A Warped Sense of Reality

Sometimes I see things posted to social media and all I can do is shake my head. Sometimes I see an entire string of posts by one person and see that they share all these platitudes that seem to shed light on their personality and how they think. And then, I realize I know this person or people and see that every time they post these things they are the EXACT opposite of how things are.

Today I saw this post shared by someone I know, and if that person really believes this as pertaining to their situation they really have a warped sense of reality.

This year I've opened my home up to others, usually to keep the peace with others in the family, with the idea of helping these people regain a foothold in their lives and get back to taking care of themselves and their immediate family. 3 times I have done this, and 3 times I have failed to accomplish this mission. Maybe it was my fault?

Maybe I failed to realize that an expectation of standards and behavior should not be asked of people who come to live with you. And if they are family then this should definitely be overlooked and all actions by the other party, no matter how detrimental to themselves or their hosts, should be void of consequences. After all, they paid a paltry sum for rent/food, and being adults, or at least nearly of such an age, they should be allowed to act how they want, say what they want, and it should not be considered any of my business. After all I am merely the homeowner who is paying out far more for their needs than they contribute for. I keep the considerations low so that people might be able to have a shot at saving up their money towards embarking on a life of their own.

With one couple, they ran roughshod over us, and pretty much every family member to whom they appealed for help. They burned bridges as they moved from one to the next. Even so, they wanted to go back to where they called home....and yet despite better uses for a few hundred dollars, we bought them the bus tickets to go live their lives elsewhere.
In a matter of weeks they showed back up, with no money and no real plans. I let them live their gypsy lifestyle for a couple weeks, making sure the hardships and disappointments of homelessness sank in really deep. I made the mistake of assuming the lesson had been unforgettably learned. We took the time to get a financial plan and a plan for finishing at least their high school educations at the same time. They got to enjoy the comforts of a shower, a regular bed to sleep on....things we sometimes take for granted.
It worked for awhile....for what gigs a guy with no form of ID can get. Cash paying jobs, so at least he was trying. She stayed at home while we tried to get her mother to help get her forms of ID so she can get a job and register in school.

Everyday, and I mean literally EVERY. DAMN. DAY. They could be heard arguing and fighting like people half their young age. As is my style, I listened, but did not interfere, to let them figure out their differences. After all they are so much 'in love'. Much in the way I see how being 'in love' was taught them by one of their sets of parents.

Eventually, while away for my son's graduation from Basic Training, I learned of my car being stolen right out of my driveway. This is a bit new to me. I'm a very blessed individual in that i can leave my car running in the ghetto and disappear without it getting touched before I come back. Apparently some family who you sacrifice for, aren't quite as smart as those complete strangers who know not to take my ride. When confronted about taking the car by my wife and the implications of joyriding without a license, attitude was given. When the idea of being grounded came about, this 17 year old teenager threatened to move out.  Wrong answer to be giving my wife. Leaving our house because you don't want to follow the rules and believe you shouldn't suffer consequences of illegal acts of wrong doing is no skin off our back. In fact it only serves to make life easier for us.

Fast forward 2 days....I come home from work and am trying to relax for a bit and I hear them fighting. AGAIN. Then I hear the boy state his intentions to leave all the bullshit because it isn't healthy, so he will leave her and move out. At this point i feel the need to intercede. I make sure he understands that given their first foray here being disastrous, that if he decides he is packing up and moving on, there is no coming back. I give him 30 minutes to ponder this and make sure he is very clear in his understanding of what's going to happen. He chooses to leave anyways. I'm left trying to console a crying girl, who hours later is begging me to let him come back, that he didn't mean any of it and was just angry. Naturally at this point I have to let her know that I'm a man of my word and if I just back off every decision I make then my word is essentially worthless and that I can be a simple pushover to the whims of children. So NO, he made his decision and had plenty of time to reason it through before he left. While wear e having this discussion the boy managed to come in through my back door into the house from which he has been told not to return.
At this point I have to question his mental capacity and make him aware that if I lived in some other neighborhood he might have found himself face to face with a double barrel shotgun. Luckily for him i already knew it was him who walked in the back door.

Apparently not kowtowing to the demands of the girl and sending him back out of my house was just completely unreasonable on my part. So much so that if he wasn't allowed back then she was going to leave with him. Again I made sure she understood the ramifications of her actions. I was met with statements about how "he has been there for me when others weren't". Apparently she forgot all the time, money and stress spent by multiple members of the family over the last 6 months or so. I guess since we are family, our loyalty, forgiveness and compassion come at a much cheaper rate that that of someone she hasn't known for very many years and shows no signs of progressing into a responsible adult anytime soon. I do hope, for both their sakes, that this changes very very very soon.

For now they are apparently back to living in a tent on the other side of town. Its sad, but when I was young I was taught that for every choice you make there are rewards or consequences. And one day when you become an adult and move out you can do whatever you want, but you will be responsible for and held accountable to those decisions. I hope they realize in their late teens that they are no different from the rest of us in that their decisions can affect them. I really do hope they figure out how to become productive people. Doing so would put them light years ahead of their parental units, in my opinion. They just wont be figuring out that lesson within my home.

Back to the quote above, I'm sure stories will be told about how oppressive we were and how we kicked them out. Already heard about that last one being told by one of the girls parents after she chose to move out to chase her true love, also an unproductive member of society, ignoring the needs of their kids and failing to take any responsibility for themselves. But if they want to look at the reality of the situation:

Your family didn't turn their backs on you, you pushed away their love, help and guidance and turned your back on family as you walked out the door on your own volition.

A Tale of Two Friendships

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Extending My Reach, Expanding My Realm

So recently I have posted a bit on my journey into and through manhood. I have spent a lot of time reading on the subject, and reflecting on my own life, seeing what matches up between the two; what matches up with my ideas or not.

When I was growing up, I was often out away from the house, away from my parents. Most of the time by my own volition, other times at their behest. Turns out that I could be a bit of an annoying pest from time to time- go figure. I longed for adventure as a kid, but was always told to play it safe. Do this, don't do that, blah blah blah. Most often I would do the do list in public. Conforming to those around me. Rather than be me, I tried to please people. Out of sight, I often participated in the don't list, occasionally with my best friend, but many times on my own. I was told be a boy, but be a good boy. The times I was told to be a man, was when I complained of a perceived injustice or at a moment of injury. Beyond that, I never really knew what a man actually is. I saw the loner in John Wayne, Mr all-American heroic cowboy who could do anything. I liked that idea and set it into my brain. Well, I achieved the loner part pretty easily. For when I was alone, I could do things, and if I failed, it was only me who knew. When I tried and failed at something in front of others, the message was quite clear that I was not good enough. When I would express my dreams to do something, like be a pro ballplayer, I was often confronted with the stats on how little chance there is, and how I should think more realistically, more practically. I liked my dreams, but they were just illusions in my head. The real world just didn't have a part for me in that dreamworld. Rather than push myself, I bought into all the hype entering my ears and eyes, and slowly resigned myself to a life of dull necessity.

I remember once, when I was older and I was making my car payments through my dad who had cosigned the loan for me. I had worked many hours day after day, and I walked into my dad's work while I was in town to give him the money to write a check to the bank. I gave him well over a thousand dollars in cash to cover my $100/month expense as well as a huge payment on my car loan. I didn't say anything, but I still had $600 in my pocket and another $900 in a bank account. I was quite pleased with myself. And my dad commented to his co-worker who was standing nearby about how responsible I was being, and that he was quite proud of me in my dealings. I'm sure he had mentioned being proud of me about other things at points along the way, but that was the first time I really truly realized he was saying this. So in my mind, the job of a man was to go to work, and pay his bills. In a nutshell, that's what it took; all it took. Dad and I never really talked about what it is to be a man, and I never bothered to ask. I just watched, and went with what my eyes saw and my ears heard in the public realm.

Then I got married, already with one child, and later we would have a 2nd son born to us. So, it was time to man up. I had a job, I worked hard to pay the bills, and make sure we had a roof over our head and food in our belly, along with a little extra money to help cover incurred debts along the way. I got up, kissed the wife goodbye, went to work, came home, ate food, watched TV, played with the boy for awhile, went to bed, and repeated it the next day. Here I was, Mr Provider, Man of the House, doing my duties of work and paying bills. We would do family oriented things from time to time, but mostly my life was centered around work and bills. My wife and I would get into arguments over little things. Me being me, would argue that this cant be done, or we cant go do that, because I need that money to pay this bill or that bill. My life had literally become centered not around my family and living life, but around what bill was due next, what problem came up that I was going to have to pay for now, how many hours could I be allowed to work to make up for this new discrepancy in my financial outlook.

In essence, I became what I thought I saw my dad to be. A man works and pays his bills. I never saw the other side of him, the side that drew my mother in and makes her love him to this day. (I can't see it; he's always got a bit of stubble going on, and in my estimation a bit ugly. Just kidding, Dad!) My wife struggled in her life as well, especially with the marriage. As a guy, I hunted her down, I pursued her, and eventually I was able to persuade her to be mine. And then, it just slowly died out. I made the compliments here and there, I tried to do things for her, get her gifts, take her places, whatever. But the hunt was over, and I was drunkenly complacent, not unlike a guy right after a healthy sized Thanksgiving meal. I just sat about wasting away, waiting for my belly to be unstuffed. I basically 'took a nap' in regards to her, focusing mostly on the man things of going to work and paying the bills.

While I did those things, I left her home to take care of the kids, clean the house, and just be the good domesticated wife. Of course my wife was never really built for that role alone. Don't get me wrong, when it comes to cooking, and mothering and just about any task, my wife is at the top of her game. Even in the work world, my wife sets the standards for herself well above that of her coworkers and even the expectations of her superiors. She learns, adapts and applies knowledge quickly, as though she has known it all along. In fact over the past couple years, instead of just bitching about her 'promotions' that came with pay cuts and increased responsibilities, she merely took ownership of her role, expanded her knowledge base, and was probably more adept at her job than anyone there, including her superiors, who were merely personnel managers as far as action goes.

With the absence of my emotions in the form of communication and support (I seemed more worried about how much her paycheck was and when it came in, and what bills needed paid), she turned to her work as a major focus. She turned more to the support of her friend instead of me, who could be counted on mostly to just do the same crap I was doing every other day. My complacency wasn't just a self-identity killer (as I hid myself behind my job), but it was killing my wife's femininity in regards to me. I had realized, only well after the fact, that I had slipped from actively loving my wife to merely taking her for granted. I have since learned that this is the quickest way to kill any sense of romance in a marriage. My wife just settled into her routine, patiently waiting for me to hear her, actually hear her, and to correct my mistakes in regards to how I live my life, as well as how I treat her, but one saying comes to mind: Abused patience turns to fury. - Thomas Fuller

She has felt that she was no longer the adventure, not inspiring enough, and not worth my efforts, but just too much trouble for my self-absorbed lifestyle and mindset to deal with. In other words, she didn't feel that she was the beauty to be loved wholly. In response to this, it is only natural that a woman puts up her self-defenses towards men in general, and especially the men in her life that can still hurt her, like her husband.

To a certain degree, I recognized this on an intellectual level, but I wasn't truly learning it. As I have done my reading, I have extended my reach of reading into the world of women. I'm new at it, and by no means an expert. In fact, I'm scared beyond my ability to fathom such fear. Men are simple and easy to figure out. Women are a bit more complex. Yet I press on, because if I am ever to be able to get it, I am going to have to expand myself into the realm of a woman, to understand her mind, her heart and her soul. This is the part of true manhood, which I never really knew about. I grew up knowing only a few things about girls: they have cooties (we all learned this early on), they are nothing but trouble (I learned this from DJ Jazzy Jeff and the Fresh Prince as well as shows like Jerry Springer), and as guys we just like them for some damn reason we can't figure out (and sex-ed class never answered that question)...which goes back to the trouble part. We know we want them, whether or not we know why, and once we have conquered them so to speak, we look around for the next one to conquer. Essentially most guys are bastards at some point in their life, with some of them eventually figuring out that isn't the way to go. Some guys remain just guys, and not men. Just because you turned 18, or moved out of your parents' house does not mean you're a man, in the true sense. Trust me, I've done both, and at the age of 31, I'm just beginning to fully realize that maybe I wasn't truly a man, but a still a lot more so a boy, or just a guy.

Most guys prefer to look at life as a series of puzzles and problems to be solved, and this applies to our attitude as women as well. Rather than looking at a woman as a problem to be solved, we forget that a woman is a vast wonder to be explored. An adventure to be had everyday of our lives, using our strength as men to tackle the adventure that is a woman. Not to conquer her and move on, but to get to really know her at the innermost intimate levels (not just sex). But to fully expose yourself to her, and allow her to feel safe in secure in making herself naked to you (again, in the proverbial sense). But to take a woman for granted, over a long period of time, can result in her building walls around her, that she feels she has to protect herself, control her world, to avoid the pain that a guy can bring her, to avoid the painful vulnerability and broken trusts that are the risk of any real relationship. In essence, by being just guys instead of men, we steal a woman's femininity, her very core, forcing her to replace it with something else a little less natural. Many of of guys act like we listen, but often we just hear the noises associated with Charlie Brown's teacher, and never get to understand the women in our life. And when they suddenly shoot lightning bolts out their eyes at you, or worse yet display apathy towards you, as guys we stand (or sit) there completely dumbfounded, as to why this might be. We run through our head what we have done. We went to work, we paid the bills, we took out the trash, we didn't cheat on her. What in God's name could be wrong?

Well, maybe that's the problem. We forgot about God. We forgot the true name that God gave us as men made in his image, instead bearing and living out the name the world gave us. We forgot that our wives or girlfriends are essentially the daughters of Eve, the mother of all mankind. That we are to continually seek and pursue her as much as we are expected to do with God. We are to seek true beauty, and true love with all our heart, in a never ending journey. For God really is both love and beauty, and a woman is the bearer of that image of God. Now, I see why we feel this natural inclination towards women. there is, no matter deeply buried, something in us that tells us to go after the woman. But as with most things, we always think we have the next day, or the next week, or year, or whatever to accomplish whatever project or mission in life we have slated for 'later'. But we really don't know, if you really think about it, if any of that will come to pass. We take today for granted, and thusly our women for granted. I know I have, and as I have been reading and seeing the truths for the first time in my adult life, I feel as though I'm being hit by a brick from Heaven. That brick is full of knowledge, but it hurts like hell when it smacks you. Like a spanking to a child, it sometimes requires a little bit of hurt, or a lot (my dad could really pack a wallop), to make the message clear. Taking a time-out doesn't always cut it, but rather the issue needs to be addressed swiftly and directly. Maybe then the lesson will take, and the mistake won't be repeated anymore.

Also as I read, and I have seen communications from friends or words spoken to me from a friend about situations they have had, and I hear, see, and feel the beauty they bespeak, and it pains me to hear it. It feels like hell, because what they write or say sounds wonderful, and romantic, and like the perfection of a dream world encapsulated in the small moments, and I realize that I didn't necessarily give enough of myself to provide my wife with more of a love story to such a high degree that she deserves. I realize life on earth and in relationships isn't going to be always perfect, but it could be more perfect than what it is now with even just the slightest efforts, of which I have withheld. I hold many good memories, many great thoughts and affections for my wife, but inside of me. I rarely let them out. I don't know if I'm just subconsciously trying to be the strong silent type, or if I'm scared of being told off or rebuffed in anyway to avoid my own pains.

I remember first seeing my wife in October of 1996 at our place of work. She was a vision of beauty to beheld. She had on jeans and this deep blue sweater. When I met her outside, she had on a heavy coat, and the hood was pulled tight around her face that only her eyes, her cute button of a nose, and her small mouth could be seen. I was very smitten with her. I didn't care who she was dating, married to, or whatever, I had to know this one girl; this beautiful woman who made my stomach churn, my legs weak, and not just my heart, but my mind skip a beat. I had to be careful and slow down my speech in order to sound like I had things 'together' and be impressive and all that manly macho bullshit I was convinced was the way to be.
And after 14 years since I first saw her, she still turns me on as much now as she did then. I just found a way, to my own detriment as well as demeaning to her, to hide it better.

I regret that beyond almost anything I have ever done in my life. And yet, I know that before I can repair us, I must first retool and build myself up to where I'm supposed to be, to be my true self, before she can accept my overtures in the same manner she did in our more innocent first days of teenage love. I think my lesson is one that many guys need to learn, and the quicker the better. For if one is truly honest, it's much easier to build up a happy woman than it is to heal her hurts that you inflicted.

And yes, even the thought of such a journey, to explore our own emotions, much less those of a woman, is one of the scarist ideas we can have. Acting on it as a mission is even scarier. Yet, regardless of the outcome in our personal life, we can draw upon the strength of God to enhance the warrior, the adventurer that lives within our soul, to make this journey into the unknown realms. We shall come out stronger in the end, should we see ourselves through it. And if we have a significant other in our lives, maybe that relationship, even if all seems to be lost and over, can become stronger and fuller than we could only imagine it to be in our dreams.

You just have to make yourself vulnerable, no matter how scary or hurtful the idea may be, and give everything an open-minded and honest chance. To go about it any other way is both unfair to yourself and those you love, but dead wrong in the approach.

Valentine's Day Terrorism

Being a married man, I like most have relatively few actual responsibilities left in life. We have to have a job and pay the bills. We have to take out the trash, or have someone delegated for the task (also read: the benefits of having children). WE have to remember birthdays, anniversaries (all of them: dating, marriage, first kiss, place you first had ice cream together and you almost swallowed your tongue when you saw the melting ice cream drip onto her chest, etc), Christmas, and Valentine's Day. If you can manage these relatively few tasks, life as a married man is pretty much golden.

That is until women start talking. They want you to listen to them. Sounds easy enough at first, until they catch on to your tricks of faking the funk while watching a game as they talked about whatever it is they were droning on for the last half hour:

If these guys don't get their act together, we're gonna be punting again. Oh crap she's staring at me..nod your head and say something vague.... okay she's talking again, good job. Oh great, I missed the play, and we are at commercial. Did we make it or are we punti-HELLO PUSSYCAT...I love the Hooters commercials. I wonder if she'd dress up in some tight clothes like that..uh huh!!! Oh crap, she's waving her arms and doing that head tilt thing she does...this probably calls for an "I understand". That reminds me, I gotta stop by the store and grab a six pack to take over to Bill's while we work on his deck...

Turns out you agreed that so-and-so's boyfriend is a total jerk and she will be going over there for a few hours and please watch the kids; you will clean out the garage next weekend at the latest, and that not to forget you promised to stay home and have a family night this evening....which you won't figure out until the argument happens when you start to leave to go to Bill's house for some woodwork and brews. Oh, and your in-laws will be stopping over for the week, next Saturday, which is why you need to get that garage cleaned, so they have a place to put their car. Boy, you are in for it later, you moron. You should've paid more attention.

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In fact I think when listening, guys have a faulty message capture. We hear the words, "You don't need to get me anything for Christmas/birthday/anniversary/Valentine's day this year", and yet manage to miss the rest of the conversation consistently. I guess when its an economic decision that goes in our favor, our brain actually kicks in for a moment.

Yeah, because that sounds good to us. I can take that money and apply it to this bill, or maybe I can go buy that (insert new toy item here) I've been looking at for awhile. Well, after being married almost 10 years, I can tell you this is the same thing as committing suicide. and any act of violence by the woman on your body will be considered fully justifiable up to and including homocide. If you live through it, you better hope you get an all male jury and a male judge, otherwise not only will she get off scot-free, but they'll find a way to pin something on you in the process. It turns out that when say say they want us to listen, we have to listen for the message and meaning of it, not just hearing the actual words. Women love to complicate things....just say what you mean, if you are saying something slightly different than what you mean, use a sarcastic tone so we can be sure. None of this double speak crap that only women understand in the first place, but have full justification for being mad at a clueless guy for not getting it.

Well, this year I have found out that pressures on getting Valentine's day gifts do not come solely from your significant other, her close friends, or any family. No, the jewelry stores are in on this heist as well. Sure, we've all heard the commercials on the radio and TV, seen the ads in print. It was all free-market non-interventionist policies. My fellow domesticated males, if you have purchased from a jewelry store in the past year or so, and they have your contact information, be prepared to get a soft sell mugging directly by the jewelry suppliers.

Last year, I bought a ring for my wife from Jared's Galleria of Jewelry (Yeah, I went to Jared's, blah blah blah). We had to replace the original ring a long time ago because a bee sting on the finger caused swelling and they had to literally cut that ring off. Well, she got a bigger one this last year to put on her finger. And she has been in twice for routine cleaning, as well as other times to "look around." Sounds more like she's casing the joint before hijacking my wallet to do a job, if you ask me. She related to me that her last time in the store, the associate asked how much she was looking to spend. My wife told her that the price wasn't her problem, but mine. I wasn't even there to defend myself with a hearty laugh and a quip of "that'll be the day", as they conspired against me. Then yesterday, I get a phone call. Jared shows up on the caller ID. Jared has been stalking me hardcore lately.

I had a $1000 line of credit..they added $400 to that for me to go further in hock on demand. They keep sending out notices and special offers through the mail to get me to come in and over extend myself credit wise. Some female from the local Jared's calls acting all sweet. Now, they are sending me out all kinds of information, including some special deals, and a one weekend only gift card good towards any purchases made this pre-Valentine's Day weekend. You know...just so I can get some ideas for what to buy my wife for Valentine's Day, and save a little money with them in the process.

First it was the radio, then the TV, then print ads I was seeing. And now they are going straight to calling me at home, just to make sure I'm okay since they hadn't heard from me after playing one of 1000 ads, and sending out two mailers. Soft Terrorism at its finest.

I'm supposed to be the head of this rinky-dink operation, but I'm pretty sure that with the support of corporate jewelry retailers, my wife is planning a coup here. If I buy and I get overextended, then we have a credit crisis, the Mookified economy collapses, she makes a power grab. If I don't buy, I'm in for it real deep, and no football game or whatever else I can find on TV will get me out of that conversation alive. And then I'll be out buying something really nice to overcompensate and say something stupid about having had this planned for a while. You know, a big fat lie that she'll catch me in sooner or later. I think she has me locked up in the perfect storm situation here and there's no way to avoid it.

I spent time thinking I would be in charge of my life. And yet somehow I'm beginning to think that was all a master illusion. A woman, whether it was mom in the beginning or the wife now, has always been running the show and just telling us that we're handling ourselves just fine. Either way, we were set up by them and the jewelry stores have disguised themselves as our "helpers", when in reality they're all in cahoots against us men.

Random Observations of Localized Events

First off, Ninja Kitties. Might be an even bigger threat to us than headless chickens. Not sure, but President Obama has personally assured me that he will have a team of researchers look into this. Now I know what you're thinking. President Obama and I don't exactly mesh politically, so why would he have personal conversations with me? Well, there is one really good explanation for that. I am a really really important person. My self-importance was so overflowing that it seeped out into the real world. President Obama realizes this, and has determined, through the use of well placed mobile teleprompters that my input is actually valuable on a global level to the point of conducting useless threat assessments of unverifiable and illusory entities. Anyways, back to ninja kitties...

While on the job, I pulled around to the back of the parking lot at St Luke's, to scan my babysitter strip, which can verify that I actually went to this place instead of just saying I did. I pull up about 5 to 6 feet away from the light pole that the strip is on. As I open the door, a flat-faced, fat but mean looking kitty backs away from the pole itself by about 5 to 6 feet. It stares at me, just licking its chops repeatedly. I approach the pole to scan the strip and I look down and see a lifeless squirrel laying in a depression behind the pole. Neither the evil ninja kitty or the squirrel were there on my previous stop almost 2 hours prior. The ninja kitty gave me my room, but showed no signs of fear. He just stared me down, still licking away at his chops in some sort of OCD-like manner.

Now, being in full Rent-a-Cop battle rattle, I had no fear of this kitty, ninja or not. I turned away and walked the 5 or 6 feet back to my car. I closed the door, and I looked back towards the cat. But Ninja Kitty was GONE!! I walk back to the pole and the squirrel...ALSO GONE. This was by no means a small squirrel, He had been plenty healthy in the girth department, and quite long. I wouldn't call the squirrel fat, but he was definitely husky, maybe big boned. Removing him from sight with no sound or sign of removal is quite a task. Either Ninja Kitty is one helluva ninja, OR....there was an entire squad of ninja kitties waiting in the tree branches above and in the treeline at the edge of the lot. All I know, is I saw a squirrel, and then I didn't see a squirrel. Spooky stuff, those ninja kitties!

THE TALK READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED HERE for mature material and sexual undertones

So my wife has been busy all year bullying me. She wants me to give "the talk" to my 10 year old son. There are a few problems with this. A- My mom of all people attempted to give me the talk. I ignored it in favor of the current sitcom on TV at the moment. Gave her a few "yeah yeah"s and "I know"s. B- I don't have clue one how to give 'the talk', and C- its my son:

God love the boy, but he is definitely still in the "girls have cooties" stage, and he pretty much doesn't notice girls unless they are playing in the game of tag with him. And he definitely doesn't notice girls as anything other than "not boys". but either way, they are going to have the "health class" sometime this school year where they tell boys about the changes and stuff. The girls get their own. I personally back in my day, would have preferred to pay the admission to that show. It has to be clearly more interesting than speaking about my stuff in medical terms. Besides, I had already seen my own stuff. Not much interest in staring at it.

So, my wife takes the youngest to the grocery store and suggests that TODAY WILL BE THE DAY YOU TALK TO THE BOY!...I had very adeptly pushed this talk off since she learned the class was coming and didn't want the school to be the one to introduce him to the subject.

So the talk was pretty bland. "Look, you are gonna get hair in your armpits at some point," I tell him. I am informed he knows that already. Fantastic, one idea down. Tackle the easy stuff first, then move on to the more delicate stuff. "And your stuff," I continue, "You're gonna get hair down there too" His response is "EEEWWWWW". I comforted him in the knowledge that none of us are pleased with that development, but that in fairness, women get hair down there too. Again with the "EWWWW" followed by a bit of cackling. As with most things, it seems the idea of bad stuff happening to other people is funny. Even if it sucks when its you as the victim, you'll still laugh at other people's expenses. Just the way our hideous minds work. I informed him, that as a blond it may not be so bad for him as it is for say, me, a darker haired individual Then I informed him that his stuff would also get a bit bigger. Again with the cackling. Clearly this is still beyond his maturity in comprehension. Hell its well beyond MY maturity in delivering the information. we weren't going into the sex talk yet...thank god...I may have had a stroke and died if I had to go there with a 10 year old. But, I still had to go way further than I wanted to. I had to explain that he will be going through hormone changes...he will begin to get funny feelings about girls where he actually starts to like them. I was greeted with a confused look, another "EWW" and a bit of nervous cackling to boot. Well, I think to myself...at least he isn't asking technical in depth questions that will task my abilities here. I would honestly rather be caught in the middle of a gunfight than deal with this. Hell I'd rather explain the technical details of what's going on with a newly lobotomized-by-gunfire brain laying in the street next to us in the middle of said firefight. I proceeded to explain the developing nature that kids his age only know as "the pre-morning pee" phenomenon, and how it would happen randomly from time to time, and not just for peeing. I explained that this is normal, and not to worry about it. He laughs some more.

If I were being graded on my ability to give this lecture, I assure you, not only would I get an "F", but I would be permanently banned from applying for any instructional position again. WOOF! was I glad to get that over with. Anyone want to volunteer to take the BIG talk with the kid for me?

So, on a related note, Buggy, our youngest clearly gets crushes on the pretty women. I'm pretty sure his teacher falls in that category. So, somehow or another, the nature of the conversation gets focused onto the oldest one, you know, "giggle at hair on YOUR private parts, but disgusted by it on his own" boy. Somehow his mom asks him if he likes any girls in his class, or any other class or whatever. He continues to look down and deny things. Oh, we grilled him for the better part of 15minutes as he attempted to deflect the conversation away from him with the ever clever "What question?" when asked to answer a question. It has been determined as I mentioned above, that he barely recognizes a girl as anything other than "not a boy". It turns out, none of he and his other guy friends even talk about the local chicks in the school yard. these kids these days....they are either smarter than we were, or not as mature in the ways of adult life at that age as we were in my generation.

Hell, I had a girlfriend when I was in the 2nd grade. She didn't know it, but yeah, she was my girlfriend. I walked her home from school once in awhile since she was going my way. I of course had to deny liking her when the older boys come around. Don't want to let her think she's got me locked down. I was 8 and a happening dude, gotta keep my options open, ya know. When her family moved away, I was heartbroken. Probably the most devastated guy I knew. Even made me cry in front of my mom. That only made things worse. Heartbroken and humiliated. As a man, crying in front of women, mom or not, was just unacceptable. I'm sure I had to change into superhero underwear to console my manhood after that moment. Either way I survived. And of course, all us guys were talking smack about who we liked, and what we'd do with those girls. Yeah, we really were studs. Strip down to our unds, turn on the 70s porn music and watch a kid who had no idea what to even do if he got there, try to put the sexy moves on some chick.

When I was 6 I had the biggest crush on this lady named Marlee. She was a friend of my aunt and mom. Ran into her at some party or get together or something at my aunt's house while we were out in California. I found Marlee, and then I was just talking my head off, finding ways to impress this older woman. She didn't know it, but she was my girlfriend at that point. She had replaced the babysitter who lived at the end of the block, I had left back in Iowa for a couple weeks. Yeah, I was quite the little Casanova. So good at my game, that I could occupy her time all afternoon and keep her from the rest of the adults...she was enamored with me, I know it, but in the end, I had to tell her t let me go. I had to go back to Iowa and elementary school and stuff. It was definitely better for her that we end it there, and let her find a man 'more deserving' than me. Yeah, I know, who is more deserving than me, but I know how to let a chick down gently. You have to, their gentle hearted creatures, and you never know what kind of psychological things might go on in their head if you mess them up too bad!

Then there was Junior high. I was informing my son, who didn't like any girls in his grade, (after asking him if he liked the 6th graders instead) informing him that its okay to go after the older chicks. Mentioned how I had a junior high English teacher, Ms. Forbes. She was beautiful, and I almost mentioned a highly touted and admired portion of her female anatomy, before I cut myself off realizing I was still talking to my 10 yr old son. My wife was just about ready to cold cock me to keep me from continuing on down the path of THAT story. But yeah, ALL the guys thought she was the hottest teacher we'd ever met. And of course, more stories about how we'd do things to her, and she'd be all flattered by us. Yeah, we were clearly trying to bat way out of our league. Not that it mattered. She was an old fashioned teacher. You know, one that doesn't go around sleeping with her students, like all these young ones do today that keep showing up in the news and on courtroom dockets across the country. Damn shame too. I would've wooed her with perfect grammar, and then well...you know, be a stud and all that stuff....just as soon as I found my superhero underwear.

But yeah, back to the conversation at the table with the boy. I tried all kinds of ways to trip him up in his own words. Now I have broken this boy before, and made him admit to his lying ways. He hates being grilled. I even told him about how we 'tortured' Noriega in Panama before him surrendering to U.S. forces, and how I could adapt that here until he gave up the girl's name that he likes. But he held strong. One of two things is going on here. He is either learning how to use the force properly and withstand my interrogations (not likely) or he really has a bona fide non-interest in the women folk at this point. And as far as I'm concerned, as his dad, I'm okay with that. Let the boy wait longer than I did, and I'll be happy.

What Makes Me The Way I Am?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A Full Day

Yesterday (Wednesday) marked the beginning of my "weekend". I started it off with Laundry Duties, after getting home from work.

Note to readers of my previous blog- I did in fact do it right each and every time instead of wasting to money by running the washer and dryer without clothes in them like I did the other day.

After awhile, the nice albeit VERY humid day summoned me outside. After making it about 3 steps outside our apartment door, the gates of hell opened up, and I began sweating very profusely. So, the first stop was down to the local C-store to get some ice cream and gatorade. Having nearly succumbed to a heat stroke some years back, I wasn't about to push myself without some extra cooling and hydrating agents in my body.

Then it was off to the basketball court. I performed pretty well, but the heat caused us to take a break, and then we decided to play some football (YAY!).
Keep in mind, I am playing with kids half my age who are in really good shape and constantly active. On one of the first plays, a guy from the other team nearly runs a kickoff all the way for a touchdown. What he did not count on was a 30 year old experienced player of the old Neighborhood Football League to show the young kid what real footbal was all about. I did not tackle him, I did not trip him. I merely reached in over his shoulder and came down hard on the football and gently eased it right out behind him and into my other hand. Now the hard part came. I had the entire length of the field and 3 other guys to beat. Like the days of old, I ran with everything I had...1st man gone, 2nd man gone, but the third had the angle on me. Suddenly, as if I was 15 myself, I turned on the afterburners, and my short little legs propelled me as though I was the roadrunner leaving Wile E. Coyote. The tall, athletic boy with much longer legs, a size advantage and the angle to take me out, suddenly found himself staring into the trees looking for his jockstrap. That burst of speed, left him dumbfounded and totally surprised that an old man like me would blow past him like a hurricane. Only one problem....I had stepped out of bounds at one point, with the loosely defined sidelines I might add. But, not an issue.



After having used up enough energy for 2 days, I went into the quarterbacking mode, and made a quick strike to one of my teammates for a one play score. We battled back and forth for awhile, but eventually the heat and humidity got to us, and we decided it was time to hit the gatorade bottles, and the ice in the makeshift cooler (an empty Corona cardboard box), which I promptly dumped on my head. We hung out for awhile just chatting and enjoying the freedom of a summer afternoon.

Then, around 5:45pm it was time for me to go home. I figured I had better shower, or my wife wouldn't want to be too close to me at any point, and we had a date that night. The kids were away with family, so we wanted to take the rare opportunity to spend some time together that was just us. We went out to a nice little steak house, and then off to a park because she wanted to swing for a few minutes. After that, we went downtown for a bit, walking around enjoying our own time together. A little time overlooking the Des Moines River from a pedestrian bridge, followed by a stop at Nollen Plaza, to just sit under a tree on a bench and watch the water fountains that shot into an amphitheater-shaped shallow pool, with a divided waterfall as the backdrop.

Capital Square in Des Moines



Then we set out to get back to our car and back home, as the dark night approached. On the way I was stopped by some sort of vagrant man. He hit my wife and I up with a barrage of compliments...I have seen this routine before, and knew the money asking was coming. However this guy had a different approach than most.

"Hey man, I aint gonna lie to you," he said. " I'm not out of gas, I don't need anything to eat, I just wanna go over here to the Plaza Pantry for a beer."

Well, I am a sucker for honesty. So my good deed for the day ended up being me reaching into my pocket, grabbing a wad of cash and handing over. Then we were off to home.

OH. I almost forgot to tell you. My wife is a cheater. Not in the marital sense, mind you, but she's still a cheater. For years, she has kept Christmas presents for me, away from this house. I have an uncanny ability to guess what is inside any given wrapped present. In fact, to date, my sister is the only one with enough genius in her to fool me...and she did it twice. Well, my wife got tired of this, and no longer leaves any possibility of evidence for me to go to my super-awesome sleuthy (is this a word, or have I been overcome by the spirit of W?) ways. Well, last night, over dinner, Dani was mentioning how funny she thinks I am. She made the mention of the phrase "let me count the ways", so being a naturally sarcastic fool, I made her. She mentioned my ability to mirror speech patterns of whomever I am around and talking with. I already knew this one.

But then she mentioned how I talk in my sleep. I am convinced that I do not, but then again, being asleep, how would I know? So I asked her if she ever got any juicy information out of me. She replied yes. Anything that could get me in trouble? She said no. However, it was at that point that she made the mistake of letting me know that is the way she used to fnd out what I was planning for our anniversary 2 years ago.

We had come out of a particularly rough patch in our relationship prior to our 7th anniversary(we're staring down the barrel at #9 on July 1), so I wanted to do some special stuff. All planned out, spa day for her, followed by a very fancy restuarant that night, and then just some other random activities about town. And somehow, despite my secrecy from a LOT of people, and those who did know were sworn not only to the death, but to the very attachment to them of a certain set of body parts they held dear. (If you don't think I'm serious let me tell you a great plan of mine, and then betray me....you will live to regret it!)

So two years later, while she is able to withhold things against my abilities, I am stuck at her mercy with my great ideas. This irritates me. Not so much that she has been able to do this, but that there really isn't a defense against this. She caught me in a situation where her tool is using one of the natural tools of my survival against me, sleep. What else irritates me, is that her deceitful ways are truly awesome, and I can't help but be impressed. THAT is really irritating.

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!

A Change In Priority

So I have spent the last few years doing nothing more than chasing the dollar bill. Instead of spending time with my family and guiding them through life, I have left the family activities mostly to my wife.

This year, I have actively taken extra time off to do things with and for my family. My wife, Dani, and I spent time alone Saturday night, walking around downtown int he evening before attending an event at the Civic Center with Bill Cosby. It was a great time to get out, just the two of us and no kids! We NEVER get that!!

Then yesterday, I took the whole family out for ice cream, and then down to a park that sits alongside a local walk/bike trail. We spent a little time walking down the trail until we hit an offshoot that leads to a completely different neighborhood in town. It bridges out over Walnut Creek, which cuts right through the middle of our little suburb. On the opposite side of the bridge, which is directly over some artificially made rapids (concrete chunks spread across the creek), there is a sandy side of the creek's bank. You could sit here in relative peace, save the occasional biker/jogger/walker on the trail across the expansive creek. My wife had a little time to sit there and refresh her mind, while I took my two boys down to the sandbar on the bend to be near the water.

Flashback almost 20 years. (cue the Wayne's World freaky music) In Sac City, the Ahrens Street bridge crosses over the Raccoon River on the southside of town. Under this bridge is a shallow pass of water before reaching an island of good size to play on the river. My friend Jay, his younger brother, my sister and I, would toy around on the island for awhile before deciding we had to explore the river. Soon we would find ourselves a quarter to half-mile downriver, having waded every inch of it.

Back to the present, the boys and I decided to lose the shoes and socks, and step into the creek. Wide, but shallow, it was easy to manage for me as well as the two boys, Corwyn (age 4) and Josh (age 9). In fact the water was clear enough that you could see to the bottom. Well, until you disturbed the silt laying on top the sandy bottom anyways. There were some sections where the current moved much faster through channeled areas. Josh pretty much followed my words to the "T", while Corwyn, the ever adventurous one, was determined to get caught up in the current, and slip into the drop offs. Josh and I, both managed to keep our clothes relatively dry, with just the bottom of our rolled up pants getting splashed. Corwyn on the other hand, managed to completely soak his shorts and undies. Not that he cared, once he saw that I wasn't bothered by him getting his clothes wet. We spent about 15 or 20 minutes moving downstream, and we were rewarded with the sight of a Mallard Duck couple. The boys really thought that was great, and enjoyed their time wading through the creek with me, that they didn't even object when I told them it was time to turn around (something very rare to happen if they are at the park!).

I felt in my natural element while wading through the cold water of Walnut Creek, despite my loud opinion against submersing myself in cold water, or swimming. I think God opened up first my heart, to show me that I needed to spend more time with my family. Then yesterday, He opened up my eyes to show me how much the boys relish this rare time with Dad, just being boys, and exploring nature, just as I did as a young boy. I plan on, and look forward to spending more time with the boys doing the "manly" boy activities. Partly because it is just plain fun, and partly because I think I need the time with my boys just as much as they need the time with me, instead of seeing me on occasional outside the house. I am so very grateful that God moved me to go to the trail instead of home after our ice cream outing. He truly knows me and what's good for me much more so than I.