Well, we got a happy little surprise when the Clown company decided to buy the Boss out of her two weeks notice. It's funny because just yesterday morning the Boss said to me, "I wish I had thought to plan a little vacation time in between the two jobs so I could recharge."
Well, then! Wish in one hand...get it granted in the other. Our incredible string of fortunate bounces continues. I know who it is that gets the credit, and I will be eternally indebted and infinitely grateful. But to be honest, it's making me a little nervous.
Because of this great news, I will be in and out of the house for a bit, so expect sporadic posting at best. I'll try to keep this updated at night as best I can.
In the meantime, Happy Father's day to all the dads, and have a great weekend!!!!
Thursday, June 17, 2010
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
An Alternator with Fava Beans and Chianti?
If I did not know better, I would swear that my wife is the Hannibal Lechter of automobiles.
The new van wouldn't start this morning, necessitating another trip to autozone. Hopefully it's just a low battery charge, but with my luck...
On the good side, I think that I'm going to nickname the new car Clarisse.
"You might think you're a sports car, with your fancy wheels and V6 engine; but you're really just a bad oil change and a lower wheelbase away from being a poor, tan, station wagon! Phtppppphtpphtphhht!"
Laugh or cry. I'm kinda on the edge.
Yesterday's post reminded me of a couple of classic family stories that ought to be recorded for posterity. It was the trip to the buffet that triggered 'em.
The first and foremost was a trip that we took right before the Boss and I got married. My brother had just gotten home from his mission and with my grandparents in town, mom and dad took everybody out to eat. The Boss had just had her wisdom teeth pulled and was not in much condition for an all-you-can-eat, but came with us anyway.
It was a nice dinner with lots of jokes and stories, and we were all having a good time. My brother and I got up to go get ice cream. When we got to the dessert bar, there was this little, old man who looked to be about a thousand and ninety years old, holding a cane and an empty bowl. He had this frustrated look on his face and either out of plain frustration or because he mistook us for employees, he shouts at us, "You wanna tell me just where in the hell they put the damn rice pudding?!"
I fell on the floor; I was laughing so hard. My brother kept it together long enough to help the old geezer out, but by the time we got back to the table, neither one of us could control ourselves. When we told every one else, the whole table was in hysterics.
To this day, I have no idea why that old man asking for "Damn rice pudding" was so utterly hilarious, but it was. More than fifteen years have passed and we cannot have any family function involving dinner without someone asking if there will be "Damn rice pudding" on the menu. Whatever you do, don't call it rice pudding. That just wouldn't be right. Everyone knows there is no rice pudding but "Damn rice pudding".
The other story is just as good. Right after my brother got married, we had one great mass family vacation to Florida and Disney world. Haggis was maybe one or two, and we flew fourteen people to Orlando. It was one of those unforgettable trips that become eternal legend.
Just to give you an idea of how great a trip this was, we flew from Salt Lake to Orlando on a red-eye, and sitting right next to my dad was none other than Bill Goldberg and Diamond Dallas Paige from professional wrestling fame. These were the days before cell phone cameras but Dad did get DDP to autograph a barf-bag. Says he was one of the nicest guys you'd ever meet.
And the trip only got better from there.
But for this post's purpose, I'll just tell about our trip to the Crystal Palace Buffet in Magic Kingdom.
Now, my grandmother started a tradition long before our trip to Florida when we went to a buffet in Jackpot, Nevada. During that meal, Grandma came back from the dessert bar (Sorry, this was pre-Damn rice pudding days) with a plate full of cookies. You have to understand that my grandmother is a woman of great presence, but small stature. So we were all kind of amazed at the quantity of dessert she was planning on putting away.
We had no idea.
A few minutes later, she excused herself from the table and we were stunned to see nothing on her plate but crumbs. When she came back with another stack of cookies, curiosity got the better of manners and someone jokingly asked her where she was putting all the cookies.
"In my purse", she said, pulling out a ziplock baggie now half full of chocolate chip deliciousness. "I bring a ziplock, and take a dozen or so home with me so grandpa can have them for late night snacks."
Well this was far too practical an idea for everyone at the table to NOT adopt, so when we went to the buffet from then on, we always had a "Bag man" for a little take home treat.
Well, the food at Disneyland is...um...pricey. Having a sugar pick-me-up in a purse was a really good idea. So when we ate at the Crystal Palace we made my sister M the "bagman".
To avoid ostentatious displays of greed everyone would get one extra cookie when making a trip to the buffet. It became a bit of a game. We'd go "secret agent" while casually slipping M the loot for storage.
The giggles were getting louder and louder, and to be honest, a dozen people each nicking a couple of extra cookies really does put a dent in a buffet line. By the time we filled the bag, we noticed our waiter was studying us suspiciously. The giggling stopped, and we all started wondering at the ethics of covert cookie capers. We finished eating and everyone was nervously teasing M that if the "heat" came, we'd run interference while she made a break for the door.
Imagine our surprise when the waiter motioned for the manager to come over and then whispered something in his ear while gesturing in our direction. Now I was actually sweating.
The manager walked over to us, cleared his throat and said, "Excuse me a moment."
Everyone froze.
"Were you the people looking for a mail drop to send postcards home? The waiter wasn't sure if it was you or another family that had asked."
Everyone busted up laughing. "Yeah, that was us."
"I'd be happy to take those for you and see that they are mailed."
"Thanks a bunch. The postcards are right here in M's purse...um...."
Needless to say, covert cookie operations were red lighted from that point on.
Now I gotta go, the Boss just pulled bananna bread from the oven and it's calling my name.
The new van wouldn't start this morning, necessitating another trip to autozone. Hopefully it's just a low battery charge, but with my luck...
On the good side, I think that I'm going to nickname the new car Clarisse.
"You might think you're a sports car, with your fancy wheels and V6 engine; but you're really just a bad oil change and a lower wheelbase away from being a poor, tan, station wagon! Phtppppphtpphtphhht!"
Laugh or cry. I'm kinda on the edge.
Yesterday's post reminded me of a couple of classic family stories that ought to be recorded for posterity. It was the trip to the buffet that triggered 'em.
The first and foremost was a trip that we took right before the Boss and I got married. My brother had just gotten home from his mission and with my grandparents in town, mom and dad took everybody out to eat. The Boss had just had her wisdom teeth pulled and was not in much condition for an all-you-can-eat, but came with us anyway.
It was a nice dinner with lots of jokes and stories, and we were all having a good time. My brother and I got up to go get ice cream. When we got to the dessert bar, there was this little, old man who looked to be about a thousand and ninety years old, holding a cane and an empty bowl. He had this frustrated look on his face and either out of plain frustration or because he mistook us for employees, he shouts at us, "You wanna tell me just where in the hell they put the damn rice pudding?!"
I fell on the floor; I was laughing so hard. My brother kept it together long enough to help the old geezer out, but by the time we got back to the table, neither one of us could control ourselves. When we told every one else, the whole table was in hysterics.
To this day, I have no idea why that old man asking for "Damn rice pudding" was so utterly hilarious, but it was. More than fifteen years have passed and we cannot have any family function involving dinner without someone asking if there will be "Damn rice pudding" on the menu. Whatever you do, don't call it rice pudding. That just wouldn't be right. Everyone knows there is no rice pudding but "Damn rice pudding".
The other story is just as good. Right after my brother got married, we had one great mass family vacation to Florida and Disney world. Haggis was maybe one or two, and we flew fourteen people to Orlando. It was one of those unforgettable trips that become eternal legend.
Just to give you an idea of how great a trip this was, we flew from Salt Lake to Orlando on a red-eye, and sitting right next to my dad was none other than Bill Goldberg and Diamond Dallas Paige from professional wrestling fame. These were the days before cell phone cameras but Dad did get DDP to autograph a barf-bag. Says he was one of the nicest guys you'd ever meet.
And the trip only got better from there.
But for this post's purpose, I'll just tell about our trip to the Crystal Palace Buffet in Magic Kingdom.
Now, my grandmother started a tradition long before our trip to Florida when we went to a buffet in Jackpot, Nevada. During that meal, Grandma came back from the dessert bar (Sorry, this was pre-Damn rice pudding days) with a plate full of cookies. You have to understand that my grandmother is a woman of great presence, but small stature. So we were all kind of amazed at the quantity of dessert she was planning on putting away.
We had no idea.
A few minutes later, she excused herself from the table and we were stunned to see nothing on her plate but crumbs. When she came back with another stack of cookies, curiosity got the better of manners and someone jokingly asked her where she was putting all the cookies.
"In my purse", she said, pulling out a ziplock baggie now half full of chocolate chip deliciousness. "I bring a ziplock, and take a dozen or so home with me so grandpa can have them for late night snacks."
Well this was far too practical an idea for everyone at the table to NOT adopt, so when we went to the buffet from then on, we always had a "Bag man" for a little take home treat.
Well, the food at Disneyland is...um...pricey. Having a sugar pick-me-up in a purse was a really good idea. So when we ate at the Crystal Palace we made my sister M the "bagman".
To avoid ostentatious displays of greed everyone would get one extra cookie when making a trip to the buffet. It became a bit of a game. We'd go "secret agent" while casually slipping M the loot for storage.
The giggles were getting louder and louder, and to be honest, a dozen people each nicking a couple of extra cookies really does put a dent in a buffet line. By the time we filled the bag, we noticed our waiter was studying us suspiciously. The giggling stopped, and we all started wondering at the ethics of covert cookie capers. We finished eating and everyone was nervously teasing M that if the "heat" came, we'd run interference while she made a break for the door.
Imagine our surprise when the waiter motioned for the manager to come over and then whispered something in his ear while gesturing in our direction. Now I was actually sweating.
The manager walked over to us, cleared his throat and said, "Excuse me a moment."
Everyone froze.
"Were you the people looking for a mail drop to send postcards home? The waiter wasn't sure if it was you or another family that had asked."
Everyone busted up laughing. "Yeah, that was us."
"I'd be happy to take those for you and see that they are mailed."
"Thanks a bunch. The postcards are right here in M's purse...um...."
Needless to say, covert cookie operations were red lighted from that point on.
Now I gotta go, the Boss just pulled bananna bread from the oven and it's calling my name.
Monday, June 14, 2010
The Wrath Of Fatdaddy
"From Hell's own heart, I stab at thee!"
Wow. Am I really quoting "Khan" from Star Trek?
If "high school me" were here he'd be kicking my butt. Since when was I able to quote Star Trek? That's the kind of crap that'll bring the shades of Vince Lombardi and Jerry Sloan snooping around here looking for my Man Card.
Nevertheless, it's the thought that came to mind on Saturday night at ten when the Boss got a call from one of her piece of dirt managers, who waited until then to tell the Boss that she wasn't going to come in for her three am shift.
Guess who had to go work her sixth shift of the week at a job she should no longer give a fat rat's patoot about? Nothing like one last cheap shot from the ingrates, huh? It was a real slap in the Boss's face and I don't mind saying it made me mad enough to spit. I told her she should have called her "Idiot" supervisor up and give him a taste of what she's had to deal with.
The conversation could go like this:
Boss: "Yeah, I know it's ten at night and you're getting ready for bed and you probably worked today already, but I don't have anyone to cover my closing shift. I think if I were you I'd set my alarm for about 2:30"
The Idiot: "No way am I doing that for you. You can go to Blazes"
Boss: "Sorry, pal, I gave Blazes my two weeks notice. Fire me if you want. Welcome to the world you created. Enjoy."
The Idiot: "Gee. This really is a crappy thing to expect of someone. Who knew?"
This is why they are lucky it was the Boss they employed instead of me. I'd have had that conversation.
But because the Boss is the compassionate woman she is... she went to work on two hours sleep and pulled her second nine hour shift of the day.
Savor the flavor, Clowns. It'll never happen again.
In fact, I have a feeling that about a month from now there is going to be significant weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth when the Clowns above and below realize just how much the Boss was shielding them from each other. By then, she'll be too far away to hear it, and no longer paid to care. I told you I can be bitter, but Karma can be a real beast.
Just ask my Cubbies.
They keep finding new and unusual ways to break my heart. Yesterday, I watched Ted Lilly take a no-no into the bottom of the ninth inning. I don't know when the last time a Cubbie threw a no hitter was, but the TV said there hadn't been one at Wrigley since before I was born. I got really exited as Lilly mowed down the eighth and called my mother to make sure she was tuned into something good actually happening to the Cubbies.
I mean, come on. I've been on a real roll with the Boss finding a new job, my eye sight returning...Miracles have been popping up like daisies.
"Mom!", I shouted into the phone. "Are you watching the Cubs game? Lilly's dealing a no-no!"
"I'll turn it on", she said.
Two pitches into the inning, Lilly tosses a looping off-speed pitch that I could have hit with my contacts out and it gets drilled into short center.
No-no abolished. "From Hell's heart..." I know, I know. I get it.
Five little words.
Loopy pulled Lilly for "Rocket-fuel Marmol", who immediately proceeded to walk the guy representing the winning run, balk the runners to second and third, and try to throw the game away.
I turned to the Boss, who was napping on the couch, and said, "Only the Cubbies could get within three outs of a no-hitter and then proceed to lose."
I called Mom again. "They will..."
"...break your heart!" she finished.
In spite of my bitter sorrow over the lost no-no, they managed to at least squeek out the win.
I guess I was due for one more miracle last week after all.
In spite of those two sour notes, I have to say it does not suck to be me right now. We went to dinner with my parents on Saturday night between the Boss's eighteen hour shifts. We went to the Buffet to celebrate the Boss's new job and the return of my vision. It was a very good evening. The kids even minded their manners.
I gotta say, you have know idea how trippy it is to be able to see street signs and pedestrians again. I even snuck in a joy ride around the block on Friday night.
Just because I could. I kept pointing to signs and reading them. The poor Boss was subjected to me reading inane things for the whole ride home from the doctor. It reminded me of when Peff learned his letters and annoyed us for a month by reading every letter he saw. Remember "Dad has two heart attacks"?
Look at this! Did you see that? When did they put that there? When did they tear that down?
I saw mountains and clouds, and the leaves on trees. I saw the TV from the couch instead of three feet away. I saw that the Rockband game I've been playing for a few years has little gray lines that mark the beat for you. I didn't know that.
I saw that my carpet is far dirtier than I thought, and I saw that what I thought was a grass lawn is really a mowed down weed patch. I also saw that I might have done the world's worst paint job on my living room. I can't believe the Boss has put up me doing such "fractional donkey"(think about it, you'll get it) work for so long.
"What, did a blind man paint this room?" Um, funny you should ask. I think I have some work to do. Or redo.
I saw the Boss is still as good looking as she was fifteen years ago, and I saw Squizzle clearly for the first time in his life. Thank heaven he looks like his mother.
I've seen a lot this weekend. It ain't perfect. The lenses irritate my eyes after about eight hours, and I have some glare in the left eye, but it's so much better than what it was, I don't care.
Hell can stab at me all it wants.
It's good to be me.
Wow. Am I really quoting "Khan" from Star Trek?
If "high school me" were here he'd be kicking my butt. Since when was I able to quote Star Trek? That's the kind of crap that'll bring the shades of Vince Lombardi and Jerry Sloan snooping around here looking for my Man Card.
Nevertheless, it's the thought that came to mind on Saturday night at ten when the Boss got a call from one of her piece of dirt managers, who waited until then to tell the Boss that she wasn't going to come in for her three am shift.
Guess who had to go work her sixth shift of the week at a job she should no longer give a fat rat's patoot about? Nothing like one last cheap shot from the ingrates, huh? It was a real slap in the Boss's face and I don't mind saying it made me mad enough to spit. I told her she should have called her "Idiot" supervisor up and give him a taste of what she's had to deal with.
The conversation could go like this:
Boss: "Yeah, I know it's ten at night and you're getting ready for bed and you probably worked today already, but I don't have anyone to cover my closing shift. I think if I were you I'd set my alarm for about 2:30"
The Idiot: "No way am I doing that for you. You can go to Blazes"
Boss: "Sorry, pal, I gave Blazes my two weeks notice. Fire me if you want. Welcome to the world you created. Enjoy."
The Idiot: "Gee. This really is a crappy thing to expect of someone. Who knew?"
This is why they are lucky it was the Boss they employed instead of me. I'd have had that conversation.
But because the Boss is the compassionate woman she is... she went to work on two hours sleep and pulled her second nine hour shift of the day.
Savor the flavor, Clowns. It'll never happen again.
In fact, I have a feeling that about a month from now there is going to be significant weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth when the Clowns above and below realize just how much the Boss was shielding them from each other. By then, she'll be too far away to hear it, and no longer paid to care. I told you I can be bitter, but Karma can be a real beast.
Just ask my Cubbies.
They keep finding new and unusual ways to break my heart. Yesterday, I watched Ted Lilly take a no-no into the bottom of the ninth inning. I don't know when the last time a Cubbie threw a no hitter was, but the TV said there hadn't been one at Wrigley since before I was born. I got really exited as Lilly mowed down the eighth and called my mother to make sure she was tuned into something good actually happening to the Cubbies.
I mean, come on. I've been on a real roll with the Boss finding a new job, my eye sight returning...Miracles have been popping up like daisies.
"Mom!", I shouted into the phone. "Are you watching the Cubs game? Lilly's dealing a no-no!"
"I'll turn it on", she said.
Two pitches into the inning, Lilly tosses a looping off-speed pitch that I could have hit with my contacts out and it gets drilled into short center.
No-no abolished. "From Hell's heart..." I know, I know. I get it.
Five little words.
Loopy pulled Lilly for "Rocket-fuel Marmol", who immediately proceeded to walk the guy representing the winning run, balk the runners to second and third, and try to throw the game away.
I turned to the Boss, who was napping on the couch, and said, "Only the Cubbies could get within three outs of a no-hitter and then proceed to lose."
I called Mom again. "They will..."
"...break your heart!" she finished.
In spite of my bitter sorrow over the lost no-no, they managed to at least squeek out the win.
I guess I was due for one more miracle last week after all.
In spite of those two sour notes, I have to say it does not suck to be me right now. We went to dinner with my parents on Saturday night between the Boss's eighteen hour shifts. We went to the Buffet to celebrate the Boss's new job and the return of my vision. It was a very good evening. The kids even minded their manners.
I gotta say, you have know idea how trippy it is to be able to see street signs and pedestrians again. I even snuck in a joy ride around the block on Friday night.
Just because I could. I kept pointing to signs and reading them. The poor Boss was subjected to me reading inane things for the whole ride home from the doctor. It reminded me of when Peff learned his letters and annoyed us for a month by reading every letter he saw. Remember "Dad has two heart attacks"?
Look at this! Did you see that? When did they put that there? When did they tear that down?
I saw mountains and clouds, and the leaves on trees. I saw the TV from the couch instead of three feet away. I saw that the Rockband game I've been playing for a few years has little gray lines that mark the beat for you. I didn't know that.
I saw that my carpet is far dirtier than I thought, and I saw that what I thought was a grass lawn is really a mowed down weed patch. I also saw that I might have done the world's worst paint job on my living room. I can't believe the Boss has put up me doing such "fractional donkey"(think about it, you'll get it) work for so long.
"What, did a blind man paint this room?" Um, funny you should ask. I think I have some work to do. Or redo.
I saw the Boss is still as good looking as she was fifteen years ago, and I saw Squizzle clearly for the first time in his life. Thank heaven he looks like his mother.
I've seen a lot this weekend. It ain't perfect. The lenses irritate my eyes after about eight hours, and I have some glare in the left eye, but it's so much better than what it was, I don't care.
Hell can stab at me all it wants.
It's good to be me.
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