Brag On, Fatdaddy!

I didn't realize that I had managed to capture the Eldest's blocked shot. I thought it was cool enough to deserve its own post.

Lucky 13. Bad luck to all who enter her domain!

She Must Protect this House!!!

Hoop'n It Up!

The Eldest has played in her first competitive basketball game. Our school just opened this year and so this was the first game for the whole school. None of the girls had played in an actual game before and they were faced against a school that had been open for a few years now. There was just a bit of an experience gap and it showed some as the home team lost 18-4.

The eldest played very well. She was far and away the tallest girl on either team, and is doing a good job of learning to use her height to control the paint. The other team did most of their damage from outside; even their better girls avoided going into the post. When they did, the Eldest got her hands up and caused them to alter their shot. Not one person scored a bucket over her.

She played all but the last three minutes of the first half and played all of the second. She looked a little winded at the finish, but never stopped sprinting from end to end. She did a great job of getting back on D before the other team got the ball across the floor.

Her shining moment came with :40 seconds left when her teamate popped a three from the wing that bounced long off the iron. The Eldest went up and grabbed the board and sank the put-back for her first ever basket. It also means her Old Man gets to brag about his daughter who is now tied as the leading scorer on the team.

Her final stat line was:
2 pts on 1 of 2 shooting
5 rebounds
4 shots altered
1 shot block
3 turnovers

Not a bad debut, if I say so myself.

You Just Needed To Ask...

Let me make a very long story as short as possible. It's been a bad week and one disaster after another. A guy I used to know called this kind of streak an S.A. week.

It's short for Ssss...omething Avalanche. I think. (Where's one of those stupid smiley faces when you need one?)

If it could go wrong, it has, and by last night about five I'd had my fill. I got really bitter and really sarcastic (even for me) and feeling awfully put upon. It was not unlike the way I felt when I finally graduated and found that the finish line was not where I thought it was. I will write more about this when I continue my History of the Blog series.

Don't worry, I haven't forgotten about that, but I had decided that it had been a little too depressing on here for a while and I needed to write some funny stuff to keep it balanced. Then the Fed Ex envelope showed up and my week went to Hell. How's that for par for my course?

But I digress.

I was in a pretty bad mood when the Boss and I left to go get the new kitchen faucet. On the way to Home Depot, I told her that I was feeling awfully useless and frustrated and that lately I was back to feeling like the no-legged man in the butt kicking contest. You remember him? The fellow that just lays there getting kicked?

To be honest, the things I was saying were not unlike the way I felt when I was writing "The Rooftop". We had been tasting a lot of bitter and not much sweet. I told the Boss that I knew the Lord shapes his children with a refiners fire, but I was really feeling like I needed a quick dip into the quenching barrel before I melted into the coals. She was feeling the same way.

"It'd be really nice of the Lord to let us know that we weren't gonna be hit by a train at the end of the tunnel", I said.

The Boss agreed.

As we pulled into the parking lot, I asked her sarcastically, "What's your bet on the cheapest? A hundred, maybe a hundred and fifty bucks?"

She smiled at me and told me not to be a jerk.

We got to the plumbing section and after a few minutes of searching the displays, found one that we liked for $78. The Boss had made us $50 by finally finding a buyer for the spare clothes dryer that has been in the garage since Thanksgiving(a blessing that I was not as appreciative of as I should have been). So thirty bucks was about what we were willing to spend. We looked for one on the shelf and....they were out.

I wasn't kidding when I said it had been that kind of week.

The Boss found a similar model, but instead of the brushed nickle finish, it was stainless steel. It was also a hundred bucks.

"Go find a store employee and see if they'll substitute." the Boss said to me. "What's the worst that happens; they tell us no?"

What I was thinking was that with my luck they'd add a twenty dollar "We can't believe the gall of some people" tax. But I figured at worst we'd have to drive across town to get one at the other Home Depot.

"All I can do is ask", I mumbled.

I found a guy, told him we wanted to know if they had any more of the kind we liked and he checked and said they did not. So I asked if he'd be willing to substitute something for the lower price.

"What do you have in mind?" he asked.

"How about this stainless model?" I asked, figuring he was gonna tell me to try the other store.

"Yeah", he said. "I can do that for you."

I was stunned. Just like that.

All the stupidity and bad luck and lousy things that had been happening seemed to drop off my shoulders like a sack of weights.

Now, you may say that I am foolish, but I KNOW that this was a little sign from my Father in Heaven that he is aware of us and our trials and that he wasn't going to let us melt off the refiners tongs.

That single act of kindness by a hardware store employee was so overpowering that all the rage and irritation and bitterness was gone in a matter of seconds. I doubt he knew the effect his kindness would have on me. It was only twenty bucks.

And I can't explain to you why such a simple thing could be so powerful except to say that I fully believe it to be an act of a mindful Father in Heaven. He took time from watching over the universe to touch our hearts.

He answered my prayer for a reminder that His Light at the end of this tunnel is not a train, and He did it in a way that we could not mistake it for anything else.

We remembered that he loves us. And just like the silly little Pillsbury Dough boy ornament at Christmas, it could be dismissed by the world as a coincidence or wishful thinking. But I know better.

And all I had to do was ask.




****Editor's Note
I would be ungrateful in the extreme not to mention that Uncle Jason was here until nearly midnight helping me install the faucet. It became obvious that it was beyond my knowledge of how to do so and he came running at the drop of a phone call. He did it with no advanced notice and asked nothing in return. That made it two in a row for good things that have happened to me this week.

I sense a pattern developing.

The Fable of the Sparrow

Yesterday, I closed by promising to write down one of my favorite fables. I heard it years ago and do not know who wrote the original, or I would credit them. It makes me laugh and is appropriate to my week so far and so I'm sharing it. Here it is.


Once there was a small sparrow. He lived a good life, eating what he wanted, building nests to his liking, and flying where he pleased. He was completely free to do as he wished except for one thing.

Every spring he had to return to his summer home in the north, and every fall he had to fly south for the winter. He did not mind flying north, the winds were in his favor, and he liked the cool, spring breezes under his wings.

Flying south for the winter was a different story. The winds fought him all the way down and it was a pain in the tail feathers. After a long summer of doing the things that sparrows do, he was always worn out. He HATED flying south for the winter.

This particular year had been unseasonably warm. As the time approached when he should be leaving for the south, the weather remained nice. The leaves did not turn, and there was no crisp chill in the morning air to push him southward. Yet the calender said that it was time to go and the rest of the sparrows began making their preparations.

"I've had enough migration for a lifetime", the sparrow told his closest friend. "Al Gore has told me the world is getting warmer and it certainly appears true to me. Tell me why should I go through all that work if it's going to be nice here? I'm staying."

The friend did not try to argue with the little sparrow, he simply shook his feathers in disbelief and turned his tail to the South.

For a week the little sparrow had a wonderful time. It was still very nice, and with all the other sparrows gone, there was plenty to eat and many fine nests left for him to sleep in. It was paradise.

Then the weather began to turn. The leaves fell from the trees and the winds began to howl at night. The little sparrow was not discouraged, he was tough and a bit of cold would not kill him.

Then one night the rains came. It was a drenching, freezing, downpour that left the sparrow shivering and cold even though he was tucked into his finest, driest nest.

With the morning came the frost and the sparrow knew that he had made an awful mistake. Putting away his pride, he made hasty arrangements to head south.

Sadly, it was too late. As he began his journey, another freezing rain fell and coated his wings with ice and pulled him to the ground. He half fell, half landed on a small dirt road that ran through a cow pasture in a small stand of trees.

His wings felt as though he were stuck in a briar patch and his body ached horribly. His feet were coated with ice, and the little bird knew he was about to die.

Just as things were as bad as they could possibly be and he was ready to surrender to oblivion, a cow wandered over to where the bird lay. There was a roar like thunder, and a heavy weight nearly crushed the sparrow.

"Oh, no!" the sparrow cried. "Here I am about to die, and to add insult to my injury, this cow has covered me in excrement. What else could possibly go wrong?"

Then something marvelous happened. The sparrow noticed that though the smell was terrible, the cow pie was very warm. His wings began to thaw and he knew that his troubles were over. He could wait until he was thawed and the storm had passed, and then he would continue his journey south.

Overcome with emotion, the little sparrow did what sparrows do when they are happy. He began to sing. As loudly and joyfully as he had ever sang, he chirped away a message of gratitude to his friend the cow. He was saved!

At the same time, a cat was prowling through the woods on his way home. He heard the singing of the sparrow and went to investigate. When he saw the half thawed sparrow singing in the cow pie he quickly pounced. He pulled the tasty morsel from the pie, cleaned him up a bit, and devoured him.


Cheery story, huh?

If you have read it carefully, you will find there are five morals to be learned. They are as follows:

1)Never procrastinate the things you know you should be doing. If you should be flying south, fly south. If you have homework, do homework.

2)Never plan any part of your life around what Al Gore says. Just because he says it doesn't make it so.

3)Not everyone who craps on you is your enemy.

4)Not everyone who pulls you out of the crap is your friend.

5)If you are safe and warm and buried in crap, SHUT UP!!!

A Longer Night Than I Thought

Well. What a knockabout of pure fun that was!

Not five minutes after Puzey hit the snooze on the Barf Alarm, Moe dashed from her bedroom and into the bathroom to hurl. Anybody seen Wayne's World? "If you spew, then I'm gonna hurl, and if I hurl, they're gonna blow chow, and then...."

You get the point.

We got Moe back into bed (She's old enough to know when to get to the bathroom and doesn't require a hazmat team for clean up), and took Puzilla down to sleep on the floor of our bedroom in her sleeping bag. About two, she threw up again, but made it to the bathroom this time. Sometime around four, I heard someone in the bathroom barfing again, and asked Puzey if she was OK. From the floor I heard her squeak yes, and when I got up, I found Peff in the bathroom as sick as the rest of them. Moe took another turn at seven thirty, and while I was turning on the shower for her, the baby defiled my favorite t-shirt.

I feel like I'm the Exorcist.

Fifty years from now, when my Great Grand children are reading this, they're gonna get a chuckle out of it. Promise.

Needless to say, Beak was not interested in exposing Reaggers and Bub to my little Outbreak Monkeys. Uncle C took part of the day off to watch them, though I do feel bad about it. Everyone does seem to be feeling a Little better now. They are all grouped on the couch, snuggled in a blanket and clutching iced down Sprites. Even I'm not stupid enough to reload this bunch of Hurl-howitzers with any kind of breakfast.

Next time I'm sitting on the couch, enjoying a ball game with the Boss and the thought crosses my mind that I have nothing to worry about, I'm not sayin' a word. Not one word.

Which reminds me of a funny fable I know that I'll tell if I can get the kids to nap.

A Bonus Funny for Night Owls and Early Risers

I think it was the great comic Bill Engvall who once said something to the effect of "there is no alarm clock like the sound of baby barf."

I would like to bear my testimony that I know that this is true. We all know where this is going, right?

The Boss and I had finally gotten all the kids down, and were watching the Tivo of the magnificently funny Big Bang Theory. Suddenly, from the back of the living room, we heard a faint sound like the coo of a dove.

Sadly; it was not Cindy Lou Who.

Unless she had been infected with piggy flu or been on a three day bender in Vegas. And it wasn't so much of a coo as a "Cough... gag... eerp...Splat."

I was off the couch faster than the Vikings putting away the Cowboys on Sunday (sorry about that Uncle J...NOT!!). I picked up a puking Puzilla and ran her into the kitchen while the Boss shouted encouragement from her seat under the baby on the couch.

I managed to get Puzilla half way across the linoleum when I heard another cough and felt her skinny ribs start to clench.

"Wait, Wait!...get to the sink first...."

I may as well have spoken in Mandarin.

"Bluaghh!....Splat!" came the waif's reply.

"Aw,Crap!" I mumbled, and the Boss started to laugh.

"I heard that!" she said. "That sounded messy. I take it she didn't make it to the sink?"

Um, No.

After a few more minutes of returning more food than I thought she was capable of eating, my tiny, pale, frail Puzilla looked up at me with her great big eyes and whispered, "That was NOT fun."

I don't suppose it was.

The Boss took her down and put her in the shower while I went about detoxifying the kitchen and living room floors. The things we do as parents!

After the floor was clean, I went down to check on my girls. I knocked on the door and heard the Boss say, "We're just getting dried off." Then I heard a tiny sneeze. Then the Boss laughing and saying, "OK, back into the shower!"

She poked her head out the door and said in a perfect dead-pan, "I guess blowing her nose three times didn't quite get the job done."

I gave her a moment and then asked Puzilla how she was feeling. "Better", she said.

"Good. Do you mind if I turn you into a post for tonight?"

"Sure", she said with a trademarked Puzilla grin back on her face.

I decided I may as well type it now. Nobody goes back to sleep after the Barf Alarm goes off.

Post Script:
Apparently we only hit the snooze button on the barf alarm, but when it goes it off it doesn't turn the radio on. It turns on a tiny little girl's voice that cries "Oh no! Not again!" and runs to the garbage.

This is going to be a long night.

Birthday Weekend

Monday again already and I'm back for more.

Some of the old "Fatdaddy Luck" came out of nowhere this weekend. It's the anti-Midas touch. Everything I put my hands on turns to crap.

Here's some highlights. The Boss and I both got sick on Friday and are still feeling lousy today. We have a disobedient child (Who will remain nameless because I'm madder than Pharaoh and have stricken her name from all the temples, obelisks, and family blogs until she gets her act together).

The kids fought all weekend, and thanks to the holiday and a teacher work day, they get to carry on fighting until Wednesday! Yipee!!

I also busted the faucet on the kitchen sink. The bearings in the base seized, and when I tried to force it to the other side of the sink, I busted the sucker right in half. Shot water right into my face, and when I flinched, the stream shot about twenty feet into the living room before I could get it shut off. Looked like something right out of a Jerry Lewis movie.

The funny thing is that on Monday night after the kids went to bed, I had told the Boss that I was worried.

"Why?" she asked.

"Because I can't think of anything that is worrying me. There is ALWAYS something to be worried about. If I can't think of what it is, it's going to jump out of nowhere and bite me when I ain't looking. I'd rather have something to worry about than nothing."

Then Thursday night I missed my class, Friday I got sick, and then all the rest of it. I really should have known better. Thinking like that was an invitation to disaster. And the weekend didn't disappoint.

Am I Pessimistic? Yep.

Am I a glass is three-quarters empty kinda guy? Yep.

Has experience beat this lesson into my head with a cinder block? Affirmative.

"If it weren't for bad luck, I'd have no luck at all."


Anyway. That was the bad part of the weekend.

There was some good. Saturday, Squizzle turned one. I'm not sure he noticed. He got a new sippy cup and some clothes. We took the kids to the dollar movies and saw "Planet 51". Was it the worst cartoon ever made? No. But it was pretty far from Pixar. The kids didn't care, they just wanted to get out of the house. I spent the last half in the lobby with an uncooperative birthday boy. He wasn't mad, just excited. He kept shouting at the screen and trying to get off my lap and crawl around.

The floor at the valley fair movies is not exactly the old Green Briar (I know there are plenty of readers that have fond childhood memories of that dump) but if you think I'm gonna let my kid crawl around on it during flu season, you're too dumb to continue reading. So he and I went out to the lobby and walked around. For an hour. I'm too fat for that kind of exercise.

Afterward, we used the gift cards we got from Santa's reindeer at Christmas to pick up an extra special treat. Dinner at Cafe Rio. The Boss is especially fond of the place but by the time we got everything home, she was feeling sick again and hardly ate.

We got substitutes for church and I watched the Colts pound the Ravens (go Austin Collie) and tried to watch the BYU basketball game. What a butt-kicking that was. BYU could become scary-good in the next few years.

The girls fed their brother a cupcake, but neither the Boss nor I had the energy to let him loose on one for the traditional "Smash cake". Everyone wants the funny pictures, but no one wants to clean up the mess afterward. Somehow, I don't think he cared much.

Happy First Birthday, Squizzles.

Stop growing now. Please. No talking and No walking. As your grandpa says, "You spend a few years teaching them to walk and talk and the rest of their lives telling them to sit down and shut up." And as Homer Simpson says, "The sooner you talk, the sooner you start talking back." I like you fine the way you are.

Sunday, with callings covered, we stayed home from church and tried to sleep in but by then the baby was feeling lousy again. He gets really clingy and really loud. My kid? Loud? Who'd a thunk it?

And of course, Sunday was Ryan's birthday. If I did my math right, he'd have been twenty six. The Boss celebrated by posting the link to the Rooftop story on her face book page. I know that Ry's b-day can be a real tear-trigger for some, but cleaning up my story and posting it was much more difficult for me personally.

I know he's fine. I miss him, but he was right. I'll see him again. I can't believe how fast the time is going, and I bet you can't either. Three and a half years now. I know for a fact he'd tell us not to blink.

Happy Birthday, Little Brother.

Dumb as a Sack O'Hammers

You'd think that someone who has a college degree would be smart enough to remember things that he just posted.

Alas; I'm not.

Not two minutes after this morning's post, I got up to wash the dishes. Flipped on the sink and...Presto. Instant ticked off Fatdaddy.

Just add water.

This is what is called one dimensional thinking and intense focus on tasks, not reality. Dishes need washing, wash them.

Forget the fact that the FAUCET IS STILL BLINKING BROKEN!!!

I'm off to scan the classifieds for a new faucet so I can spend more money I ain't got.

Ladies and Gentleman, I give you the Anti-Midas touch.