"The Muffled Cries For Help From a Daddy of Four Beautiful Little Girls"


Monday, September 21, 2009

Your New Favorite Song!

Jenna and her sister Cassie were left alone with the laptop.

And now her singing career is off and running!
When you get to part where she goes "do oo oo oo oo oo oo oo," see if you can watch without puckering your lips along with her.
I dare you.

Thursday, September 17, 2009

Wednesday, September 16, 2009

Using an Economy of Words, For the Purpose of Brevity, in the Most Concise Sense...

I finally have figured out why I'm not clicking over to here to write posts as much as my soul craves:

It's all Facebook's fault.
I am not to be blamed.

It's been so much easier to post a quick one- or two-liner on Facebook than to come here and write the most prolific and life-changing posts to which you have become accustomed.

But there's no reason I can't do both. So for today, I've decided to share some potential Facebook statuses that I have not yet written:

Scott gets the point of the title "Biggest Loser" but thinks he probably should suggest that his kids not constantly refer to all the contestants as "losers."

Scott wonders...if the monkeys at the zoo do that when people are watching, what in the world do they do after hours?!

Scott is fricasseeing some chicken. ("Fricasseeing" means picking up some KFC in the drive-thru window, right?)

Scott refuses to say "octopi" as the plural of "octopus." I speak English, not Latin. Same goes for "cactus," "status," "walrus," "Prius," "schoolbus" and "Jesus."

Scott wants to say something controversial about healthcare reform so you'll leave lots of comments.

Scott wishes people would stop laughing at his Cupid Shuffle.

Scott was hoping that the music store going out of business was going to forget we were renting one of their violins.

Scott should probably not have left his lunch containing yogurt out in the hot car all day. And he most definitely should not have eaten the yogurt.

Scott wishes to remind people that the term is "shaved head" not "bald." "Balding," perhaps. Maybe "wispy." Possibly even "hopelessly and irreversibly thin on top." Remember that bald people have feelings too... I mean "shaved headed people."

There. Doesn't it seem like you know me better now?

Wednesday, September 2, 2009

A Tale Of Two Hospital Stays

Today I had two friends/coworkers in the hospital.

One gave birth to a bouncy baby boy.

The other gave birth to a...well, I guess "gave birth" is not the proper term, but she had her gall bladder removed.

Now, I've had four babies, so I can relate to the whole birthing experience of the one friend. All the running to refill the ice-chip cup, the waking up every once in a while to hit "skip" on the CD player when it got to a particularly disturbing song, and let's not forget the important role of giggling into the bend of my elbow (more sanitary than into my hands) when the midwife at the hospital had my wife rocking on an enormous bouncy ball. So I know what you've been experiencing, Schmeejay and Schmirston (names have been changed in case they were wanting to keep the pregnancy a secret).

My other friend Schmemily's procedure (ironically, that's her actual name), on the other hand, is shrouded in mystery in my eyes. I'm full of questions like "will you bring home the gall bladder in a jar?" and "when do you get fitted for the wooden prosthetic gall bladder?"

I do know that she won't be able to lift objects more than 15 pounds for a while. Fortunately, her dog is a chihuahua and weighs approximately negative 12 ounces, so she's good there. Except for the likelihood of the dog treating the incision site like a trampoline.

Well, friends, I'm praying for you (using your actual names too, because I think God can be trusted to keep your personal medical information confidential unlike me who would likely post it on my blog if I get sloppy).

Tuesday, September 1, 2009

I Have Created A Middle Schooler

She's been 13 years in the making, and now in 7th grade, we've decided to unleash her more fully on the world. (World, beware.)

The unleashing begins about 7:30 am when I drive her to school. The school is only one minute from my office, so it's totally super-convenient...EXCEPT FOR THAT 7:30 AM part.

I know some of you are morning people, and to you, 7:30 sounds late. By that time, many of you have shaved, showered, dressed, read 18 chapters of Leviticus, made eggs benedict, mowed the lawn, updated your Christmas card list and completed 7 Sudoku puzzles.

But for me, a 7:30 am departure means my Pop-Tart doesn't getted popped and I haven't shaved my head in like a week!

However, I find that my Popless-Tarts and my stubbly scalp are all worth it when I pull into that quaint piece of the American experience known as the school drop-off line. It thrills my heart to try to come up with new embarrassing things to holler out as she exits the car.

"Don't forget! There's a change of underwear in your lunch bag!"

"If you get stuck in your locker, don't worry. We'd miss by noon tomorrow and come looking for you."

Let me know if you have any other suggestions. If all goes well, she'll be begging to ride the bus to school in no time, and I'll be back to going to work at a respectable hour.