Eavesdropping on a Sunday afternoon

The following is a conversation I overheard today between my 6 year-old daughter, Savannah, and our 5 year-old little neighbor, Sean-Austin, beside my pool:

Sean-Austin: "We're gonna milk Chloe." (note - Chloe is our Cur/Lab mix dog).

Savannah: "You don't milk dogs. You only milk cows."

Sean-Austin: "Cows and horses."

Savannah: "Nuh-uh. You just milk cows."

Sean-Austin: "Nuh-uh. My Pa-pa and my Uncle Billy have horses and cows, and they milk both of 'em."

Savannah: "No they don't."

Sean-Austin: "They don't milk the studs, just the mares."

Savannah: "What does a stud do?"

Sean-Austin: "Kick you."

Savannah: "What does it do?"

Sean-Austin: "Kicks you and kills you. They can kick you in the leg or the stomach and kill you."

Savannah: "You mean buck you?"

Sean-Austin: "That's just a racing horse that will buck you. Racing horses run fast and buck you off. They don't care about you. Just their owner, or their neighbor."

Evidently this was good enough for Savannah because after this solemnly spoken statement, they dropped the subject .

But it left me with a thought: What would a racing stud do if its owner tried to milk it?

Things I got to do today:

Crawl out of bed in the dark at 6 am.

Listen to good music while I got ready for work.

Wake up my kids for school.

Stop at Valero on my way to work to buy a styrofoam ice chest, a bag of ice, a French Vanilla cappucino, and a jalapeno sausage.

Take phoned-in questions from ridiculous callers for the political forum that was on our early morning radio show.

Hold a two year-old in my lap while I typed community bulletin board announcements and got a phone call from a disgruntled blog reader. (Is this better, Miguel?)

Try to track down PSA's from Sam Houston Electric while taking more ridiculous phone calls for our mid-morning radio show.

Drink fresh coffee full of cream and sweet-n-low.

Take everything out of the mini-fridge and load it in the ice chest, then cover the stuff with ice and take the mini-fridge outside to defrost (with help from Tiffany).

Write a news story for tomorrow.

Eat a chicken salad sandwich and shoot the bull with the guys at work.

Take a couple of Sheriff's guys for a ride down the street.

Go through the radiogram archives from July of last year to present looking for stories about a particular person. There were two.

Blow bubbles in the hallway with a two year-old.

Record a bunch of stuff.

Chip ice out of a mini-fridge, have Eric carry it back in for me, and reload it.

Stop at my favorite fire station on the way home from work to make a pit-stop and chat it up.

Cuddle with my kids.

Buy some books on Ebay.

Breathe, walk, laugh, dream, etc.

Random mid-life crisis thoughts

Is it too late to become an Olympic platform diver?

Ebert, Roeper, and Litton

I went to the movies tonight and realized for the first time that I have been sucked in by concession stand pricing my entire life.

I always get the bigger size drink because it's only 50 cents more, but I have never once drank the whole thing. And then, inevitably, I have to pee before the end of the movie.

The fact that I figured this out tonight gives you some idea of what I thought of the movie.

BenchWarmers was a ridiculously stupid waste of an hour and a half, punctuated by a few hilarious moments that made me laugh out loud.

Mirror, mirror

Once upon a time there was a little girl who thought she was a princess, beautiful and loved.

One day she was thrown in front of a mirror by a group of sadistic, mean spirited children. As they laughed and jeered, she was horrified to see the sad truth.

Her clothes were ragged and torn, her skin mottled and smeared with dirt. She was tall and plain. Dull, straw colored hair hung in tangled, greasy strands around her gaunt shoulders.

Falling to her knees, sobs wracked her. Everything she believed was ripped away without mercy. Nothing was left but black hopelessness.

She lay down on the ground, curled into a ball, and closed her eyes against the taunting faces as hot tears streaked her cheeks. The girl fell asleep, praying to never wake up.

But she did wake up. Her Father gently shook her from sleep, helped her to her feet, and took her home. He bathed her, washed her hair and helped her into a beautiful new gown. They enjoyed a meal together and He took her into His arms and reminded her that she was so much more than what anyone saw. She was His.

And that was all she needed.

Boo-frickety-hoo

I started off the day this morning by arguing with my trash collecting service for 15 minutes about not owing them money. It turns out that I did owe them money. They decided to take my payment as long as I stick it somewhere on or near the trash cans since today is trash pick-up day.

Already running late because my hair sucks, I discover that the trash has not been set out. So I get to do it in really cute, strappy sandles that hate my feet.

On the way to work - late - as I whip around 18-wheelers, utility trucks and other slow moving idiots who decided today was the day to mosy on down the road doin' about 20 while they try to figure out where they are, my friend calls who was supposed to clean my house today and take my bank deposit for me and tells me she can't make it. This is not good, as I've just paid the frickin' trash collector.

I would now have to leave work early to drive at least an hour through heavy traffic to get to the stupid bank.

And this was all before 9 this morning.

It's a good thing I'm such an upbeat person.

Time travel, manic cats and lab rats

Can someone please tell me how I blinked and went from Sunday night to Wednesday night? The week is almost gone and I'm barely started.

I haven't been sleeping well. Every time I close my eyes, thoughts chase each other around in my head like manic cats after amphetamine addicted lab rats. Nice.

Work is going well. I've actually been leaving at 5 like I'm supposed to, only I've worked late so much that when I do get out on time it feels like I'm leaving early. I enjoy my job, but I still don't know what I want to be when I grow up.

Maybe a lab rat.

How I Spent My Easter Vacation

Friday: I worked. (I'm beginning to suspect that there are no holidays in radio.)

Saturday morning: I got up at 6 am so Katie (my 11 year-old) and I could be at Liberty Municipal Park by 8:30 am to help with KSHN's annual Easter Egg Hunt. We made it slightly before 9. It wasn't as bad as I thought it would be, although the enomous wave of kids plowing across the egg covered field was... a little intimidating.

Saturday afternoon: Katie and I were back in Cleveland by noon and decided to go by WalMart to get the things we needed to take to Mom's house for our overnight stay. (The whole family was going to spend the night at my Mom's in Houston to celebrate my brother's birthday and Easter.) It was insane. There wasn't a parking spot to be found and inside it was a free-for-all of last minute Easter shoppers battling for the few remaining boxes of marshmallow chicks and pre-filled plastic eggs.

Saturday evening: We ate chicken wings, french fries and chili con queso and drank beer al fresco in my mom's backyard screened-in cabana room. There was a nice breeze and she has a beautiful yard - the sunset was spectacular. Then it was cake and presents for Vic and we watched "Fun With Dick and Jane". My brother Darrell showed up when I was on my way to bed a little before 10. I played nice for a few minutes and went to bed. Savannah decided to kick the crap out of me all night, so it wasn't pleasant.

Sunday morning: We ate eggs and pancakes, cleaned up and played some dominoes in the little room outside. We took a break to watch "Boondock Saints" before my uber-religious sister arrived.

Sunday afternoon: We didn't start the movie soon enough. She got there and prayed for us, then retreated to the kitchen where Katie got to listen to her complain about our heathen ways until it was over. We ate dinner and finished our game of dominoes. Then we packed up and went home.

Note: For brevity's sake (and my sanity) I'm skipping most of the details that would illustrate why when you look up "dysfunctional" in Webster's Dictionary there is a picture of my family. But trust me on this one.

Philosophy 101

I hate getting bitched out when I deserve it. Really.

At least when you get bitched out for something that's not really your fault, you can fall back on rightous indignation. There's a shred of self respect between you and the unfairness of the world.

But when you get bitched out for something you really shouldn't have done, there's nothing standing between you and the bald truth. The hard facts. The ugly reality. You are not infallible. You are not always the good guy. You are sometimes the pain in the @$$ - the broken cog in the wheel.

You can't even honestly rag on the person who bitched you out, 'cause you had it coming. And if that person is a jerk, it's even worse because you just handed them validation on a silver platter. Gift wrapped.

Oh well. Some days you're the dog. Some days you're the fire hydrant.

Purple Irises and Yellow Roses

Have you ever had to sign for someone else's delivery and secretly wished it was yours?

A delivery guy came into my office this morning with a long FTD box and I knew it was flowers. Yippee, skippee. Someone sent someone flowers and I got to sign for it. Same song, different day.

Only when I looked at the name on the box, it was mine! Christmas never felt so good.

The next most exciting thing was seeing who they were from. I tore open the plastic, and the note inside was the best part. "Thank you for being such a wonderful friend! Thank you for choosing me to be a part of your life! I love you girl!" From a very good, delightful girlfriend of mine, just when I needed it most.

And it wasn't even Lesbian Friday.

Cheers

Zach called yesterday. He'd just come in from a week in the field in Baharia and was the last to find out about Dave. I think that bothered him more than anything else. Everybody knew Bass was his best friend and didn't want him to lose focus while he was out.

That sucks. The whole thing sucks. Go to the desert and get washed away by a flash flood.

I think people waste a lot of time and money trying to hang onto a life that's going to go anyway, no matter what you do.

You can eat right, live right, and exercise every day - then get hit by a bus tomorrow.

It's a crap shoot.

I'm going to go eat some Flaming Hot Cheetos, drink a beer, and take a nap.

For Dave

Dave's funeral is tomorrow. We still haven't heard from Zach.

Dave and another Marine had an apartment near Camp Pendleton and Zach stayed with them most of the time.

Just before Thanksgiving, Zach's girlfriend's dad accidently smashed the side of his car in their driveway in San Diego. He felt terrible about it and put in the shop for repairs. Zach needed transportation in the meantime (Camp Pendleton is at least an hour from San Diego), so Dad rented a car. Because of technicality issues, the car was in Dad's name and he was supposed to be the only one to drive it.

I got a panicked phone call late Thanksgiving night. It was Zach saying the rental car had been stolen.

Holy crap.

Zach had let Dave borrow the car to take his girlfriend home - or pick her up, I'm not sure which - and when he came out of her apartment, the car was gone.

We agonized over what to do, until finally Zach decided to call the cops to report it.

After the cops got there, they found the car. It hadn't been stolen. Dave had forgotten where he parked it.

He was my kind of guy.

Stuff

Work has settled into a steady hub. I actually left by 5 pm two days in a row.

The kids are doing very well in school. The weather is warmer, so they've started swimming and playing outside more often. Summer is on its way.

Zach's friend was killed yesterday in Iraq. He shared his apartment with Zach in California, was in the same unit, and has the same job. They left to go out in the field Sunday, so we won't hear from Zach for two weeks. Three Marines and a Navy guy are still missing.

Ibuprofen does not always work. No matter how much you take.

How was your day?

4-Wheelers, smiles, and time changes

I went to a party yesterday with my family. The sun was out and it was a gorgeous day. We were at my niece's house on a nice piece of land with hills and the kids were all riding 4-wheelers.

My 5 year-old daughter, Savannah, has been having a hard time with me working so much and has become very clingy and whiny lately. She stuck right by me as usual, at first. Pretty soon I got caught up chatting and lost track of where she was. I'm so used to her being right on top of me most of the time that it was kind of a shock to realize she wasn't.

I looked around, and there she was. Holding on to her sister for dear life on a four-wheeler, barreling down a hill, blonde hair streaming in the wind, and a huge smile on her face. It was beautiful.

A little while later, Katie, my 11 year-old daughter, asked me to ride with her down to the river. I climbed on behind her, held onto a metal bar under my butt, and it was my turn to go barreling down the hill with a smile on my face.

It was pretty cool being driven around by my daughter. She only scared the crap out of me a couple of times, and I never let her know it.

About the time change. I like the days being longer. I hate losing an hour of sleep. It's stupid. They should leave it one way or the other.