Just one of those days…

It is just one of those days where nothing goes right. Our house is completely trashed from Christmas. We had 3 Christmas’s in the last two days, so there is just a ton of toys and boxes of toy parts and cardboard strewn about the house. So the house being an absolute mess is driving me crazy, but every time I start to clean up A Bird comes behind me and opens a new toy or is asking me for help with this or that, or my personal favorite, I’ll start stacking toy boxes to put them away and just as I’m about to put the last box on so I can pick it up and put it away A Bird comes screaming in on her new tricycle and plows into the pile knocking toys everywhere, so what’s the point?

Then this morning L Bird comes in and tells me that the shower drain is plugged. Man, she wasn’t kidding it is about ankle deep in water from her shower. Great, so no shower for me, now I feel nasty. But hey I can still brush my teeth and shave, well at least I thought so. I start brushing my teeth at the sink and I notice that all of the water running down the sink is starting to make the tub fill up more. Awesome, so I guess shaving is out. So now I have to go to walmart dirty and unshaven, but what the hell I figure I’ll at least fit in with the other woodchucks now. So I get what we need and Draino Max for clogged drains, “cuts through standing water” it says on the box. Perfect I think and I rush home and pour the whole bottle into the tub, well it does cut through standing water to the bottom of the tub where it proceeded to spread out and go every where but the drain. So now I have to go back out to buy more draino, then bail out the tub so there is no standing water and try it again.

While I’m dealing with this debacle, Linus decides it would be a great idea to eat an entire container of A Bird’s new Moon Dough. So I frantically search the internet for an MSDS on Moon Dough or some sort of safety information and I get a whole lot of dimp. Well, it didn’t kill poor Linus but it did give him a fantastic case of multicolored shits, which he has left for me in just about every room of the house. It’s my own private demented game of find the smell. First, A Bird smells it and says “Dad I smell poop” then I go around sniffing the air like I have a coke habit until I happen to stumble across a brilliantly aquamarine colored piece of poop that has the same consistency of Moon Dough mixed with poop. Funny how that works.

So that has been my day so far, if I don’t freak out and have my head explode I may post more later…

The Future Must Be A Woman!!

Aaaaaaaaaah, the future. Man, the future can be so full of hope and completely terrifying at the same time, can’t it? I picture the future as a beautiful woman, she is amazingly beautiful and you can see all that you want in her eyes, but she has a side that is unknown and completely terrifying to a man. I have been sitting here thinking about my life and I am completely baffled. I am a bit of a control freak, I rarely lose control of anything in my life and I have come an infinite amount of miles from where my temper used to be, but the fact that I don’t know what’s going to happen drives me crazy. I don’t like not knowing what is coming, I like to see what’s up ahead so I can plan for it and be ready to defend against it if need be.


The not knowing often leads to me laying in bed at night worrying about countless things. I think up crazy situations based on my worries and try to form plans to prevent or reduce anything bad that can happen. I know it sounds crazy, but that is what helps me get through. My plans may be absurd to you, but just the simple fact that I have a plan, a starting point, to some made up situation helps to ease my mind and allows me to get some sleep. I lay there in the dark, listening to all of the little noises. Linus and Roxy snoring, L Bird’s deep breathing and A Bird turning over in her bed over the monitor and the whole time my mind is racing. I know everybody worries and its natural and I’m sure that a lot of people share the same worries.

 I worry about when A Bird goes to school, is she going to be scared on the bus? Will she fit in? Will she make friends? Will we find a good day care in our school district that is as good or better than the one she goes to now? Then day care tosses me into a tizzy. I make plans to talk to people I know and call this office or that office and start checking out daycares now, even though A Bird is two years away from school.

Then I worry about work, I think about all of the changes that have happened in the last 3 years of my career, I got a new winemaking position and was being groomed for a promotion within winemaking, then the company changed its plans and I wasn’t finished in my training so the position I was being groomed for needed to be filled immediately and it went to a co-worker which turned out to be its own debacle. Then they consolidate my winery and I moved back to my original facility but with no clear development path. Now I have been told off the record that there is room to climb in my department, but I’m not so sure because I learned a valuable lesson from the grooming/promotion thing, nothing is certain. So I worry about where am I going in the company? Am I doing enough to get where I want to go? Am I being recognized for my efforts or is it all politics? What happens if I get stepped over again or I lose my job? How am I going to take care of my family? What would I do? I’m pretty specialized in my career and training and I would be hard pressed to find something else that would be comparable in benefits and pay. My mind whirls and I think about how I present myself and what courses I can take to show my willingness to succeed and do a quality job. I make plans to talk to my boss, and I develop my own 3 and 5 year plans, and how I’m going to get there.

Those are just the two that jumped into my head, there are hundreds of others that I worry about. Little things like, how am I going to come up with money to do the necessary projects that need to be done around the house? If I put off fixing that small leak in the roof until spring, is the roof going to fall in? (I know that it won’t, but that’s where my mind goes), and big things like are we ever going to be able to have another child? We had a hard time with A Bird, is it all my fault? Is there something I’m not doing that I could be doing that I don’t know about? Am I being punished for my past sins? Why is that every scumbag out there that doesn’t deserve kids has a pack of them while willing and decent people can’t have one? Why is it so difficult and expensive to try? These are the things that I have no idea how to plan for and produce many restless nights of me tossing and turning.

But eventually I fall asleep and peace comes to me during the night. I wake up, go to the shower and my mind replays my “plans” as the hot water pours over my head. I lean forward and let my forehead rest against the cold wall, I close my eyes and I say the same prayer. I thank God for the gifts that I do have in my life, L Bird, A Bird, a job, and all of the little things, then I ask for strength to make my plans work if I need them and for patience and peace. I open my eyes, turn off the water and face the future.

I know things have a way of eventually working themselves out and I know I have a plan or starting place for just about anything this world throws at me. My future is bright, scary as shit, but bright and I’ll face it head on, leave my mark and be better for it.

The future is both a beautiful and a terrifying mistress, just great, isn’t it?

Courtesy of Uncle Chuck

Well, we had our first Christmas of the season and like any family gathering with extended family there are the normal conversations and family members who are a big hit. Normally it’s the Uncle who’s a little off or has different humor. Well for my Nephew Justin he has a whole family of these uncles, between my Brothers in-laws David, Chuck, myself and his own father. But today was Uncle Chuck’s time to shine, so please enjoy the following joke courtesy of Uncle Chuck.

****Note**** I am trying to tell this from memory and it will lose something in the translation, but what the hell here we go.

There is a class room full of kids and the teacher calls a little girl up to the black board to draw a picture and the little girl draws this:

She says it’s the ocean and goes and sits down. The teacher says what a good job it is and calls a little boy up to draw something. He goes up to the black board and draws:

It’s a mountain to climb up and see the ocean.  Very good the teacher says and she calls the next little girl up to draw something on the board.

The little girl saw that mountains have snow on the top. The teacher tells her what a good job she did and calls the next little boy up to the board to continue the picture.

The little boy said that above the mountains, there is the sun and the sun shines bright on everything below. The teacher says that’s true and it a very good sun. Now she is down to her last student, Dirty Little Johnny. The teacher calls Dirty Little Johnny to the board and he goes up and draws this:

The teacher stares at it for a minute and then asks Dirty Little Johnny what he drew and he replies, “That’s my Daddy looking for the soap he dropped in the bathtub”

I know, that’s a classic. Thank you Uncle Chuck!!!

The Simple Pleasures of Being Young

I have never been asked the question “Dad, do you need a little light?” more times than I have today. It all starts with a lousy $5 dollar flashlight. I was doing an insane amount of last minute Christmas shopping, you know because I’m a man I tend to wait until the last minute, but anyway I was in Lowe’s and I see this old guy fiddling with a flashlight in the checkout. Apparently it was a 3-in-1 flashlight, it was a regular flashlight, then it has a plastic tube that lights up blue like some sort of awesome mini Star Wars light saber, then finally the light saber flashes. As this old guy was going through all of the motions I was laughing to myself because I knew I was going to buy A Bird one.

**Ever since she was old enough to crawl she has been finding flashlights and carrying them every where. She has this weird attraction to flashlights, she carries them every where, there are two under her pillow so she “can read her stories in the dark”, and if my big flash light is out she is grabbing that and chasing the dogs and cats with it. I personally think it all comes from Grandpa Da, he has the same affinity for flash lights, I seriously think he owns like 5,000 flash lights. It is such a thing that one year for his birthday as a joke, we all got him flash lights, and I honestly think that is the happiest birthday I’ve seen him have.

So anyway I bought it and gave it to her on the way home from daycare, then it was “Hey Dad do you need a little light to shift?” and she would flash it blue, then I was changing CD’s and I opened to the glove box and it was “Hey Dad do you need a little light to find my CD?”. Then we got home and it just kept going,  “Hey Dad do you need a little light to hang up your coat? Do you need a little light to let Linus out of the kennel? Do you need a little light to see the dog food?” and my all time personal favorite, “Hey Dad, I pooped do you need a little light to come and wipe me?”

She is still carrying it as we speak, she is not even putting it down to eat. I miss being young and being able to take the smallest thing and have the best time with it. Now it seems like everyone is so caught up with keepin’ up with the Jones’ that everything has to have a huge price attached to it and when you do get you not happy with it or able to enjoy it because its either not better than the neighbors or you spent too much on it and your broke and feeling guilty.

Oh well, but what I failed to mention in this post is that I bought myself a matching Green flashlight, so whatever suckas I’m off to sword fight with flashlights and forget about the world for awhile.

The Long Line To Linus

So it’s been almost two months since we lost Opie. It has definitely been a rough stretch for all of us, especially for L Bird. I think it hurt so much more because Opie was so young, he was only a year old. It wasn’t like it was with Frisco. We had Frisco for 11 years and he had lived a long good life and it was a  bit of mercy to have him put down because he was really starting to suffer from cancer and his quality of life was definitely impacted. So we knew we made the right decision, we were very upset and sad but it was different than Opie who had a long life in front of him and had it cut short in such a devastating way.

I have always been a two dog type of guy which means we are a two dog family. It really is all my Mom’s fault in a way, she said “When you have your own house you can have as many animals as you want!” Well, I definitely listened. As soon as I moved out I got a black lab mix, TJ. Then about a year later I got Roxy, my pitbull/american bulldog mix and I was happy, it was just me and my two dogs, then through a twist of fate I lost TJ to a girl I was dating.

***I originally got TJ for this girl I was dating, he turned out to be closer to me than her and in essence was really my dog. Long story short we broke up, she moved out and I got TJ because she couldn’t take him. I had him for about 6 months on my own when she called me out of the blue and asked if she could take TJ, she had a place that she could have him. After a long talk I agreed with the exception that if she couldn’t keep him for any reason I wanted him back. Well, it lasted about two weeks before I found out that she had given him away to a farmer. I personally think that the miserable bitch just took TJ out of spite and to cut the final tie to me she had. I actually tracked TJ down and went out to the farm to get him back, but as I was talking to the farmer his two boys were in the pasture playing and running with TJ. I didn’t have the heart to do to them what she had done to me, so I lost TJ.

So now without TJ, it was me and Roxy and we were fine but I knew that I would find another dog. That’s when Frisco came into our lives. Frisco was some sort of terrier mix, and he took a lot of grief from my friends. He had a little bitty head but a big body, my friends called him all sorts of names but the one that stuck was “Shrimpboat.” So the last 11 years it has been Roxy and Frisco and they were and are great dogs. Roxy is still extremely tolerant and patient with everyone and especially close to A Bird and Frisco was the same when he was with us. Then 2  years ago Frisco was put down and we were lost with just one dog, so A Bird and I went and she picked out Opie, the beagle.

Opie was one of the most animated dogs I have ever owned, he had so much personality packed into that little body. He was glued to A Bird’s hip, when he got up in the morning or before he went to bed, he would run to A Bird’s room and check to see if she was in there. If he saw her leave with the grandparents he went nuts whining and running from the window to the door. He just was a perfect little fireball of joy, minus how long it took to housebreak him lol. Then we lost him to the road.

We waited a few weeks and L Bird saw an ad in the paper for boxer puppies. She knew that I had always wanted a boxer, and I always wanted a white boxer and the ad said they had two. So after a lot of talking and guilt that it was only a couple of weeks since Opie we decided to drive out and take a look at them. We drove out into the middle of nowhere to a Mennonite farm and there they were 8 little puppies playing with 3 little Mennonite girls. The three of us  got out and sat down in the grass and played with the pups. I talked to the Husband and Wife and they were very friendly and really nice people, I fell in love with the two pure white boxers but they were both girls and we were looking for a boy. So A Bird really took to this brindle pup and she declared that he was the one she wanted. We paid the woman, got his paperwork and started for home.

In the car, we asked A Bird what we should name her new puppy and her first choice was Sal. I know, weird right? Well, Sal was out because that’s L Bird’s father’s name so we asked to try again and she picked Linus. So now we have Linus.

 

That’s the long line to Linus!

Man, sometimes I hate being right…

Well, all I can say is man, I hate being right sometimes. I am just defensive and suspicious by nature, I have seen enough in my short time on this earth to know that there is always a reason behind everything someone does. One of my favorite quotes is from Kevin Costner in “Open Range”, when he says “Most men will tell you their bad intentions, if you let yourself listen.” Truer words have never been spoken, but its just a real big comedy to watch how things play out when you know what’s going to happen.

I am now officially at my new winery, and things are just funny. I have a leg up on most people because I worked there for 4 1/2 years before I moved into a my current position at the sister winery. So I know everyone’s quirks and personalities and who’s allied with who, but its still interesting to see who sidles up to who. Now I had a suspicion that someone I work with has been eavesdropping on my conversations and feeding that information to other people. Now me being the suspicious prick that I am, I laid a little trap. I specifically waited for the spy to be in his office, then I struck up a conversation with another guy around the corner from his office. Now I knew that the minute I mentioned this woman’s name, his ears would perk up because he definitely trying to form an alliance with her. Sure enough, the minute I said her name, I heard his chair creak as he got up and moved to his office door. I said things that I have said to the woman in person to make sure that I wasn’t talking behind her back. I just said how I didn’t like her management style and she had some bad habits, then I left it at that and I walked towards the printer which is on the other side of the spy’s office and sure enough there he was standing in the doorway. I pretended not to notice and he was off like a bullet to this woman’s office. So I quietly followed him and sure enough there he was spilling all of his “secrets” to her, then to my surprise he embellished just enough to make her mad. Now that was a surprise, but now I see the playing field a little clearer.

Now this all played out at the end of the day, so as I was wrapping up and getting ready to the leave the woman goes into the boss’s office and closes the door. She was in there for a good fifteen minutes and when she came out her eyes looked misty. (This is no surprise, she gets weepy at the drop of a hat. I think its her way of getting sympathy and getting what she wants.) Now they could have been talking about a million other things than me and I was happy to believe that. However, I knew that was not the case, and sure enough I was right, as she walked past me she told me that I should plan on working late Monday and “wear my cleaning clothes”. (***side note*** I am going down to the sister winery Monday afternoon to finish packing up the lab and a quick clean of a few areas, and she happens to be in charge of the clean up) So just by the way she looked at me and her tone as she spoke, I knew she was pissed and had gone into the boss’s office to cry and get his approval of my “punishment”.

Now all of this is just water off a duck’s back to me, I know what I actually said and if I have to I have a credible witness to what was said. So I really don’t even care, but just as a double check, I walked into the boss’s office and dropped off a ticket that he needed, and I said is everything good and he just rolled his eyes. So as far as I am concerned I am in the clear and a whole lot wiser for my little plan. There are politics at every work place but its nice to be able to see who’s on what side.

As soon as I can find a politically correct way to say mind your business and keep my name out of your mouth, they’ll all know how I feel and how I see them. But until then, I am fine keeping my silence and watching the rats and snakes plot and scheme.

Ahhhhhhh, ain’t work grand.

Pure randomness…

It has been an interesting week, my move to the “consolidated” winery is getting closer and closer by the minute. The woman who is retiring has been training me in Champagne production and other tasks, but her last day was yesterday and I am going to a departmental retirement party for her tonight. So the past couple of days, she has been cleaning out her office and I have been packing up my old office to get ready for the move. My first was office was a nice big, open office with nice furniture, but it had now windows as it was an inside office. Then I got as promotion and that moved me to the sister winery which was an older facility and I moved into this:

Yep, those were my glorious digs. It was the size of a broom closet, the walls were paper thin so you could hear everyone’s conversations and everyone could hear yours, but hey it had a window with a nice view. Now I get to move back into a larger office but, again this new office as no windows.  It would be nice to have a big office with windows, but I’m just a small fish in a big pond so that dream will have to have wait and in the meantime I’ll sacrifice the window for space. But anyway I packed up all of my files, books, office supplies, and various other things and it amounted to this:

2 large boxes, and a 1 small box. It was kind of depressing. I took one more look around my office to make sure I didn’t miss anything. Then I spotted a scrap piece of paper with some writing on it in at the back of my file cabinet. **Get ready, because here comes a big right turn into randomness.**

Written on that piece of paper was the name of my paternal Grandfather, his birthdate, birthplace and possibly the name of his mother.I had apparently met him once or twice when I was a toddler, but I have no recollection of any of it. A couple of years ago I got swept up into the “family tree” craze and did a lot of searching on the internet for who my people were.  I mean have you ever wondered how you got here? I would love to actually see the line of my people back to the beginning. Were they royalty or were they thieves? Were they working class people who worked a trade, and if so what did they do? Or were they a traveling band of gypsies that turned to the darker side of life to make it through? I just found it very interesting, but what really sparked my whole interest was that about that time my paternal Grandfather Duane died. I remember my father calling me to tell me and I really wasn’t affected I never knew him other than the two times I saw him as a baby. All growing up whenever anyone brought him up it was always to say what a prick he was. I heard he was mean, he was a con artist swindler who used whatever means necessary to get what he wanted out of you. I heard he beat up my Grandmother once and walked out on my both my Grandmother and my Father when he was very young. Hearing all of this I had never wanted to meet him, as far I knew he had forgotten I even existed because my father didn’t have any contact with him either. Then apparently my father’s half sister called him to tell him that Duane had died and as they were going through his things, in his wallet he had a folded newspaper clipping of L Bird’s and my engagement announcement. So that kind of struck me really deep, I hadn’t seen this man in 28 years and for the greater part of my life I forgot he was out there, but apparently he was silently observing my life. Hearing all of the things about him I like to think that as he got older he had a change of heart and was honest and actually cared that I was who I was and that he was proud that some small part of him had actually made something of themselves. (Almost all of his other children & grandchildren ended up in jail for one reason or another because they are a bunch of nitwits.) So I still want to know where I come from, but I’m willing to put that search on hold for awhile.

But anyway, that’s the kind of week I have been having. Its funny how you find things when you aren’t really looking for them, huh?

Black Friday?? Whatever suckas!

So it’s Black Friday today and while millions of people are out there pushing, shoving, and trying to find the best deals, I’m at home in a warm, cozy house with the best deal of all, A Bird. Its been almost an entire month since I went back to working five eight hour days, so this is the first Friday that I have been home with A Bird since the end of October.

A Bird has been pretty excited about Christmas this year and now that Thanksgiving is out of the way, she is all about the Christmas season and that means decorating. L bird told A Bird that today when she gets home from work that she could help her put up the Christmas tree. A Bird is super stoked, so to help take her mind off the tree and get her to quit asking me “When’s Mom coming home? Is Mom here yet?” every five minutes I decided to dig deep back into my childhood and pull out some ideas for Christmas crafts. We have a pretty big craft bin full of odds and ends, so I figured I had everything, and I wouldn’t have to leave the house. Awesome! Let the fun begin….

Oh, but first a few pictures of the A Bird Rocket Ship I had to build this morning:

 

After she decorated her space ship, we moved on to crafts:

Then we moved from the snowman to Santa and Mrs. Claus’ hats:

Then we moved to a Christmas Tree:

We are also working on a star ornament made from popsicle sticks, but I didn’t want to choke down 10 popsicles at once. Lucky for me I have a supply of tongue depressors (insert dirty joke here as to why I have tongue depressors). Now get your minds out of the gutter, I only play a doctor on TV, I had bought them for other crafts, you bunch of sickos. We’ll see how that one turns out, but I figured I didn’t do half bad with her seeing as I have no artistic talent.

So enjoy the rest of your crazed shopper filled mayhem, suckers! I’ll be relaxing and peeling glue and cotton balls from my fingers in the comfort of my home.

Introspection, part 2

My second defining moment came that following fall in my seventh grade year at school. I had gym class with a real douche bag, I still dislike him to this day, but I’ll leave him nameless for his sake. It was after gym and I was one of the last ones in the locker room, as I came around the corner all I heard was “Nice playing out there, retard!” and then I got punched in the chest. Well, what he didn’t know is that I had already been fighting with kids better than him all summer, so I just quickly reacted and threw a punch. I hit him square in the mouth and he landed on his ass with a split lip. The gym teacher heard the commotion and came in and broke it up before it went further. The teacher grabbed both of us by the collars and practically dragged us both to the Principle’s office. We both got yelled at and threatened with suspension, the kid I punched started crying, the big tough guy he was, and I just sat there stunned. After a little more yelling, the principle dismissed us, but as he did he gave me a wink.


He knew what I went through and it was his way of saying “Good job!” but also let me know I had taken my one shot and anything more wouldn’t be tolerated. So that was all it took for school, was that one tiny fight, people still talked junk but none of them had the balls to say it to my face and that was something I could live with.

I think it was those two things that led me to have such a “Tough Guy Complex”. I learned that, anyone who teased me or threatened me or made me feel bad about myself could be silenced pretty easily with a fist in the mouth. After that year, not many people hassled me and I started to get a reputation, even if it was a bad one.

I used that reputation as a coping mechanism, I acted like a prick and tried to show how tough I was so I could silence anyone before they could think about teasing me and making me feel worthless. I hate to say it but I kept using it right through my 20’s and because of it I don’t have many friends. I either scared most people away or they thought I was a meat head douche bag who they just didn’t want to take the time to get to know. I still catch myself falling into that behavior now, I’ll go out in public and I’ll catch people staring at me and I am instantly on the defensive, my chest puffs all up, my face turns into a sneer, my hands ball up and I’m ready to go. Then nothing happens of course and I feel like a jackass for the rest of the night because I feel like people are laughing at me and how I act. The whole thing just sucks.

But anyway before this turns into a bigger pity party than it already has, this is just one of the things that run through my head when I’m left to my own thoughts. Maybe I’ll bore you with some of the other randomness at some other point, but right now I’m spent and I feel a little foolish for putting this out there.

Introspection

I think I have mentioned before that the winery I work for is being consolidated into another winery, so we are closing down operations and have to be out of the facility by the end of year. Well, we are getting very close to the end of the year, so the work is slowing down and there aren’t many people left at the winery. The building I work in had a total of two people all day, myself in the wine lab and the receptionist in the opposite end of the building. So other than an occasional cellar worker bringing up a sample, I was alone with my thoughts for almost the whole day. During that time I had a number of rambling thoughts and I looked at myself in a number of ways, so I figured I would let some of them spill out here and give you a little peek into my crazy. I’m a little conflicted about this post, as it is pretty personal, aw but what the hell, you all think I’m crazy already so here goes.

But before I start I first want to say something to my Mother and my Father, who occasionally read this blog, don’t feel guilty about any of this, every kid gets picked on for something at some point. None of this is your fault, I had a very good childhood and I love you both. (My parents divorced when I was young, and they both have guilt issues.)

As I was working away at different analyses, my mind drifted to my “tough guy complex”. I know I have one, and it makes me feel really stupid. It seems like I always have to prove myself, I always feel like I have to prove myself and show how tough and what a bad ass I am. Then I have days like today where I sit back and think about all of this and realize what a jackass I really am. I really don’t like being like this, but I don’t know how to be any other way. Now, let me get out my couch to lay down on and you get your pad and paper to take notes and tell me how crazy I am. I honestly think it really all stems from being picked on as a kid. I was born with mild cerebral palsy, I had a pretty substantial tremor and my hands have always been so tight and hard to use. On a side note before I go any further, I really don’t have it that bad in comparison to many people with CP, I actually got off very very easy and I am extremely thankful for that. People with CP that have overcome their obstacles are true heroes. But anyway to make matters worse growing up I was very skinny, had coke bottle glasses and a bowl haircut. I was always perceived as weak, “special”, or “different” and those were just the words that adults used.

***Another rambling side note as I was thinking about all of this I also started thinking about how mean adults can be and wondered about my step-mother’s family. When I was ten my step-mother’s brother and his family took a vacation to Colorado and they brought back gifts for my sister, brother and I, and mine was a t shirt that said “Cripple Creek”. Knowing them like I know them now, I wouldn’t put it past them to have thought this a clever little thing to give to me and they laughed to themselves about it. I wore this shirt once to school and was subsequently called cripple the whole day, I brought it home and cut it pieces and threw it in the trash.

Children are very observant and just as mean. I was called everything from retard to cripple, and it always stung. I can’t count the times I went to the park near my Grandma’s house to play football and some new kid would whisper questions to my cousins, “You sure he can play? Isn’t he retarded? He’s not going to spaz out and need his helmet, is he?” I remember all of the questions they are seared into my brain. Now those things are just the beginning, then it led to physical teasing because kids thought I was an easy target and retarded to boot, so I wouldn’t be able to defend myself or speak up. My personality let this happen over and over and I didn’t know how to deal with all of the emotions that came with this, so most of the time I came home and cried. Then I had two defining moments in my life, the first outside of school. My Grandmother had moved back into a trailer park.

***Another side note, trailer parks are a breeding ground for aggression. You have a “traditional melting pot”, white, black, puerto rican and they are all poor and pissed off about it. So “boys will be boys” and typically that means we all pound the piss out of each other to determine a pecking order.

So there I was, one of the new kids in a trailer park. I went with my cousins up to the park to play baseball, and a few of the local boys showed up. They joined in and it took all of 15 minutes before they were calling me names and trying to pick a fight to establish their dominance. I was an easy target, and this kid Jeremy L. (I’ll leave his last name out, we turned out to become  friends) came up and called me a “weak retard that can’t pitch” and punched me three times in the face. One of my best assets is that I don’t have a glass jaw, so as he wound back for a fourth shot, I grabbed him by the neck, threw him into a headlock, and let loose a fury I didn’t know I had. I blackened both of his eyes and gave him a huge fat lip, and in that act I made my bones and a name for myself. I was no longer a retard in the eyes of the trailer park, I was one of the guys. Of course I climbed my way to the top of that pack through numerous other fights, and made myself a force to reckoned with that summer. The best part of that summer was my Grandmother, she really knew me and how everything affected me and she kept everything a secret from my parents.

This is turning out to be a longer post than I thought, so I am going to break it into two parts and finish this up tomorrow.

My second defining moment…….to be continued……

So this is how it starts???

So L Bird went to Wal-Mart the other day and she brought home their Christmas toy catalog. I thought it would be fun to have A Bird sit with me and go through and pick things out that she wanted to Christmas. I have really fond memories of laying on the floor with a pen and the JC Penney catalog circling toys for my Grandparents or my Aunt Gin. It is one of my favorite memories and I wanted to share that with A Bird. Plus, she is getting old enough that she is really starting to get Christmas and the whole Santa Claus thing, so she definitely knows what she wants.

We sat next to each other, and flipped through the magazine. I could see her eyes light up about certain pages. I was teasing her a little about what she wanted and pointing out toys marketed towards boys and I got the eye roll and “No Dad! Those are for boys and I’m not a boy!”, so then I would flip to the “girl stuff” and  I would beat her to the punch and shout out “Oooooooh I want that!” and she would look at me and furrow her brow and tell me that “Dad you can’t have that, that’s for girls”. So after a few more rounds of that, we actually started marking things down. I took a sharpie and put a star next to things she pointed out.

Ever since then she has been carrying around that catalog like it was her favorite bedtime story. So yesterday I noticed it was laying on the table and this is what I saw:

She had taken a pen and written an A or some lines next to every single thing that was girly. I know I shouldn’t be surprised but I was a little impressed that she wrote and A next to most things.

So if she is only 3 now, and she is already asking for everything it can only get better, right??

Needing some new ink

Well, I have been itching to get some more ink. I know tattoos are are very polarizing subject. People either love tattoos or that hate them, there doesn’t seem to be a nice easy medium. I remember telling my Dad I wanted to get a tattoo when I was younger and he did his best to talk me out of it. He told me that they hurt, then the classic “think about what it will look like when you are old and saggy”, and when he saw that wasn’t working he turned to disease and pestilence. Tattoo artists and shops are dirty, you can catch a disease from dirty needles, and then finally “they won’t tattoo you because you’re a hemopheliac”. So needless to say I never brought it up to him again, instead a few days after I turned 18, I drove myself up to Physical Graffiti and got tattooed. It was months before my Pop saw that I had a tattoo, I was sitting at my Grandma’s house and he walked in and said I’m glad you didn’t get a tattoo, and my Grandma blew me in and told him I already had one. I remember he was irritated but he was also smiling because he knew I had to do things my own way.

Since then I have gotten a few more pieces of ink. But lately I have been feeling very sentimental about my daughter and want to get a piece that signifies her. For those of you without tattoos, its hard to explain but its fairly common to have ink that represents family members. So A bird’s name actually means bird like/graceful, so I would like to get a classic sparrow/swallow over my heart on my chest, then with her name on the wing or below it. I know it sounds very similar to L Bird’s ink, but I want the same thing but not a matching sparrow.

I want something feminine for A Bird, but not too girly, you know what I mean. So I went searching for some designs, these are just a few that are along the lines of what I would like:

  With different colors, of course. This is a classic design.

A little more masculine.

I like this one too, but it’s a little too paisley/hippie to me.

What do you think???

A Proper Home

Well, we have had Opie home for a while now. Well, sort of, we have his ashes back home. I can’t bring myself to bury anything, I don’t know if I’ll be in this house forever, so I really can’t imagine moving and leaving one of my family buried in the back yard. I know it sounds weird, but that’s just the way it is. So I had Opie cremated and got his ashes back, with plans of making him a nice little box to rest in on the mantle next to Frisco.

Well, I got his ashes back and for one reason or another I just left him in the container the vet had him in. It is seriously a paw printed cookie tin. It looks like a little tin box that you would get dog biscuits or cookies in. I just couldn’t bring myself to finish the box and transfer Opie over. The pain was still too fresh. When I did it for Frisco, it wasn’t as bad, because Frisco had lived a long life and he had some serious health issues so having him put to sleep was easing his pain. So when I got his ashes back it wasn’t as painful. I guess with Opie it’s just because he was still so young and his life was cut short because of some idiot.

But anyway I finally decided it was time to put Opie in his rightful spot. So I stained the box that I had for him and developed a few pictures to place on the box. This is how it turned out:

I thought it turned out pretty nice, but either way. Opie is sitting in his rightful place on the mantle next to Shrimpboat a.k.a Frisco.

A full day of explanations

Yesterday was a tough day for A Bird, she was playing at daycare and got poked in the eye with a toy. She cried a little bit but then seemed fine, so the daycare went on with their day. So she had lunch and then went down for a nap, but after her nap she would start crying hysterically off and on and complaining about her eye. Daycare called L Bird, L Bird then called the doctor and then me. I left work, picked A Bird up and headed to the doctors.

On the ride to the doctor’s office, in between sobs A Bird would ask a question. Her first question, which I assume is all little kids’ first question when going to the doctor, “Am I going to get a shot?” I explained to her that no she wasn’t going to get a shot, that she probably just had a small scratch on her eye and the doctor would give us drops or an ointment to put in it to help it heal. Even while in pain, A Bird’s inquisitive nature kicked in:

A Bird: Dad, what’s an oinkment?

Me: Its called OIN-T-MENT, and its like a thick cream or lotion that you put on your eye.

A Bird: Oh ok, but Dad, what does heal mean?

Me: Heal means to get better.

A Bird: But it’s a piece of bread too, right Dad?

Me: Yes, there is Heal which means to get better, and then there is heel which is a piece of bread. They are two words that sound the same but are spelled different.

A Bird: Oh OK, Dad.

We went in to the doctor’s office and yep, she has a small scratch on her eye, nothing serious but the Doctor was going to prescribe an ointment to put on just to prevent infection. He called it into Wegmans and me and A Bird were off and rolling for Weggies.

On to explanation number two. We get to Wegman’s and we still have a couple of minutes to wait before the prescription is filled so A Bird had a cookie and we waited right there at the pharmacy. While waiting a mentally challenged young man was in line with his mother and he was grunting and starting to scream. First it was low but progressively got louder and louder. Every time he would scream A Bird would look at me and I could see that she was very terrified, Then eventually she would cover her ears and just look at me, so I would reassure her that he was just upset and everything was ok.

A Bird: Dad, why is that guy screaming?

Me: Well, he is upset and doesn’t really want to wait in line.

A Bird: Yeah, but he’s different than us, right Dad?

Me: What do you mean different?

A Bird: I don’t know, he’s different.

Me: Yes he is a little different, he is upset and he doesn’t know how to tell his Mom he is upset any other way than to scream. His brain works a little different than yours and mine, but I’m sure he is a real nice guy when he is not upset.

A Bird: Ok Dad.

I mean I’m not the most politically correct, but I couldn’t get mentally challenged across to A Bird to help her understand and I really don’t like the words Mentally Retarded or or any variations of the second word, because I was called that many times as a kid because of my CP, so I did the best I could but she is too smart to be happy with the answer above for long.

But anyway we were on our way home finally, but wouldn’t you know it, we walk out of Wegman’s and there are two cop cars and two police officers loosely restraining an enraged older gentleman. He is bright red in the face, waving his arms, cursing and speaking gibberish. His buddy is talking to the cops, and trying to calm his friend down enough to talk to them too and A Bird and I walked right out into the middle of it.

A Bird: Dad, look police cars!!! Are those guys in the black pants policemen?

Me: Yes I see the police cars and yes those are policemen.

A Bird: Why are they holding that man like that?

Me: Well, they want to talk to him and he wants to walk away so they are holding his arm so he won’t walk away while they are talking to him.

A Bird: But they’ll let him go when they are done talking right?

Me: Yes, they will let him go or they’ll give him a ride in the police car. But look they let him go and that guy and his friend are going home.

A Bird: Oh that’s good, I think he was a little different too Dad.

Me: I think so too.

So luckily for me, the police didn’t have to cuff this guy and take him away. They realized that he was just an angry, slightly crazy old man and just sent him on his way. The two police that were there were good cops and used their common sense. I was very relieved because that would have been a very different explanation to make.

Yep, yesterday was a full day for A Bird and I.

A Very Happy Halloween

Well yesterday was Halloween and A Bird had been very patient waiting for it to come, even though she asked just about every day if it was Halloween yet. It also helped that she got a lot of use out of her costume. She wore it in ten minutes spurts just about every day. She took it to Grandma Pat’s, to daycare, she tried wearing it to the store one day until she sat down in her car seat and threw a complete hissy because “it made her seat too tight and was too scratchy”. Seriously, we got our twelve bucks worth out of this thing.

She was a fairy/princess. It started out as a fairy costume but the wings that velcro’d onto the back irritated the hell out of her so she ripped them off and found a tiara and made herself a princess, which we all know is what she really wants to be anyway.

Last year my Pop and Step Mom came down to see A Bird in her costume, well they one up’d themselves this year. They came down and went out with us Trick or Treating. So I pulled out the wagon, dusted her off, then tricked it out with two heavy blankets and some glow in the dark bracelets. That’s right, we were big pimpin’ in the little red wagon.

 

A Bird testing one of her treats. She looks pretty cozy right?

Waiting patiently for someone to answer the door with Grandma.

After we made our way around the two grand blocks of our little village, A Bird had made a pretty decent haul in her bag, so we turned the wagon towards home and parked it like it’s hot. We quickly turned on our light to get some of the later trick or treaters to come and raid our candy dish, it didn’t take long until our candy was gone. So we turned out the lights, settled A Bird down and reflected on a great Halloween. Then A Bird finally drifted off into a deep a sleep, I’m still not sure if it was pure exhaustion/bliss or just a sugar induced coma, just kidding. IT was a combination of the two!

Flipping The Bird

Well, not really. It’s more like A Bird doing flips. I know it’s a devious title, right? You were all probably like what’s ol’ Naps all pissed about now. I know, I know I’m a cranky sombitch, but whatever, if you don’t like it, go piss up a rope. But anyway, now that I have gotten my ceremonial bitching out of the way, its on to this post.
So we signed A Bird up for gymnastics at the YMCA. There are a lot of reasons for it, but the main reasons are she has a crap ton of energy, she’s crazy, and I taught her how to do a somersault like a month ago and she has been doing them like everyday. She has actually gotten so good at them that she does them with no hands. She just bends forward and flips. But we also thought it would be good for her to get into and activity to socialize with other kids and be in a “class” setting where she has to listen to a “teacher”. But really, she has way too much energy and is crazy. What you don’t believe me? Let me present Exhibit A:

Crazy A Bird

Yep, that is her running back and forth from the kitchen to the living room chasing a fictitious fly. She is just running and running and then stops and does a somersault at the request of L Bird. The evidence is all there, she’s crazy.
But anyway, we went on to Gymnastics class. It was a very small class, I’m not sure if everyone else just didn’t show up or it really is just a small class. It is the instructor, A Bird, and two other girls.
First they all warmed up by stretching:

I apologize for the blurriness, we were having camera issues that night.
Then they walked the balance beam:

They did A Bird’s flips on a declined mat:


And A Bird’s new favorite the “bar swing”:

So all of this was done along with a lot of running, jumping, hula hooping, sliding down various gym mats in a half an hour. On another note, it took a little longer than I thought for the instructor to lose complete control and have 3 crazy little girls just running rampant through the gym. But she did manage to reign them in and show them all of the things above.
Overall, it was a great night and A Bird had fun and is super excited to go next week, which is the number one reason we signed her up. And as an added plus for me was she was all tired out and went to bed with a smile because she was exhausted. It was awesome!

Independence & Pumpkins

So we are getting pretty close to Halloween, and I had been putting off going to the Pickin' Patch with A Bird because it is always packed with kids and every time I wanted to stop it was raining. Now the Pickin' Patch is a great local attraction, they have an 8 acre corn maze, a petting zoo, a portable fun house, and new this year an awesome bounce mat, and oh yeah pumpkins.
Every time we drive by A Bird asks me when we can stop and normally I say when its not so busy or when the weather is better. So this week the weather was supposed to be sunny on Friday and in the 50's so I figured I was safe. So I told A Bird Thursday night that the next day we had to run a few errands in town, then we would stop at the Pickin' Patch.
So we get the errands run and we are driving back towards the place and I noticed that the clouds were getting darker and darker and it was starting to sprinkle. We finally arrive and pull in and as I'm getting A Bird out of the back, it actually starts snowing. Its just my luck, I had promised her so there was no turning back now.
So from the time we got out of the truck A Bird decided she was going to be Miss Independent.

Yep, she demanded that she pulled the wagon, even though it was enormous and weighed more than her. But she has the Schrader stubborness, because I'll be damned if she didn't pull that wagon the whole way. Then she decided that we needed 4 pumpkins and proceeded to demand that I pick up whatever pumpkin she pointed to up and rotate it for her inspection. Once it passed her inspection, she had me place it in the pumpkin wagon.
Now we had 4 pumpkins in the wagon and with a little help from old Dad she pulled it over to the train ride. Because it was snowing and we had our pumpkins we made a "deal". She could ride the train once then we would go home because it was cold, but we would come back to do the rest of the rides the next day. The one stipulation was we had to go as soon as it opened. That was that, the deal was struck and we shook on it.

It appears that the one train ride was good enough to hold her over. We got off the train, packed up our pumpkins and went home with A Bird anxiously talking about all of the things she was going to do the next day.
Luckily for me and L Bird, who came with us the next day, the weather was beautiful. So here is what proceeded.

Numerous trips through the Fun House. By the 3rd or 4th time she had the netting incline mastered.


At least 30 minutes running and bouncing on the Bouncer.

One more train ride.

Then we finished off our trip with a giant pumpkin cookie and some cider.
It was an all around great trip.

That's my jam...

Have you ever been just driving down the street not really paying attention to the radio, it's on but its more annoying background noise than anything else, then you hear the first few notes or words of a song and you are immediately grinning.

Yeah, that happened to me today. There I was in the middle of main street at a stop light grinning like the cat the ate the canary as one of my favorite songs came on the radio. I was just bitching to myself about the idiot in front of me when all of the sudden I heard:

Oh, my, god. Becky, look at her butt.
It is so big.  She looks like,
one of those rap guys' girlfriends.
But, you know, who understands those rap guys?
They only talk to her, because,
she looks like a total prostitute, 'kay?
I mean, her butt, is just so big.
I can't believe it's just so round, it's like,
out there, I mean - gross. Look!

There I was instantly lost in Baby Got Back. I honestly don't know how I got down Main St with all of my hip thrusting to "my anaconda don't want none unless you got buns, hun" and "I wanna get you home and ugh, double up, ugh, ugh". People must have thought I was having a seizure because I am grinning/singing/laughing at myself so much I have tears in my eyes while I was shoulder dancing and gyrating in my seat. It really must have looked awful, but I used to a man with a fistful of game, but now I am just an old fat bald man singing and laughing at himself.

So I just thought I would share what an idiot I was.

 

But everyone has a song that they just can't help but act like an ass to, right?

What's yours?

A Few Locals....

I had some time on my way home for once, and it was actually sunny for once. Normally fall is always rainy and dreary so, I try to take advantage when I can. None of these shots are amazing by any means, but it is what I see every day on my ride from work, so I thought I would share.

One of the Ontario County Pathways. I saw it driving by and thought it looked so peaceful, like a tunnel of trees.

A shot of the south end of Canandaigua Lake and the colors starting to turn.

Another shot, but I tried to capture the clouds to show their shadows on the hills.

 

The sun was just right to show the different colors of cows. It definitely was a very "country" scene.

This a mennonite egg farm. I normally pass very early in the morning on the way to work, and I always see an old man out milking that cow.

More chickens, I mean c'mon who doesn't love chickens.

So like I said, nothing spectacular, but just what I see daily. I was just trying to slow down and admire the beauty in the little things around me.

Struggling with guilt & time

Earlier in the week we lost Opie to the road. Long story short he got loose and ran straight into the road where he was hit by a truck and he didn't make it. It has been a very rough week. L Bird is a mess, she is racked with guilt. She questions herself constantly with things she could have done differently. I have told her repeatedly that it isn't her fault and there was nothing she could have done to change what happened, but it is just one of those things she is going to have to come to terms with herself. A Bird has had a few moments where she'll ask questions about where Opie is and what doggy heaven is like, or she'll say that she misses him. So that breaks my heart, but for the most part she seems ok and from what the literature says, that is normal for her age group to react the way she is, so that's a small comfort.

As for me, I try to keep myself distracted but it really is amazing how one little dog can impact your life so much. Its things like when A Bird and I are horsing around on the bed, I expect to see him come tearing into the bedroom howling as he jumps on the bed and goes crazy, or when I go out to the chicken coop to get eggs I expect to turn around and see him waiting for me, or while I'm watching TV, I expect him to come and cram himself on top of me so he can snore loudly as I keep turning the TV louder and louder. Then I realize he's gone and I won't be able to do those things again with him and I get a little choked up.

Then I struggle with getting another puppy. We will sometime, I am 100% positive we will, I am just a two dog kind of guy, but I don't want people to judge me if we get a new puppy sooner rather than later. We all love Opie and miss him terribly, so a new puppy would be a distraction to take our minds off Opie, but even as I write that I feel guilty. I am going to try and fight the urge to run out and get another puppy. But then on the other hand Roxy our other dog is a great dog and I truly believe she was teaching Opie some of her greatest traits of tolerance and mellowness. She is 12 now which is the top of her breed's life expectancy so I'm not sure how much longer she'll be here either, so I would love to have any new puppy spend time with her to "learn the ropes" so to speak.

Hell I don't know what I'll do, but whatever I do I always feel like people will make snide remarks or judge me because it is too soon. I guess the only thing I can do is just know for myself how much I loved Opie and how much I miss him and no dog will ever replace him.

He was born to run....

I had one of the most awful things happen to me today. I was at work and I got a frantic call from L Bird. One of our dogs, Opie the beagle slipped his lead and ran into the road and was hit and killed by a man driving a truck. As bad as it was for me to hear this news, it was tremendously worse for L Bird because she witnessed the whole thing. She saw Opie had gotten loose and went out to get him when he took off for road and saw him get hit. The man who it him never even slowed down, he just kept right on driving like a callous asshole.

Even though there is nothing L Bird could have done to change this awful accident, she has been beating herself up about it all day. I feel awful for her because there was nothing she could do as it was happening and that is such a helpless feeling. Then that is topped with the vision of it happening.

I drove home as fast as I could, and when I got there one of neighbors had helped L Bird get Opie into a blanket and on the deck, but it was too late. The only good thing is he appeared to go almost instantly with no suffering. So I pet him a few times as tears streamed down both L Bird's and my face. Then I loaded him up into the Jeep and took him to the vet to be cremated, then he can take a position on the mantle next to Frisco.

Now I have the unfortunate task of explaining death to a 3 year old. Right now she thinks Opie just ran away and will come back and I am partially inclined just to let her think that, but I feel she should know, Opie was her dog, she did pick him out. I am so not looking forward to her questions, but its what's right.

He was a great dog. He was excited to see you when you got home, he loved to chase anything you threw for him, and he would love to climb up and try to sit with you no matter where you were. We love you Opie. He definitely had the true instincts of a beagle, when his nose picked up a scent, his ears turned off and he was tracking it down. He was born to run and chase rabbits and squirrels. Well now you can chase them all day long in the lush green meadows of heaven. We love you, Opie!

Just Venting......

Just my ramblings, take it for what its worth. Every man has a past and sooner or later you have to come to terms with that past and deal with it. Your past is what has built you, it is what makes you weak, makes you strong, makes you resilient. You have taken everything up unto this point and defeated it or used to become the man you are today. But every once in awhile it your past bubbles back to the top and you have to deal with it all over again.


I think of myself as a pretty good man, but I’m no saint. I have a rough and rowdy past, I have done a lot of things for which I am not proud, but I am better for them. I have learned from those things and pulled myself from the ashes of those fires I’ve started and strode forward as a stronger man for it. I am proud of that, but it doesn’t mean I don’t miss being that man. It is a struggle I sometimes fight, when I see the way of the world today and the people in it, I long for the times when I was young. I miss being that meathead that had made his bones and had a reputation. I miss the feel of easy money in my hands and fear in my enemies. So just because I’m struggling, let me give you a few examples:

When I go out to a restaurant or a bar and I look around the room and all of the guys in it are tan, wearing shirts that are too tight to make their biceps bulge or their collars popped while wearing those stupid aviator sunglasses, I see nothing but fake ass tough guys. They are all a bunch of posers, you’re not a tough guy. You’re a pretty boy, fake ass, two bit punk who’s mouth is too big for your own good. Back in the day if you would have tried to mean mug me with your metro-sexual look I would’ve folded you like a cheap suit. You’re not an original tough guy, you are what the movies portray as tough guys. Tough guys don’t look like you, they look like me, they look old, beat up, have scars, not perfectly built and well manicured. If you want to pick out a tough guy, look at his hands, what do they look like? They are all dinged up, scarred from countless teeth, bent from broken fingers, not well kept trimmed fingernails with perfectly straight fingers. You are not a tough guy until you have fought more times than you can remember, until you tasted your own blood, hot and salty on your tongue, until your eyes have swollen shut to slits but you are still swinging, because you will not be defeated by going down easy. You’re a tough guy when you know you’re going to get your ass kicked but you don’t shy away, you swing away and give worse than you get. When you leave your enemy in a pile of rubble and limp away to fight again then you’re a tough guy. When you have the honor to fight one on one and not have your friends jump in and let the conflict end on the results, only then can you call yourself a tough guy.

Another example is the business world. I struggle with authority, I always have. Its hard for to smile pretty and nod when all you want to do is come across the table and smack the arrogant prick in the mouth. You have to play nice and be fake to achieve what is rightfully yours, where in the old world you could just take it. “Good things come to those who take them” was once said to me and I lived by that for a long time. Now I’m not a thief or bully, but I took what was mine. Things that you can’t buy, things like honor, respect, accountability. If these things weren’t offered up front, you made them pay the price and learn to give them to you. Now you have to sit through countless meetings and listen to arrogant, condescending asses that have no clue of the real world or how it works. They go to preppy little business schools and learn to fine tune their smiles and plans, but have no idea that an ounce of respect given could earn them the loyalty they so desperately need to attain to climb that corporate ladder. They speak in condescending tones and sit on pedestals handing out demeaning orders or tasks, which makes true blue guys like myself, who have seen the darker side of things not respect them. It would be so easy to just be that old guy and show them that certain people demand respect and there are penalties for not showing it.

These are thoughts that I struggle with sometimes, I really do miss being a tough guy. I miss the respect and the “honor amongst thieves”, that there was. But I am smart enough to know that I made the right decision and learned the right lessons, because if I was still that meathead, I would be unemployed or locked up. I know I’m on the right path now, I see the rewards everyday with the two women in my life, my wife and my daughter. If not for them, I would be a different man.

So even though I struggle with that old meathead, I take the lessons I’ve learned from him, and go forward. Be decisive and live with the results good, bad, or indifferent, hold yourself accountable, be honorable, show respect and demand that it shown to you through your actions, don’t roll over if you believe in something and still live by “Good things come to those who take them”, only now those things are opportunities for knowledge, classes, trainings, trips whatever you can take to make yourself more “powerful” in the new world.



So just take this for what it’s worth, it’s just my thoughts

The "Special Men" Test

Last week I had a doctor's appointment for a lump on my jawbone, but I figured as long as I was at the Dr's office I would try to cram a bunch of other stuff in. So I got a flu shot and after some other conversation I got this:

This is my "Special Men" / specimen cup for my "fertility" sample. My wife and I originally had to go through fertility treatments to try and have A Bird, and I was the main reason. So we have been starting to try to have another baby, so I figured I should request this test just to get a baseline and see where my count was and if it had changed.

I was originally going to "take my test" last Wednesday, but couldn't miss the time from work, so I have been putting it off until tomorrow. It is always an uncomfortable experience because of the rules of how to "take the test" and the fact that I have to have it to the lab within 30 minutes.

So I haven't been really putting a lot of thought into it because its kind of a pain in the ass, but then I was walking past my boss's office to hear that one of my peers' wife was pregnant with their 3rd child. That kind knocked the wind out of me, that news just kind of punched me in the gut. I am super happy for him, he is a great guy and I respect him and his work which is a rarity for me, but I definitely felt the sharp pang of jealousy.

So after today's news, it just strengthens my resolve to take my "test" and hope for the best. Tomorrows the day, hopefully I'll get an A with lots and lots of straight swimmers and not the D - I usually get.

Wish me luck!

Fridays with A - Bird......

Well, I've had it really lucky for the last year and a half. I have been able to have Fridays off and spend them with just A Bird. The winery I work for went to four ten hour days in June '09, so since then I have been working Monday through Thursday and spending every Friday with A Bird. It has been great bonding time for us and we do a variety of different things from going grocery shopping to going to the zoo, but unfortunately our Fridays are drawing to an end. My winery is being consolidated into another larger location, so I am going back to five eight hour days sometime before the end of the year. I am grateful to keep my job, but am upset at losing my special Daddy/Daughter time.

Now I'll have to squeeze our time in on the weekends that always seem cram packed already. It will be fine, I'll be home 2 hours sooner every afternoon so I'll make  up some of my time before L Bird gets home. I'm sure it will work out fine, but it still just sucks.

I mean Fridays are the days where I'm cool and I do cool things like rescue Strawberry Shortcake's lemon scented girlfriend from birdhouses.

Or I find all of the incredibly small doll clothes that have been lost and dress whatever Disney Princesses is nude at the time.

I mean c'mon look at how tiny that doll is in my big meat hook. It takes quite a bit for me to manipulate my fingers around the clothes and actually get them on to A Bird's specifications. But even with that mild frustration, I am still going to miss my Fridays.

Well, I'm off to find Ariel's pink dress (a,k,a her bath time dress) so A Bird can take a bath and I can get soaked from all the bubbles and splashes. Yup, I'm going to miss this time.