Perhaps the Worst Idea in the History of Bad Ideas

I am about to do the stupidest thing I have ever done. As soon as this post is finished, I'm going upstairs to paint the girls bedroom and their bathroom. And I'm taking the runts upstairs with me.

I know.

The answer is, you're right. I do have no idea what the hell I am in for. And yes, I am in fact, clinically insane. If you were unable to come to this conclusion before this, I would suggest you seek counseling yourself.

But I figure what the heck. It's been a while since "Dad Has Two Heart Attacks", and I'm feeling immune to disaster again. What's the worst that could happen?

See you all in later.

Or, I'll see you all in the asylum.

100

Gosh, I'm so thrilled! This magnificent piece of writing represents the 100th post on this blog. So many diatribes. So much venom. So much destruction.

Who would have thought that being a shiftless bum with no discernible job skills and having a complete reliance on my wife to pay the bills would provide so many opportunities for self mockery?

More surprising still, who would have thought that I'd find a way to put an English degree to use?

I'm as stunned as both of you, rest assured.

You may have noticed the change in decor. I have so few things in my life that I can change. If my shot at variety comes from messing with my Blog setup, then I'm going to mix it up. It kind of reminds me of my mission. Black suit, white shirt. The only change you got to make was the tie; so we all got really picky (and somewhat loud) with our choice in neck-wear in order to compensate. Even so it was enough to make me swear off neckties for about ten years after I got home (work as a shiftless bum does not require a dress code).

A necktie is a pretty useless decoration anyway. I don't think men of my physical stature should have to wear them for any reason. I mean really, who would make a man without feet put on shoes? I have no discernible neck, why should I have to put on a tie?

I digress.

Anyway, If the constant change in blog format annoys you, I'm sorry. I meant to annoy someone else and you are collateral damage. (Pause for rim shot and laughter)What I really need is a deep pocket organization to sponsor me (I work cheap, $1,500 bucks a day would be sufficient) and provide me with an "IT" guy to do web design. Then I could stick to what I do best...complaining.

****Editor's Note
My, does that sound bitter? I didn't realize I was in a grouchy mood this morning but I sat down to write and the bile started spewing full force. Ignore the first half of this post. I'll change the subject.
****

Yesterday was baking day, and I think we hit on a winner. We made cherry chocolate chip bundt cake, or as the kids called it, "doughnut" cake.

I'll put up the recipe and a photo when I get a second later this afternoon, but Beak and the Boss both liked it so I figure it must have turned out all right.

The kids had fun with it and it was pretty easy so I think we are back into the swing of Wednesday Baking Days.

My nephew is wrestling in the region tournament today and he's trying to place high enough to qualify for the state tournament. To do that as a sophomore is pretty cool. Geez, just wrestling some varsity as a sophomore at a school with the wrestling tradition ours has is pretty amazing. His dad was varsity as a sophomore there, but he got murdered in every match. I myself didn't crack the varsity until my senior year. Whether he makes state or not, the kid has done pretty well.

The Boss and I are still waiting to hear more about those life-changing opportunities. We were hoping to know something by today but it looks like it might be a little longer. This is not a happy thing for me. I have been a nervous wreck for a week. Another week might kill me. I just don't want to count my chickens...blah, blah, blah... but when I see this kind of light at the end of the tunnel it's either blue sky (something we ain't seen in about half a decade) or another train (which flatten us constantly) so I get really nervous that something is gonna blow it all to Hades. Keep praying, we need all the help we can get.

Speaking of help, I've got to get going. The Boss is off today and we have a few things to do, including the next basketball game for the Eldest. Which reminds me that I still need to post the pics from the last games. Where did I put that camera....

Gotta go, Happy 100th.

Did That Just Happen?

And still one more sign that the world is going to Hell in a FedEx envelope...


After I got done with class last night the Boss stopped at a sandwich shop to get me a bite to eat. We went in and there were two friendly girls waiting behind the counter to help us. One of them was particularly chatty and asked if it was still warm outside. (It was slightly warmer than average yesterday, but by then it was way past sundown and colder than a Siberian Well-diggers...you get the point).

"No", said the Boss. "It's gotten quite cold.

"Oh, that's too bad", replied the girl. "I don't mind snow, but I want the cold to go away. What did the Groundhog say this morning?"

"Six more weeks of winter", I said. "Apparently, the 'Global Warming' people haven't gotten to the Groundhogs yet."

****Editor's Note
I spent most of the morning thinking about a post that explains the long-standing enmity between groundhogs (who are pro-winter traditionalists) and gerbils (who are toiling in the cause of global warming) though I decided against it. But it may appear somewhere down the line...
****

The second girl took this opportunity to enter the conversation.

"Yeah? I'm still not sure I really believe in that stuff, you know?"

"You don't?" I asked, expecting to hear her launch into a anti-Al Gore tirade against climate change.

"Nope", she said seriously. "I mean, I guess it might be true, but I'm just not convinced that a Groundhog can change the weather. How do they do it, really?"

It was at this point that I realized that I was going to need a trip to the emergency room to reattach the large portion of my tongue and lower lip that I had just bitten off in order to not laugh out loud.

The Boss and I were still giggling about it this morning. It was the blondest thing I have ever seen.

People Like Blood Sausage

"Well, it's Groundhog Day....Again...."

There are two moments in movie history that cause me to fall into uncontrollable fits of laughter EVERY time I see them. They are without a doubt the best examples of comic genius ever caught on film.

The first is in Mel Brooks' classic "Young Frankenstein" when Gene Wilder is doing a vaudeville style song-and-dance number with the Creature, played by Peter Boyle. Wilder is singing "Puttin' on the Ritz" while Boyle clumps his way through a few clumsy tap steps. At the appropriate moment in the song, the Creature gets to sing, and Boyle bellows out, "PU NA RITZ!"

The shouting voice, the ridiculous speech impediment, the hammy dance number...it all combines in that one line to be one of the funniest things I have ever seen. Just thinking about it makes me giggle. If you haven't seen it, ya gotta.

The other moment, and my admitted favorite, comes from Bill Murray's opus magnum, "Groundhog Day".

When he realizes that he can't escape, he's stuck in Punxatawney, and nothing he can do will ever change it, he tries to commit suicide. The stone faced, deadpan wave he gives the driver when he steps in front of a truck is funny.

But it's the bit with the toaster that kills me every time.

He walks into the dining room of the bed and breakfast and takes the toaster without a word. He ignores the innkeeper when she asks if he'd like some toast, and carries the toaster back to his room. Still dressed in his pajamas, he sits in a tub full of water with the toaster in his lap. He leans over to plug the toaster in, then you see him start to push the mechanism down. The scene cuts back to the dining room, and the lights blink while you can hear the power arcing and circuits popping.

The innkeeper puts her hand to her mouth and calmly says "Oh, dear!"

I hear that he makes a few more attempts which may be funnier, but I've never seen them. As soon as he sits in the tub, I lose it. I've had more than one day that made me want to grab a toaster.

I've seen that movie a thousand times, and it never gets old.

And because it is Groundhog Day today I'm going to drag it off the DVD shelf and watch it again tonight.

Just saw the morning news from Punxatawny. Six more weeks of winter. Uh-hu.

Don't drive angry!

Moon (or something) River

One of my favorite episodes of the Simpson's shows Bart, Milhouse, and the Bully, Nelson Munz going on vacation and stopping in Branson, Missouri. Bart says Branson is "like Vegas if it were run by Ned Flanders". At Nelson's insistence, they stop at an Andy Williams show. The scene cuts to the boys sitting in the theater and Nelson is crying gently while Andy sings "Moon River".

"Just when I thought he wasn't going to sing it, " he says, "Then BAM! Second encore! Bravo!"

That is how this weekend went. Just when I thought I was out of material for today's blog post, then Bam! Here comes Bub.


It is his birthday today. Contrary to what I have previously posted, he was not actually three until today (Cut me some slack, he was only three months shy of three when I started this blog, it was a good enough guess for government work).

He has been very good lately about the potty training thing, he hasn't had an accident here in quite a while. Today, he even went by himself twice (and fortunatly didn't miss) and got himself dressed with no help. I thought it was a remarkable improvement and am very proud of him.

When Beak got done with work, she came to pick him up and sat on the couch for a minute to chat. I told her that I was really struggling with something to write about today. I'm pretty preoccupied with the swirling possibilites that are converging on us, and it has been tough to focus on much of anything else.

Beak (like the Boss) is ever supportive of my writing, and told me not to worry, I'd find something to write about. I changed the subject and told her how proud of Bub I was for going to the potty all by himself. A minute or so later, Beak jumped off the couch like a scalded cat shouting, "Bub! What's the matter with you? Are you kidding me?"

It took me a minute to notice that she had a large, wet, soggy spot on the knee of her jeans. His own little Moon (or something) River, right down my sister's leg.

All I could do was laugh. "That is absolutely going on the blog," I told her.

For once it wasn't me.

Happy Birthday, Bub. Three years ago, my sister gave you life a little before you were due. Today, she gave you the gift of not ending you before you're due as well. When you're old enough to read this, you better tell her you love her.

I'm gonna go find some Andy Williams to listen to.

Didn't See That One Coming....

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.

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.

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?

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.