I apologize to both of you who follow this blog for not getting something up yesterday. It was the Boss's day off, and it became one of the very rare days where there were things I had to get done.
I'm seldom too busy to sit and write a little something (which is a really sad commentary in itself) but yesterday I had to get the house picked up, go with the Boss to the grocery store and get a little chore done with my brother for my dad. I didn't think about not having posted until the Boss got on facebook to play cafeworld or some silliness (Remember, I HATE facebook) and she told me I was getting inquiries about my health because I hadn't blogged.
The rumors of my demise are slightly premature. The Angels have not killed me yet, but not for a lack of trying.
The Eldest lost both of her basketball games this week but they play better each game. On Tuesday they got run out of the gym a little bit and the Eldest only played about a half. She got one rebound but missed both her shots and the team got beat thirty something to 14. They played better defense and moved the ball better on offense, but the other team had some real snipers playing for them. They also had a girl who may well have been named "Tsedle" because she looked like my daughter's reciprocal clone. The Eldest doesn't find girls her age and size very often, but this gal might have been a little taller. And she wore the number 31 to the Eldest's 13.
We thought it was interesting, at least.
On Wednesday, they played a team of willow trees. They had three or four girls who were around the same height as the Eldest, but none of them weighed more than a can of caffeine free diet coke. We took a pretty good lead in the first half and then tried to hold on to the finish, but a cold stretch in the last three minutes doomed us to a one point loss. The Eldest did not score, though she had a trio of good shots and pulled down three more rebounds. She continues to learn to play better post defense, and she altered more than one shot while playing a good three quarters of the game. I'll post some pictures below from both games.
On the home front, things have been really interesting the last couple of days. Some opportunities have presented themselves to us that will help us keep our heads above water a little longer. There is one prospect looming that looks like it might be a real life-changer. It was something we never would have expected and it could go either way. I really hope it isn't a tease. I won't jinx it by going further, but we'll say that once again the Boss and I find ourselves standing awkwardly on the edge of the abyss wondering if we ought to jump or not.
I will admit to being terrified at the view. We might really take off and soar. Or we might find ourselves bouncing off of ledges and outcroppings on our way back to the bottom of the bottomless pit. (I know what the smart money would bet)
For now, we are checking the parachute for holes and making sure the canopy cables are attached to the backpack as well as the canopy, and we'll know a little more in the middle of next week.
Should you think about it, any prayers you might offer for guidance would be appreciated.
Squizzle has grown weary of the high chair, so I'd better go rescue him.
More later.
Friday, January 29, 2010
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
Chocolate Cake and Snotty Noses
Made chocolate cakes for baking day. Nothing special, just the mixes from the box, but a good start up to get us back into the swing of things. I'll let their mothers decide to buy frosting or drop vanilla ice cream on them. I'm feeling a little lazy today.
****
This weeks winner of the "Whole World is Going to Hell in a Fed Ex Envelope" award:
Just heard the title of today's episode of Max and Ruby. It's called "Ruby Scores".
I can't even bring myself to finish the joke. Too easy.
Almost as easy as when Elmo visited (and I kid you not) the "Skin Channel". That one required a carpet cleaner to clean up the mouth full of coke I spewed across the room. Just what are the folks at PBS thinking these days?
****
Between Squizzle and Bub, I have emptied an entire box of tissues in less than two days. I cannot believe how snotty these kid's noses are. Ford Motor Company should take lessons on production efficiency from the booger assembly lines found in the noses of the under three crowd. Output, output, output.
I'm not a germaphobe (I often wonder how people survived before the CDC told us we should all be dead), but even I've been soaking my hands in anti-bacterial hand sanitizer. And since it's grossing me out, it can now gross all of you out as well.
****
A couple of important Blog Milestones are coming up. We are currently at 595 visitors, so six hundred should happen by the end of the day. Hurrah!! So many poisoned minds...
Second, this represents the 95th post on the blog so by the end of the week, we should have post number 100. Woo Hoo!! So much poison for so many minds...
Next, I think I want to have a membership drive to boost the number of followers. We've been stuck at 22 for a while now even though I know there are more who read. Perhaps we should work up some official "Destroying Angel Membership Cards" or get some "Fatdaddy Secret Decoder Rings" or something like that to entice new followers.
Never mind.
****
Squizzles gets new teeth!
Yeah. And it has not been pleasant for him or me. Since the Boss has to work all day, I volunteer to take the night shift when kids get sick or whatever.
Squizzle has some bigger teeth coming in on the back bottom of his mouth and it does not seem to be a happy thing for him. On Sunday night, he slept from ten until one and then woke up screaming. He kept screaming until three thirty or four.
Then on Monday night, he didn't bother trying. He just started screeching at around eleven. I took him upstairs so he wouldn't disturb the Boss. By midnight I dosed him up with infant pain reliever and sat on the couch while he dozed on my lap until three. Then he woke up screaming and did not go back to sleep. At all. Around five, I was pretty sure why mother tigers sometimes eat their young.
For those of you that have not seen "Anchorman" (probably most of you), the sportscaster comes into work after a bender and says "I woke up in some Japanese family's rec room, and they would NOT stop screaming!"
For most of the early morning Tuesday hours, that line kept going through my mind. "I woke up at three A.M. with a teething toddler who would NOT stop screaming!" I mean, I know he's in pain but does that mean I have to be in pain too? Sharing is for things that gross you out like snot stories...
...Never mind. I'll stop complaining. (For a sentence or two)
So last night I came loaded for bear. Anbesol, children's pain reliever, frozen towel to chew on...I was ready. I hit him with a dropper of pain reliever, and he fell asleep in less than ten minutes. And slept the rest of the night.
Fatdaddy luck strikes again. Closing the barn door after the cow gets out.
What are ya gonna do?
Trying To Buy a Man Card
Last night I was reminded of a funny story from when the Eldest was a newborn. We had gone to Idaho with the rest of the family to visit my Grandparents. That afternoon, we had all gone into Twin Falls for lunch (Burley was still small enough then that you had to go to Twin for anything other than fast food). After we had been there for a while, I got up under the pretense of going to the men's room and instead went to pay the check.
See, it is impossible for any of us kids to buy dinner if we go out with Mom and Dad. Dad ALWAYS gets the bill and won't take no for an answer. My brother and I once took him to lunch for his birthday, and he still paid. It became something of a badge of honor to get the check. And from what I can tell, Dad learned this frustrating behavior after years of being unable to pay a dinner bill when out with HIS Dad.
So when I saw a chance to beat them both to the bill, I resorted to devious plotting and paid it before the waitress had a chance to bring it to the table. I returned to the table and spent most of dessert trying to keep a smirk off of my face. I had slipped one past 'em. Now that I was a father, a big step in gaining a Man Card seemed to be to beat my Dad and my Grandfather to the check. It was without doubt one of my finest accomplishments.
After it became apparent we were ready to leave and no bill was forthcoming, my Dad called the waitress over and inquired about it. He was told that it had been paid already.
"Who did that?" Dad asked looking at Grandpa.
"Wasn't me", said Grandpa.
Unable to contain my grin anymore I blurted out, "It was me! I got both of you, and it's paid, and I win, I win, I win!"
Both of them looked at me with a mixture of pride and irritation and said in the same tone of voice and at the same time, "You keep your money in your pockets. You're gonna need it sooner or later."
It was obviously something Dad had heard before. I seem to recall Grandma giggling. Victory was mine!
Until the Boss and I got home that night and I went to change the baby and found that both Dad and Grandpa had each stuffed a check for more than the cost of the meal into the diaper bag. I found out later that they had done it independently of one another. Instead of paying the tab, I had more than doubled my money.
I learned two valuable lessons from this experience.
First, you can't buy a Man Card. No exceptions.
Second, I will always be the unprofitable servant. And that's a good thing. Any efforts I make to repay blessings I have received from my Dad will always result in more blessings and an accompanying gratitude and desire to repay those blessings, which in turn results in more blessings. It's an eternally upward spiral. Someday I can finally win the game by not letting Peff, and later on his son, ever pay for dinner.
If I can only keep dad from doing it first.
See, it is impossible for any of us kids to buy dinner if we go out with Mom and Dad. Dad ALWAYS gets the bill and won't take no for an answer. My brother and I once took him to lunch for his birthday, and he still paid. It became something of a badge of honor to get the check. And from what I can tell, Dad learned this frustrating behavior after years of being unable to pay a dinner bill when out with HIS Dad.
So when I saw a chance to beat them both to the bill, I resorted to devious plotting and paid it before the waitress had a chance to bring it to the table. I returned to the table and spent most of dessert trying to keep a smirk off of my face. I had slipped one past 'em. Now that I was a father, a big step in gaining a Man Card seemed to be to beat my Dad and my Grandfather to the check. It was without doubt one of my finest accomplishments.
After it became apparent we were ready to leave and no bill was forthcoming, my Dad called the waitress over and inquired about it. He was told that it had been paid already.
"Who did that?" Dad asked looking at Grandpa.
"Wasn't me", said Grandpa.
Unable to contain my grin anymore I blurted out, "It was me! I got both of you, and it's paid, and I win, I win, I win!"
Both of them looked at me with a mixture of pride and irritation and said in the same tone of voice and at the same time, "You keep your money in your pockets. You're gonna need it sooner or later."
It was obviously something Dad had heard before. I seem to recall Grandma giggling. Victory was mine!
Until the Boss and I got home that night and I went to change the baby and found that both Dad and Grandpa had each stuffed a check for more than the cost of the meal into the diaper bag. I found out later that they had done it independently of one another. Instead of paying the tab, I had more than doubled my money.
I learned two valuable lessons from this experience.
First, you can't buy a Man Card. No exceptions.
Second, I will always be the unprofitable servant. And that's a good thing. Any efforts I make to repay blessings I have received from my Dad will always result in more blessings and an accompanying gratitude and desire to repay those blessings, which in turn results in more blessings. It's an eternally upward spiral. Someday I can finally win the game by not letting Peff, and later on his son, ever pay for dinner.
If I can only keep dad from doing it first.
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
Open Fatdaddy's Mouth, Insert Fatdaddy's feet...
I was talking on the phone last night with my mother. We were discussing today's basketball game that the Eldest will be playing in and mom said it was a good thing that the Eldest seemed to have gotten her Grandpa's athlete genes and not hers because she was the only person in the history of the church who was so uncoordinated that she was asked NOT to play ward ball.
I told the Eldest, who as usual was trying to eavesdrop and she wondered out loud if Grandma might be putting her on. "Nope", said grandma. "It's a true story".
I, for one, have never heard this story and am frankly interested in doing so. If ever there was material for a humor filled post, that would be it.
"That may be", I told my mother, "But there aren't many people who have read as much and write as well as you do. We all have our talents."
My mother kindly complimented me saying that I wrote well myself.
"But you taught me everything I know, and it is possible only for man to equal his creator, he cannot surpass her."
Mom laughed and we hung up. A few minutes later, the Eldest made some lame attempt at a joke. "Har, Har." I said.
"Why don't you ever laugh at MY jokes?" she asked me playfully.
"Cause you're not funny, just funny looking" I replied.
"But why do I get in trouble for being a smart alec, but you get to wise off all the time?" she asked.
"Because I'm better at it than you." I said. (I should have left it there, but I couldn't help adding one of those "Dad" comments that I use to annoy her, so I continued...)
"Besides, has it ever occurred to you that I might want you to grow up a little smarter and better than your Old Man?"
****Editor's Note
There are times when having a child with really excellent communication skills and a sharp intellect can be a real downer. This would be one of those times.
****
"But Dad", she smirked slyly, "I can only hope to equal my creator, I cannot surpass him."
If she's lucky, she'll get out of "time-out" just in time for menopause.
Remind me again why I'm bald?
I told the Eldest, who as usual was trying to eavesdrop and she wondered out loud if Grandma might be putting her on. "Nope", said grandma. "It's a true story".
I, for one, have never heard this story and am frankly interested in doing so. If ever there was material for a humor filled post, that would be it.
"That may be", I told my mother, "But there aren't many people who have read as much and write as well as you do. We all have our talents."
My mother kindly complimented me saying that I wrote well myself.
"But you taught me everything I know, and it is possible only for man to equal his creator, he cannot surpass her."
Mom laughed and we hung up. A few minutes later, the Eldest made some lame attempt at a joke. "Har, Har." I said.
"Why don't you ever laugh at MY jokes?" she asked me playfully.
"Cause you're not funny, just funny looking" I replied.
"But why do I get in trouble for being a smart alec, but you get to wise off all the time?" she asked.
"Because I'm better at it than you." I said. (I should have left it there, but I couldn't help adding one of those "Dad" comments that I use to annoy her, so I continued...)
"Besides, has it ever occurred to you that I might want you to grow up a little smarter and better than your Old Man?"
****Editor's Note
There are times when having a child with really excellent communication skills and a sharp intellect can be a real downer. This would be one of those times.
****
"But Dad", she smirked slyly, "I can only hope to equal my creator, I cannot surpass him."
If she's lucky, she'll get out of "time-out" just in time for menopause.
Remind me again why I'm bald?
Monday, January 25, 2010
Reaggers Gets a Good One
It's been a while since one of the kids had something funny to say, but Reaggers broke the slump this morning.
It was about 11:30 and even after eating donuts all morning, the locust horde was hungry.
"Make some sandwiches,please."
"What's for lunch?"
"When do we get to eat?"
Ah the default protocol of the four year old. "Let's eat"
So I got up and turned on the sandwich press to make grilled cheese. On a side note, as much as I love the biographies of Joyce and Wilde that I got for Christmas, the sandwich press and Paula Dean Cookbook for kids are far and away the most useful presents ever!
I grabbed the bread from the pantry and cheese from the fridge. Then I noticed that the garbage can was doing its best impersonation of an avalanche so I stopped to take it out while I waited for the press to heat up.
Reagers comes in and says to me, "I thought you were making sandwiches."
"Yep, but I'm going to take the trash out first."
"That's not making sandwiches" she said with her angry face starting to show.
I put on my best Buddhist monk voice and said to her, "Patience; Grass-a-hoppa".
She was not amused.
"I'm not a grasshopper, Uncle Fatdaddy."
"That's OK", I said laughing. "You're not very patient either."
The kid is very composed. She didn't blink.
"Just make the sandwiches, Please."
What could I do? I made the sandwiches. You have to love a kid that knows what she wants.
And now I gotta go take out the trash. It's good to be me.
It was about 11:30 and even after eating donuts all morning, the locust horde was hungry.
"Make some sandwiches,please."
"What's for lunch?"
"When do we get to eat?"
Ah the default protocol of the four year old. "Let's eat"
So I got up and turned on the sandwich press to make grilled cheese. On a side note, as much as I love the biographies of Joyce and Wilde that I got for Christmas, the sandwich press and Paula Dean Cookbook for kids are far and away the most useful presents ever!
I grabbed the bread from the pantry and cheese from the fridge. Then I noticed that the garbage can was doing its best impersonation of an avalanche so I stopped to take it out while I waited for the press to heat up.
Reagers comes in and says to me, "I thought you were making sandwiches."
"Yep, but I'm going to take the trash out first."
"That's not making sandwiches" she said with her angry face starting to show.
I put on my best Buddhist monk voice and said to her, "Patience; Grass-a-hoppa".
She was not amused.
"I'm not a grasshopper, Uncle Fatdaddy."
"That's OK", I said laughing. "You're not very patient either."
The kid is very composed. She didn't blink.
"Just make the sandwiches, Please."
What could I do? I made the sandwiches. You have to love a kid that knows what she wants.
And now I gotta go take out the trash. It's good to be me.
Atheism is No Longer an Option
Thanks to sports, I am sure of the following statements:
There is a God.
He is very interested in sporting events.
He hates my Chicago Cubs.
Without this information, there is little rhyme or reason to the events which unfolded yesterday afternoon. The New Orleans Saints are going to the Superbowl.
The New Orleans Saints are going to the Superbowl (I know I wrote that already, but I didn't believe it so I had to write it again to make sure).
The most improbable turn of events in the history of professional sports has taken place. The Ain'ts finally became the can-do's. The only time a person could say the words "Saints" and "Superbowl" in the same sentence without laughing was if you said "This year's Superbowl between the Packers and Patriots will be held at the Superdome in New Orleans; the home of the Saints." Any implications that the Aint's would play in that game were beyond ridiculous.
Yet the Saints are going to the Super bowl. (Just saying it makes the tongue go all numb and fuzzy and wrong, like when you swear or say "go utes")
I spent the morning looking to the mountains in the East expecting to find four bad-intentioned dudes come riding their horses over the hill with the sunrise. I'm fairly sure that the Saints in the Superbowl is one of the signs of the Apocalypse. At the very least, I expect another Fed Ex envelope.
But what's this got to do with the Cubs?
The Saints going to the Superbowl is direct evidence that God wants to find new and unique ways to test the faith of the die-hard Cubbie. Every single unlikely team in the universe that could win a championship before the Cubs; will. And they will do it while the Cubbies have to watch with envy.
It's hard enough when we have to watch the Boston Red Sox break the curse of the Bambino and win a World Series. But for an encore, we get to watch the other Chicago team, the hated White Sox, win one.
Ouch.
And then we have to smile while the Marlins; The FLORIDA FREAKING MARLINS, win it all. And the Arizona Diamondbacks. Who the crap are the Arizona Diamondbacks? Florida and Arizona is where teams go for springball. They aren't supposed to have teams, let alone teams that win a World Series. My Grandfather lived 83 years and never saw the Cubs win a World Series. Florida's team is younger than my Eldest child and they've won two. Nothing but an act of God can explain it.
It's like the Israelites after forty years in the wilderness. Everybody gets to go to the Promised Land but Moses.
And now it's starting to spread to other sports. The Saints are going to the Superbowl (Still don't sound right). Five years ago, the Saints would get fewer than a hundred people to show up for their games. You didn't even need a ticket. You could just walk in, grab a paperbag to put over your head, and grab a seat. There were no Saints fans, just employees.
This means that all 90,000 of those screaming lunatics that went "marchin' in" to the Superdome yesterday?
Bandwagon Jumpers. Every. Single. One. When they talk about long-suffering Saints fans, they might as well be talking about leprechauns. Except that I believe Leprechauns exist. Saint fans didn't suffer. They ignored their team and waited until they saw a winner and then they hopped aboard.
And us Cubbie followers can do nothing but stand there and watch it unfold with green, green eyes and chew on the bland but filling manna that helps us survive the wilderness.
"If winter comes, can spring be far behind?" (Translation:"Wait till next year")
In the meantime, I'm cheering for the Colts. (Go Austin Collie)
There is a God.
He is very interested in sporting events.
He hates my Chicago Cubs.
Without this information, there is little rhyme or reason to the events which unfolded yesterday afternoon. The New Orleans Saints are going to the Superbowl.
The New Orleans Saints are going to the Superbowl (I know I wrote that already, but I didn't believe it so I had to write it again to make sure).
The most improbable turn of events in the history of professional sports has taken place. The Ain'ts finally became the can-do's. The only time a person could say the words "Saints" and "Superbowl" in the same sentence without laughing was if you said "This year's Superbowl between the Packers and Patriots will be held at the Superdome in New Orleans; the home of the Saints." Any implications that the Aint's would play in that game were beyond ridiculous.
Yet the Saints are going to the Super bowl. (Just saying it makes the tongue go all numb and fuzzy and wrong, like when you swear or say "go utes")
I spent the morning looking to the mountains in the East expecting to find four bad-intentioned dudes come riding their horses over the hill with the sunrise. I'm fairly sure that the Saints in the Superbowl is one of the signs of the Apocalypse. At the very least, I expect another Fed Ex envelope.
But what's this got to do with the Cubs?
The Saints going to the Superbowl is direct evidence that God wants to find new and unique ways to test the faith of the die-hard Cubbie. Every single unlikely team in the universe that could win a championship before the Cubs; will. And they will do it while the Cubbies have to watch with envy.
It's hard enough when we have to watch the Boston Red Sox break the curse of the Bambino and win a World Series. But for an encore, we get to watch the other Chicago team, the hated White Sox, win one.
Ouch.
And then we have to smile while the Marlins; The FLORIDA FREAKING MARLINS, win it all. And the Arizona Diamondbacks. Who the crap are the Arizona Diamondbacks? Florida and Arizona is where teams go for springball. They aren't supposed to have teams, let alone teams that win a World Series. My Grandfather lived 83 years and never saw the Cubs win a World Series. Florida's team is younger than my Eldest child and they've won two. Nothing but an act of God can explain it.
It's like the Israelites after forty years in the wilderness. Everybody gets to go to the Promised Land but Moses.
And now it's starting to spread to other sports. The Saints are going to the Superbowl (Still don't sound right). Five years ago, the Saints would get fewer than a hundred people to show up for their games. You didn't even need a ticket. You could just walk in, grab a paperbag to put over your head, and grab a seat. There were no Saints fans, just employees.
This means that all 90,000 of those screaming lunatics that went "marchin' in" to the Superdome yesterday?
Bandwagon Jumpers. Every. Single. One. When they talk about long-suffering Saints fans, they might as well be talking about leprechauns. Except that I believe Leprechauns exist. Saint fans didn't suffer. They ignored their team and waited until they saw a winner and then they hopped aboard.
And us Cubbie followers can do nothing but stand there and watch it unfold with green, green eyes and chew on the bland but filling manna that helps us survive the wilderness.
"If winter comes, can spring be far behind?" (Translation:"Wait till next year")
In the meantime, I'm cheering for the Colts. (Go Austin Collie)
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