. By appointing him as my executive officer, thus giving him some real power in our world, I made the situation even worse.

It's kind of like professional sports. You feed the athlete's ego, you pay him, and he becomes a bitchy millionaire who feels entitled. Well, the same goes for the Colonel. Minus the millions of dollars. He just gets bitchy when things don't go his way. By us leaving him home alone, we robbed him of his opportunity to decide when he would let us pay attention to him. Rather than accepting his responsibilities of guarding the Mookified Compound, he chose to throw a temper tantrum. Or more accurately, he chose to throw his food all over the kitchen. And, unbeknownst to me, there was a head of lettuce left out. It was found on the floor, with holes having been punctured through the plastic bag it came in, quite easily comparable to Cat-Inflicted-Damage (CID) marks.

Luckily for the Colonel, we had our ally in our friend Machelle. She had taken the kids for the weekend so the wife and I could get away alone, and also cleaned up the mess before my wife came home and found it. The Colonel would have surely been skinned alive before being made to meet his demise. And that also made me a lucky one. I would've been put on clean-up and burial details. And then I would have had to go through the long drawn out process of vetting out my next executive officer to take his place. After all, I may be a high ranking official and the supremely powerful Grand Mookatollah, but I can't run this place by myself.

So yes, luckily I had a great ally on my side of things. The grand architects of the Anti-Mookist movement have yet to corrupt her. However....

They may be infecting the citizens within the walls of the Mookified Compound. My wife wears what I see as an official Commie Cap. The appearance is way too close to the type of hat seen worn by many a commie throughout history. Not the big fur Ruskie hats on Soviet guards, but those short billed caps that you'd see someone like Fidel Castro wear.
Like this, only hers is in black

After long reflection to see how my strong willed and independent wife could be wooed by the commies (as a small portion of the Anti-Mookists), I have come down to a couple conclusions. She did receive some college education, and we all know infiltrated Academia is with communist idolaters and their evil ways.

And then there are my hippy parents. As liberals, and grandparents to my kids, I'm sure they have learned to communicate with subliminal messaging techniques in an effort to bring down this great regime of freedom and opportunity which I have produced for all to enjoy. Also, my parents give the kids toys and snacks to corrupt them with their socialist bent while the boys are still too young to know better. Little do they realize that eventually the toys and snacks will end up being regular streams of socks and underwear for gifts. And then there is the fact that when given a choice between me and their mother, the little fruits of my loins choose her...EVERY time! It seems the game is afoot! I may have to move the family somewhere more isolated amongst the hatemongers of our country and away from the evil influences of the far reaching arms of communism. Where I can hide in the mountains where I have built a bunker for official use of the Mookified government, should widespread civil war break out amongst the populace.


Let's see, what else is there to report. Ah yes, the Denny's campaign. Pictures of me at a Denny's have shown themselves onto the Denny's Facebook page, prior to my finding the page and without my knowledge. So it appears I have some, even if accidental, allies in my campaign to be the official face of Denny's.

What I need to do, and I may need help, is writing up the proposal and getting proper face time and respect with Corporate Denny's. I need to convince them that I need a basic salary to cover my time away from home, a official Denny's Guy car to motor around the country touring Denny's restaurants, trying out different dishes every meal and in different regions of the country, giving them Internet advertising through a blog or some other forum. And I'll also need them to cover hotel/motel fare for when I'm a ways away from the Mookified Compound that I call home. I don't think a year of traveling about on their dime, eating their food and publicly shouting their praises (for a fair amount of money)is too much to ask of the great capitalist story that is Denny's Restaurants. So yes, spread the message, tell Denny's that they need to utilize me for such a campaign, and at a cost much lower than most television advertising campaigns go for!

Christmas...12 Feet Under The Snow!

So, I was itching to get back to write about all the new stuff that has happened this Christmas holiday. Now that I'm here and in front of the computer, I'm a lot more overwhelmed than thrilled about documenting s short snippet into the life that lends itself to the Mind of Mookie.

But first off, a little housekeeping is in order. To all you idealist people who kept wishing and praying for a white Christmas....let me be the first to say thank you very much. In two weeks, I've seen around 30 or so inches of snow. In two weeks, we have met our yearly snowfall average. Winter technically started a week ago. As a man who is NOT a fan of precipitation in any form, you can take your wishes of a snow filled christmas and stick it in some places best not actually said in this public forum. Christmas morning found my car lost...and only by the graciousness of my dad to plow the snow out of the driveway was my car even visible to be dug out. So thank you.



So anyways... On Christmas Eve I get off work at 8am, and we travel the two and a hlaf hours to my parents for Christmas and the ensuing weekend, which lasted longer than anticipated, but we'll get back to that later. Roads weren't too bad, mostly wet, but got a bit icy as we got closer to our destination. Had we left much later, our trip may have been more aptly described by the hit song "An Icey Dicey Christmas" as sung by Burl Ives.

As some of you have already read, I recently acquired a niece after a kindly stork dropped by my sister and her husband's place in Florida. So this was going to be our first time seeing her in person. About 35 minutes into the trip my wife realizes she left the camera at home. Well, given the storm predictions, we'll just have to hope my sister remembered hers and can send us photos. My sister came through not only with a camera, but a laptop to upload the photos to an online storage site, Snapfish (Let me be clear...this is not a paid endorsement. None of these damn companies I ever mention think to offer me money to brag about them on this most popular of blog pages), so they would be ready to be organized once we made it home, and for me to be able to post them here today for you to enjoy.

Well, anyways, we got to see our niece, Sophia. I made her smile, mostly because I'm on the same level as new babies when it comes to maturity. Also, I like to burp and poop alot, so we have lifestyles in common.


So here are a few pictures of my new niece. With her mother in her new Christmas dress. Then again with my wife.
And here is Sophie, slightly intrigued, but still not sure about this Christmas present business.
And of course, helping Daddy play some cards. And trust me when I tell you, he needed all the help he could get. He may be part Rocket Scientist, but when it comes to games of chance, the playing field is leveled out a bit for the reast of us lowly peasants. And there she is laying on a blanket with me looking down on her. Don't mistake my smile for pure joy. I'm still curious about this little one. Hard to tell if I really like her or not. She cries a lot, which disinterests me. Now, I know what you're thinking: Shame on you Mike, she's just a baby. and then there will be my wife telling me to drop the macho uncaring act, and that she'll have me wrapped around her little finger. Whatever, I say. We were busy amusing each other with making raspberry noises at each other. What can I say? I'm easily entertained. We'll see how she is when she gets older. If she ends up anything like her mother was, it wont be good. Any car rides while visiting will be accompanied by a lot fo bickering in the backseat and my brother-in-law incredulous at having to chastise both a child and an adult with the idea of turning the car right back around and going home. And of course, the jeers of "she touched me first!!!" whining out of my mouth. Should be interesting to say the least.



Anyways, it was the 24th of December, which of course means it is Buggy's 6th birthday. Another first and only milestone in his life. He'll never turn 6 again. His "Uncle Jim" usually puts himself in charge of making birthday cakes for the boys. He definitely outdid himself this year with a multi-layered cake, plus a couple cookies, a lot of icing, and a motion sensor dinosaur built into the birthday cake.

So we had a birthday celebration, prior to a bunch of people coming over for the traditional Christmas Eve get together my parents have. Weather, being all snowy and blowy, kept a few people away this evening, but still a good sized crowd for such a small little house.

The next morning, after we all finally woke up. Becky and Vic, obviously awoken by their baby, and quite possibly by my two boys who shared the bedroom with them. I, on the otherhand, not being the center of attention at the ripe old age of 30, no longer get up 3 hours before dawn to raid the stocking and start figuring out which presents are mine. I'll get up when either my bladder or everyone else decides I need to get up. But I have to admit, the tree looked pretty good and sparkly. It was a shorter tree than usual, but rather full and balanced, which always makes for a prettier Christmas tree. Add the presents and the shiny bows that add to the glow off the light-adorned tree, and there is still that little flicker of magic that Christmas always holds over the imagination.

Everybody scored some pretty good loot, but the best present I got was actually the present I gave to my sister. You see, in all my years, I have been able to pretty much pick up a package and guess the contents underneath the wrapper, with almost 100% accuracy. It's a gift that can't be taught. Well, two years my sister has managed to mess up my formula and my guesses were wrong. That was years ago. But this year, after all had been forgotten by most, it was my turn to get her.
I enlisted my mom's help in wrapping up multiple boxes inside each other...add some tissue paper here, packing peanuts there...it was quite the job. In one of the random boxes, I had taped her gift card to the inside front, in a position where she wouldn't notice it. She went on to the next box, pulled another out of the bag, opened it up and found a smaller box. And neatly folded inside this little Jewelry box, underneath the protective batting layers was a note telling her that she had still had some looking to do, and that somewhere in the mess she had made was her actual gift. It took awhile, adn I finally had to point out the box to her. The look on her face (my mom prophecied the night before while we worked on this project that Becky would cuss me out for this, which she did) was more than satisfying. Her frustration and the "I'm gonna kill you!" look made my Christmas.

TRUE AMERICAN HERO COMES HOME!!

Walking Arsenal of Kung Fu Death Arrives!!


Well, its been 22 years in the making, and the dream has finally come to fruition!



That's right, GI JOE has arrived to the Mookified Compound! And not just any GI JOE, But....



Yes, that's right! The awesomeness of Kung Fu Grip!!! The specs on this awesome warriorare as follows
Code Name: Desert Wolf
Special Training: Desert Survival Techniques
Weapons Proficiency: Long Range Rifle, Grenade Launcher
Tactics: Desert Camouflage
Background: Covert Operations in arid regions around the world.

So yes, now, THANK YOU TO BARB, AKA QUEEN ESTHA OF DELVANIA....I now have my very own, very much coveted, GI Joe (with the kung fu grip). It's pure awesomeness even excited my two boys who quickly latched onto the ACTION FIGURE (not a friggin doll) with their eyes. They were quickly informed that the GI JOE (with the kung fu grip) is DADDY'S!!!

It took a LOT of work to get these pictures, as my wife is the camera proficient one in the family, and the only one who knows how to transfer the pictures to the computer, edit them, and all that good stuff. She threatened to not take the pictures or upload them into the computer, if she ever had to hear me whine again about my GI JOE (with the kung fu grip). Eventually she capitulated. I'd like to think that my using the blog as propoganda against her, showing her to be a real American Hero-hating, terrorist sympathizer was what tipped the scales, but I'm sure she'd disagree. But I now have to be careful about ever mentioning GI JOE (with the kung fu grip) around her....she just may decide to kidnap this elite warrior and make him disappear forever. I don't think she's aware of his awesome arsenal of weapons he has at hand, as well as the power of the mighty kung fu grip he comes equipped with. But, I don't want to tempt fate. But YOU CAN!!!! Comment the crap out of this blog, repeatedly mentioning GI JOE (with the kung fu grip), as well as comment bomb her with mention of it.....yes, a multi front war of electronic information (type and photos) would be a true show of support to GI JOOOOEEEE- AMERICAN HEROOOOO!

8 Years of Marriage

Today, July 1, 2008 marks the 8th anniversary of marriage to my wonderful wife, Dani.
To say the time has gone by would be a lie, and yet to say the time hasn't gone fast enough would also be a lie.
Our marriage has been marked with the highest of highs and the lowest of lows, in such a short history.

In the beginning, it was a rather rough transition period for us. Mostly because of me. At the age of 20, I had hit the beginning peaks of the "party stage" of my life. I went from being responsible for myself, a pocket full of money, and generally carefree. This was a year prior to getting married, and also the first year of my oldest son, Joshua. While having some responsibility to my girlfriend/fiancee and to my parents (who technically still owned me by way of permanent mailing address, I answered primarily to myself and no other. And then came Joshua. From parties everynight and sleeping half the day away, to working all day for an always way too low paycheck and sitting at home all night with my new family, it was quite the shock to my "lifestyle". Eventually I crawled back out of the shell I had surrendered to, and eventually, unfortunately swung my personality back to the "old ways". I remained in this not so great way of life for the next few years. Trying as it was, my beautiful wife put up with me and saw me through it all. Save a flatsided frying pan (luckily due to a wall and not my head), we had made it through fairly unscathed.
This 2 or 3 years, I would've liked to have seen gone by much faster, but then again, I suppose if I hadn't slow cooked my maturity I may not have learned a darn thing, or kept my wife.
I remember when we first moved in together. It was right after Joshua was born. We had originally opted to adopt him out, but after holding him, and feeling the ice melt off my heart just a little bit, I changed my mind. And Dani was right there to back me up. We had had plans of college, and financial success, followed by children. I already had a bit of college under my belt, but after the birth, I dropped out, realizing I couldn't support my family, spend time with them, spend time at or money for school. I was okay with that. Studying, which unlike high school, college actually required, was not on my top list of skills. About a month later, Dani received a letter from one of her colleges of choice that had accepted her. She was heartbroken, because photography and owning her own studio had been the big thing she wanted to do with her life. I tried to console her, and tell her everything would be okay, but emotions also don't fit into my top skill sets. So, what'd I do? Instead of spend the evening with her, I got trashed. I was there at home physically, but instead of being with her, I consoled myself over the fact that I had messed up her life. Stupid, stupid man.
And yet, she stayed with me despite my shortcomings. WE have similar interests but are essentially two entirely opposite creatures. She can be logical, but is ruled by emotion, I on the otherhand still avoid emotion in favor of logic. Anger is my main emotion, and i hate to let it out. It usually doesn't involve her, except that she ends up being the one who gets the brunt of it. How we found any sense of compatibility, or how I managed to make her love me is still a mystery to me even all these years later.
One of the high points came again, right after moving back in together after living in two separate states, our 2nd son, Corwyn, was born. I worked everyday through it all, and spent most of the off-time at the hospital with Dani and him. As much as I hate hospitals, much less trying to sleep in a chair that you find out AFTER the fact that it folds out for better comfortability, we were able to spend a lot of time together, and without any yelling.

After going through all these years, and some very deeply disturbing personal issues, I would say this time last year was one of those times that flew by, and yet I didn't want that one night to end:
After ending work for the week, I blindfolded my wife and ushered her to a local spa for a morning of pampering. We had a little ice cream with the boys in the afternoon, and then she was blinfolded again. This time, she was brought to a local upscale wine and steak house. If you're ever in the Des Moines area, try Fleming's. It's a great place. (don't forget to bring the thick wallet!)
When she was seated and the menus placed before her, she was allowed to take the blindfold off. Her face lit up like a kid in a candy store. I hadn't seen that look on her face in quite a long time, so my gift was given right there. And then again when she timidly asked, "Can I order the lobster?" Of course I assented to anything she wanted, minus buying a $400 bottle of wine off the big wine list. Great mood lighting, tableside service for her lobster, a glass or two of wine for her (I don't drink the stuff). I FINALLY did something right!!!
We could've gone home at that point, and she would've been happy, but instead I took her to a friends Wine and Cigar shop for a little live Jazz music, and then a moonlight stroll around our local city-maintained Rose Garden. I hadn't been to sleep in over 24 hours prior to the end of the night, but if I could've turned back the clock a few hours, every few hours, I would have.

This year, with the anniversay being in the middle of the week, we both are working. We get to spend 4 days together over the 4th of July weekend, starting Thursday. So in lieu of a day off and out galavanting in each others' company, I arrived home to deliver her some lillies before she left for work. She tried to test me the other day to see if I knew what special day was coming up. I didn't forget (always nice to have the day be on the 1st! Our dating anniversary was on New Year's Day!), and she saw them and cried. She didn't say, but I'm pretty sure they were tears of joy. So apparently, I'm still able to do some right things from time to time.

And 8 years later, here we are, still married despite being given bad odds from a lot of people who know us. A testament to her strong character for sure.

As the note with the flowers said, Dani- I love you more now than I did on day one!