NOOOOOO!!!!!

So how am I supposed to judge a day like today?

Last night we went to Grandma's work party at Murray park. Free dinner is always a good thing, and the kids love the fishpond and other games. But I must admit that it is a mixed emotion to go each year. This work party was one of the last things we did together as a family before my brother was killed so there is always a bit of association there. And since they hold it around the same time every year, it serves as a reminder that the anniversary of his death is coming up again.

We could have had it a little easier with the dates on that one. His birthday is in January, and his death was on the same day of the month in August; so we get a fresh round of scab-peeling every half year or so. Not my idea of fun, but at least it's symmetrical.

For the last couple of days, my lenses have been bugging me and I had been hitting the 'roids hard to keep from having an allergic reaction. I put them in to go to the party and they were all right for the most part. Then on the way home, the right eye started burning and irritating the heck out of me. It felt like there was a piece of highway gravel stuck in there and it reminded me that I needed to get more lens solution. I asked the Boss if we could stop at Walmart and by the time we got there, I could hardly keep my eye open.

I learned very early on that with my crazy shaped corneas it is always a good idea to keep a complete lens kit on hand at all times because even my custom fit lenses can pop out. And they usually do so at the most inconvenient of times. So I pulled my case out and got ready to remove the irritated lens.

I had foolishly not grabbed my removal plunger, leaving me to try to pry the little sucker out with my fat fingers. While thus engaged, I felt the lens shift, and my eye started to feel better, so I put my case away and the Boss and I headed into the store.

Guess where the lens had "shifted"?

Now you may rightly say to yourself, "If he's so stinking blind, how is it that he did not immediately notice the absence of a lens?" There are two answers to this.

First, I did notice the decline in vision. In fact I said to the Boss, "This lousy lens isn't doing crapola right now. I can't see any better than without it" (perhaps I should have seen this as a warning sign).

And second,when my eyes get irritated like that, it doesn't matter if the lens is in or not, I don't see well. So it was not unusual for me to have bad vision and the thought that the lens was gone did not occur to me. I was too happy not to be still flushing boulders from under my eyelid. I ignored it until we got home and then I went to the bathroom to pull the lenses out for the night.

When the plunger came up empty, I started to royally panic. I made the Boss do a full scale examination to see if perhaps it had rolled up under one of the lids or behind the eye but it was long gone. We scoured the bathroom floor, the sink (I have an OCD tick that makes me put the plug down to ensure a dropped lens won't go down the drain), my clothes, the bedroom floor, outside to the car, the floor of the car, the seat, the dashboard... gone, baby.

Gone.

I have the hurting suspicion that sometime during the night a sweeper at Walmart dusted up a little blue plastic miracle without any idea of what it was. At that very moment I was probably curled into the fetal position feeling like I'd taken a shot to the "Solar Plexus" as the boys of professional wrestling euphemistically describe it. It was a long night filled with some really good panic attacks of the variety I ain't seen in years.

Then this morning, I got a call from the Boss. She had left early for work and on the way she had already gotten a replacement lens ordered (2 weeks to wait might seem like an eternity until I compare it to five years...then, not so much), had found a way to get it paid for, (You know who you are; Ooh Sainted One)and had the good news that I may have legitimate, full time employment. It would be mule work for a disaster cleanup company.

Now it's not writing but there is a steady paycheck involved and who of you that read this blog would argue that I, of all people, am not qualified to "Clean Up" after disasters? Might even help to rectify my "why me" attitude. I'm only blind, fat, broke and ugly. These people will have had their homes flooded, burned, or otherwise demolished. Is it wrong to assume that it would be good for me to see people more messed up than me?

All I know is a job is a job, and I'll take it if officially offered. Cash is cash, and I could sure use me some of that....

Something The Boy Said

Went to Orem to help the Boss with a little work project yesterday. The city of Orem held a fun run to benefit a police charity. It was called "Run a Crook Out of Town" and we set up a table at the start/finish line with ice water, treats, and coupons for free meals. As the primary sponsor (and the only one present) Village Inn got some nice publicity and community good will.

As a family, we got fed, the kids and I got to get out of the house, and the Boss got paid for three hours of work on her day off. That is a miracle that never would have happened under the Clown.

When we pulled into the parking lot, Peff scored big points with his Old Man when he gently requested that his mother move the car, for she had thoughtlessly parked closer to a red car than a blue one. According to the brainwashing propaganda (also known as the TRUTH!) that I endlessly indoctrinate him with, Red (school colors of the hated Utah Utes) is the color of evil. Blue (school colors of BYU) is the color of loyalty, courage and righteousness. It was a beautiful moment that would have brought tears to my eyes if my tear ducts hadn't been seared shut by overdoses of steroids.

Next up for the Peff? A t-shirt that reads "Me too, Max. Me too."

Of course his turn for the funny was not finished. He ordered the smiley-faced pancakes for dinner, and then asked his mother if he could "blind" his face. I figured he wanted to pluck the blueberries and eat them first, but he was actually after the salt to shake over them. Don't ask me, it's not my fault.

***Editor's Note to Self
I gotta find a way to keep this kid from going to work for the CIA....
***

At dinner, the kids were very good and on their best behavior; except for Squizzle who was so excited by the idea of a drink all for himself that he spent most of the time hooting and laughing and having a grand time. Luckily for us we were there between the lunch and dinner rushes so there was not a lot of others around to be annoyed.

And speaking of annoyed...

After we had finished dinner, I took the kids for a spin around the parking lot while the Boss took care of some work matters before the race. Having been pent up for an hour on their best behaviour, they decided that they needed to cut loose and make a little noise. Moe commented that Squizzle's happy chatter in the restaurant was funny at first but "Got a little annoying after a minute."

I agreed, of course, but the reference to annoyance caused me to foolishly bring up one of my favorite movie quotes from "Dumb & Dumber": "Hey! Wanna hear the most annoying noise in the world?" (Followed by high pitched, nasal squealing equivalent to nails on a chalkboard).

The kids, having never seen this movie, thought it was hilarious and immediately began to create their own unique, individual "most annoying noise in the world".

Most were high pitched wails or screeches of some order or another, and Puzilla in particular, figuratively shattered several storefront windows. Squizzle got back into the spirit adding his own distinctive "Yawp" and I soon found myself suffering from a head-splitting migraine of monolithic proportions.

Thus inspired by "art" I coined a new term...the "Symphannoy". I thought about calling it the "Annoychestra", but Symphannoy has a pop to it that I can't quite explain. It just sounds better.

In theory only, of course.

In practice, it probably rates as the aural equivalent to Peff's salt in the eyes. Whatever you call it, it is torture.

Water boarding, indeed. I've said it before and I'll say it again. Turn those terrorists over to my five kids for twenty minutes, and they'll gleefully spill their guts about where Bin Laden is.

Destroying Angels isn't just a clever nickname, folks.

What the Weekend Wrought...

Well, the weekend was not without its interesting moments, so I have some catching up to do. Saturday, the Boss got her permanent assignment from work, and she'll be working much closer to home starting on the thirteenth of this month. Not a moment too soon; says I. The Boss said she'll miss the folks in Orem, but she certainly won't miss the two hour daily commutes. She met with her supervisor who had many complimentary things to say, not the least of which was that he was unimpressed with most new hires ability to match his expectations, but that the Boss was already exceeding his hopes and was knocking it out of the park.

Those of us who love her are not the least bit surprised.

After she got done, we went to her sisters house where we tested the quality of their new home's construction by piling just short of fifty people onto the staircase to take a family photo or ten. As soon as they are finished, I'll post one for posterity sake. We had some more shots of the kids done, and having seen some of the advance snaps, I am very happy with how they turned out.

***Editor's Note
I will take this time to offer a shameless plug and laud the professional competency and excellent craftsmanship of our photographer, Phil Massey. Phil does great work at prices even my broke budget can afford. He has top of the line equipment and the know-how to use it. He does everything from bridal shots and weddings to family portraits, get-togethers and reunions; no group is too big. If you live in Utah, you may occasionally see some of his nature shots featured on local newscasts during the weather segments. In the coming days, I will be posting a link to his web page and contact information if you are in need of a photographer. There are other photogs out there, but only Phil Massey comes with the Fatdaddy Seal of Approval.
****

Monday, I went with my brother in law to mow a lawn for our nephews. They are out of town this week and asked if I'd cover their lawn mowing business while they were gone. They basically have one customer every day, it takes about an hour to do each one, and they are pulling in a little more than a hundred bucks a week. They have bought their own equipment, and are frankly making more money than yours truly.

Very impressive gig, and I am starting to wonder whether or not I ought to go into the amateur lawn care biz. One look at my own yard would probably dissuade any potential customers, I'm afraid. One of the downsides of getting my eyesight back was that I realized what a disaster my yard is. I had no idea that I'd been mowing weeds, not grass.

Pitiful.

Also on Monday, I got more writing assignments from my freelance gig and it looks like there is a chance that I might have enough work to make it worth my while. I still wish I could find someone willing to pay me three cents a word for this drivel however. Now that would be a sweet set up!

Yesterday was a loaded day that I think will require its own post. I will put that together later this afternoon after I get the kids up and rolling, so check back later in the day for some funny stories about our trip to the Boss's work.