The Unfound Variable In Math Is My Brain

Yesterday when the boys came over after school... that sounds funny to me. Before the split between their mother and I, it was "the boys came home", but they live with her, so that's home now. So I wonder is my place still home to them as well, or just their dad's place (even though its the same place they called home for 7 years)?

Anyways, after they came here they whipped out their homework to do. It was a math day. For Corwyn, being in the first grade, things are pretty simple. Low numbers, adding and subtracting, counting money and the whole less than (<) greater than (>) and equal to (=) business. Yesterday, what he had to do was counting up money, and figuring out which coins shown on the page were needed to buy the illustrated picture with a price tag on it. Simple stuff, like I said. However, after going over one he was having issues. Two problems shown themselves to me, the first one I didn't fully understand, and that was his wanting to keep confusing quarters as nickels...but only some of the quarters. I'm not sure if we have solidified in his little brain that the bigger "nickel" is actually a quarter and worth 25 cents every single time, while the little nickel is in fact a nickel and worth a measly 5 cents. The other problem I fully understood. Right as the boys were getting started on their homework, another little boy came by wanting to play. Which of course means to little kids, most especially hyperactive little boys such as mine, that the brain has now been reprogrammed to think almost entirely about going outside to play. Math, even that involving money, is not only not that interesting, but hard to comprehend even in the simplest of circumstances. But with a little help focusing on the homework from good ol Dad, he managed to get through his worksheet for the day, and as soon as it was done he was out the door. He didn't bother to put it in his book bag to take home with him so he'd have it to turn into his teacher the next day, it literally floated slowly down onto the end table next to the couch, landing sometime shortly after he was already a good 25 feet outside with his little buddy. I would say I've been there, but I was the type of kid who ran out of school so fast at the end of the day, that not only did any unfinished schoolwork not get taken home, but I had actually arrived home 3 to 4 minutes prior to the bell ringing that signified the end of the school day. I defy any physics teacher or those guys running CERN to figure out the possibility of how I performed this amazing feat.

And then it was on to reviewing one of the older boy's (JOSH) math test. Now Josh is in the 6th grade, and compared to 1st grade, the difficulty level has exponentially increased. No easy A's counting money. No we're talking about long division, fractions, algebraic equations and all that other fun horseshit...most of which will never again be used beyond the halls of Academia. I did a LOT of math growing up, and I passed those classes, and true to form never used them again. Until yesterday, when I looked over Josh's test. He had gotten a 78% on the test, which I was expected to sign and have him return it to the teacher. SO naturally I looked it over, and we went over the mistakes he had made, and figured out what he had done wrong, which basically boils down to he doesn't really care, so he doesn't focus too hard on it, and I believe he already understands that he isn't going to be using this stuff later in life. Part of me is confused, because he is so good at his science class, which is basically word problem math put into action. But whatever, I guess he's going to have to figure that out on his own sooner or later.

So then we go to the extra credit portion of the test, which has 5 or 6 questions of its own. The first section asked questions in relation to a Venn Diagram. He got some questions right, and a couple wrong...of which I couldn't see how he got any of them wrong, until I noticed that what I thought was a right answer was indeed wrong, due to the Venn diagram being in a box, with an extra figure in the corner. Apparently Dad needs to focus as well. So we got that figured out. Then we had to figure out probability of a coin landing in a circle on a square mat, figuring out the area of each. Much to my dismay, they represented PI as a fraction (22/7) instead of the commonly used, and much easier to use number (3.14) we all learned growing up. So we had to figure out this probability with the fractions. It took a bit of figuring out, but we got the right answer. Or rather I figured it out after showing him how to make serious mistakes first. Because I'm a math idiot.

And then finally it was onto finding variables to solve equations. He answered one, and left the other blank. The one he answered, I saw absolutely no work done on it, but somehow he decided "7" was a good answer. I asked about scratch paper, or calculators, none of which they had been allowed to use. For a boy whose mind is constantly moving from one thing to the next, he believed he had the ability, and that I had the wool pulled over my eyes far enough to believe, that he could solve the problem entirely in his head. Turns out, while Dad did not know how to figure out the problem correctly, he could figure out that 7 was a bad answer with a simple glance, and that there was no way in hell Josh did all that algebra in his head. Math is not Josh's strong suit, which is fine as long as he tries, but staring aimlessly about and deciding the answer to a complicated formula would come to him out of thin air was not going to cut the mustard. So we looked over the one he left blank, and in an attempt to show him that I had retained my school math knowledge (which once we got into the higher math consisted of someone else doing my daily work in exchange for me doing their chemistry lab projects- which the only math I involved there was calculating how much I owed the school for destroying their equipment regularly), I have begun to understand that because I no longer participate in math classes, I have forgotten what little bit I learned.

SO I was subtracting from one side of the equation, adding to the other side, and trying to get the variable figured out, so we could solve the problem...then erasing what I did, adding on one side, adding on the other, ERASE ERASE ERASE, subtracting on one side, subtracting on the other, and AHA, I have found the number. "You see, Josh?" I asked, "If you do it like that, it will work out neatly." Then I plugged the number in, and my equations didn't line up. This elicited a small chuckle at my very apparent algebraic incompetence. I wanted to say something about how its much funnier that he's actually being told how to do the stuff and he doesn't get it, than his dad not knowing how to do something right that he hasn't even contemplated in 15 years or so. But, I left the thought in my head, mostly because if I was going to put him and his laughing at me in their rightful place, I'd probably better have half an idea what the hell I am talking about first. As it turns out, I didn't even begin to have half a clue. So on the notebook paper we were using I left a note to the teacher that she's going to have to send example work home on how to do equations, because Josh's Dad is a moron who can't even help out with much of the 6th grade math without much difficulty. We'll see if she follows through with that, or leave me wondering if her and the other math teachers get together in the teacher lounge laughing hysterically at the fact that an almost 32 year old man can't do 6th grade level math.

Here's the best way to find your friggin variable!!!:

Pics of the Boys From Halloween

Here we have the boys posing in their costumes at their Nana and Grandpa's house, prior to heading out for the candy looting...err, Trick-or-treating.




And here us boys are at the start of our trek.



And now once all the trick-or-treating is done for the evening, the boys are showing off the evening's haul of candy!

Halloween And Fun With The Boys

Halloween this year for us ended up leaving our suburban neighborhood and took a two plus hour drive up to rural Sac City, Iowa, my old home town. The boys got a chance to see their Nana and Grandpa, and go out trick-or-treating in the small town.

After the drive up Saturday morning, the boys committed to their usual routine. Josh did not waste any time in getting himself onto Nana's computer to play video games, and Buggy was quickly out the door to go play with Jack, the neighbor kid.

After awhile, that all subsided and they went down to play in the mythical wilderness of my childhood known as The Ravine. Most of this year, the ravine was off limits as the city was re-doing the storm/sewage water drainage system. I noticed as we drove by The Ravine before bending the corner to my parents that the entire valley looked a lot different than in years past. The lower valley was filled in with lush green grass, and the creek bed walls were now lined in most parts with rocks to prevent erosion. The surrounding hills however were still pretty much the same as I remember them; lots of trees and brush with dead limbs and leaves all over the ground. The boys spent a considerable amount of time down there this weekend, just enjoying exploring the area. At one point I was asked if they were allowed to go through The Tunnel (also known to some of us older people as the devil worshipper's hangout). Unfortunately for the boys, I know the water runs right through there as it passes underneath 9th street, and now being a parent, I didn't want them to soak their shoes. However, I did allow them to go over the road to the continuation of the ravine on the other side.

Turns out, in the case of Buggy, anyways, I might as well have let them go through the tunnel. Buggy slipped at some point and ended up in the creek, soaking his shoes, socks and partway up the legs of his pants. Oh well I guess. All part of being a kid.

Sunday came along, and there was more time in The Ravine. I sent the boys down. Soon Buggy came back. He was bored because "All you can do down there is play." Well geez...Didn't realize that playing was so uncool these days. He wanted to play on the computer inside. I asked him what the difference was since inside all he could do was play. He informed me with all the authority a 6 year-old can muster up that there is a huge difference between inside and outside play. Well, okay solves that issue. I still kicked him back out. As I helped him get his shoes back on, he then proceeds to tell me that "Josh did his homework three nights last week instead of doing it during the day like he was supposed to."

"Are you being a tattle tale I," I asked.
"No"
"Well then," I queried, "What is it you're doing, if you're not being a tattle tale?"
"I'm just telling on him!"

I guess the difference is in how you say it, not the intent. I must've forgot that childhood lesson over the years!

But I sent him back out to the Ravine to play with his brother, and shortly thereafter I attempted to go in their and sneak up on them. Unfortunately for me, they knew I was coming anyways, and instead of occupy themselves, they put themselves up on the area known as "Lookout Hill" and waited for my arrival, so they could come and shoot me with their toy guns. Josh being Josh, had actually scaled a small tree to get even more height to scan the territory for the rebel invader known as 'Dad.' Like father like son. I attempted to go in around the other side of the ravine, but all the leaves on the ground wouldn't cooperate, and rustled as loudly as a freight train as far as I was concerned. they quickly came down from their position and scaled up the side of Death Mountain to take me out. I knew they were coming from me, I just didn't realize how fast Josh was able to come up the steep side of the hill, and he was on top of me pretty quickly. I'm either losing my edge, or he's coming into his own as a scout.

After I was taken out by my boys, we moved back to Lookout Hill, and began to make improvements to the old campfire spot I had as a kid. We repaired and improved the old fire pit spot, and began constructing a few blinds with dead saplings, other branches and sticks, and leaves. We also carved out a few paths on the hill by clearing out the leaves so we could move about in a quieter manner. The 'campsite' wasn't anything you'll find in a high end construction innovation magazine, or outdoorsman type publication. We just used the bare bones and no real method to our madness. We just kept plugging away at it, and pretty soon my dad was yelling down into the ravine from his backyard to let us know it was time to come back up as supper was being made.

"Oh man, the parents are ruining my fun time!" Was the all I thought when I heard him yell down to us. Just like the old days, when I was the boys' age. So we came up, cleaned up and had some supper.

Then 6pm rolled around and it was time to take them out trick-or-treating. Both the boys did very well, with both of their buckets getting filled up, despite the fact that we covered a LOT less ground than I did during my years of trick-or-treating in that town. After we got back to my parents house, I tossed Buggy's still-wet shoes and socks in the dryer, and they hung out with some kids of family friends who stopped over for awhile, and around 9pm I had everything packed up, loaded up the candy-inhaling boys, and hit the road for a dark ride back home, getting in around 1130 or so. the boys were woken up long enough to get inside, grab a drink of water and go right back to sleep, this time in their own beds.

I don't have any pictures of the boys in costume yet, as I'm waiting on my mom to send the pictures via email. So when I get them, I'll put up a real quick picture blog.

Writing To Write

So, its been a couple of weeks since I've written anything down on this blog. Most of my writing during this time has been either notes to my wife, or adding more writings to one of my books.

At count yesterday, formatting the book to a smaller size than the standard Word document of 8.5" x 11", I had 150 pages typed out. I have since added a few more chapters. Obviously it is all rough draft at this point, and I expect once I move forward with the publishing aspect, that an editor will start eviscerating my works and paring it down to a much smaller number. So the more I write now, the closer I'll be towards having a book of decent length when I go into my rewrites.

I have also used some of my weekend to hang out with my boys. The youngest boy, Buggy, recently learned how to ride his bike. Last weekend all four of us took a short ride around our part of town. Since then I took the boys onto a nearby walking/bike trail for some more experience off the streets. The oldest boy, Josh, has just been speeding along on his bike, getting out ahead of myself and Buggy, before stopping and waiting for us to catch up, and then continuing on his merry little way. Josh was sick this weekend, and is in fact on the couch behind me right now, home from school. So Buggy and I went for a nice little ride father-son ride by ourselves while Josh hung out at home and my wife was baking pies and cleaning the house. I don't get any of the pie. this is a bit of a disappointment to a pie lover like me, but it is the going exchange rate for our friend Trevor coming over and helping me fix the brakes on my car. Pretty sweet deal I'd say.

Anyways, Buggy got to decide which way to go, which he took great delight in. We road through a small residential subdivision to the west of us that is a pretty hilly terrain. He had mixed feelings about the downhill treks at times, worrying he was going too fast and might wreck himself, but he soldiered on and even managed to use his little legs to pedal himself right up some fairly long hills. There was only one moment in which he scared the bejeezus out of me. We were going on a downward slope, and as we traveled down the sidewalk he was out in the lead, pedaling away instead of coasting. I saw the car beginning to back out of the drive. I yelled at him to stop, but sometimes his own panic causes him to seize up and not hit the brakes. Luckily the car stopped and he steered himself right around it. I had the girl in the car apologizing to me for not seeing him, and him apologizing to me for not stopping in time. I was just glad he was okay, and did not relish the idea of having to tell his mother to meet us at the emergency room because he got smacked by a car! From there, we went and road on the bike trail once again, stopping for a few moments for him to play at a playground that abuts the trail, before coming home. I'm not used to the biking after so many years that I was getting tuckered out, and eventually he too was getting tired in the legs, as he opted to walk the bike up a few hills not nearly as steep as the ones he had pedaled up before.

I've also spent a considerable amount of time just reading. Mostly on the subject of manhood, and how to be a more considerate, participating, and loving husband and father. I've come to realize that I've spent most of my adult life, more as a guy than an actual man. So, while its taken me some time to wake up from the me-centric self I have been, I'm working on improving that aspect of my life, so that I might be a better person all around as God intended for me to be. And to play my part as leader and scout and provisionary for my family that He also intended for me.

Right now I'm reading the book Tender Warrior by Stu Weber, a former Special Forces guy turned Pastor. Once I'm done with that I will be diving into Wild At Heart and its sequel by John Eldredge during my time of personal and spiritual development. Now I just have to learn how to loosen up some more around people in public instead of being the frumpy, keep-to-myself jackass I've turned into over the years.

That's really all I have to say at this point in time. So welcome to October I guess...

More on Denny's, Buggy, The Colonel, and Adoption

Just to clarify the title a bit, none of those are actually related. Buggy stays here; the Colonel wont leave unless it is to go outside, but he would expect to be let back in; And so far Denny's hasn't adopted me...YET!

So first, lets go with Denny's. As some of you know, I have an unhealthy liking of Denny's Restaurants. I'd call it stalking, but since the buildings don't exactly move, and they WANT me to come in and eat their food, it doesn't technically qualify. But, if the Denny's went on wheels like the Ice Cream man, yes I would be one of the crazies running down the street begging for the guy to throw me a few pancakes to catch like some sort of dog chasing a car. And maybe an omelet, and some hash browns with the works. Sure it'd be messy, but my inner child will manifest himself and eat the stuff off of the pavement just like a kid who drops his candy in the dirt. It's just like sprinkles, that's all!

Anyways, so I started a Facebook group page dedicated to making me the next new face of Denny's. I haven't worked out all the details yet, but it basically involves them making me their real world advertiser. Some pics, some videos, some blogs about the Denny's I'm at, the city its in, employees, people in that city (in and outside of the Denny's), things like that. The first step is this page, to attempt to use facebook's networking capabilities to garner support from my friends, their friends, and whoever else may stumble upon it. It seemed to have worked well for Betty White to get asked to host Saturday Night Live. But she's a celebrity. Let's see how well this thing can work for a normal (I use that term loosely when referring to me) person.
Then we go to Denny's Corporate with a nice juicy plan for them and me. So if you have a facebook account, you can friend me, or just join the group or both. If you don't have a facebook account, you should make one for the pure purposes of helping out this effort. With no monetary support, and my having limited interactions with much of anybody, this is as grassroots as it gets. Plus, I'd get to travel to all the wondrous Denny's locations...and then maybe take in some of the local attractions, which of course are secondary to my favorite eating establishment.

Now, onto Buggy. He is just about to finish his year in Kindergarten in a few hours. As some of you readers know, this boy has managed to endear himself to the staff while sneaking extra breakfasts at school. In fact one of the staff mentioned that he specifically is one of the staff favorites when it comes to the kids. He recently came home with an award from his teacher. I assume its one of those things where every kid gets some kind of positive acknowledgement. His, unsurprisingly, was "Best Sense of Humor". He had surprised his teacher early in the school year by exuding an extremely dry sense of humor on top of the normal cackling little kid humor most people are used to from kids. So, as I said, neither his mother nor I were very surprised at this. I do believe that nothing will really surprise us with this particular son of ours. Even if he comes home one day and accidentally lets it slip out of his mouth the goings-on in other parts of the metro area, after having jumped on a city bus, or took off with a friends parents under the assumption that we knew about it and were okay with them taking him along, or just plain having walked. Or if he comes home with a ripped shirt and tells us how he had just scored the winning touchdown while scrimmaging with the local high school football team even though he is nowhere near old enough, and now was thirsty, not giving second thought to the fact that we might want to know what he's doing BEFORE he goes and does it...none of this would be surprising.

The older one, Josh, pushes his limits somewhat, but is generally more passive and willing to ask permission before going off to do much of anything. Corwyn on the other hand would be the one to tell everyone things are fine, and he doesn't need to ask permission to do stuff "he already knows he can do." I already know that when he is a teenager that he and I will be having the same stupid discussions my dad had with me when I came home at 3 or 4 in the morning. And he will irritate me because I have to have these discussion, but also because it will be just another set of opportunities for me to sound JUST LIKE the Evil Duane did, which I had promised to never be like when I grew up. Whenever I talk to Mom and Dad, he always laughs at me when I tell stories of what the kids have done 'this time.' I have another feeling that whenever the boys go up to see their Nana and grandpa that stories are told and ideas planted, just to expedite the process. I just can't prove it yet!

The Colonel is as feisty as ever. He'll nap in long stretches and leave you alone, until its time for you to be left alone by necessity. Then he shows up, wound up like a kid who just downed 12 giant Pixie sticks, followed by an entire 2 liter bottle of Coke. He makes weird growling noises as he runs back and forth through the apartment, sometimes only stopping his current path because his head ran into a wall, the door, a cabinet, or some furniture, before reversing paths back the way he came. He's a bit on the weird side. We are however in the midst of changing over his diet a little bit. It has been told to me by my friend Machelle, that the current cat food brand (which shall remain nameless) we have been giving the Colonel since we got him, was mentioned by her vet to cause crystals in the urine/bladder, and can seriously screw the cats system up over time. Whether or not its factual information or the vet is a shill for some other cat food manufacturer is beyond me. But one ingredient in the current brand is Zinc Oxide. Now maybe I'm wrong, but isn't that what people throw on their noses at the beach to avoid a sunburn, while causing them to look like an albino-nosed idiot at the same time? I treasure my cat's health, but I never thought to worry about his innards getting sun burnt, what with all that fur and abundance of fatty tissue and bone surrounding his digestive system. I have no idea why someone would stick zinc oxide into food. I am pretty sure that if I wiped the zinc oxide off your nose someday this summer and proceeded to eat it, I would not be doing too well later on that day, never mind the nasty taste left in my mouth. Turns out the stuff is nearly insoluble in water. No wonder they say an adequate supply of water is needed to maintain your pet's health. I have to wonder what amount is considered 'adequate.' Either way, we've made the switch over to Purina cat food, and are doing a mixture of both, until we work the Colonel into the new stuff entirely. Don't need to upset his bowels any, he already poops more than enough for a whole herd of cats. I'm hoping that the new diet will curb some of the pooping, the eating of paper and cardboard boxes, the strength of smell his pee comes armed with (it gets bad some days). And he can tone it down to normal cat like activities of snubbing me, and eating the children, things like that. I'm not thinking he'll calm down much on any of it, but I can always cross my fingers and hope.

Now onto probably the most important topic, Adoption. Some of my readers already know of the situation, but for the rest of you, I'll bring forth some enlightenment.
For awhile now, my good friends Jed and Naomi, have been looking to adopt children and have their own family. They have been working hard at saving money up and holding fundraisers, to get the over-$30,000 they need for this to happen at all. They have gone through the excitement of having a placement of 2 young girls, only to have their joy arrested when the girls were found to have been placed in the foster program fraudulently by their mother. The supposed dead father had showed back up. It was heartbreaking for all involved who have been supporting them, but I guess God had decided that those were not the children meant to be a part of Jed and Naomi's family. Well, after a long wait, far too long, they have 2 qualified little girls, ages 4 and 7, who have been vetted it appears, and ready for adoption. The court date is tentatively going to be this fall to make the adoption go through. While its months away yet, it also gives Jed and Naomi time to work toward the last few thousand dollars they need. It turns out Ethiopia has new rules on adoption to overseas. Instead of just one trip over, both Jed and Naomi will need to go over twice. Once for the adoption court date, and again to bring home the children to the United States. You can find some of their plans
here on their adoption blog. Please think it over, pray on it, whatever it is you do, and if you can give, even just a little bit, feel free to donate to their cause so that they might make their dreams of having a family come true! And, if you could, as a favor to me, or them, pass this section on to your friends, and see if they would be willing to help out as well! Thank you!

I'm Fat AND a Stupid Monkey

Buggy stayed home from school the other day as he was not feeling well. After work, my wife comes home, and in the process of conversation somehow the word short is brought up. I don't remember what exactly was said, but it seemed to be a shot from my wife at both Buggy and myself. So I looked the kid dead in the eye as he was in his mother's arms and said, "you hear that, Bug, you're short!"

Without even missing a beat he shoots right back, very matter-of-factly, "You're fat." The boy has a very dry sense of humor, and of course once a thought hits his brain, it generally comes right out his mouth. And to be honest, as dry and easily as it came out of his mouth, I'm not sure if this was his idea of a joke, or just a debative form of us shooting derogatory facts at each other. Either way, I was temporarily shut up, and of course his mother couldn't help herself and busted out laughing hysterically. Apparently she is amused by the fact that my boys are smart enough and bold enough to go toe-to-toe with their father. And apparently having missed school due to a stomach ache was enough for him to be feeling much better.

Generally I have a talent for sarcasm and a biting wit that usually keeps people in check around me. I have in the past used this very effectively against my wife. Yes, I am aware that this is not the best way to go about building a relationship, but it appears she is getting the last laugh via our offspring. It appears that the same gene that has allowed me to fake my way to a superior position has been passed on. I'm going to have to maintain my alliance with the Colonel to keep these kids in check and from usurping my power over the Mookified compound.

So yes, I am officially fat for sure now.

Last weekend the boys and I are wrestling around, like we do. Josh has once again wildly thrust himself in the unenviable position of being chicken-winged by me. Sooner or later we are going to have to get him to learn to focus. Too much of this power ranger/mutant ninja turtle flying around business has done in his ability to fight me effectively. Well, while I'm holding him at bay, Bug climbs onto the couch and prepares to challenge me while I have one arm occupied with holding his brother down. But he makes the mistake of leaving his arms at his side, laughing and announcing that he is about to make the leap from the couch and come choke me out. So I give him a little fatherly open-handed love tap on the cheek.

Incredulous he looks at me and exclaims, "You just slapped me like a stupid monkey!" and continues laughing his head off as he prepares to remount his attack. It took me two days to realize that I slap him like a stupid monkey does, in his mind. I thought I had slapped him, as he is a stupid monkey. But nooooo, turns out not only am I fat, I am also a stupid monkey. And this is currently his phrase of the week I guess. I called home early this morning to say hello to the boys before they left for school. After Buggy handed the phone to Josh, I hear "OW. You slapped me like a stupid monkey!" come over the phone from Buggy's mouth. I have a feeling "Stupid monkey" will be a key part of his vocabulary until he finds something new to entertain himself.

Yesterday I hit the RedBox and rented the movie Law-Abiding Citizen. It was an excellent movie. One of the Stars is played by actor Gerard Butler, the same guy who played King Leonidas in the hit movie 300. There is a scene in both of these movies where you end up seeing Butler naked as a jaybird from behind, showing off his butt. Well, I got up to get ready for work last night and my wife is watching the movie. Just as I walk in, that scene is on the TV. I made casual mention that I think Gerard Butler gets paid a good chunk of change specifically for showing off his rear end. And so my wife replies, a little too quickly I might add, "Yeah, and its a really nice butt!"

Nothing else to say to me, just enough words to let me know that Gerard Butler has a better ass than mine.

So I guess the moral of this story is that I need to start working out to sculpt my butt to look more like Butler's and maybe get a more enthusiastic response to its form; and to trim down the obvious fatness I have going on. And then, when time and money permits, I need either plastic surgery to correct my monkey-like physical features, or mental health treatment to get out of a monkey-like mindset.

Either way, I have a lot of work ahead of me!

My Sons Have Found That School Is The Easiest Way To Bleed My Wallet

I was pondering over the words of someone else, obviously a parent, that went something like this:

I wonder how it is a 6 year old can still be "starving" AFTER having eaten us out of house and home

It's an interesting thought, that I think we parents all realize, but because of its natural and constant occurrence from one generation through the rest of the generations, we never bother to really pay it any attention. More on the specifics of this later.

Within a month or two of school starting, and the boys both having equal amounts of money in their lunch accounts, I get a notice in their Monday folders that they are low. The oldest one, Josh, was not just low but negative in his account. It took me a while to think this over, and after having had a discussion with him, I found out he was taking some of the little extra "ala carte" items that cost him, or rather his parents (That'd be me and my wife), extra money, and thereby reducing the amount of lunches that can be bought before I have to go about writing another check to the local school nutrition department. So we got that straightened out...well mostly. I found out through the lady in the school office today that he still occasionally does this, but not everyday like he used to.

So I get home from work this morning and my wife tells me I have errands to run. Deposit a check from my parents into our account, and then write a bigger check for the same amount, plus our share to the school for the Spelling Contest Fundraiser. And also pick up some quarters for laundry, and also to write out checks for the boys' school lunch. On the Spelling Contest, I find myself torn.

First off, I am glad we have decent schools for the boys to go to in this district. However, on the flip side of this, I think the local PTC actually raises more money than this school gets funded by the government. Makes me wonder why I should even be paying for lunches regardless of financial ability, or school book fees, or any of that. It seems with all the fundraisers, the entire district's liability should just about break even before the FEDS and State Department of Education begin financial dispersal amongst all the schools. Well, this time around it is the Spelling Contest, and after a little work with his mother Josh goes and manages to get 50 out of 50 words spelled correctly. He got pledge money from both sets of grandparents on this, us, and one of my wife's cousins, and her husband. I have a lot of bills that could use that money, even though my share was only $25, which I have no idea how I let my wife talk me into this. My wallet is saying, "MAKE HIM MISS ALL THE WORDS!!!" My wallet is one cold-hearted individual, but then again he was made from a cow, so I'm sure emotions don't factor into his world. I try not to let them factor into mine, but my wife makes sure that I am overruled on this. Something or another about being compassionate and caring about my sons and their accomplishments, blah blah blah. In My Day...(oh dear sweet baby Jesus, I'm turning into all my older male relatives) our reward was spelling all 50 of those words right and knowing we'd done a good job and learned something. These days, its learning, some praise from mommy, and more money of daddy's going to the local PTC. I'm glad the boy is smart, and it shows when he pays attention and focuses like he did for this spelling contest. Confirms my superior genes of intellect can trump the wildly unfocused free-spirited genes his mother gave him. (Of course if you ask her, she'll blame that on me too. I of course will have already forgotten what the question was before you finish asking)

Now on to the lunch money. We got a bit behind over the month, partially because of some bills that came up unexpectedly, and partially because all these snow days they have had has thrown me off altogether. At almost $3 a lunch, EACH, it doesn't take long for them to eat through the money. And when they come home they are starving little boys, begging for more food like a couple of incarnations of Oliver Twist, only not as polite and timid about it. So I had to make sure to write the check big enough to cover the deficit I allowed to get racked up, as well as the remainder of the month plus a few days. Now, if you remember from before, Josh had his issues of taking extras...so he was always a few dollars lower in balance than Corwyn, because I had not re-equalized it as of yet. So I ask the lady to give me the deficit, and she writes down the figures for each boy. Josh was a little over $30 in the hole, but Corwyn was over $50 in the hole, for a total of $91 when all was said and done..just to bring them back up to $0 balances. So I wrote a check for $191 this morning. I was curious as to how the imbalance between Josh and Bug had occurred, so I asked. Corwyn can NOT keep a secret for anything. If anything comes into his head, it will come out of his mouth. However, we had heard absolutely nothing concerning him taking extras at lunchtime, and when asked about it, he denied it. Well, technically he wasn't lying. I was able to see the secretary's desktop screen as she brought up his records of lunchtime swipes and balances. And every other line had the word "BREAKFAST" (which is not included in extras with lunch, clearing him of committing any infractions of lying to us).

I found out that Bug is one of the staff's favorite little kids. He always comes right on into the cafeteria, all happy and smiling, and talks to everybody. And he has breakfast...a big one apparently, and eats everything. This all right after a short ride to school on the bus, which happens right after he eats breakfast AT HOME...a LOT of it. Then some classes and LUNCH. Then some classes and home to ask me for MORE FOOD! 3 full meals in less than 9 hours, and he is still coming home "starving".

Now I remember complaining for years about how the school never fed me enough at lunch...and then we finally got salad bar for all kinds of extras at no additional cost to us, with unlimited trips. I am pretty sure this school that my boys goes to offers the same amenity. Why they should be starving so much is beyond me. I mean if it was tater-tot casserole, or Chef's Surprise Leftover Day, I could see them maybe skipping the biggest portion of lunch and coming home hungry. But these boys get all kinds of good stuff to eat at school, and in a much bigger variety than we ever had. And the reports from staff say they both pretty much devour everything, barely managing to return the tray in the process.

Since having found out my youngest is a little scheister, and sneaking in extra meals, The staff is now well aware that there is to be strictly lunch with no extra items, and no breakfast for either of them. I can only afford to feed them all they can eat, or feed them some of that amount and keep a roof over their head. Both cannot be accomplished with the same amount of money that revolves in and out of my wallet. I was asked if we had applied for free or reduced lunch programs. I told them, and they verified the guidelines that say we need two more kids to qualify at our income level. I said I can make two more kids, but I won't be able to pay for them any better, even with free lunches and breakfasts provided.

I have learned a few things today as I wrote out checks for kid related activities:

Josh will punish me with his intellect. If he is slow on the uptake, it will cost me money for a tutor. If he is excelling, it will cost me money for the PTC. This boy better get a full academic scholarship to any college he chooses to go to!

Corwyn, is a sanguine little hustler. He charms the daylights out of people, especially all the women (who obviously don't realize he's playing them for his own gain), and gets stuff he isn't supposed to be getting, and no one knows the difference until its too late. Luckily Corwyn knows how to administer "face to face" (read here for more on that) so he can resuscitate my wallet in case he kills it. Most likely from extra meals at school. They think he's cute and adorable...all happiness and smiles. But I got to know that boy real well for the first 5 1/2 years of his life... He is something else. I'd blame his mother, but I'm sure there is overwhelming evidence stacked against me.

Observations Of Events During Superbowl Weekend

All these events happened during Superbowl weekend, and are in no way in chronological order or in an order of importance.

Buggy decides to choke me out with a dual combination of a scissor lock around my neck from behind while using his hands as leverage to exert some extra pressure on my windpipe. He's learning....air flow as well as blood flow are equally important in taking down your opponent. For this I am a proud father. In addition to open palm slapping a school bus bully earlier int he school year, he is learning other techniques. A little more practice and he'll he getting in trouble at school for picking fights with older kids and winning. I'll have to scold him and explain to him why that is a bad thing, and yet, part of me will be smirking inside knowing I have raised a boy that learns to handle himself physically.

So I play along, and fake death. He checks the eyeballs by lifting the eyelids, and I have rotated the eyeballs downward so he only sees the whites of my eyes. Then he proceeded to surprise me with a move I had no idea he knew anything about. He had gone from killing dad to trying to resuscitate dad. He pulled my head up and tilted it back and with a firm grip on my nose he began to give me mouth to mouth. I stopped this before he gave me a heart stopping blow to this old guy's chest. When I asked him what he was doing, he said he was bringing me back to life by giving me "face to face". After his mom came home from work, and heard this story, she was more than just a little amused at the antics of her youngest boy. I on the other hand, was less than enthused with a slight bit of his spit-laden breathing that had entered my mouth.

Later on Friday night, I had the neighbor from downstairs send up their grandson to ask why we were letting it shower in their kitchen. I was unaware of such phenomenon. So I made a check under the sink, and sure enough there was a pool of water, along with some fissures in the woodwork that allowed some of the water to leak through the floor and down out of their ceiling around the light above their kitchen sink. So, the sink and dishwasher were now off limits. I found a nice sized hole in the u-shaped pipe. So I call the property managers' number. No answer. Well, this doesn't shock me at 830 at night. I leave a message, and then again in the morning call back. I explain to the young ditsy lady in the office that the pipe has a hole in it and it leaks into the downstairs neighbors' apartment. Can she send someone over to fix it?


To that she replies, "Can it wait until Monday?"
I said, "No, I'd rather it be taken care of now. I can't use the sink or the dishwasher, which is a major inconvenience considering I pay for an apartment that comes with fully functional plumbing."

And to this she asks, "Why can't you use the kitchen sink?"
"UH, cuz there's a BIG HOLE IN THE PIPE THAT LEAKS ALL OVER IF ANY WATER FINDS ITS WAY DOWN THE DRAIN and RAINS IN THE NEIGHBORS APARTMENT...and the same if I use the DISHWASHER." I'm generally pretty easy going about whatever, bu when someone who is supposed to serve me asks a dumb question that any third grader would be fully capable of understanding the answer to, since it was already explained...well, Mookie The Sarcastic has a way of coming out.
I hear a disgusted sigh and a half hearted, "I'll see if I can't get anyone over there then.." As if somehow I have inconvenienced her. Well, I ended up waiting until this morning, Monday morning. I spoke with the maintenance guy while he checked it out and took a whole 5 minutes to solve the problem. Apparently there were a lot of issues that surfaced over the weekend that never got taken care of. I have never cared much for this young lady who works in the office. She is more concerned about getting new people in, and doesn't care much for dealing with anyone who has already signed their lease...until its time to renew anyways. She wrote it down, but from what I understand, it never got passed on to any maintenance guys to even look at the issue. Damn near the entire pipe was rusted out, almost along a seam.

There are a lot of aspects I don't like about my job either, but I do them to the same ability I do the other aspects that I do like, because its my F*&$ing job. I don't understand why these young idiots don't get this concept anymore. Guess I'm just too old fashioned in that I actually expect someone does their job the best they can do.

So for the last couple of days my wife has been schooling my oldest, Josh, on how to do dishes by hand, in a plastic tub to wash and one to rinse, and then hand dry and put everything away. I'm sure he has been scarred by such an atrocity of not being able to use an actual dish washing appliance. Even though his mother was doing the washing part for him. But good experience for the boy, as Calvin's Dad would say, "It's good for you and builds character."

Now, onto the Superbowl. Let me first say to all those rooting for Indianapolis to win: BWHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAHA

Its not so much that I am a Saints fan, but as a 49er fan, I feel an allegiance to the NFC team in the Superbowl as well as the Pro bowl. That is, as long as the NFC team is not the Dallas Cowboys, Green Bay Packers, or any team made to include a certain guy we call Brett Favre. In fact, if Brett Favre we're to ever lead my beloved San Francisco 49ers to the Superbowl, I may come close to rooting against my own team. Okay, maybe not THAT bad, but I would pray for a victory almost solely on the shoulders of others and a career ending injury for the guy who can never seem to just retire and be done with it.

New Orleans was damn near killed off by wind and water a few years back by Hurricane Katrina...I wonder if a fire will erupt and burn the city down in what will be the first Mardi Gras to last at least 2 weeks? Because lets face it....there is almost always a riotous atmosphere and a car or two set ablaze in whichever city wins the Superbowl, almost always. And, New Orleans is really going to celebrate their first ever Superbowl appearance and win right on into Mardi Gras. There will be NO break in the party action. Participants will sleep in shifts to ensure the party never stops. It could be March before its all over.

Now to assess the game. While the total score tally ended up being 48 points, it was definitely a lower scoring game than predicted. And while the 31-17 score was a seeming blowout, it was much closer than that in reality. The 4th quarter pick off my Tracy Porter that was run back for a Touchdown sealed the deal, but up until that point, this was a close game that could've gone either way.

I was not surprised by the gutsy calling of Sean Payton in the first half (or the entire game for that matter) opting to go for it on fourth and goal at the 1 1/2 yd line. The play before I was sadly disappointed in the running back Mike Bell. He went off tackle right, and as he changed direction from lateral to down field towards the goal line, the idiot made a stupid mistake. HE tried to make the cut on his inside foot. I'm no superstar athlete but even I know that cutting on your inside foot always lands you on your ass, and if you don't it was merely because God himself had come down and kept you in a more upright position. Inevitably Bell never was able to plant his cleats into the turf because of this display of shoddy footwork and slipped on his face, with a little extra help from a salivating defender. It was this dumb mistake that forced the 4th and goal play to even come into question. Now, I too would have gone for it on 4th and goal, no doubt. On your opponents 1 1/2 yd line down 10-3? with about 2 minutes left? Oh yeah.
But the play calling itself was amateurish at best. The kind of thing you expect from a first year coach in a JV game at your local school, not Sean Payton who has made his season on gutsy and smart game planning schemes. He stacks two receivers left, and then runs another off tackle right square into a mess of defenders, without any help outside the Offensive line. of course he wasn't going to score. That play was dead before they ever got out of the huddle.

Coach Payton did redeem himself coming out of halftime, with a brilliant and completely unexpected onside kick call, which was recovered by the Saints, and subsequently marched down the field for a touchdown to take their first lead of the game 13-10. Indianapolis, led by future Hall of Fame QB Peyton Manning, engineered a drive to answer New Orleans and regain the lead. Then the game slowed down, in a back and forth manner, with only 1 field goal by the Saints coming prior to the last 5:30 of the game. Then with about 5:30 left in the final quarter, Drew Brees capitalizes on a failed FG attempt by Indy, and marches the ball right down the field for another touchdown, followed up by a controversial 2 pt conversion to put the Saints up 24-17. Indy comes back out, making play after play. Then it happened. Peyton Manning throws out to the outside receiver, and Tracy Porter just cuts in front of the receiver, picks it off and runs it back 73 yards to pound the nails into the coffin that held the Colts' chances of a Superbowl victory. With about 3:30 left in the game it was just too much for even Manning's comeback abilities to overcome. Eventually as the clock winded down Manning threw an incomplete pass on 4th down, giving the Saints the ball and the ability to run the clock out without running a single real play. I saw the first half of the game on TV, and had to listen to the second half on the radio. But through either venue, it was quite an exciting game. The NFC wins and Brett Favre wasn't involved. The boss will be happy, I'm happy with it. It was a good weekend overall, despite having to, as usual, work on Superbowl Sunday.
I LOVE FOOTBALL!

Pranks and Other Observations

Today's post doesn't have any central theme, other than my weird little observations in life.

Observation #1 (Saturday night): ANY type of cussing causes my youngest child to laugh hysterically. Even if the word 'crap' is mentioned on a DVD, or TV, or whatever and Corwyn is in the room, he immediately laughs. If it's anything much harsher that he need not hear, the reaction is still the same. While he knows he is not supposed to say such words, to merely hear them sends him over the edge.

The other night I was wasting time playing RISK online (I love the game, but the dice rolling concept really sucks...how does one lose 20 armies to four armies on a regular basis? It's ridiculous). My wife was in the kitchen reading and preparing supper. The boys were on the couch, and I hear the words "wiener-boy" and "butt (or nut) bag" being repeatedly constantly as they discuss whatever inane mindless things little kids discuss. But after every time one of these words is repeated they both start cackling. They both have their own unique laughter, which I have determined that I could pick out in a room full of a thousand little kids from just about any distance. The cackling in and of itself is humorous to me. I decided to give it a few minutes to see if the subject would die down on its own. Anyways, I made the executive decision (poorly or not) that such words didn't quite cross the line entirely. That and of course I was slightly amused myself, as I am so often easily amused. Of course, left to their own devices, the subject, no matter how retarded it may be will continue to grow a life of its own when left unchecked. Eventually I, or maybe it was my wife, decided that the conversation was just too much and they needed to discuss something other than the antics of this so-called "wiener boy" and his superpowers derived from his "Butt (or nut) bag". It was time that they expanded their vocabulary's usage for while. Now that I think about it, it was my wife who stopped it, because I was busy facing away from them and holding in my laughter at the whole situation, which included them getting a talking-to from their mother. I'm not sure what it is, but I still find it amusing to watch others get into trouble...even if it is my own kids.

Observation #2 (this morning): BBQ Sauce. I love the smell of BBQ sauce, especially right before we slap it on some chicken to be fried or roasted. However last night, there was still some BBQ sauce leftover and sitting in the bowl my wife made it in. It hadn't been dispensed of or put into the fridge for later use. And while I was making coffee after coming home this morning, all I could smell was this hours old BBQ sauce sitting right there next to me. And I realized, I do not like the smell of the stuff the day after. Made me kind of queasy.

Prank (Friday night): My sister, Becky is great for playing tricks on. You have already read about the trick I played on her with her Christmas gift. well, now I have an even better one that she succumbed to this last weekend.
Apparently, before they went home to Florida, my dad started talking to my niece, Sophie. He kept mentioning how she needed a puppy when she got home. According to my dad, he was sure that my sister was getting a little bit perturbed by this, but all the puppy talk always had Sophie smiling. So my dad calls me up, and tells me I need to mess with my sister a bit on this issue. Of course he called me. As the resident a**hole in her life, since a very early age, I'm the natural pick to keep messing with her.

So I grabbed a picture off of petfinder.com of a small dog that looks like a miniature version (and I mean EXACTLY like) of a mutt dog we grew up with. then I looked up Orlando International Airport and found phone numbers and used the map of the grounds to give her directions to some building and convinced her it was where the live cargo comes into the airport. Becky is getting madder by the moment. She of course thinks to question my motives as serious or not, as she isn't completely dumb. Of course I played it off that mom and dad had arranged for this dog to be adopted, bought a flight for it out of Des Moines, here where I live, etc etc, and I wouldn't go to all this trouble just to mess with her head. Being gullible as she is, she finally bought into it. And boy was she pissed off!!!! She gave me reasons as to why they didn't need a dog, couldn't have a dog, and all that mess. I told her then to call mom and dad to straighten it out with them, and to call me back so I knew what my plans were for Monday (yesterday), since they had done everything and were having me pick the dog up and get it off on a plane to her. so she hangups with me and calls them. I got a call about 15 minutes later. I say "hello", knowing full well who it is, thanks to caller ID. There is a short pause, as I feel her drawing in every bit of rage she can, and then proceeds to introduce herself with the kinds of words Corwyn would begin laughing hysterically at. All I heard was "F**K You!" And then I started laughing hysterically. The way I figure it is that since she isn't pregnant, getting her blood pressure up a bit isn't all that unhealthy. I think she's still a bit mad at me and dad. Later that night I see her Facebook posting that says "My family sucks, they know why". I left a nice comment that says she brought it on herself. She responded to the effect that it isn't her fault I'm a dick.

Well the truth of the matter is a little bit different. Not that I'm arguing her point about me being a dick, because I am sometimes, ...okay a lot of the time. But, I do blame this on her entirely. Now stay with me here. She knows I am into pranks. She also fouled up my Christmas gift guessing game a couple years, a long time ago, and she did it intentionally.

And as smart as she is, and she is getting better at her people smarts than she used to be, she is still gullible and easy to pull pranks on. She also knows that I love to pull pranks on people, and that I have virtually no life, therefore she should KNOW that she is a prime target here. And, to top it off, after actually thinking to question me, she buys my sheepish answer (and I suck at lying, over the phone or in person), and proceeds to get irritated at the gall my dad had to supposedly send a puppy to them. Like I said, she brought it on herself. I stand by my faked brilliance, and consider this prank a successful victory. My dad also does, as he called me back while I was still on the phone with Becky who was steamed at me. He laughed hysterically when I told him how she started the return phone call with me.

I'm beginning to think it is a Lovell male trait to laugh hysterically when we hear someone start cussing.

Getting into trouble (Sunday Afternoon): For Christmas this year, my grandmother and her husband (do I call him Grandpa or by his name? They just got married a few years ago, I don't understand the protocol here), sent us a Christmas card along with $25 in Target gift coins for each boy. Well, Sunday the boys and I ran over to Target so they could get the gifts they wanted, and then we could get a picture of them with their new loot to send off to my Grandmother.

So we get there, and they each get some random toy, but also each gets a sword of some sort. josh picked up a flip-action Star Wars light saber, and Corwyn got himself the sword that goes with his GI JOE Storm Shadow outfit he had worn for Halloween this last year. After we got home, some point later there was a sword fight. Then one of them got the grand idea of challenging me, or having the other brother challenge me. SO we dueled a few times, me vs one, then the other, then each other, all times with the two different swords. Well, we did this in the living room, right in front of the couch where my wife is reading her book. It didn't take long, but we got told to put the swords away after I made a mistake and accidentally shifted the wrong way and caught my wife in the face with the sword. So I apologized to the boys for getting us into trouble, and then as they took the swords to be put away, I sat down next to my wife and began to apologize to her. She told me not to sweet talk her. I said I wasn't, but merely apologizing. What I said next did me in for the day. I meant to say I was going to make it up to her (in a amorous tone of voice), but my speaking dyslexia kicked in and said I was going to let her make it up to me. I didn't realize until she repeated it back to me with an incredulous look on her face. I really need to learn to shut up, cut my losses and disappear after screwing up. I think it is almost in my favor to skip any apologies. I have a tendency to only make it worse, even if by accident. Of course opting out any attempts might get me in just as much hot water as screwing one up. Man, I am screwed!

Lebkuchen and Sledding

Okay, so more Christmas weekend stuff to get through. The last post was chock full of pictures. This one will have less of those, and should be shorter overall.

First off, Christmastime means one very special package that comes every year without fail. My aunt Denise knows how much I love the Lebkuchen treats, so I always get a couple bags of that, along with a couple packages of the other ginger treat, Contessa. Very tasty stuff. It comes specifically for me and my mom. It turns out, my family kind of likes it too. I leave the package on the counter with a certain amount in the bag. I come back by it even 5 minutes later, and half of it has disappeared. My family is ninjaing (ninjaing is NOW an official word in my vocabulary. You all might as well capitulate and add it to your linguistic repertoire.) my friggin lebkuchen. I have mixed feelings about this. I should be happy that they like some of these very same treats I grew up enjoying, and cannot be bought out here in Iowa, as far as I am aware. And yet, I'm mildly upset, as my selfish side says the lebkuchen is "MINE! ALL MINE, DAMMIT! KEEP YOUR GRIMY HANDS OFF OF IT!"

I'm sure at some point I'll receive a talking to about how being selfish is bad, and not of good character. I need to set a good example when it comes to sharing, blah blah blah. You can rest assured though, that your superhero will use his magical power of selective hearing and tune it all out. I'm so good at that, that I may have received this talk multiple times and still remain totally unaware. Good for me.

Well, this year's Christmas turned out to be a pretty big hit all around. My Dad got a slingshot screaming monkey. He collects monkey stuff. If mom didn't secretly purge pieces of the collection I'm sure he'd have at least 100 monkeys sitting around his house somewhere or another. I don't think any part of the house is out of eyesight from one monkey or another. A creepy proposition now that I think of it. I may have been enjoying my morning constitutional under the ever watchful eyes of a monkey hidden amongst the plants, for all I know. Mom got her bath products as usual. Christmas is when she stocks up on this stuff for each year. My wife got her juicer, and some spice grinder/shredder thing. (I dunno its name, I was just assured certain death if I use it to shred cheese) My sister, well she got a bookmark. It turns out she needs more, since she mysteriously chews all of hers up without realizing it. I think her and The Colonel need to get together to have a fiber binging vacation or something. Sophie got all kinds of stuff, clothing, a few toys, you know, baby stuff. Vic, got his candy, SourPatch Kids. Apparently candy is rather amusing to him. Another present he seemed to take delight in was whenever I left my new slippers, courtesy of my in-laws, laying around. If I didn't have them on my feet, Vic was wearing them. So now I have to find a similar pair, so he has his own for those cold days. He's from down south, so he has sensitive feet don'tcha know!

The boys received all kinds of toys. But Santa, also brought them two brand new red sleds for Christmas. So the day after Christmas, when the weather cleared up enough to go out safely, Vic and I drove them down the road to the local golf course where I used to sled while growing up. There was a LOT of snow, and only a few people had been sledding prior to our arrival. So slick paths they were not. Most trips ended up with sled and rider being separated by at least a few feet. These sleds, being plastic and small were enough to hold a single kid, and barely a single adult, however a kid and adult rider at the same time caused mass burial of the sled maybe halfway down the hill.
Buggy trudging up a hill. Independent as he is, he has decided that he needs his own hill to sled on, not the one his brother or any of the other kids are using. Eventually other kids followed to use his hill. If Buggy has my ego, he'll only see himself as a trendsetter, and his later years living at home will be a battle of egos between father and son. I only hope I can still win then.
It's hard to see it when its all white and snowy out, but behind us, there is a huge drop off from our hill....most of the ground you're seeing is actually on the other side of the valley.
I made it partway down a small hill before the sled finally bucked me off and tossed me into a drifted side of the hill. I am thoroughly buried, and was comfortable with just dying right there. It turns out trudging up snow covered hillsides in full outdoor gear is well beyond my cardio capacity currently. I believe 8 cardiac arrests were recorded on myself alone.
Here's Josh just prior to going down yet another hill. The boys were thoroughly enjoying themselves this day.
And here is Vic and I getting all bundled up for the sledding excursion. I hadn't been sledding since probably 1990 or 91. This was Vic's first time ever. We were a mix-n-match collection of outdoor gear, almost none of it our own. But we stayed warm the whole time, despite blazing trails through nearly waist deep snow at times. Buggy had to stay in our tracks lest he get lost underneath the white billowy blanket in certain spots.
And of course I'd be remiss, if I didn't post a picture of my dad's dedication to the art of grilling. It's either that or his disdain for making dirty dishes unnecessarily by using pots and pans on a stove. So, here he is (also known as the Evil Duane), grilling outside while the snow falls around him.

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.

Assigning Blame For My Son's Sayings

Saying #1: Junk
Culprit: Buggy
Blame: Me
Rate of Saying: Everytime he and his brother fight, or he comes in contact with anyone for contact play purposes.

Unfortunately, it happened once when he headbutted his brother below the belt. My initial reaction was simultaneously trying to hold the laughter back (lets face it, hits to the groin are always funny unless it happens to you) and feeling sympathy. but when I opened my mouth the only thing that emerged was the admonishing statement of telling Buggy "Don't hit your brother in the junk."
And ever since then, the concept of hitting one in the junk, replays in his head over and over again. If he crawls onto my leg to latch onto me, any movement and I hear him state so eloquently, "Oh, Dad, you just hit me in the junk!"
He's overly dramatic, and I believe is actually looking for excuses to just say the word "junk" in reference to his groin. This is of course the boy who would stand outside on the sidewalk, and in an awkward attempt to amuse his father, and punch himself down there and then laugh....repeated several times, because apparently his activity overrides my authority to tell him to stop doing that.

Saying #2: Nipples
Culprit: Buggy
Blame: I HAVE NO IDEA!!! (seriously)

The other evening, prior to supper, Buggy and Josh are wrestling. Josh was getting hot, so he goes to take off his sweatshirt. Buggy, in mirrored emulation starts to take off his single t-shirt, and loudly and boldly proclaims, "OHHHH, So you want to show off our little nipples, huh?!"
He has mentioned his nipples in the past, and continues to occasionally mention them still- again, despite efforts of both myself and his mother to tell him to quit talking like that. And again, his "fun with vocabulary" is still overriding any parental authority.

Saying #3: Payback
Culprit: Buggy (yes again, its always him)
Blame: again, I have no idea where it came from, although this one saying I'm okay with him using.

Everytime Josh gets the better of Buggy when wrestling, or takes the kind of random cheap shot out of nowhere, like siblings do from time to time, Bug is insistent on paying it back. I've heard the statements come forth in various forms:

1. "Oh that's IT, Josh. You're going to get the payback now!"
2. (When Josh is still in wrestling mode and Buggy can't get the upperhand) "You're
NOT playing fair Josh...you need to come here and turn around so you can get your payback!"
3. "Dad, Josh wont let me give him his payback!!!"
4. (as he and Josh are in the middle of grappling, and it looks more like a bear hugging anywhere on the body contest) "You're gonna get it, you're getting payback! I'm gonna give you the payback you deserve!"
5. "But Dad, after I was going to choke him out, he flipped me and stepped on my arm. He needs Payback!"

Saying: For no reason...
Culprit: Buggy
Blame: I think this preface for any excuse is biologically rooted into the DNA of every kid. Kind of like the answer of "I don't know" whenever asked why they did something.

This particular saying is usually accompanied with my cat, The Esteemed Colonel Beauregard Sterling Lovell, having peeled back ears, wild eyes, and a twitching tail. He gets a little worked up sometimes. And usually right about the time I here the words "for no reason" I also see the Colonel lunging at Buggy and try to dig claws into his torso and eat him.

The cat goes through severe mood swings....sleeping and full on Pscyho Killer Kitty. If Buggy is running through the house, and the cat is in one of his moods, he may well get chased by the cat as he streaks on by. Of course Buggy is encouraged by this, and baits the cat into doing this two or three more times. If the Colonel becomes bored, he does what cats do best: Make it quite clear they aren't going to even bother feigning interest. But then what does Buggy do in return for the snub? He goes up and starts patting the Colonel on the head, or back, or pet his belly. This is a very dangerous maneuver during the Colonel's wild moments of the day. But, since I do it, you know, to TRAIN the attack kitty, apparently buggy thinks he's as much or more of a man than me, so he can do it too. But then the Colonel leaps at Buggy and tries to eat him. Then those words, "Colonel is trying to attack me FOR NO REASON", and thats when it happens. Unfortunately, I never have a video camera ready to go, because it is quite the humorous sight to see.

A Birthday and A Beating

All started out well. My Pseudo-brother Jeremiah's son Jaden had his 1st birthday. His wife Holly had the party at her parents' house, as there was more room there than at their place. And good thing, as the turnout was the biggest I had ever seen for a 1 year old's birthday in my life. Good food, good cake and ice cream, good people. Not much more you could ask for in a birthday party.

The presents came, and Jaden was interested at first only in one of the cards, but eventually became enamored with one toy, while other children helped open his presents. Daddy Miah was videotaping the event, while Mommy Holly took care of overseeing the present opening. Holly did a good job, as most mothers do at these sorts of things. Miah on the other hand...very different story. On more than one occasion he almost slipped up and gave away the fact he was watching more of the Iowa-OSU game that started just as the present opening began. I also caught him videotaping me...and I'm pretty sure he was checking out my crotch. Thought I saw a little wink and a nod right after that. He is a weird one.

After the gift opening, the party divided into factions. Most people upstairs, a few of us downstairs watching the game. Then came Buggy downstairs, who decided to pick a fight with uncle Miah. It didn't work out so well for Buggy, but eventually Miah was relieved by my other son Josh. They went back and forth for quite awhile, providing some entertainment in addition to the game on TV. Holly's son, Gary and another girl got in on the action. Aunt Janine's son Austin, a 15 year old boy got in on it. Buggy tagged him in to help out against Josh. Austin proved too much for Josh, but this didn't stop Buggy from splashing in on his brother a few times for god measure. It ended up a bit of a free-for-all for a short period of time. And then before I knew it, I was pulled into the match.

Now, if all information was filtered through the actual truth and common sense channels, this would be the story:

Austin is a kid I haven't seen in quite a long time. In fact during the first say 3 years of his life, I had seen more of him than I had since he started school. The boy is 15, and today was maybe the second time of his school life I had met up with the young lad. Well, we tangled, after he decided to jump up on my back. I found it rather amusing at first. He sort of rested his hands on my shoulders, checked me with a little pressure as if to see if I would tell him no, before jumping up and wrapping me into a half-hearted headlock. Once I laughed him off and walked around with him hanging onto me, he tightened it up a bit. So, I obliged him with some effort of my own. It went back and forth for a while, eventually resulting in me tapping out. Right near the end, we went into a roll, I involuntarily tried to simultaneously eat and nasally inhale some portion of his body, heard some kind of popping noise from my face, and ended up in a well executed supine side headlock. That's when I tapped out.

I could make some excuses that my wife was ready to leave, and would leave me there if I didn't come upstairs to leave very soon. I could say that I wasn't going to actually choke Austin into unconsciousness. Both are very true statements, but in the effort to not make excuses, I was plain out-stubborned. Neither of us, given an indefinite time limit, may have gone until one of passed out, and /or broke a bone. Well, passed out. I have a feeling that even with broken arms, legs and ribs, we still would've attempted to wait the other one out. But, I have to give it to the kid. He was tough, flexible, and as stubborn as anyone I know. So, I tapped out. I now sport some good bruising action. The top front of my nose is one big bruise, I have a bruising striped along the front of my right nostril, and another one on the left side of the bridge of my nose. It doesn't hurt so much, but it looks pretty bad, and is somewhat annoying. The upside is, I think him smashing my nose worked the nostrils into a wider position allowing me to actually breathe easier.

HOWEVER, we all know all information is filtered and geared toward an agenda. Going through the Mook News Network is no different. Here is that version of the truth:

OLD MAN MUGGED BY YOUNG STREET HOODLUM!!!
Dateline Altoona Iowa 14November2009

What started off as a calm birthday celebration and a football game for an old man took a turn for the worse. Minding his own business, The Mook suddenly was attacked from behind by some young punk. The old man never stood a chance. Pummelled and pounded repeatedly, The Mook fought the good fight. However, his attacker, being half his age and full of youthful energy that had long since been sapped from the old prize fighter.

The Mook was checked out by doctors at the James Medical Institute, and diagnosed with a deviated septum, severe rhino-contusions, a separated exterior nostril wall, and a broken ego. The Mook was quoted through an overheard conversation that he would've taken the young whippersnapper had it been face to face, instead of this surprise attack from behind loaded with cheap shots. Reportedly stolen was his blind-guy's walking stick thingy, his AARP and Medicare cards, and some random medications.

Current Rent-a-Cop investigations have come up with two possible theories for the attack. It has been narrowed down to a random act of gang violence, or a specific attack for the purpose of stealing identity and drugs. One certain Rent-a-Cop, who chose to remain anonymous had this to say about the day's vicious attack, "Darn kids these days...always out to strike fear into innocent citizens, and all to satisfy their drug habits, make money that other people work hard for. And they're all just crazy, although this one, it seems the insanity runs in the family.

The Mook has decided to put it out there publicly that he wants his rematch at a future time, after his face heals. Despite better judgement, he feels he can hang with this kid. And any other kid half his age for that matter!