Honey, I Fed The Kids!

In the Arms of The Angel

2011-02-16T07:02:00.017-05:00

Goodness gracious!
I’m not even going to look back and see when the last time was that I posted. (I really don’t have to. I can see that my current banner at the top is laden with leprechauns and shamrocks, so clearly the last time this blog received any attention from me was during the Great Leprechaun Uprising of 1872. Tsk. Tsk. I’ll just leave that up for another month, I guess, and look like I’m a month early for St. Patty’s Day instead of 139 years late for what is generally considered the bloodiest little people war of the modern era.)

So since my last post:
- an ice age has ended
- electricity was discovered and
- New Kids On The Block have gone on tour

It HAS been a long time indeed, and I’ve missed writing and interacting in this way with friends around the country. Writing for me is such a healthy exercise; it’s a kind of proactive way to stave off mental constipation. I can just pour out thoughts, ideas and experiences right here and force you to read it and like it while I go on to think and do other things. So thank you for the role you play in my therapy.

And therapy is what I need because in just a month or so, I’ll be turning 40.
AND my youngest is hitting double digits about the same time.
AND my oldest will be going to high school this year.
AND I have dry, itchy skin.
When will the madness end?

To help celebrate my apparent return, I’m posting a video of a commercial I wrote and which stars my wife. I honestly laugh out loud each time I watch it (tears even, a few times). It’s from last fall at our church, and it was made to inspire people to “adopt” college students and make them feel at home even though they are miles away from their lesser, absent, biological parents. We’ve adopted 5 students so far, and it’s been a blessing to us (and hopefully them as well). But before you get too excited, we should tell you that the IRS has informed us that we should stop claiming them as dependents.

(on my computer at least, this video has the right edge cut off the way it's embedded here, so you might have to click this link to in on Youtube to see it in all its original glory. Sorry.)

Well, it sure feels nice to be on the interweb again. See you again soon.

AI: Top 12 Sing Rolling Stones

2010-03-16T20:07:00.004-04:00

OK. I'm live-blogging right now while watching American Idol.
It's not the easiest thing. Especially since I'm doing twelve other things at the same time, one of which is watching my daughters playing volleyball with a balloon over a net made out of a Twister mat.

And to top it off, we're not using DVR so I can't rewind to see or hear anything I've missed, like people's names and the titles of songs. I do know that it's Rolling Stones night, but I don't know their music. In fact the only thing I know about the Rolling Stones is that Mick Jagger is one of them, and I was told my senior year of high school that I LOOKED LIKE MICK JAGGER! Seriously, my history teacher walked into class the first day and stared at me and then ran to get the teacher from the class next door to come gawk at me as well.

"Who does he LOOK like?!" he demanded.
Of course, the other teacher guessed things like "Tom Cruise," "Brad Pitt" and so forth. (I made that part up, but after enough times of repeating that, I'm hoping it will become one of those false memories people rave about these days.)

Anyway, Michael did a fine job. I'm evidently too busy typing and reliving my false memories to pay much attention to the actual singing, but he's good and safe for at least three more weeks or longer. He just had a baby, people. You have to like new daddies.

Didi Benihana sang a song about playing with fire and may have done the best job she's done so far. I hope she doesn't mind me saying she looks a lot like Taylor Swift. Sure beats being told she looks like Mick Jagger. Who DOES that?!
Casey James is from Cool, Texas. That's so cool. Plus he has really pretty hair. That hair will carry him to the final four at least. Mark my words! Again, I don't know the Rolling Stones from Stonehenge, so when he sang the words "I used to love her," I was guessing that it would be followed by "but I had to kill her." So I'm a little disappointed.

Lacey Brown is a preacher's kid! Hallelujah! She and I are kindred spirits, and that's worth something. I don't know what, but it's something. I think she's singing "Ruby Tuesday," and that's a great restaurant so that's something too. And--get this--her name is the same as my sister-in-law's maiden name. So that's THREE SOMETHINGS going for her. The only downsides are I didn't like the song and I didn't care for the pirate shirt under the cut-off top of a zombie's wedding dress.

Andrew Garcia with his big ol' glasses is just begging for me to call him Uncle Vito or something. Randy thought he was pitchy. But Ellen who knows nothing about music thought it was his best yet. I'd be disturbed if I were him. And seriously, folks, does anyone else expect fish to swim behind those glasses? Why am I so hung up on those glasses? I'm probably just jealous.

Katie's fans have her head on sticks. You know you've arrived when your head is on a stick. She's singing about wild horses not dragging her away. I know it's a common phrase, but do wild horses really drag things away? Is this something they're known for? I know wild wolves tear victims apart and drag chunks of them away, but wild horses? I thought her voice was weak and shaky, but I assumed it was intentional to sound like she's surrounded by a pack of wild horses about to drag her away.

Tim Urban is singing "Under My Thumb." I don't know the original song, but knowing that it's a Rolling Stones song, I'm going to assume that it probably didn't originally sound as Ukulele-ish as he's doing it tonight. Curious to see what the judge's think...OK, they didn't dig it. But you should know that Cindy was totally grooving with it and it put her in the mood for a fruity drink on the beach.

Siobhan is singing that song about things painted black. The whole prom dress and combat boots look is sure to be replicated at every high school dance this spring. Very cool arrangement and look. Very entertaining. Absolutely awesome scream. All it was missing was biting the head off a bat.

Lee Dewyze is singing "Beast of Burden" which totally conjures up images of burros carrying bags of coffee beans down steep hills in Colombia. The lyrics don't appear to support this idea, so it's probably not a good idea to put me in charge of creating the music video. Lee's sound reminds me of Danny Gokey from last season. And I think if he borrowed any of Danny's 378 pairs of glasses, he'd probably look like him too.

Paige Miles is rocking what looks like a shorts jumper like my girlfriends used to wear in 2nd grade. Are they back? Cindy says they are. She's a gorgeous girl, and pretty girls can wear whatever they want, evidently. "Honkytonk Woman" worked for her too. She's safe.

Aaron Kelly is singing "Angie" or is it "Anjay"? He did a fine job. Randy nailed the description using the word "tender." And Ellen nailed his hair: "Are you trying to look like me?"

Last up, Crystal Bowersox. She's singing "You Can't Always Get What You Want." Isn't this the song with the choir of children singing? She really needed to bring out a bunch of kids in dreadlocks to back her up. But it was still fine as it was.

-----
To wrap up, most everyone did fine. If I had to pick who to send home, I think it would be Aaron and Katie. I think they're both so young, and you can tell in their voices. But we know they'll get the votes, so I might say Andrew, Didi or Tim might be in danger instead.

For those of you who are judging me for
A) watching American Idol, and
B) writing about it,
I apologize for letting you all down.

Don't worry.
I'll make up for it tomorrow by writing summaries of soap operas and expressing support for the current health care bill.

CH_ _CH. What's Missing? SPELLCHECK!

2010-03-08T07:54:00.003-05:00

I really don't like to complain.
It's not a big deal.

I should be able to overlook it.

But put yourself in MY shoes.

I drive by FOUR churches on my way to drop my daughter off at school each morning. And not just any four churches, but four churches with CHURCH SIGNS out front where they can put up messages and announcements.

You're probably thinking I'm going to mock the cutesy trite sayings that many churches put on their signs. Really, I would rather see that than what I've been subjected to for that last several weeks.

Keep in mind that I was an English major. But I'm guessing even some of you Ceramics majors may also cringe when you read the following signs.

CHURCH A: "Be an organ doner. Give God your heart." It's "DONOR," folks. But that's not too bad. I actually suspect that most people won't even notice that misspelling.

CHURCH B: "Jesus Was God's Valintine To Us." Valuntime's with mispeelings are only cyoot win ritten by chidlrun.

CHURCH C: "WENSDAY 6:30" OK. At this point in my morning when I'd already passed two churches with misspellings, I've only got so much grace left to give. And it's not enough to even come close to covering over the multitude of sins that reside in "WENSDAY."

So by the time I see CHURCH D with the word "IMBEDDED" instead of "EMBEDDED," I'm so clouded by my fury, ire and shame that it takes every ounce of strength to keep from plowing my car directly into that sign.

Actually, I exaggerate slightly. I give churches at least a two-day grace period for them to recognize the error of their ways, but some of these still have their misspelling almost a month later.

Is it tacky to call them and tell them? Or should I just take a can of red spray paint and correct them?

(NOTE: I'm sure I have multiple misspellings and grammatical errors in this post. Isn't that iconic? And for the record, "imbedded" is an acceptable alternate spelling of "embedded" but still rubs me wrong.)

Too Bad I Don't Have A Podcast

2010-03-03T17:49:00.002-05:00

Hi, my name is Barry White.

At least I'm pretending to be Barry White today. There's some serious drainage going on in my throat right now. In addition to irritating me, it's altered my voice and taken it down a couple octave. It also causes the lights to dim and perhaps a lava lamp or two to come on. If only I had a podcast so you could hear this rich, buttery voice of mine.

But mainly it's just irritating. Don't worry, though; it's nowhere NEAR as serious as the throat blisters of death from my college days. I presume my current condition is a direct result of the Olympics. I've been up way too late catching up on all the most important events in the world of curling, biathaloning and cross-country figure-bobsledding. Then last night, my father-in-law took the whole family to the musical "Beauty and the Beast." (I still think Belle and Gaston would've made a good pair if we didn't have to worry about sending the wrong message to our children.)

Anyway, when I get too little sleep, my body responds by producing phlegm in a volume that seems mathematically impossible.

So Barry White will be leading a class at church tonight, then coming straight home to get some sleep...or watch tv until 2 am. It's a toss-up.

Swabbing The Poop Deck

2010-02-24T20:57:00.001-05:00

In the arctic regions of Indiana where we live, we've had a fair amount of snow.

And while I've done a decent amount of shoveling snow to clear a place for our dog Cheddar to do his business, he evidently hasn't realized that underneath several inches of snow is our deck, not the yard. So he's simply stepped out onto our deck and peed right then and there. (Once he even left one leg inside in the kitchen and leaned out to urinate. Good grief.)

Then I'd watch him run down the steps to go do #2 on the grass I cleared.

However, as the snow on the deck has melted we've learned that the entire deck was littered with tootsie rolls, for lack of a better term.

I'm guessing I'll need to shovel the entire deck next time it snows. And I guess right now too.

You probably didn't care to know about any of that, right?

Forgive Me, Readers, For I Have Sinned

2010-02-23T07:38:00.002-05:00

I’m not even going to look at my previous post to see how long ago it was.

It’s possible that some of you have thought I’d moved, died, been kidnapped, abducted by aliens, elected to congress or other such horrifying scenario.

The fact of the matter is this:
I hadn’t been able to get my Blackberry to work right on the post-writing page. Today, I finally modified some settings and it’s working again. I can’t say I know what I did other than check some boxes and uncheck some other ones, but the good news is that I can post again from my Blackberry.

I know what you’re thinking. “Doesn’t this guy have access to a computer? Couldn’t he have posted even withOUT a cell phone?”

You would THINK so. But please take into consideration the fact that I have 4 daughters and a wife. So having a desktop computer and two laptops is still three computers too few for me to have much access, much less the quality and quantity of access necessary to write the caliber of blog posts to which you have become accustomed.

To catch you up on our lives, I’m just going to summarily list things from our lives. And then starting with my next post, we'll just go on like we were never apart at all.

* I’m letting my hair grow out. (By “grow out,” I mean that I haven’t shaved my head since last week. It’s winter and longer hair is less likely to retain lint and fuzz from my stocking caps.)

*Three of my daughters just found out yesterday that they made the cuts for the elementary school talent/variety show. I’ll post pictures of their Tootsie Roll costumes later in the week.

* My other daughter is coming out of her shy-shell more and more; last night I dropped her off at an FCA event at a home and she walked all the way up the driveway by herself. No friend. No me. ALL. BY. HERSELF. If you know her, this is indeed a milestone.

* Speaking of milestones, my wife has discovered that I’m not actually turning 40 next month. It’s next YEAR. So if she’d invited you to my surprise 40th party, it’s postponed until at least within 11 months of my actual 40th birthday.

* Cheddar the cheese-loving helldog has only chewed up one antique piece of furniture in recent months, so we’re feeling really good about his maturing process.

* On a related note, we’ve reinstituted the shock collar with the remote control button.

* And finally, we only have two more Christmas decorations left to put away, but as long as we don’t actually turn on the lights on the Christmas topiaries flanking our front door, they look pretty normal…other than the fact that one is leaning at 45-degree angle.
But hey, that’s how we roll. Deal with it.

Long-Awaited Christmas Letter

2009-12-22T09:43:00.002-05:00

Family Investigated For Potentially Attempting to Crash White House Pot-Luck Dinner

Official charges have not yet been brought against the Newland family of Bloomington, Indiana.
By Scott Newland, Tuesday, Dec. 22, 2009 at 9:43AM EST
Scott and Cindy Newland, along with their four beautiful daughters, are coming under close scrutiny after word leaked recently alleging that they had attempted to crash the White House Christmas state dinner last week.

“For the record,” said their attorney, “the Newlands haven’t even been in the D.C. area since 2007. The party that everyone is referring to was not at the White House but at the Whites’ house… Norm and Phyllis White. And they didn’t ‘crash’ the party. They were invited, and Cindy’s mistletoe toilet seat cover was the hit of their gift exchange.”

Nevertheless, the Secret Service has run extensive background checks into the various members of the Newland family.

It appears that Jenna Newland, third grader, is being monitored for potential misdealings in the art world. Her parents acknowledge that she is frequently working on art projects that she gives as gifts, but it is still uncertain whether they are originals or detailed forgeries. They seem to be far too impressive to truly be the work of an eight year old. There is also evidence of her involvement in local soccer and basketball gangs. Jenna appears innocent and happy-go-lucky 99.9% of the time, but it is the other 0.1% which is suspect.

According to an anonymous Secret Service spokesperson named Dwayne, 4th grade Brynne Newland may have political aspirations that make her an especially questionable subject. She is indeed part of her school’s student council, but it is unclear whether rumors of her plans to take over the world are exaggerated. Her interest in jewelry and fashion indicate that her sights are set on something high profile. Brynne also recently has been spied taking piano lessons and seems to be doing physical training through sports to prepare her for some upcoming mission.

Informants report that Shelby Newland is impersonating a fifth grader, but her height-- as tall as her mom-- could blow her cover. Monitors report that her time is split between sports such as softball, soccer and basketball, and voraciously reading every book series she can get her (literally) filthy paws on. Investigators are currently reading through her abnormally large volumes of writing. It could take another year to finish.

Of particular interest to investigators is seventh grade Cassie Newland. Previously, she had presented herself as a shy, unassuming girl, but now in middle school she continues to change her M.O. She has debated and even given a speech running for- and winning- a place in student council. To help determine her potential involvement with seedy characters, her 6,892,043 text messages a month are being monitored. Cassie, now a teenager, claims to love playing the violin. Investigators find this highly suspicious.

Cindy completed coursework and renewed her teaching license and has spent the last year and a half infiltrating the local school system impersonating teachers, primarily at Lakeview Elementary, where the three youngest Newland children attend. Informants say that she appears to be enjoying herself, especially during an 8-week stint in once class while the original teacher was allegedly on maternity leave. Her claims that she was formerly a Redskins cheerleader will be put to the test as she cheers on her daughters at basketball this winter.

Scott, the head of the family, is still posing as a minister, just completing his tenth year at Sherwood Oaks Christian Church. This provides the perfect alibi for the rest of his shady dealings. He continues to direct community youth sports programs with the church amid accusations of betting on preschool soccer.

Perhaps the most suspicious character is Cheddar the Maltipoo. Reports claim he has destroyed nearly 2000 pencils in the past year, but nobody is quite sure why or what the pencils ever did to him.

Inquiries into the family’s earlier whereabouts this year have revealed that they had been spotted in Florida in March gate-crashing a space shuttle launch, in Mexico in June crashing a building project for a home for a needy family, at Niagara Falls in July crashing a boat tour and in Gatlinburg, Tennessee in October crashing a humongous pancake fest.

The Secret Service anticipates completing their investigations by next Christmas. For now, the Newlands have issued the following statement:

“We know that we’ve been greatly blessed this year even if we weren’t invited to the White House. We’re thankful for you, our family and friends, and pray that you see God’s blessings in 2010!”

A Dime Bag of Tic Tacs, Anyone?

2009-11-23T08:42:00.000-05:00

As the dean (master, king, dictator, commandant) of a week of summer camp, one of my minor responsibilities is dealing with homesick children.

It happens. And it's not just wiry little girls with pigtails, clinging to stuffed bunnies named Hippity.
No siree. We also have some "big boys" who clobber everyone on the tetherball court but then weep uncontrollably when it's time to hit the bunks.

Regardless of age, gender, or tetherball proficiency, my course of action is always the same:

"Susie," I might say.
"My name's Peter," he might respond.
Then I go on to explain the purpose of camp, the unlikelihood of vermin crawling on their faces in the night, and how their parents are partying like it's 1999 and do NOT want to leave the party right in the middle of the "Thriller" line dance to come out to camp and pick them up.

Please be assured, I'm usually very comforting and persuasive at talking kids down off their metaphorical ledges, but every other year or so, I encounter a really tough cookie.

So when "the talk" doesn't work, I resort to the Homesick pills.
They work EVERY TIME.

Now, the nurse doesn't administer the homesick pills. She can't even administer Tylenol or OxyContin without a parent's permission. So it falls to me to give children Homesick Pills when needed.

Most people just call them "Tic Tacs." But when they're in a different container, they're Homesick Pills.

"What IS this medicine," the kids will ask.
"It's a simple placebo," I tell them. I'm careful never to lie to the children. And they have no idea what "placebo" means.
"It will help you be able to calm down and rest just fine. And then in the morning we can talk about being homesick."

And sure enough, as soon as they swallow the Tic Tac, the sobbing begins to fade.

"Now give it about 30 to 45 minutes for it to start really working." (Because by then you'll be asleep and perfectly fine.)
"I promise you that everyone who has ever taken the homesick pills has ended up doing great and enjoying the rest of the week."

And that's it. Most of the kids thank me in the morning. "The medicine worked great!" they tell me. Only once has someone asked a second night in a row for another dose. But by the third night, that boy told me, "I don't think I'm going to need a pill tonight. I'm doing a lot better."

Of course, I make it a point to tell their parents what I've done. The last thing I need is their child telling them I've given them narcotics. And it's even a good thing to tell the child the whole truth at the end of the week. That way they know that they can take the credit themselves for overcoming their fears. It wasn't the "medicine." They had the strength and courage in them the whole time, because God made them that that way!

------------------
Fast-forward three months to our family weekend in the Smoky Mountains.
I'm suffering from a humongous sinus headache in the middle of the night and I just can't sleep. I had brought some allergy meds that help my sinuses, so I popped one of those in about 2 a.m.

By morning, the pain still hasn't left and I never really slept well at all.

"Honey," Cindy hollers down from the upstairs bathroom, examing my "medicine" bottle. "Did you take Tic Tacs in the middle of the night?"

They didn't help my sinuses, but at least I wasn't homesick!

No Laughing Matter [snigger, snort]

2009-10-02T08:18:00.003-04:00

I generally like to find the humor in things.
It's a curse really.
Because some things just aren't funny.
Like Cancer.
Unless...
Well, there IS that one sign/display at the exit of our grocery store. It's a large cardboard cut-out of an employee who is also a cancer survivor.
There's a quote from her encouraging all women to get breast exams.
OK. Not funny yet.
But then it gives her name and labels her "Front End Manager."

Are there any other junior highers out there giggling at the term "front end manager" on a breast exam sign.

Please tell me I'm not the only one hiding my chuckles behind a big handful of organic kale.

What? No one?

Well, honestly, folks, in spite of my juvenility, take your health seriously and get your various body parts checked out by the appropriate professionals, so you can stick around a good, long time.
Your friends and family deserve it and so do you.

--------
Note: I made up the part about me actually holding organic kale. What kind of person do you think I am?

Your New Favorite Song!

2009-09-21T20:42:00.003-04:00

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.

Oh No He Di'n't

2009-09-17T22:14:00.000-04:00

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

2009-09-16T08:04:00.003-04:00

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?

A Tale Of Two Hospital Stays

2009-09-02T20:52:00.001-04:00

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).

I Have Created A Middle Schooler

2009-09-01T07:36:00.000-04:00

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.

In Which I Post As If I Haven't Been Absent Forevuh...

2009-08-31T20:33:00.001-04:00

I realized I'm not really good at writing during the summer.
(Critics might suggest I'm not really good at writing ANY time of the year.)

Well, fall is here, as are all my good intentions to write more regularly. But until I actually DO it, this is just an empty promise, so don't go making any major life-changing decisions based on this hollow commitment.

In the meantime, to answer all your questions about what I've been up to:

* I made some homemade pizza.
* I bought an actual shock collar for the dog with a button we can use to zap him whether he needs it or not.
* I watched TV.
* I took out the trash.
* I drained the pool.
* I folded some laundry.

So, clearly you can see why I've neglected the blog. WAY TOO MUCH DOING NOTHING 'ROUND THESE PARTS.

[Hold on. The dog's barking. I have to go push his button real quick.]

[Ah. There. Now's he's curled up in a ball, twitching. Good boy.]

Naw. I'm just kidding. Cheddar actually responds very nicely to the lowest setting which the instructions assure me provides just a hint of "stimulation." Enough to annoy him, but not cause any pain. While that seems to take all the fun out of having this device, I have to admit our purpose in getting it was helping train him better. So it's serving it's primary purpose.

I won't tell you what our sadistic unfulfilled secondary purpose was, but you can use your imagination.

Tomorrow starts a new month, and a new opportunity to write. Let's see if I take advantage of it. Any bets?

Oh, Canadia

2009-07-08T22:10:00.000-04:00

After visiting Niagara Falls, I insisted that we take the Canadian route back home.

I'd never been to Canada before, so I was excited to experience this new culture and new landscape.

But lo and behold!
CANADA LOOKS AN AWFUL LOT LIKE THE U.S.

They don't even drive on the wrong side of the road! And not a single person has ended a sentence with "eh."
No moose have crossed the road in front of us.

No mounties.

And the pancake syrup at breakfast was fake, just like in the States.

I have a sneaking suspicion that Detroit tomorrow will be more of a culture shock than this place that claims to be Canada.

We DID eat at a place called "Moose Winooski's". It had a Canadian flag out front--and a cartoon moose--so we knew this might finally provide us with some intercultural experiences. And sure enough, we had our first taste of "Poutine" [poo-teen?], a traditional canadian delicacy comprised of french fries, gravy and goey, melty cheese curds. The waitress apologized and rushed to bring us some ketchup and vinegar for it as well. Yummy it was.

As was the schnitzel.

After Watching Michael Jackson's Memorial Service...

2009-07-07T20:26:00.001-04:00

On vacation, we've managed to watch about 27 recaps of the MJ memorial service.

Cindy just told me she has a few new ideas for her own funeral.

Maybe exchange Mariah for Mandisa and swap out Rev. Sharpton for cute little Charles Stanley. Other than that, pretty much the same.

Don't worry. Cindy's in excellent health, so don't everyone respond begging for tickets just yet.

It Seems Like We're Forgetting Something...

2009-07-06T16:43:00.000-04:00

One of our [least] favoritie traditions in our family is the phone call we make on vacation to our good friend Kristin.

Pretty much, if she receives a call from us while we are out of town, she can pick up the phone and say, "Hi, you've reached Kristin, your personal rescuer who will gladly overnight you whatever you forgot or break into your house and turn off the iron you left on. What can I do for you THIS time, you big fat screw-ups?"

Yesterday, it was just a matter of climbing up on furniture to retrieve our passports and sending them to us while we are en route to Canada.

Thanks, Kristin. Please someday make some terrible error in planning your trip so we can bail you out.

2009-07-02T10:31:00.001-04:00

Ignore this post.
I'm just seing how well Blogger Mobile does with posting a text message from my cell phone. What will they think of next?

You're Welcome. You're So Very Welcome.

2009-07-02T09:45:00.003-04:00

I am resisting with every ounce of my energy the natural tendency to apologize for not posting here in so long.
We've all read those posts where people who've been absent feel that they've done something wrong by not writing in a sweet forever. (I've done it myself, I'm sure.)
Do we owe it to our readers to explain or give excuses for our absence?
Do we feel compelled to make hollow promises that we'll post more regularly from here on out?

If anything, I feel that maybe I owe you all a big, fat "YOU'RE WELCOME!"

For the past couple of weeks--or longer--you have had an extra couple minutes added to your days by not being tempted to pop over here to read what you've been led to believe is the best durn writing in all the world.

Maybe with that extra time you have from not reading my posts, you've taken up new hobbies like learning CPR, so I'm directly responsible for any lives you end up saving.

Or perhaps with the time added to your life you've been able to spend more time in prayer and meditation and you've never felt closer to God than you do right now.

Words can't even begin to describe just how welcome you are for this gift I've given you.

If you really feel you must thank me, you may either:

a) leave a comment telling me exactly how your life has been changed for the better by my lack of posting
b) mail a check to a charity in my name
c) mail a check to ME
d) all of the above isn't a bad idea either

I really do plan on posting in the coming days about our Mexico trip and other such things. My wife has done a good job covering it, but I'll be doing it in a different kind of way. It'll be from the perspective of a bald man whose luggage was lost for a few days, so you know that will touch your heart in new and uncomfortable ways.

Please Join Me In A Celebratory Dance Involving Maracas

2009-06-13T11:36:00.000-04:00

You will be happy to know that i finally get to change my clothes later today. I've been wearing these same shorts (day and night) since i got up on Wednesday.

Word has come that my bag--missing since Wednesday--has arrived and is waiting for me back in the US. Fortunately, we are going to the airport to pick up 100 more people to bring them back to build houses, so I'll have my toiletries and clothes in about an hour.

I can give Cindy back her underwear now!

I Sure Hope Everyone Likes What I'm Wearing Today

2009-06-11T16:03:00.000-04:00

Because that's what i'll be wearing for the next week or so since my luggage is in the Bermuda Triangle or sumpin'.

Thank You For All Your Letters and Cards and Floral Arrangements

2009-06-10T17:51:00.000-04:00

I know you've all been worried about my health, what with me not posting in almost a gazillion days.

But just so you know, the tests came back...and I'm not pregnant.

No, seriously, nothing's been up at all. I cant even say I've been any more busy than normal. My lack of posting can only be attributed to my laziness. As can the pile of clothes by the bed, the mess in the garage and my poorly-groomed goatee.

Right now I'm finding time and energy to write because i've got time to kill sitting in the airport since ALL SIX OF US MISSED OUR FLIGHT for our mission trip.

They changed the flight schedule without first asking us how that worked for us. Then they went and put long-term parking in the next county, set the security conveyor belt to .00000003 miles per hour and have the security shift change right as we're going through.

Save your pity and accusations, because lo and behold, they've put us on another flight which gets there EARLIER!

Later tonight, i'll pull up some old posts from last year so you can imagine what we're doing right now.

Thank you for your prayers for our safe travel. Add to them prayers for unseasonably cold temperatures that will agree with our fair-skinned family members.

You may hear from me again in a few hours when we layover in Vegas. Listen carefully for the sound of our children pulling on slot machine arms.

American Idol: I Assume "Dope" Is A Compliment

2009-05-12T21:12:00.000-04:00

Judges pick the first songs for each of the contestants.

And so far, after the first two singers, I haven't ever heard these songs. Danny with "Dance, Little Sister" and Kris with "Apologize."

Unfortunately, neither one of those two stood out to me.

Adam stood out though. But mainly because his in-ear monitors were positioned in such a way that he looked like he had pixy/elf/Vulcan ears. My suspicion is that the new Star Trek movie paid for this bit of promotional exposure. Kind of like those silly Coke cups on the judges' table. Simon praised his own song choice of U2's "One" which kept with the theme of "Songs Scott's Never Heard."

On to Chapter 2: which I would like to be able to call "Songs Scott Actually Knows And Sings To His Children In The Car On Long Road Trips."

Like "You Are So Beautiful" with Danny totally mixing up the arrangement. Judges really, really liked it, but I personally was hoping his voice would've cracked at the end like when *I* sing it.

Kris is departing from my suggested theme by singing "Heartless" and strumming his guitar. Lyrically, it's not as complimentary to the ladyfolk as Danny's choice. Simon had written Kris off after the first song, but this song brought him back into the competition.

Adam's singing him some "Aerosmith." To quote Cindy, "for someone who screams so much, at least he screams well."

You know, there's so much more I could say, but The Biggest Loser is on right now AND Brynne needs her hair braided.

Duty calls.
I'm just hoping a lot of Adam fans have daughters with hair that needs braiding too.
...or wives with necks that need shiatsu-ing.
...or husbands with backs that need waxing.

Happy Birthday to the Newest Member of the Family

2009-05-12T08:42:00.003-04:00

Yesterday was Cheddar's first birthday.
We celebrated by buying him his first canned/wet/soggy/nasty/"gourmet" dog food.
Which he ate none of.
He DID lick the hollandaisse sauce I ended up pouring over it to cover the flavor of canned/wet/soggy/nasty/"gourmet".

Cheddar THEN:

Cheddar NOW:
(Cheddar's the one on the right. On the left is our buddy, Ben.)

Happy Birthday, Cheddar.

The Best Mother's Day EVER

2009-05-10T21:12:00.001-04:00

That's right.
Cindy said that this was the best Mother's Day EVER.

Even better than last year when I nearly forgot and she got diddly-squat.
Even better than the year before when I nearly forgot and got a diddly-squat knock-off.
Even better than the year before that when she got two diddly-squats.

(Actually, I have no recollection of past Mother's Day and their respective gifts.)

Mother's Day always falls about two weeks after her birthday, so I usually look at the calendar at some point and say, "Are you KIDDING me? Another holiday to make significant?"

She's not even MY mother, but she is THE best mother in the world, so that's something worth celebrating.

And this is how we did it:

Eggs Benedict for breakfast, or a variation on it. Toasted croissants sliced and topped with bacon, poached egg and hollandaisse sauce. Pyur delishussness.

Cheese fondue for lunch. (Gruyere, Emantaler, and Cheddar, yummmmmmmmm.)
Mushroom salad with homemade strawberry vinaigrette dressing.
Chocolate fondue for dessert.

And for her gift, a KitchenAid mixer to adorn the kitchen counter. I saved $160 with some discounts, so I splurged and got her the one that's big enough to mix a whole elephant. I'd been saving to build a fence for Cheddar (whose birthday is tomorrow), but at the last minute I caved and decided to make up for the last 12 miserable attempts at a Mother's Day present.

I think she was surprised.

Love That Girl...And Her Smile

2009-05-09T15:33:00.003-04:00

In just a few short weeks, we will have our first teenager.

So far, so good, but people have warned me about what's in store. Interestingly, they've all been women who've looked back and reflected on the monsters they were when they were teenage girls.

But not my Cassie. She'll always be sweet, and she'll always love spending time with me, right?

Like today.

Cindy and the younger girls were all at musical rehearsal at church, giving Cassie and me a little time to run errands and be lazy. Yes, it's possible to do errands AND be lazy at the same time when all of the errands have drive-thru windows: the bank, the pharmacy, the barber shop. (I made up that last one. Can you imagine leaning your head into the drive-thru window?)

For lunch, Cassie and I enjoyed some quiet moments over pizza, just the two of us. This was the highlight of my day. [The Swiss cheese dip I just devoured with my wheat thins was a distant second.] We talked about school and friends and junior high next year and creative ideas for future VBS's at church. She did a lot of giggling and smiling.

I recalled our friend Kristin's comment about Cassie on my post a few days ago: "I love when Cassie grins!"

There really are few treats as wondrous as Cassie's grins. They erupt out of nowhere at times. They feel like a subtle gift that she is bestowing on you to let you know that you're funny or loved...or insane.

It's not that these smiles are rare, but they're given very deliberately, and the look in her eyes magnifies the significance of the event.

Even when I'm embarrassing her (which dads do occasionally), I can count on the eyes rolling, but when the spiraling eyes are accompanied by her grin, I know that I'm not scarring her for life.

I wish you ALL were blessed to be the lucky recipient of one of these:

And for those of you who assumed that I would follow such a tender moment with some sarcastic or flippant bit of humor, shame on you for underestimating my sensitive side.

I Am A Numbskull

2009-05-07T17:10:00.001-04:00

I feel it is important for you to know that I am resting nicely in the dentist's chair as I type this.

He's left me alone for a short while as the novacaine works its way slowly across my entire body.

I've only had one cavity, and today's visit is to deal with that spot. Even though he said he's going to refill it or cover it, I have a suspicion that he's primarily going to hammer and chisel and buffet me with chains and rusty scrap metal.

Well, before the numbness spreads to my thumbs and prevents me from writing, I figured I better pen my last will and testament really quick.

I, Scotth, being of soundth mindth, doth herthby bequeathth...

Oh, time's up. I can no longer feel my tongue...or my spleen, and the dentist is sharpening his chain saw in the next room.

Tell Cindy I love her.

Happy Fun Pills

2009-05-06T21:12:00.001-04:00

My daughter Shelby (10) was concerned last night following the commercial about an antidepressant which could cause, among other things:

Mood changes
Thoughts of suicide
Increased risk of death
Stroke
High fever
Coma
High blood sugar
Uncontrollable muscle movements
Dizziness
Seizure
Impaired motor skills
Trouble swallowing.

It kind of made her confused about the definition of "antidepressant."

I won't mention the name of the medication. In case you're currently taking it, I didn't want you to get depressed about your imminent seizures, comas, strokes, death and all.

Sleep well!

Save The Toothbrushes

2009-05-06T06:54:00.001-04:00

Historically, I have a hard time throwing anything away.

Most of the time, it's just old junk and eventually crawls up my leg and chokes my soul.

But occasionally, I get to say, "it's a good thing I didn't throw THAT away 12 years ago, because just look at this amazing use I found for it TODAY!"

Then this validates my hoarding gene for another 12 years.

Take your old toothbrushes, for example. It's recommended to replace your toothbrush every 6 months. That's why they try to schedule you twice a year for dental visits: so you can get your free toothbrush. Instead of you just buying a $3 toothbrush every six months, they schnooker you into a $120 dental visit so you can get your "free" toothbrush.

Well, that's a lot of old $120 toothbrushes for a family of 6 over the course of time.

Here are some uses for them that I have found practical:

-scrubbing the shower door track
-cleaning grout
-applying highlights to my wife's hair
-painting techniques
-brushing the dog's teeth
-scrubbing out stains on clothes
-getting that gunk out of the nose piece on my glasses
-I bet YOU have even more ideas

Now I'm trying to find uses for all my old, used dental floss...

AI Top 4--Two Words: Suh lash

2009-05-05T21:04:00.004-04:00

Actually, it's just one word: "Slash."

As in the name of tonight's mentor, in all his curly-haired, sunglassed, nose-pierced, 80's rock glory, who coached the contestants on how to rock it for our Rock n Roll themed night.

And who better to start the night off than Adam? He sang some Led Zeppelin song, and let's face it, i just dont know rock music. (I know. You're totally caught off guard by that bit of revelation, but it's true. Rock's not my language. Therefore, I'll have a hard time judging tonight's singing. So just humor me while i fake my way through it.) Well, Adam had this rock-y vibrato thing going on that I found less than necessary. The judges, on the other hand, loved him almost to the point of marriage proposals.

Allison, was much better for me with "Crybaby"...or perhaps "Cry, Baby." It didn't involve a lot of screaming or excessive eye-liner, so that's a plus. On the down side, she admitted she went to Adam's "hair girl." This explains the random natural purple highlights. The judges weren't overly excited about her performance, but they'd raved so much over Adam's perfection, that maybe everyone else should just go home.

OH BOY!
Next is a DUET with Kris and Danny! The best parts were their harmonizations. I could listen to that all night. Randy agreed with me.

OK.During this commercial break, I'm going to throw in stuff from an American Idol post I did last Wednesday night. A lot of you just pop over here on Tuesday nights to read my reviews, so I'm including this again for those of you who missed this later add-on, because let's face it, it's mind-blowing. Those who are here throughout the week and already read this next part can just skip ahead.
----------------------------------------------------
You know what I haven't done this year yet?
Go ahead guess...

O.K. I'll give you multiple choices options:
a) Waxed my eyebrow(s)
b) Pumped out the septic tank
c) Pay my speeding fine
d) Provide photographic evidence of the comparisons between your favorite Americal Idol contestants and their twins in the world.

Actually, I've done NONE of these things yet.
I have no intention of waxing my brow.
I hope my septic tank continues to hold an endless supply of our waste.
I haven't paid my speeding fine (but I suppose I'll cave eventually).
And right this very moment I will share with you, my readers, the joys of knowing that we each have our doppleganger in the world somewhere.

For Matt Giraud, his twin is Tom Hanks.
Technically, it might be his father more than his twin, but these days with freezing embryos and all, I guess it could be possible for Matt to be the father of Tom. Who knows?

This one you probably spotted from day one. Danny Gokey and Robert Downey, Jr.
Now I think I've mentioned it three or more times that Allison is Rachel Ray's little sister.

If we could only get Allison in the kitchen to whip up a shrimp pasta, hearts of romaine salad and a creme brulee in under 30 minutes, you'd finally have the proof you were waiting for.

And don't you think that Kris has a cute, boyish quality?
Kind of like this cute, boyish chimp in space?Come on. You're not really taking offense at the fact that I'm comparing your boyfriend Kris with a monkey, are you? It IS a cute monkey.
It could be worse.

At least I didn't make the following comparison for him:

I know. I was speechless, too, when I first made the connection.
Maybe you've made your own observations about look-alikes for these contestants. I could be wrong about some of my guesses.
Until I get close enough to prick some fingers for blood samples, I won't be able to be 100% certain that Adam and Liza Minelli were wombmates. Until then, though, we also won't be able to rule it out.
--------
Thanks for indulging me. Unless you didn't, inwhich case thanks for nuthin'.

Now back to our current show with Kris singing a solo, "Come Together" which I think is a Beatles thing. It was great, but Kara D. didn't dig it. I'm not going to put a lot of stock in the opinions of a judge who shows up in public in black leather and metal studs with her hair slicked back. Simon compared it to making a meal out of ice. Maybe he meant that it was "cool."

Danny's doing "Dream On" by Aerosmith, which I'm expecting be big, real big. It involves some screaming and shouting. Literal screaming. Like horror-movie-pull-back-the-shower-curtain screaming. Randy thought it was all right. Kara thought he took it too far. Paula's a fan. And Simon copied my comment about a horror movie scream, because he wants to be just. like. me.

And finally, Allison and Adam are going to holler us up a duet, "Slow Ride." Should I be concerned that my daughter is singing along? How does she know this song? Each did better on their own than they did together on this song. But the judges were more impressed than I. Final comments from this performance come from 8-year-old Jenna: "tight pants look better on girls than boys, ew."

Well.
All four singers are great at their art, so I'll have a hard time guessing who'll go home tomorrow night.
Based on past voting, maybe Kris or Allison.

But it's up to America to vote, and my fingers are too tired from typing to dial a phone, so it's up to the rest of you.

We May Have Made Some Progress In The Area of Not Barking

2009-05-03T21:43:00.000-04:00

We held off as long as we could.

It just seemed inhumane to attach an electric box that would send pulses racing through our puppy's neck each time he barked.

But compared to the electric pulses that were racing through our ears, down our spines and out each pore of our bodies--nay, our SOULS--we felt it was time to give it a try.

Our children had purchased a prank shock pen for April Fool's Day. When an unsuspecting [formerly known as] friend clicked it, it would shock them. So they'd practiced on themselves, and while it was shocking and unnatural, it wasn't consistently. lethal. And whatever number of years it's taken off their lives we really wont know for a while now, will we?

A couple of days ago we caved and borrowed a bark collar for Cheddar. It's designed to send a gentle pulse with the first bark, and then build if the barking continues.

So the sound around here the last couple days?

Instead of:
"Bark! BARK! BARKITY BARK!"

It's been:
"Bark! Yelp!------silence"

Sweet silence.

And it only took a couple of times for Cheddar to figure it out.

Today, the doorbell rang. Usually that's an invitation to bark in a manner befitting a lunatic hyena hyped up on espresso.

But tonight, when the doorbell rang, Cheddar just looked at the door and sat down wagging his tail. And he wasnt even wearing the collar, and hasn't since yesterday.

We're getting one of those collars for each of the girls before our next car trip.
Don't hate me because I'm smart.

"The Tale Of Swift City"

2009-05-02T09:06:00.001-04:00

Kids can be so frustrating sometimes.

Amazingly, they can hop in the car with 20 or more items, but when you get home, they hop out and only take 2 of those things with them. So if you are familiar with math and the laws of physics, then you can calculate that there are exactly 762 items left in the back seat.

Invariably, when it's time for bed, they will want one of those all-important items.

For example, last night Cassie asked me if I would go out to my car to get "The Tale of Swift City" for her. Incredulous at her laziness (after all, it's taken me 38 years to master my laziness techniques), I asked, "Why don't you get it yourself? Are you incapable of walking out to a car?"

Her response was, "I don't know how to get it." Whatever that means.

I wasn't in the mood to give my smart alec daughter lessons on how to walk to a car, open the door, dig through the 762 items and carry back the book she was looking for. In the same amount of time it would take to belittle her and make me a bad dad, I could just go out and get the book myself.

So I marched out, making sure I sighed loudly enough to be heard across the house. I found at least 12 books in the back seat. We had gone to the library the night before, because they desperately "needed" more books or "we will die." After finding all their life-saving books in the back of the car, I wondered how any of them had survived the night.

Anyway, her requested book was not there. I told Cassie, "I found a dozen other books, but not 'The Tale of Swift City.' " This was spoken with the added visual effect of smoke coming out my ears.

She peeled her eyes off the TV and grinned really big at me.

"The Taylor Swift CD," she chuckled.

Oh, I knew right where that was.
Among the 762 items that I've left in the front seat.

Petticoat Junction

2009-05-01T10:46:00.002-04:00

There are a few things that creep me out about being a husband and father.

I’ve never had a problem with the whole poopy diaper thing, and cleaning up vomit from sick children/wife is a piece of cake (or chicken or pasta as the case may be).

But here are a couple things you male readers out there will understand. At least I HOPE you will. I hate to think that I’m the lone freak out there.

Thing Number One (the husband thing):
Shopping for Lingerie
While we all have to admit that this stuff looks especially pretty on our wives, the buying of it presents a slight problem for some guys. You see, we have to actually go IN to a lingerie store or a section at a department store. And do you know who else is in those stores? Lots of women.
And college girls.
And teenagers.
And old ladies.
And perverted men. At least that’s how I feel.

This week was my wife’s birthday, and I wanted to get her some accessories for her birthday suit, so off to Victoria’s Secret I went. I also visited the “Unmentionables” department at Target. The mood was the same in both places. I couldn’t get out of there fast enough. If only I’d had a big flashing sign that said, “It’s OK. I’m shopping for my wife.” Instead I felt like I had a big flashing sign that said, “Run away! I’m either a cross-dresser or I’m buying something for my mistress or whatever other filthy scenarios are fodder for creepy movies these days.”

My first trip to VS this week, I didn’t stay long at all. I realized I didn’t have my money with me, so I wouldn’t be able to buy anything anyway, and I didn’t want to be the guy who just drops in there simply to “browse.” When I finally had cash in hand, I felt a little more comfortable. Store employees (all of them) took turns coming by to see if I needed “help”. Unfortunately, none of them carried any of the muscles relaxers that I was needing to lower my paranoia level, so they were no help at all. I did, however, manage to mention “MY WIFE” no fewer than fourteen times so that all within ear shot would know for certain my reason for being in the store.

Finally, I found a mannequin that wearing exactly what I wanted to buy, but of course it was the last of its kind in the color I wanted. Given my irrational insecurities in that store, I was too nervous to ask one of the employees to strip down the plastic lady. They had one other piece in a different color which actually turned out much better for Cindy’s coloring, thank you very much. (I'll see if she'll let me take a picture of her in it. She looks greeeeeeeeat.)

Then I was off to stand in line behind all these young ladies who I’m certain were embarrassed that this almost-middle-aged man had to witness the cashier holding up each individual item.

As if the whole in-store experience wasn’t a big enough coronary experience, they packaged my purchase in a dainty striped bag that screamed to everyone in the mall that I'd been shopping at "Tawdrywear 'R' Us." That old lady with the walker couldn't scoot away from me fast enough.

I’m wondering if it might not feel so dirty if the name of the store was something other than Victoria’s Secret. It might be a totally different experience if it were called Victoria’s House of Bloomers or Victoria’s Shop For Men Buying Stuff For Their Wives.

Earlier in the post I’d indicated that there were a couple of things that were disturbing as a husband and father. After telling you about Thing Number One (the husband thing), I don’t know that I have the energy to talk about Thing Number Two (the daddy thing) until I’ve given my ticker a rest.
Maybe tomorrow...or never. I'll check with my doctor first.

In the meantime, do any of you men share my shame?
And are any of you women creeped out by men in your panties store?

American Idol--Separated At Birth 2009

2009-04-29T22:47:00.002-04:00

You know what I haven't done this year yet?
Go ahead guess...

O.K. I'll give you multiple choices options:
a) Waxed my eyebrow(s)
b) Pumped out the septic tank
c) Pay my speeding fine
d) Provide photographic evidence of the comparisons between your favorite Americal Idol contestants and their twins in the world.

Actually, I've done NONE of these things yet.
I have no intention of waxing my brow.
I hope my septic tank continues to hold an endless supply of our waste.
I haven't paid my speeding fine (but I suppose I'll cave eventually).
And right this very moment I will share with you, my readers, the joys of knowing that we each have our doppleganger in the world somewhere.

For Matt Giraud, his twin is Tom Hanks.
Technically, it might be his father more than his twin, but these days with freezing embryos and all, I guess it could be possible for Matt to be the father of Tom. Who knows?

This one you probably spotted from day one. Danny Gokey and Robert Downey, Jr.

Now I think I've mentioned it three or more times that Allison is Rachel Ray's little sister.

If we could only get Allison in the kitchen to whip up a shrimp pasta, hearts of romaine salad and a creme brulee in under 30 minutes, you'd finally have the proof you were waiting for.

I know. I was speechless, too, when I first made the connection.
Maybe you've made your own observations about look-alikes for these contestants. I could be wrong about some of my guesses.

Until I get close enough to prick some fingers for blood samples, I won't be able to be 100% certain that Adam and Liza Minelli were wombmates. Until then, though, we also won't be able to rule it out.

Cooking From Scratch...and from Memory

2009-04-29T07:46:00.000-04:00

Or
"Cantaloupe Dump Cake"
Or
"What To Do With That Angry Cantaloupe In the Back Of the Fridge"

I actually love to cook. It would do my heart good if Cindy would let me cook her some fancy steak meal for her birthday, topped with bleu cheese and bacon. (Those of you who are working on diagramming that sentence, be sure to have the steak topped with the bleu cheese and bacon, not me.) Maybe also an original salad and a side of stuffed tomatoes or sushi.

But, alas. Cindy is of the opinion that birthdays are not a time for cooking in the house and having dishes to clean and tables to wipe down. So it's off to a nice restaurant to give others the joy of cooking and cleaning and wiping.

While I'm thinking of cooking, though, I will leave you with a delicious recipe I found at allrecipes.com this week. I'm not going to bother looking up the recipe right now, because I find it much more exciting to try to write the recipe from memory. You should try living on the edge like that, too, sometime. It's very liberating (unless you're preparing raw pufferfish. That's stuff's lethal if prepared wrong. Cantaloupe isn't nearly as unforgiving.)

A few days ago I was looking at that cantaloupe in the back of our fridge. It was starting to whimper, hidden behind a gallon of salsa, worried that it would be forgotten. So I pulled it out and checked allrecipes.com for an idea of what could be done with a cantaloupe that--quite frankly--should probably have been thrown away at that point. We've always eating our cantaloupe raw like watermelon, but I thought I'd see if a softer melon could be fine for some other recipe.

So here is what the recipe was (I think):

First off, I cubed up about half of a cantaloupe.
I tossed it with
1/3 cup of lemon juice
1/2 cup of sugar
1 Tbsp of flour
2 Tbsp of melted butter
1 tsp of cinnamon
1 tsp of nutmeg
1 tsp of vanilla
(I actually doubt all three of those ingredients were supposed to be a teaspoon, but I believe I didn't feel like dirtying other measuring spoons so I just rounded them all up. Excuuuuuuuse me for being lazy.)

Then I poured that juicy mix into an 8x8 baking dish.
and covered with
1 box of white cake mix (just the mix, not the actual cardboard box)
1 melted stick of butter (1/2 cup) poured over the cake mix

Baked it for 45 minutes.

It ended up tasting awesome and all the kids wanted seconds. With the spices, it really tasted more like an apple pie, and no one would've guessed it was a dying cantaloupe.
---------
More mind-numbingly thrilling ideas for your edification at the Works For Me Wednesday weekly festival of joy and planetary peace.

American Idol, A 5-Pack of Rats

2009-04-28T22:18:00.002-04:00

Tonight, for Cindy's 29th birthday celebration, I should probably step away from the internet and give her a little attention.

I probably SHOULD, but then I'd have nothing to do while she's blogging her fingers to the bone.

So I'll do likewise and let you know my heart-felt opinions about tonight's Top 5 competition.

I guess they're singing Rat-Pack Era diddies (ditties? ditees? diteez?) which I think should be good. For one thing, it'll probably put the kabosh on the screaming and yelling we've come to expect from a couple of contestants.

Let's see what these fellers bring...

Kris Allen sang "The Way You Look Tonight." I love this song, and I loved Kris' singing it. I honestly could sit and listen to him sing a whole concert of this genre. Here is where I usually say something incredibly witty, but with the birthday festivities, I'm just beat, so you'll just have to insert your own bit o' wit yourself. Seriously, folks, I can't be expected to carry the full load of snarky-humor responsibility here. Love is a two-way street, people.

Allison sang "Someone To Watch Over Me" which may or may not be the title of that movie with Richard Dreyfuss and Holly Hunter where he's a fire-fighter pilot who dies (oops I just ruined the movie for those who haven't seen it yet) and he watches over her as a ghost (oops, giving away more) and at the end, he conducts a school orchestra or something. But back to Allison: I like hearing her in ballad mode, mostly because I am getting too old for the louder yelling music that's so popular with the kids these days. Note: she's looking as much like Rachel Ray as ever.

Matt is doing "My Funny Valentine" which will probably work even though we're considerably past Valentine season. I guess he could make it a little more relevant with "My Funny Easter Bunny." The judges were in disagreement about the level of Matt's "connection" with the song. Simon was particular complimentary with an "absolutely brilliant."

Danny did "Come Rain Or Come Shine." I didn't recognize him in the video segment with a hat and without his glasses. (Speaking of glasses, by the way, I just ordered new spex for my vision needs, and they might be Danny Gokey-ish. Actually, they're Randy Jackson brand. I'll show you a pic once I get them.) Well, Danny, you did awesome again, really awesome. He brought a lot of oomph and power to his song.

It should noted at this point that Paula has clearly been working with her grammar coach. Subjects AND predicates? What a concept!

Last up, Adam Lambert with "I'm Feeling Good" or maybe that's not the title, but those are some of the lyrics at least. I'm still not really a fan of the high-pitched yelling, which he ALMOST made it through the song without. But Paula liked it and called him her "Micheal Phelps." If you didn't get to watch the performance, you may not understand the comparison. It makes sense though when you realize he performed shirtless in a Speedo and swim cap. (Just kidding.)

They were all good tonight. Most were even great. But who has the most fans/voters?

Adam appears to be the front runner, but at what point do people realize that album sales for the virtual love-child of Queen and Meatloaf (Queenloaf?) may possibly be limited and start moving their votes over to singers who will sell actual CD's that *I* want to listen to? (After all, this competition is all about ME, right?)

So, be honest. Are you an Adam fan? Not just believing that he has skilz (he absolutely does), but do you LIKE the style and would you pay money to listen to him? I promise I won't mock you [much] if you say you do.

Touching, Enlightening, Disturbing

2009-04-26T16:25:00.000-04:00

I often go long periods of time in between checking in with my statcounter data. One of my favorite things to check out is the searches that landed people unwittingly at my blog.

Top on the list continues to be the 30-gazillion people suffering from blisters in their throats.

"blisters in throat"

"blisters in my throat"

"i have blisters in my throat"

and other variations.

Throat-blister-sufferering accounts for 1 out of every 4 searches that brought them here in the last few days.

Granted, I had been among their ranks at one point, but I feel bad for them because they've probably clicked over thinking I may offer relief, but pretty much the only advice I can give them is "Don't expect any sympathy from Cindy." See her comment on that post if you doubt me.

Next on our list of visitors to the blog via Google is our dear friend interested in...

"dried feces for toothpaste"

Please tell me that search was merely the result of a typo. I'm guessing he/she (who are we kidding; it was a "he") probably meant to search...well, I can't think of thing that could have been instead.

And finally,

"Are hamsters from Petco able to have kids"

Actually, from my experience, it's the hamsters from PetSMART that "have kids." Now, I don't mean "have kids" like "make babies." I mean "have kids" in the way you have a hot dog or have a slice of cheese. As in "those man-eating hamsters from PetSmart had my kid for lunch."

I'm glad you found me, folks, regardless of how sick (in any sense of the word) you may be.

Our House May Very Well Be Haunted

2009-04-25T22:26:00.002-04:00

Sometimes strange things happen around here.

Usually we can attribute it to the fact that we are just plain weird. This explains things like the ice cream for breakfast, the boo-boo bunny on the chandelier and the half-eaten chapstick.

Occasionally, though, something will defy explanation.

Take, for example, this evening. Cindy and I came home from the school's fund-raising auction late tonight. (You're welcome, by the way, Lakeview Elementary. We don't normally spend that much money for art done by kindergarteners, especially when we're not related to any of them. But it was a for a good cause...and much easier to justify than if we'd brought home that case of liquor for the same price.)

Anyway, when we came home we found that Jenna had a wad of peanut butter IN HER HAIR. It's 10 o'clock, and my 8 year old had about a teaspoon of peanut butter just sitting there above her ear.

I wiped it off and showed it to her, at which point she said...

...[first insert eerie music]...

..."I haven't even had peanut butter for a couple of days."

[music reaches a sudden sforzando. I don't know if that's really the musical term I'm looking for, but just imagine whatever they call the kind of music that suddenly plays at the moment you realize that the phone call is coming from INSIDE THE HOUSE!]

It's bedtime, so the mystery of the Peanut Butter Hair will have to wait until morning.
On the other hand, the Case of the Half-Eaten Bag of Cheese Puffs was a no-brainer.

American Idol, Top 7, Again

2009-04-21T20:57:00.004-04:00

I'm already beating myself up for not having a more creative title for this post. While it's an accurate title, it just doesn't have that oomph, that je ne sais qua, that emotion-jerking pull to which you have become accustomed.
My previous post's title alluded to "sacrilege." This one...? Nothin'.

So if the title disappoints you, I'll just have to work extra hard to ensure that the body of this post yanks you right out of your seat, slaps you around the room a few times and flings you out a window like a day-old tuna panini.

I can't tell you how excited I am to see that it's Disco Night tonight on AI. It's just a shame that I can't disco dance AND blog at the same time which I'd love to attempt, biutt I':m ptrryt sguree ity woudlt engd uop loogkinhhgi likre thiiios.

Lil kicked off the night with "I'm Every Woman" and totally underwhelmed. She sounded more like "I'm Every 5th Woman." Judges weren't too favorable, which is scary for Lil because let's not forget that not one, but TWO singers are heading home tonight.

Kris pulled out his guitar and extensive collection of bar chords to sing "She Works Hard For The Money." He sounded great, very mellow but solid. I must have been distracted by the smell of the Bath and Body Works Pomegranate that Cassie sprayed on my armpits, because I totally missed why in the world the judges were talking about ladies' undergarments. I think I can safely assume that it originated with Paula.

Now Danny finally brought the Disco funk to the night. He didn't just sing a song from the disco era, he made me want to get my bell bottoms, platform shoes and those glasses with the nose grip that Steve Martin invented in "The Jerk." Judges were extremely favorable.

16-year-old Allison sprayed on some latex and then bedazzaled (TM) her flesh for "Hot Stuff." (My daughter will be 16 in three years. Why can't these contestants dress like Laura Ingalls?) Well, the song was rockin', maybe too much so as Randy pulled out the phrase "over-indulgent." Despite the number of words that poured forth from Paula's mouth, I believe they were actually all arranged grammatically correctly. I checked.

Adam Lambert? Who ARE you? Slow ballad, reasonably-combed hair, and dark suit? Looking good, but he still was wearing some Severus Snape-looking mondo ring on his pinky and threw in at least one bite-the-head-off-an-animal shriek. I didn't recognize the song, because there wasn't an ounce of disco in it, and right now I'm craving me some true disco. Presumed compliment from Paula: "It's as if you tore your heart out and left it on the stage." I have totally just thought of a great storyline for "Grey's Anatomy."

Oh yeah, baby. Matt is "Stayin' Alive." What a great choice for the guy who almost got sent home last week. He's demonstrating great vocals and runs. He's groovin' with the back-up singers and whippin' out the falsetto like it's a Parmesan cheese grater at Olive Garden. I may just suggest that this could be the second hottest song of the night.

All right, let's see what Anoop does with "Dim All The Lights." Don't take this wrong, but he looks great with facial hair. It makes him look more grown up and less like some cliche ethnic participant, whatever I mean by that. Facial hair also balances out his manly eyebrows, I believe. He probably did fine with the song, but I don't think the audience was digging it as much as the other singers, because the applause and cheers died incredibly quickly, and Simon labeled it "mediocre at best."

I'm figuring at this point, a lot of people are just voting for who they want to see win, like a popularity contest more than a singing contest, so I'm predicting this week's bottom three will be a repeat of last week's, even though I think Matt should rise up a little farther.

Well, I better go. My daughters are probably expecting me to do a little disco dancing. They didn't SAY so, but I can tell by the way they quickly said good night and ran up to bed when the show ended.

"Wait up, girls!! I got some moves you'll want to check out!! Get a load of this point up and down and up and down..."

Sheesh. I've never seen them brush their teeth, hop in bed and turn out the lights so quickly. They must not be feeling well, poor things. Maybe in the morning.
-------
Be sure to pop over to my wife's blog. And don't be surprised if you get suckered into giving her a ride to Funky Town.
Or check out more AI reviews by the boatload over at my friend Boomama's. (I only call her "my friend" because she loves cheese and bacon as much as I, not because she's agreed to lift the restraining order.)

Depending On Your Definition Of Sacrilege, You May Just Want To Skip This

2009-04-20T21:48:00.001-04:00

Oh, these wacky ministers' families and their silly little traditions.

For example, to reinforce the Easter story (and at the same time be able to enjoy a tasty marshmallow treat), we bake an Empty Tomb Roll together as a family. Easter was a week ago, but we still did this together this evening. I'm sure my wife has blogged about it in the past so I'll look for a link to that.

But in summary, you take Jesus (a marshmallow) and anoint his crucified body with a little oil (roll it in melted butter). Cover his body with burial spices (dredge it in cinnamon and sugar). Then place him in a tomb (seal him up in crescent roll dough).

Bake it for 10-12 minutes at 350, and amazingly, Jesus is no longer in the tomb, just a few strips of white linen (marshmallow stringiness).

To quote my daughters:

"He has melted!"

"He has melted indeed!"

In This Modern Age of Technology

2009-04-20T08:10:00.000-04:00

You know how there are calendar companies that make planners and calendars with weeks that start with Monday instead of Sunday?

How much work would it take to just leave Monday off entirely?

I'm just thinking.

Short Order Cook

2009-04-19T07:13:00.002-04:00

There are many responsibilities that weren't in the contract you signed at the hospital when your babies entered the world.

But you gladly take them on. Because it's not like anyone tried to trick you into this thing called "Parenthood" (except for instances documented on Lifetime Televison For Women Who Thrive On Fear And Anxiety).

The most recent duty I've encountered has been working the concession stand at the local ball field.

Our girls had their first game today. Shelby and Brynne are on the same team, and they each got on base with hits at every at-bat. I'm so very proud of both them. Hits, runs, RBIs gallore.

Cindy happened to be out of town with Cassie for a Moms/Daughters Conference, but thanks to the wonders of cell phones and text-messaging, I was able to receive no fewer than 59 reminders to take sun screen to the game. Not only did I take it, I EVEN remembered to apply it!

After the game was concession stand time for the parents of the Members' Choice Credit Union Chargers. (Don't you love the name "Chargers" for a team sponsored by a financial institution?)

All of this is just a roundabout way for me to brag about my ability to serve chili dogs, nachos, burgers, pretzels, snow cones, popcorn, pop (or soda depending on where you live), and ring pops.

PLUS, when we closed up shop, I was able to take home the last of the BBQ Pork for the girls. It was enough for two sandwiches, and it had been baking in the bottom of that crock pot all day, all dried out and hardening, so my girls aptly called them "Pork Jerkey Sandwiches." The leftover pretzels were likewise hard, but I just get those to lick the salt off anyways.

So just holler if you need a caterer for your next big event! I think Pork Jerkey Sandwiches would be great for your son's bar mitzvah.

Killing Him Softly...With Fruit

2009-04-17T09:27:00.000-04:00

For the record, I have no recollection of hearing that grapes are bad for dogs.

OK. Maybe a slight recollection, but I think in my mind it was related to it being a choking hazard, much the same way that I would never give a baby a nice, esophagus-sized grape...or steak that wasn't cut into tiny pieces.

That's why I gingerly sliced the grapes in half for Cheddar, the 11-month-old Maltipoo. (A Maltipoo is a mix between a poodle, a maltese, and evidently a barking, pencil-eating banshee.)

My girls then shared that I was killing our puppy, acting as if everyone knows not to feed dogs grapes or chocolate or battery acid.

So far, no vomiting, no diarrhea. He just has this curious look in his eyes like, "What? You feed me grapes but neglect to fan me with palm fronds?"

I'll get right on that Cheddapatra. (Get it? Cheddar + Cleopatra?) Moving on...

So Cheddar's almost a year old, and everyone says we have maybe a whole other year to go before he's done being a puppy and doing puppy things. I think Cindy's ready for him to be old. One of those old, faithful dogs who just curl up and lay on the couch for 27 hours a day and only get up in order to fetch the remote control or to make you a margarita.

How long till Cheddar reaches that stage? Anyone?

The First Egg Has Been Revealed

2009-04-16T11:52:00.000-04:00

I may have mentioned that our children were tormented by camouflaged plastic eggs this Easter.

Normally you can spot the brightly colored eggs from the next county, but the green/brown/camo eggs couldn't be seen easily even if they were stapled to your eyelids.

(Yes, laboratory testing was done to verify this. My thanks/apologies to Mr. Schwarz's freshman biology class.)

I found the first missed egg so far. It was in the mailbox! Who doesn't check the mailbox in an egg hunt? It is among the top 5 classic places to hide an egg. The other four are:

2. Under the overturned flowerpot
3. In the tailpipes of cars in the driveway
4. In the Y of a tree
5. Nestled in a tulip

Other great ideas, though less classic, are:

6. On the roof. Nothing's more fun than watching children find eggs that they will never actually be able to retrieve.

7. Similarly, in the center of a ring of fire.

8. Attached to the collar of the neighbor's pitbull.

9. Buried 6 feet under ground.

10. In a snake hole.

11. On the very bottom row of a pyramid of canned vegetables so that when it's removed the 15 rows above it come toppling down. (I got that idea from Scooby Doo or something.)

See, aren't you already looking forward to next Easter so you can try some of these ideas out?

Then Again, Maybe You AREN'T Interested In My Garage

2009-04-15T07:48:00.003-04:00

[It's been quite a while since I shared any WorksForMeWednesday genius with you. But I'm back today with what is likely to change your life...if you have children...and they have tons of basket/soccer/foot/volley balls.]

I'm fairly certain I suffer from mild bouts of OCD.

For a while last year, I was consumed with researching puppies and finding the right match for us. I ate, slept and breathed a million breeds of puppies. (Only figuratively. I think it's illegal in 27 states to eat puppies, and as far as breathing them...I had asthma as a child and I'm pretty sure one of the lingering effects is my inability to get puppies in and out of my lungs efficiently.)

My latest obsession has been my garage. It's not an exaggeraton to say that I check on it each night no fewer than 12 times before going to bed.

A couple of weeks ago, I began a massive overhauling of the garage. Prior to that, though, I'd spent a couple weeks mapping and planning. I had grid paper and was figuring out what would fit where. I went to bed at night dreaming about it and woke up before the sun, still reworking all the possibilities. Day after day.

I finally put my plan into action. Essentially it involved emptying the entire garage, throwing away 80% of that stuff, repositioning appliances and shelving units, and contemplating whether the children would notice if they no longer had any toys, sports equipment or bikes.

I had budgeted for wood and shelves and such, but ended up throwing away so much stuff we'd been clinging to, that I actually REDUCED the amount of shelves we had. Crazy. I know.

My favorite innovation in the garage was the shelving unit that now houses the 21,462,945 basketballs, soccer balls, footballs and eggs:

Actually, the egg cartons are full of golfballs my kids have collected. We store our actual eggs in the pockets of my golfbag.

As you can see there are bungee cords across the front which help hold all the balls in, but can easily be stretched to retrieve whichever ball you desire to play with. These balls that used to take over the whole garage are now limited to one small shelf, leaving room for other things in the garage...like vehicles, for example.

I already owned the shelves, so the only expense on that particular project was a set of bungee cords from the "Everything's A Dollar And The Employees Aren't Humored When You Ask How Much It Costs" Store.

American Idol Heads To The Movies

2009-04-14T21:10:00.003-04:00

Tonight, the role of the contestants' Jiminy Cricket will be played by Quentin Tarantino.

First up is Allison who's trying to convince me that she "Don't Want To Miss A Thing" from Armageddon. Unfortunately, I think she missed a few things, namely some notes. I get the impression she wowed the live audience more than our dead audience sprawled on the couch here in Indiana. Maybe we need a new tv. I thought the whole song was meh, but the judges had nothing but good to say.

Anoop got some interesting advice from QT as he prepared his Robin Hood song "Everything I Do, I Do It For You." I know this won't make a lot of sense to you, but I instantly thought of Alladin's "A Whole New World." And no, it's not some ethnic stereotype. Nosiree. It's just that at a friend's wedding the groom sang "Everything I Do" and I sang "A Whole New World" (no, not simultaneously. That would be even weirder than me singing it at all). It was supposed to be a duet with my own personal Jasmine (Cindy) but she conveniently threw up or something in order to force me to be both Jasmine AND Alladin at the last minute. But I should at least comment on Anoop's performance: very nice.

Adam was "Born To Be Wild" from "Easy Rider." My daughter was intrigued by the fingernail polish and the leather and jewelry, and commented: "If you cut his head off, he could be a girl." However, what I THOUGHT she said was, "He should bite the head off of a squirrel." And that really wouldn't be a huge surprise now, would it?

Matt Giraud sang Bryan Adam's "To Really Love A Woman" from "Don Juan De Marco." I really like the song normally, but I didn't like his performance of it tonight. He did all right, but I think it's a good idea to try to sound better than the original if at all possible

Danny Gokey has lost his glasses. I'll assume it's intentional, that he has contacts or a corneal transplant. But he's singing seated on a stool. Now he's standing up. If he trips off the stage, then we'll know the answer to our glasses/contacts question. He's singing Lionel Richie's "Endless Love." Paula said it perfectly using the words "grabbed us," "wowed us," and "slayed us" but I'm going to have to google "tambor" to figure out what she meant with THAT.

Quentin Tarantino had some good praise for Kris Allen and his choice of "Falling Slowly." He's starting understated. Now he's building and belting and I'm loving it. But again, my TV version must be sooooooo different from live in the theater, because Randy's not digging it. But Kara must be watching it on a tv too because she thought it was his best ever. Only thing he had against him is the song was obscure, but I'm getting old, so a lot of these new-fangled songs are obscure.

Lil's going to sing "The Rose" which she'll have to sing pretty loud to drown out Cindy joining in. Before the break, I was worried this type of song would continue her downward spiral away from her natural style. But now she's talking about how she's going to throw in a little gospel action. If she does, she'll have herself a hit. She could make an old song new again. Let's see if she does. Well...I think she gets 95% there. She needed to really wail near the end to get the extra 5% from me.

So, if the ushers are going to come into theater with their flashlights and ask a few unwelcome movie-goers to leave, it'll be...

...Lil, Anoop and Matt.
But honestly, I would've guessed that without even watching these performances. Tonight didn't alter any of my previous thoughts about the level of talent we're dealing with.

And hey, I didn't really rag on Adam tonight...unless you count that comment about him biting the heads off squirrels.
-------
If you haven't already read my wife's take on AI tonight, check it out because she puts each contestant in an 80's flick. See if you agree with her choices.

I'm Not Claiming to Bear The Stigmata

2009-04-13T19:58:00.003-04:00

Easter means a lot of things.

As a ministry family, we find ourselves working a lot during this holiday. There are actually staff members at our church who worked 10 times as hard and produced 10 times as many programs I did, but still it's busy for all of us.

At one point, I needed to transport a cross from one part of the church so it could be used for teaching in the chidlren's area. This cross was taller than me and made of some fairly rough wood. Rough enough to give me a splinter. Not just a tiny splinter that you'd need tweezer to dig out. Imagine a fork jabbed in your skin and then bent so that a whole tine broke off and stayed embedded in the flesh. The "nice" thing about big splinters is that they are easier to yank out.

Then there was the overwhelminig spread of meat and potatoes and rolls and desserts that forced themselves into my belly.

And the nap I tried so hard to avoid, mainly because I was in the middle of a crowded living room, and falling asleep on a couch in public is kind of rude. I fought the good fight and lost.

So you see, Easter weekend was very hard for me.

Yet, I'm not actually in a complaining mood about it. I'm just pretending to be.

In reality,
I was energized by the services at our church.
I was excited to see hundreds of children at the egg hunt.
I was blessed to be able to teach the truth of Jesus' resurrection to families.
I was encouraged to see so many volunteers serving in every corner of the church all weekend.
I was thankful to be fed, and to be fed so well, by people who didn't have to feed me.
Even that crazy splinter has left me with a tiny reminder that Jesus' suffering was great...and it was for me.

Easter Sunday is over, but Jesus is still risen.

Many things will continue to remind me of that truth:
As I put away the props and decorations from the weekend.
As I write thank you letters to people who made the celebration significant.
As I mow over more plastic camouflage eggs all spring long.

And as I watch my splinter wound grow puffy and infected and oozing with puss and spreading through my whole body. The good news about that, at least, is that if I die from it, I know I have the hope of eternal life because of what we've just celebrated!

I Could Have Given Birth To The Next American Idol

2009-04-07T23:23:00.000-04:00

Oh my. I still haven’t posted my thoughts from last night’s American Idol performances, and I’m already receiving nasty emails, icy stares and cold shoulders because of my delay…and that’s just from my WIFE.

(Her email to me this morning: “I am not happy without your AI post. :( ”

Well, last night the contestants sang songs from the year they were born. Mathematically (not genetically), it works out that some of these folks could be my children, so indulge me while I imagine: what if they WERE my babies? Yeah, I know. It'll end up being creepy most likely, but it'll be in keeping with the theme of the night which is subtitled: “Scott Is Old.”

Danny is up first--because he's the oldest--and he's singing some newer version of "Stand By Me." As my first-born, we probably have more photos of him than any of our other children, and we put more energy into decorating his nursery. We also dressed him the best. Like our subsequent children, Danny is following in his parents' musical footsteps (I must write about our "concerts" someday). He did a good job on a 1980 version of "Stand By Me," but like last week, I think the judges liked his performance more than I did. I'm guessing being there live has its perks.

Kris Allen came along 5 years later. I still remember when we bought him his first guitar...I also remember ripping the strings off it, because you should NEVER GIVE A PRESCHOOLER A TOY THAT MAKES NOISE. Seriously, Cindy and I avoided installing batteries in toys that made beeps and whistles or talked. Do not tell our children. They still think Talking Barbie had taken a monastic vow of silence. Kris did a jazzy version of "All She Wants To Do Is Dance" which had me imagining "She" doing a totally different kind of dance than what I would’ve pictured from the original; this version didn't evoke pictures of leg warmers and mile-high hair. That's a good thing.

Lil. I know what you're thinking. "How did Scott and Cindy end up with an African American baby?" Let’s just say that neither Cindy nor I have investigated our family trees back far enough to rule this out as a genetic possibility, so don’t get hung up on the color, man. I also haven’t ruled out the possibility that somewhere a black family who gave birth at the same time in the same hospital is wondering why they have a white child. "What's Love Got To Do with It" was her song choice. Once again, it just wasn’t her. I think that, because of the way we raised her, she really does know that love is more than a second-hand emotion, so she wasn’t able to come across as believable last night. Also, before one of you points it out, since Lil has a few kids, yes that means that Cindy and I are grandparents...really young, hip, cool grandparents.

Anoop also adds a little color to our patchwork family. Born in 1986, he chose Cyndi Lauper’s "True Colors.” I honestly expected it to sound gay, for lack of a better word. You know how it is when a guy sings a song originally sung by a girl. However, he really did a good job on it. As his pretend father for the night, though, I was really hoping he’d have pegged his pants’ cuffs. Have we taught him nothing about the 80’s?

Scott is another one of the 3 or 4 children we gave birth to in 1985. He was named after me because he had my hair. (That's supposed to be funny. I’m bald.) Believe it or not, he didn’t play the piano this week. No siree. He brought out a guitar for the power ballad “The Search Is Over.” Now, he didn’t do a phenomenal job on the guitar or the vocals, but he’s my son so I’m not going to say anything bad about him. It could be crushing to find out that your own father thinks you should be the next to go and is tired of hearing your voice, so I’ll not say that. Next week if he makes it through, he should definitely combine these two instruments and wield the fabled Key-tar!

Allison got her mother’s red hair and her father’s sexy gravelly voice. Both helped her pull off Bonnie Raitt’s “I Can’t Make You Love Me.” But she DID make me love her. Absolutely loved the song. But that might be due to the fact that she’s the baby of the family (1992), and the baby always get special treatment and attention to make up for how we’ve screwed up the other 7 children.

Matt, Matt, Matt. Is this the way we raised you? We’ve tried to instill in our children the proper understanding of LOVE. That’s why it was a huge disappointment when we heard he’d chosen "Part-Time Lover." We’ve encouraged our children to be “FULL-Time Lovers” for many reasons including better insurance, retirement benefits, and a company car. He did very well, though, and the judges were favorable.

Adam. We’ve always gotten lots of questions about Adam ever since he joined our family in 1982. While most people readily accept that darker-skinned Lil and Anoop are our natural children, no one’s been fooled by Adam. We got him at a pet shop in the mall, and it wasn’t until we got him home and cleaned him up a little bit that we realized he could almost pass as a human child. He’s always liked it when his "brothers" and "sisters" sang at home, and he himself did a lot of shrieking and howling growing up. It wasn’t really welcome in our 1200-square-foot home. When everyone else went to go audition for American Idol, we felt bad leaving him in a cage in the back of the minivan, so we snuck him in with us. Who knew he’d fool the judges and producers! Last night he sang, “Mad World” (’82?) and it was full of the falsetto stuff that drives the ladies crazy. Even Simon loved it and stood up. I think it's safe to say that Adam is getting close to earning himself the right sleep inside the house and eat at the table with us. Seriously, though, he did do a great job. I'm just a judgmental prude who doesn't like black nail polish on boys. Is that so wrong?

So how does a good parent pick favorites and least favorites?
Well, I’m not claiming to be a good parent so:

Scott McIntyre’s reached the end of his road, I believe. Time to go. But since there are a million other people making the decision, I wouldn’t be surprised if they send Anoop or Matt home. Lil’s also possibly teetering based on her performances, but I’ll give her another week or two to turn around.

----------

After last week's pretend screenplays and this week's pretend children, I think next week may be just a straight analysis of the performances before I have a complete break with reality.

American Idol Inspires Scott To Write Movie Plots

2009-03-31T22:16:00.003-04:00

Tonight, as I write about each of the remaining contestants, I think I'll treat you with a view into my crystal ball.

I think that they are all really good and could record CDs. (I guess that's not saying much, since technically, with the cool gadgets on my laptop, even I could record a CD.)

They each have their own style to an extent, so I'm going to pigeon-hole each one by determining what movies they'll be invited to do soundtracks for.

First up, Anoop, singing a little "Usher" with "Caught Up." Did a good job, and gave me my first real glance at his potential "concert" style, which was a little flat and gave Simon a headache. Since I see him more in the boy band style, I'm struggling to figure what that means for a soundtrack. Probably, it would be some light-hearted chick flick. I'll just make up a movie about two strangers (guy and a girl) who both rent the exact same storage unit because of a mix up at the rental office. They decide to share it and split the cost and end up hanging out there occasionally and turn it into a sort of rec room and become friends heading towards lovers. When one finally has his new home built and no longer needs the unit, he considers keeping it just to keep her in his life. Anoops sings the song during the flashback/montage of all the fun times they shared in their 24-hour access, climate-controlled storage facility. I think I'll call the movie AND the song "What's In Store," and it will star Jennifer Gardner and some random guy with a British accent. Chicks dig accents. They bloody do.

Megan Joy, in all her quirky wiggle-dancing tattooed-ness, is destined to sing the soundtrack for the kind of movie that has a free-spirited barefoot coed falling for her biology lab partner who thought he was gay but discovers that he really isn't. Whatever you call that genre. The nice thing about singing on a soundtrack is that you usually aren't seen, and tonight the worst part of Megan Joy's performance was watching her. She totally looked like she was uncomfortable, but that can be solved by borrowing a stool next week per Paula's suggestion. I suppose she can pick one from a catalog or go to a furniture showroom and check out some stool samples.

Danny. A couple weeks ago when he wore that white polar jacket, he looked like some personification of a singing angel. So I'm actually putting him IN a movie playing a soul-singing guardian angel who delivers messages to a runaway teen who thinks she's seeing things. I guess it's kind of like Touched By an Angel, but the musical version...with jazz hands. For tonight, once he got past that first put-you-to-sleep verse, I felt like he did just OK, but what in the world? The judges are crazy about this performance while I'm just a hair above underwhelmed. Maybe it has something to do with the distraction of trying to listen to these songs while writing all these screenplays at the same time. YOU try it.

Allison Iraheta. I'm glad that tonight we got to hear at least a little of her "softer" side without all the yelling. Plus, it's cute the way she let her 3-year-old cousin dress her and do her hair. (That's what happened, right?) With the lungs on that beast, she could sing the theme song from Cold Case if they make it to the big screen someday. If you know the show and the sliding howl at the beginning, then you know what I'm talking about. Youtube it something until I can hunt it down for you.

Scott MacIntyre. Pro: combed or cut his hair, and maybe some brow grooming? Con: Master Cuts must've still had their '80's catalogs in the waiting area. For a movie, I see him playing piano and singing for an upcoming Pixar project. I don't know what they have in the works, but if they do a movie about a partially blind robot whose owner's mom throws him away and he befriends a pack of lost housepets journeying across the country to find home, Scott should definitely sing the songs for that movie.

For some unknown reason, Matt Giraud standing at his keyboard in a section of the crowd reminded me of Ross Geller playing keyboard in the coffeeshop on "Friends." It would've been cool if he'd pushed the button that makes those space noises. The judges might have liked him better if he HAD. Let's just give him a coming-of-age movie. One of those where a boy and his dog face life and all its problems...until the dog gets hit by pizza delivery Pinto, and the boy has to face his parents' divorce, his swim team tryouts, and his geometry test alone.

Lil Rounds I'm giving the much-anticipated sequel to "My Bodyguard" (please don't tell me it's already been made and I've missed it). With yet another wig tonight, it's clear she's keeping some mall kiosk in business. Way to stimulate the economy, Lil! And the singing 'tweren't bad at all tonight, even though it was a less-than-stellar song choice.

Yep, you guessed it; Adam should do the soundtrack for one of the sequels to "Twilight." With his eyeliner, black nails and the blood dripping out of the corner of his mouth, he's a shoo-in for shrieking out a song during a vampire fisticuffs or love scene (or both at the same time since vampires are weird that way). Tonight, he sang "Play That Funky Music, White Boy" or as Cassie sang it when she was two or three "Play That Fungy Moogic Why Boy!" (I have a story to tell about this , but I'll not throw it into this alread-too-long post. I understand some of you have things to do today besides reading my blog for hours.)

I liked Kris Allen's performance of "Ain't No Sunshine" tonight more than enough to overlook the use of "ain't." (Heck, I'm not even bothering to proofread this post, mainly 'cause I just proofed about 63 bazillion pages of Cindy's current coursework.) With that youthful cute face, Kris'd be good for a teeny-bopper movie. If it weren't for the fact that Hannah Montana sings her own stuff, I could picture Kris doing "Hannah Montana's Canadian Tour" and doing a great job capturing the wholesome charm. That, or a sleepy love flick on a beach in Mexico in the winter; someone has a terminal illness and is flipping through scrapbooks with family, reliving the past to the tune of Kris's guitar.
------------
Based on both
A) Performance quality tonight
And
B) Their projected future performances for the imaginary movies I've slaved over,
I think that Megan Joy could be in trouble, even though I like the tar out of her.
We're just getting to that point where really, really good singers are going to have to start leaving, because in the end, there can be only one.

This Might Qualify As Insecure

2009-03-31T00:51:00.000-04:00

OK. Maybe I'm too sensitive, but it seems that every night when I take the dog out to use the facilities, he ends up finding a nice spot to poop RIGHT ON MY SHADOW created by the porch light.

Tell me he's not making some kind of statement.

RE: Your Requests That I Burn In a Ring of Fire

2009-03-29T14:44:00.000-04:00

Based on the comments from several ("two" can be considered several in cultures whose population is under 10) readers, I guess I've let you down by taking time off during our Spring Break and not live-blogging about American Idol on the night that Adam sang "Ring of Fire."

Since then, though, I HAVE had a chance to watch the show in its entirety.

Unfortunately, our reserves of bleach, Lysol, Spic-n-Span and Febreeze weren't enough to successfully remove the images and sounds of Adam's performance from whatever synapses in my brain that they've latched themselves onto.

Nothing against Egyptians and their music, but I wholeheartedly believe that when Johnny Cash wrote that song (or June or whoever wrote it if it wasn't him), he never imagined that it would one day be sung by a gothish freak channeling a 5,000-year-old decomposing pharaoh clawing from within his sarcophagus clutching a hairless temple cat. Couldn't he at least have worn a cowboy hat or boots or chewed on a piece of straw?

I honestly had never listened to the lyrics of "Ring of Fire," so I just now Googled it. It seems to be about burning and fire and falling in the fire and burning, burning, burning. Essentially, it was a prophetic description of the sensation of watching Adam sing it.

Perhaps if I stick a bit of Mr. Clean's Magic Eraser on the end of a long skewer and jab it in through my ear canal, I could remove that haunting performance from the spot in my cerebral cortex where nightmares reside.

Two Weeks...Maybe Ten

2009-03-28T21:02:00.001-04:00

Sure I can fit my new truck in the garage, but it only has about 1 millimeter clearance on all sides. Less in the front. I know I've pulled in far enough for the garage door to be able to close when I see the big shoe rack begin to crumple under the pressure from the front bumper. Some people hang tennis balls on strings from the ceiling; I crush furniture.
And don't even try to open the doors. I have to put on my Daisy Dukes, tie my tight shirt in the front, and yell "yehaw!" as I slide in the window.

So you can see why I've decided to clear out my garage in the next few weeks.

I'm going to invest some money into storage/organizational solutions, because the Throw-It-Over-There Method has reached its threshold of effectiveness. When it takes longer to find my Phillips screwdriver than it would take to mine iron ore, build a honkin'-hot fire, forge a new tool and carve a handle, something just ain't right.

If any of you has stumbled upon some great garage solutions, let me know. I've gone the route or just "tidying up," but it's time now to buy/build what I need to do it right this time. COMPLETE overhaul. Shoot me genius ideas, even if they're not your own.

Of course, I just saw "Mall Cop" so I feel like I can take on the world right now, but tomorrow I'll probably wake up without the least bit of interest in cleaning my garage, finding lost tools or ever accessing the food that's been trapped in the unaccessable garage freezer for the last 7 months.

Work It, Baby

2009-03-26T08:16:00.000-04:00

This morning, Cindy told me about the girls' Spring Dance at school.

It's just for our older daughters, so the younger ones will stay home, and one of us will stay with them and one of us can chaperone.

So Cindy asks me, "One of us needs to go to the Spring Fling. Do you want to work it?"

To which I replied, "I can, if by 'work it' you mean..." and I proceeded to do the white-man's-overbite and a little cabbage patch dancin'. I got mad moves when it comes to dancing.

She decided she should be the one to go.

Momerican Moidol Mocontestants Mosinging Motown

2009-03-25T22:20:00.005-04:00

After missing last week's show because of our Spring Break, we'll see if I can ease back in. I'm not making any promises. It would sure be a lot easier if it was a themed night that I could get passionate about...like, say, "80's Power Ballads" or "Country Songs About Girls Whored Out By Their Moms."

So tonight it's Motown Night. It'll work, I'm sure, but I'm really curious to see if any of the contestants come out looking extra white in this genre.

Well, let's get it on....

...which turns out to be the title of the first song with Matt Giraud. While I'm not really sure what I was expecting to see in the way of wardrobe tonight, I certainly wasn't expecting Matt's Mr. Roger's cardigan. The thought of Mr. Rogers singing "Let's Get It On" represents the colliding of two very different worlds; kind of like the beginning of "Thundercats" when that planet swings by and blasts into the moon and cracks it. But singing-wise, it was good and didn't crack any moons.

Kris Allen showed up tonight, guitar in hand and boy scout badges on shoulder. I spent much of the time trying to read his shirt; the whole bottom half had some kind of text crammed all over it. I'm assuming it's sublimally printed with "VOTE FOR ME" over and over and over. But between you and me, I don't think he needs the extra campaigning. So maybe instead it was the lyrics for "How Sweet It Is.". Nice job.

Scott MacIntyre sang "You Can't Hurry Love" which cracks me up because of the way it's always sung so fast. He's a good singer, but not in the star way. He hits each note right and clearly, but in the way that a Broadway singer might need to, or a guy on a float in a Disney parade, or that guy on the piano on the third level of the floating casino.

Judge's Attempt At Humor Alert:
Paula got fed up with Simon's juvenile antics and whipped out box of crayons and some coloring books. I personally couldve come with better props to make the same point, but nice try, Paula.

Oh my, Megan Joy, oh my. If Simon does not make a cruise ship lounge singer reference, I will eat this Blackberry I'm typing on. At least, her dress matches her arm tattoo. The judges aren't digging it; so many better song choices out there. OK, Simon's up now...mention the cruise...or a lounge. Crud. I have to eat my phone now.

Next up, Anoop. I have lofty expectations for Anoop Dog, what with him being the only man of color left in the competition and all. He's going to wow us with the lyrically electrifying "Oo Baby Baby." I'm guessing he could could really do something with a hauntingly beautiful song I wrote for Cindy in our early years called "Oo, Baby, Yeah Uh-Huh."
I'm serious.

Note: Have all the guys worn ties so far? What's up with that? Are we interviewing for internships with a bank?

Michael Sarver sang some song that also included the words "Oo Baby Baby" ("Ain't Too Proud To Beg"). I actually think he's done the best job of anyone tonight so far of SOUNDING like old Motown. But considering he LOOKED more like a middle-aged white dude with his shirt unbuttoned and that chain necklace... Well, the judges tore him apart.

Lil, Lil, Lil. She should rock tonight. An African American woman should be able to burn up the stage tonight with "Heat Wave." Check out that wig, the dress, the earrings even. She is definitely bringing it before she even opens her mouth. Good performance to watch, girl, but I agree she could have picked a song with a melody that would have shown her off more.

Next, Adam's up. To quote Smokey Robinson, "I've never heard 'Tracks of My Tears' sung that way before." Hold it! What! Is this Adam?! He's wearing a suit and his hair's slicked back, no nail polish! With 30% less eyeliner, he doesn't look even remotely like a Twilight vampire tonight, thank goodness. Possibly the best of the night, which pains me because I haven't liked him up till now. But now that he looks more like Jason Bateman instead of Edward Cullen strung out on bad elk blood, I'll have to reconsider.

Danny's up with "Get Ready." I already liked him, but I like him even more now that I've seen him scoot back with the back-up singers and do some rolling motions along with them, having fun on stage.

And finally, Allison's doing "Papa Was a Rolling Stone." Oh boy, I love songs from the 70's that incorporate the "shikkawokka shikkawokka" sound. She's got pipes and played them full-force. Awesome, one of the best tonight. And I'm not just saying that because she's a redhead, thought that's reason enough to vote for her. (I swear I'll vote for Obama if he dyes his hair red in '12.)

My predictions for bottom three;
Megan Joy, Scott MacIntyre and Michael Sarver.

I'm just going to close with this mental image for anyone who missed the show. Google images for "Paula Abdul Crayon Moustache" and sleep well. (Don't really Google that. I just checked, and there's everything BUT Paula Abdul with a crayon moustache...including a charming William Hung and a shirtless Hall or Oates.)

My Apologies To Mr. Neighbor Man

2009-03-24T20:09:00.001-04:00

First of all, I'm sorry I've been absent from the internet for lo these many days during Spring Break and following. I'm still worn out from all the not working and all the not cleaning and all the not doing anything important.

Second of all, my real reason for writing today is to apologize to the nice man in the truck driving down our street.

Dear Mr. Nice Man In The Truck Driving Down Our Street (Mr. NMITTDDOS),

I was returning down our long driveway after grabbing a handful of mail from the mailbox when you drove by.

As you may or may not know, Mr. NMITTDDOS, this is a friendly street, and its residents frequently wave regardless of whether or not we recognize you. For all I know, you were a serial killer hauling the duct-taped bodies of Mr. and Mrs. McGillicutty in the bed of your truck. But being the neighborly soul I am, you were getting a wave from me regardless of any homicidal tendencies you do or don't have. I'm not one to judge.

Unfortunately, with the dog leash in one hand and a stack of mail in the other, I turned around, lifting the arm with the mail to attempt a wave. As you undoubtedly noticed, because of the mail, I didn't have many fingers able to extend to do a formal wave. In fact, I had only one finger free.
Yup. THAT one.

So in case you were planning to come back for me after you drop the McGillicutties off at their eternal destination, I want you to know that I truly was waving...not making an obscene hand gesture, even though that's what it looked like.

And I'm not just saying that because I'm scared of you, Mr. NMITTDDOS.

Not Much Happening Here

2009-03-15T15:41:00.000-04:00

It's a rather unevetful day here in paradise.

Cindy found us a great little vacation house on the beach in Florida.

So currently I'm just chilling here in a beach chair on the sand.

The girls are alternately boogie-boarding and sand-caslte creating.

Cindy is napping.

Ah...feel the tension just ebb away.

The owners of this beach house also own a coffee shop down the road, so we dropped in there earlier for some smoothies and to hop online to do a little research for tonight's space shuttle launch.
We're still debating whether to watch it from our deck (about 90 miles away) or cruise down the coast to get a closer peek.

Until we decide, it's more swimming, sleeping, digging, kite-flying and shelling.

I could get used to this.

American Idol's Baker's Dozen

2009-03-10T23:34:00.003-04:00

Every year as I blog these American Idol shows (ok, this is only my second year), I have tried to adhere to a particular mission or purpose.

Last year, I went several rounds doing my best NOT to talk about their actual singing. And so far this year, I've worked hard to avoid using actual names.

I dunno. Maybe I'm missing the whole point of the show if I work hard to be a purist in my goals.
Let's just see how this goes, and maybe I'll be inspired and come up with a whole new strategy for live-blogging this life-sucking show. I'm ready to push "play" on my DVR, so pour a little artificial strawberry syrup in your milk with me and settle in for what I expect to be a night full of jaw-dropping talent...or perhaps just some poor wardrobe choices. It's too early to tell.
-------
Well, well, well. The judges have just stolen a scene from "The Right Stuff" or "Apollo 13." They have just entered from backstage walking side-by-side in orange jump suits and holding their astronaut helmets...except without the jumpsuits and helmets. Instead, Paula had grabbed a molting emu on the way to the theater and tossed it over her right shoulder. For his part, Simon mixed it up a bit and wore a black shirt.

On with the contestants.

Lil Rounds. OK. There, I did it; I'm using names. I've just figured out her name is "Lil" which is probably short for "Lilly" or "Lillian" or "Lilliputian" instead of short for "Little" like "Li'l Wayne" or "Best Li'l Whorehouse in Texas." I was so saddened when she chose to sing a Michael Jackson song, but then my wife told me not to be too hard on her, especially since it's Michael Jackson night. So unless there's a loophole and they're allowed to sing songs by Micheal Norbert Jackson of Duluth, it's going to be a long night. Instead of giving her a hard time for her song choice, I shall just mock the prom dress top paired with some snazzy white Jordache-esque jeans.

Scott (didn't catch his last name, but I will totally fight the urge to refer to him as "Sightless Scott." Oops.) played piano and sang a song I didn't know, so I couldn't automatically hate it. Good voice, but it could possibly sound better if he'd just remove that sound insulating wad of hair that is consuming his head. Note: that previous line is simply the jealous rantings of a bald man.

Now is the point in the night where my wife implores me to help with the all-important task of SCRUBBING GUNK OUT OF THE BOTTOM OF A BATHROOM DRAWER. Why! Why! Tell me why must this particular job be done right now? She told me that it's human nature. (Give yourself a moment and that line will be funny.) Therefore the next several singers were heard whilst scraping makeup, soap, lotion and other years-old spills out of that blasted drawer, so don't expect much commentary.

Danny Gokey has a knack for matching his glasses to his clothes. I automatically assume he is independently wealthy if he can afford more than one pair of glasses. I, on the other hand, am at this moment wearing my 1980's glasses because I can't afford to update to the 90's. Danny's sounding good on a song I thought was called "EYG." After spending a moment completely stumped by what "EYG" could stand for, Cindy finally stopped rolling on the floor laughing and informed me it was "PYT" instead, which goes nicely with the phrase "Pretty Young Thing" which he repeated about twenty-leven times.

Michael the Oil Rigger sang a song and smiled too many times at my wife throughout the whole thing. Paula liked it and had occasion to wave her arm during her judging which allowed her to dangle a bracelet which looked remarkably like a rhinestone-studded price tag. How much do you think she costs?

Jasmine Murray sang "I'll Be There," and I thought she sounded just like a young Michael Jackson. She's so pretty and will look great on the cover of a CD, but needs to polish the singing just a little more to wow me.

Kris Allen. Something about him seems so familiar. Once Paula called him "sexy," I figured it out. He reminds me of myself, possibly because I wore a shirt like that in 3rd grade, and I own a guitar, and I have two eyes, and a nose...

Allison Iraheta sang a rocked-out song. Again, I didn't catch the title, what with the distraction of cleaning that cursed drawer. She did very nicely.

Next was Anoop doing "Beat It." Frankly, I like Weird Al's version of "Eat It" much better and think Anoop should have mixed it up a bit and interwoven some of the lyrics from each of those songs.

Jorge and his eyebrow sang some oldish-sounding song and left me without much of an impression worth writing about. At this point, my attentions have been turned to folding laundry so my attitude is heading toward angry and mean because there is NO reason why there are ELEVEN unmatched socks. So Jorge, I'm sorry if my impressions of you are affected by unrelated disdain and utter loathing.

Cute little Meghan brought back the quirky dancing which was perfect for "Rockin' Robin." But thanks to those stupid socks, I didn't have the opportunity to devote the necessary amount of time to deciphering her arm tattoo. I WILL figure out what it is, I promise you.

Adam Lambert still has the swoopy bangs that reach out and mock me, so I choose not to write more about him right now. He'll last a while, though, even without my help.

Matt Giraud (is he The Scarf from last week?) is up next with "Human Nature," and all the drawer-cleaning and laundry-folding has worn me out and I'm too tired now to come up which many more thoughts besides saying that it was nice.

Finally, we watched Alexis Grace teach her daughter to say "Seacrest Out," and then she sang "Dirty Diana" (Alexis sang it, not her baby girl). I liked it.

Golly. A lot of great talent in this bunch. I have no clue who should go home, but I'm thinking it should be me because I am absolutely withering.
But here's a stab:
My Tops: Danny, Kris, Lil
Low on the Totem Pole: Jorge, Jasmine (unfortunately), Anoop.

If you're looking for more coherence, check out Cindy's assessment of these fine singers.

I promise to write something more life-changing next week.

Missed The Subject

2009-03-10T16:59:00.000-04:00

My wife sent me the following email. This is it in its entirety:

"just chewed up the weather stripping by the
door. We will need to replace it asap."

When the subject is missing like that, it's usually implied to be "I" as in "just thought I'd drop in" or "have been thinking about you" or "must remember to curb my appetite for weather stripping."

I know that we need to make a run to the grocery store because our pantry is sorely lacking. I just hadn't realized how desperate the situation was.

Of course, Cindy is pretty smart and generally grammatically correct. So upon closer inspection, I noticed that the "subject" line of the email read:

"Your dog"

At Least They Weren't Playing With Matches...That I Know Of

2009-03-09T23:02:00.006-04:00

In my last post, I shared how I geniusly sold my car which I had parked in our parking lot after our last basketball game there.
And then I realized that my four girls and I were stranded.

I failed to finish the story, mainly because I hadn't yet told my wife how the story ended.

Simply put, Fred, who works at the church, gave me a ride home.

Nothing major there. End of story.
-------------------
Except for the part where there wasn't enough room in Fred's car for all of us so I left the girls alone together at church to play basketball until I returned later.

It's really not that dramatic...
...unless you're a mother
...and you watch Lifetime Television For Women
...and your husband is incompetent.

But let's look at the facts:
It's not like any of these girls are daredevils and could put themselves in dangerous predicaments while unsupervised...no, wait. They ARE.
Well, it's not like one of them was feeling sick and lying on the floor sleeping, just waiting to die...no wait. She WAS.

Seriously, for the record, another staff member was there.
Sure, he was a young, single, childless guy who would have no idea how to deal with the kinds of emergencies my girls can cause, but Shelby surely could've walked him through it.

Money Can't Buy You Foresight

2009-03-07T21:37:00.000-05:00

We have a tradition in my family of origin where we buy cars from one another.
I've bought a couple of my parents' cars.
I've bought a brother's car.
My parents bought an uncle's van.
A brother bought another one of my parents' cars.
Another brother gave me a car.
That car made me smell like gasoline.
I generously donated it to some kidney foundation I saw on a billboard.

Anyway, it was time for my parents to unload their latest vehicle and I jumped all over it which put the dominoes into play.

After having a financial seance and getting in touch with the thrifty and fiscally-responsible spirit of Dave Ramsey, we decided to sell our Blazer and gather up some cash to pay my parents.

After less than 24 hours listed on Craigslist.org, I'd received a few bites on my car; the very first one arranged to see it at our church today after we finished basketball there.

When I came out, the family was already there climbing under my car, kicking tires, licking bumpers and whatever else people traditionally do to determine the quality of the vehicle they're about to be burdened with.

We shook hands, and I sent them off on a test drive around surrounding neighborhoods while I went back inside to clean up the gym.

When I came back out, they weren't there, and I started to think of various scenarios, all of which included this family of strangers cackling wildly about some sucker who gave them a free car.

A friend who was there with me asked if she should wait just in case I needed a ride home if these people never returned with my car.

Fortunately, these folks DID come back. On top of that, they whipped out a stack of 100-dollar bills and bought the thing right then and there.

UNfortunatley, my friend left when the family returned from the test drive; it wasn't until I'd watched my Chevy Blazer ride off into the sunset that I realized that my four daughters and I now had no way to get home.

Minor detail.

American Idol Wild Card Night: The Most Dramatic Rose Ceremony EVER!

2009-03-05T21:11:00.001-05:00

I took some time off today and came home early to prepare emotionally for tonight's uberexciting American Idol Wildcard Sing-Off.

(Well, actually, I had a sick child to come home and take care of, but I thought a fictitious story of my obsession with American Idol would add just the touch of drama you're looking for.)

I have no idea if the judges pick tonight or if the phone lines open again, but we'll find out in a few minutes.

Before it starts, let me just make my predictions. Bear in mind that my "predictions" do not necessarily match my "wishes.". For example, I "predict" that Tatiana will get through. However, I would sooner "wish" to have blisters on the soles of my feet for eternity.

Naw, just kidding. I'm sure Tatiana is a dear, dear girl. I'm just concerned that the valves in her heart might fly right off their hinges if she gets any more emotionally caught up in the glory of it all.

Note: I was planning on continuing to avoid using actual names in tonight's live-blogging, but "Tatiana" has become more than just a name [ex. "Did you see that guy tatiana-ing when he won the golf scramble?" or "they locked her up because she contracted a serious case of tatiana"]. So if I use the word "tatiana," it's as a descriptive term, not as a name. That way I can still maintain the purity of my blog's namelessness.

Well, Ryan has just confirmed that the judges will make these final picks. Whew. I feel like a burden has been lifted...

First up is The Redhead in Grandma's Hand-Crocheted Afghan. She sang something like "Tell Me Something Good" which didn't sound like an actual song. Doubtlessly, the best of the night so far.

Bluesy Scarf Guy sounded great. I'm guessing the scarf does something to enhance the acoustics of his throat. Perhaps, if he removed the scarf, he'd sound like Carol Channing.

Awkward Dancing Girl is back with the same moves. She is totally dancing like that quirly 6-year-old girl in the front row at VBS last summer.

The Guy Afraid To Commit To An Actual Mohawk. As soon as he started to sing, my oldest daughter started snoring loudly. I honestly don't know if she was trying to make a statement, or she actually fell asleep. After all, she IS the girl who stayed home sick and slept the day away. The judges all called him "too serious." If he makes it through, I recommend a clown suit next time with the rainbow wig and size 29 shoes.

Janet Jackson's Daughter. I adore her. She's taken the judges' suggestion last time to sing something younger to match her age and style. A little Christina Aguilera was a perfect choice for her. Unfortunately, the pitchiness and flatness revealed her weak side.

Oh No. This guy is leaving me completely at loss for a nickname or description. Nothing is standing out, even though he sang well. Immediately, one of my daughters asked, "Why is he wearing such tight pants?" So the Non-Outstanding Guy In Tight Pants it is. By the way, to answer her question, I replied, "It's easier to get through security when you wear tight pants because they can tell you're not sneaking in contraband like Pepsi or foreogn cars."

The Loving Girl Who Loves Loving Love and Loves Us For Loving Her. And how touching that she's singing "Saving All My Love For You," that lovely song about a mistress waiting for her married lover to ditch that woman he married and had children with. Then she got all weepy and tatiana-ed all over the place.

The Sock Tie Guy Without His Sock Tie sang "My Perogative" (I'll check the spelling on that later). Why does he continue to dress like a junior higher? And yet, when he sings, he sounds more like a sophomore, so it's all very perplexing. Hee hee, Paula called his moves "a little nasty"...like it was a good thing.

---------
Well, they make their picks now, and I don't know if I should spoil it for you...so leave now if you don't care to read the results.

Janet Jackson's Daughter is in.
As is Awkward VBS Dancer.
Meanwhile, Tatiana may be the fist "loser" not to have the grace to congratulate the winner standing next to her. Very tacky. Very Tatiana.
And finally between the Afghan Wearer, the Faux-hawk, the Scarf and Sock-Tie-Less Boy, the twelfth seat went to The Scarf....
BUT WAIT...
There's MORE!
In the most dramatic rose ceremony EVER, the judges opened up a 13th spot for...
The Jr. High Sock-Tie-Less Wonder Whose Name Sounds Indian But He's Really From Carolina!

So there you have it, folks.
I've got a few days to learn some names. Too bad the one name I DO know, I won't be able to use...
...or WILL I?

Until I Get A Life, You'll Just Have To Read About AI

2009-03-03T22:55:00.000-05:00

OK this is the last week for my American Idol live-blogging without contestants' names. Next week, I'll actually learn some names. Maybe even the right ones.

But for now, let's just sit back and enjoy what many will refer to as "How we spent a couple hours killing time waiting for the horror of 'The Bachelor: Ultimate Last Final Finale.'"

The Man With Two Red Shoes. Tennis shoes with a suit over a t-shirt would not be my style choice, but that doesn't mean much coming from the guy blogging on his couch wearing gym shorts, a sweater vest and old-man socks. He sang really well, but I just don't know if America can pick a guy that dresses like the love child of Don Johnson and Justin Timberlake.

The 27-Year-Old 17 Year Old Girl. Why do teenagers try to look so much older? Again, who am I to be throwing stones, sitting here all pudgy and bald at 37? But she's done singing, the judges are done judging, and already I've forgotten what she sang. Not a good sign.

The AV Club President. Now this guy looks just like someone I'd go to school with and sit at lunch with and talk with about how "Ladyhawk" was our favorite movie. He was cracking me up with the gutteral screaming of "That's Why They Call It The Blues" and kicking over of microphone stands. Unfortunately, we learned last week that cracking us up doesn't get us to vote for you in a singing competition. Now, a gutteral screaming and mic stand kicking competition is a whole other matter.

Cute-As-A-Button Girl sang "The Winner Takes It All" in an ironic attempt to intertwine the obvious genius of Abba with the riffy liberties of Beyonce. Couldn't be cuter, though.

Handcuff Guy. I remember this guy from auditons with what can only be described as the cutest little toddler boy the world has ever seen. But I'm watching him sing, and the light's reflecting off the handcuffs dangling from his belt loop. (I think it would be fun to see him shoot Simon with a Taser.) I'm loving his "Hey There, Delilah" with his buttery voice which is credited to the cortizone shot in his buttocks, no kidding. Seriously.

Duotone Hair Girl has got some nice bluesy grooviness in her Brady Bunch dress. And it wasn't until the very end of her performance that I realized she looks like Bonnie Hunt or Goldie Hawn, or I would have more accurately named her Dutone Bonnie/Goldie Girl. I believe she's a better singer than this song revealed.

Male Drama Queen. When I squinted, he looked and danced like a middle-aged woman singing Meatloaf's "Anything For Love" on karoake night at the condo association fundraiser (and when he mentioned he used to dance and sing this song with mom at home, it all made sense). For some people that would be a compliment, but maybe the judges are looking for something less atrocious.

The Mom Who Didn't Make It Past Hollywood Week...But Did...and will probably continue. The only thing I didn't like was that the song went on forever; however, it turned out that Cindy had rewound it and started it over so it was only half as long as it seemed.

Curly-Haired Blind Guy sang "Mandolin Rain" which took me back. It took me back to a couple of weeks ago when the song came on the radio and Cindy screamed how badly she hates the song. She has yet to explain why, but we can all assume that some heartless mandolin player went home from prom with someone else in 1990.
He sang this well enough, but more like a college choral rendition than a star performance.

The Alligator Dancer's Daughter. As a blonde country singer, she didn't quite compare with Carrie Underwood or Kelly Pickler, but she was awfully cute and could still do Noxema commercials.

Antonio Banderas sang some Elton John "Don't Let The Sun Go Down On Me." Given his dancing history, I kept waiting for him to break into some flamenco or perhaps a touch of the forbidden dance, but the sun indeed went down without any dancing. Not spectacular, but neither is it condo-association-karaoke-worthy. (By the way, does anyone remember Forrest Whitaker singing this on Saturday Night Live? Perhaps one of my favorite SNL moments.)

Little Rounds...

Oh crud, Cindy's just switched over to "The Bachelor" so I better hurry up and tell you that I think the girls blew away the boys tonight.
I think Lil and The Mom Who Didn't Make It will make it.
But which guy? Probably the Handcuffs.

The Puffy Sleeves You Requested Are In

2009-03-01T19:34:00.004-05:00

I appreciate those of you who sympathized with the previous post regarding our family's pictorial directory photo shoot...and the sleeves.

And for those who requested to see our final glorious pictures, we regret to inform you that you'll just have to wait for :

A) The company to develop them and print them and frame them and have them blessed by the pope.

and

B) The closing on our second mortgage taken out to purchase said blessed photos.

Until then, though, I do have some pictures of those infernal puffy sleeves.

Here is what they ACTUALLY looked like:

Here is what they FELT like to the poor child who complained no fewer than ninety-leven times a minute about them:

So you can clearly feel her pain.

I Can't Remember How Many Concentric Circles of Hell There Used To Be, But I Just Found One More

2009-02-27T12:15:00.001-05:00

Last night was our time to have our family portrait taken for our church’s newest pictorial directory. Additionally, it’s been ages since we’ve had an official family photo, so we got dolled up and ready our photo shoot.

Perhaps you're picturing hip music playing and a swanky photo shoot with a photographer in a scarf and beret saying things like "show me those pouty lips" and "work it, girl" while the wind machine blows sensually through my hair.

Anyone who’s been through this experience before knows exactly what it was really like
For those who haven’t, I’ll simply share some of the quotes from yesterday to give you a feel.
-------------
“I HATE these puffy sleeves.”

“I know I already had planned for us to wear brown, but now let’s all wear black which means we need to run to the store to buy clothes hours before our photo shoot!”

“Why do I have to wear these puffy sleeves?”

“You were supposed to brush your teeth BEFORE you put those clothes on.”

“People wore sleeves like this in the 1800’s, and this is the 21st century!”

“You take that shirt off and give it to her, and she’ll give her sweater to her, and then I’ll wear that shirt...until we all change our minds again.”

“I’m pretty sure Mary Todd Lincoln had sleeves like these….and look what happened to HER.”

“We need to leave in three minutes. Hmmmm. Maybe we should all wear green.”

“These slee…”

“IF WE CAN GET THROUGH THIS WITHOUT ANY MORE COMPLAINING WE’LL GO TO DAIRY QUEEN AFTER THE PICTURES!”

“Welcome to your photo shoot. Just sign in here. Unfortunately, one of the photographers is sick, so we’re running a little behind.”

“Define ‘a little.’ “

“About an hour.”

“Hi, sweetie. Why, look at these cute girls. How blessed you are with four daughters. And check out those sleeves…”

“[snarl]”

“Don’t worry. In the final products, we’ll retouch those glares on your shiny bald head.”

“Can you also retouch these sleeves?”

"And this frame is made of real wood dipped in gold enhanced with silver trimmed with platinum carved by fairies and autographed by God."

“Scott, how about you go take the kids someplace while I decide what to buy. I’ve been saving my own money and this is what I want to use it for.”

“Isn't mommy done picking pictures YET?”

“It can’t be good a sign that she’s been in there a half hour buying pictures.”

“Cindy, don’t even tell me how much you spent. I do not need to know. In fact, I’ll be much happier if I don’t know.”

“Mommy didn’t say how much she spent, but she did say that now we won’t be able to buy a new countertop.”

“You can take those outfits off now. Thank you for wearing things you probably didn’t like.”

“Actually, these sleeves are kind of cool.”

------------
[I lied about the last quote.]

Still Not Bothering To Learn Names

2009-02-25T22:10:00.000-05:00

[cue music]

Another week, another 12 singers on American Idol.
OK. Who am I kidding?
Take two.

[restart the music]

Another week, another 11 singers on American Idol.

[roll through the montage of the various singers. Then the music comes to a screeching halt as the video shows the 12th contestant whom I shall simply refer to at this point as "Omigosh What Is This Guy Doing On American Idol"... or "OWITGDOAI" for short.]

Oh, we shall come back to him in a moment.

In the meantime, let's meet the other contestants whose names escape me:

Girl Who Looks Like Janet Jackson From Certain Angles did really well. Unfortunately, she broke the news to me on public TV that she's not going to write me a love song, today.

Piano Dueler. I didn't know you could sing Cold Play stuff without bongos and whatnot.

Legs. She sang "This Love," and it took its toll on her.

"WITGDOAI."
Speechless.
No words.
It was like a drag queen performance without the drag.
I guess I did find words after all.

Rachel Ray's Sister With Hair On Fire. So far the best of the night, singing Heart's "Alone" and belting it out like a pro.

More-Confident Man In The Mirror. If he really wants to make the world a better place, perhaps he could start off by not singing that song. It was ok, maybe even nice, but not remarkable. He looks charming enough, though, to be in a chick flick with Reece Whitherspoon or sumpin'.

(Oooh. Remind me to record the show about blue whales on National Geographic! Sorry, back to our program.)

Short-Nighty Lounge-Singer Girl sported her planetary tattoo and looked pretty and sang cool...and danced awkwardly. I think Simon called her a "funny little thing." Apt description. Very apt.

Welder. He has a shaved head and a goatee. As do I. He's clearly going through to the next round if it's based Scottlike-ness. However, if it's based on NOT looking like a pudgy, middle-aged drunk uncle at a wedding, he might be in trouble.

The Shoulder. She sang that she's got Betty Davis eyes, not to be confused with having Betty Davis's eyes (apostrophe) which would conjure up images of saving an old lady's eyeballs in a tupperware container in her purse. THAT would be creepy.

Hakuna Matata. That's Swahili for "Makes Ugly Faces While Singing." Sounded good except for the spots when he didn't.

OK, this next girl I can't come up with a no-name for. She sang "Drops of Jupiter" which I really like musically. The song always intrigues me with its haunting beauty. But I'm afraid to sing it myself since I fear that Drops of Jupiter might be a dirty phrase that means something I don't understand because I'm too old and un-hip to know the lingo.

Dresses-In-Black Boy. Or Spikey Hair Swoopy Bangs Boy. Sang "Satisfaction.". Over the top. Not my style, but he can definitely sing and dance and performs, and it appears that that's what this competition is about.

I thinks it's a more difficult job to predict the winners tonight, but I'll try:

Top Guy: More-Confident Boy (but it's kind of three-way tie with Swoopy Bangs and Hakuna Matata.)
Top Gal: Rachel Ray's sis
Third Pick: Short Nighty

But I'll be not the least bit surprised if NONE of my guesses make it through.

Sean Connery Is Pretty Much My Twin Brother

2009-02-24T19:32:00.006-05:00

As I walked down a hallway in my children's school this morning, I passed two little girls who were hustling along to their third-grade classroom.

One of them stopped and grabbed the arm of her friend to make her stop too. She stared wide-eyed at me and said, "He is AWESOME!"

Contrary to what you may believe, I don't actually get that kind of response often. (Technically, NEVER.)

I had no clue how to respond, so Little-Miss-Good-Judgment got a "Well, I think YOU'RE pretty awesome, too" from me.

After their moment of starstruckness, they ran off to class, and I was left with the ponderous question, "Who in the world did she think I WAS?" Admittedly, all us bald people look alike.

Here are some possibilities. Perhaps you can think of more:

1) Mr. Clean

2) Paul Shaffer, band leader for David Letterman

3) Stephen Covey

(because, you know, third graders know so much about management consultants)

4) Yul Brynner

5) Montel Williams

6) Homer Simpson

7) "Stone Cold" Steve Austin

7) Samuel L. Jackson

8) Willard Scott

9) Sinead O'Connor

10) Lieutenant Ilia,

the Deltan Navigator in "Star Trek" the motion picture.

I'm sure there are other possibilities out there.

How 'bout you?

Who do third graders point and stare and mistake YOU for?

No, She Didn't Say "Voldemort"

2009-02-21T12:29:00.001-05:00

A couple of days ago, one of my girls was giving the dog commands to "sit" and "shake."

I apologize if I'm offending your sensibilities, but this child stumbled over her words and combined them into a different word that ought not be said.

I take a little pride in the fact that she has no idea what she said, that she hasn't learned the whole list of filthy words that others her age seem to know.

Of course, it's entirely possible that she knows what she accidentally said and she's thinking that DAD's the one who is pure of mind and doesn't know any dirty words.

Either way, that little hint of profanity provided us with a tender moment.

[sigh]
---------
By the way, Big Doofus made some great puns in his comments below. I WANTED to say some of those things, but I have a pure and austere reputation I wish to uphold.

"water please?"

2009-02-20T08:32:00.002-05:00

"water please?"

Those simple words were emailed to me late last night.

I had just come home from a late-night basketball game in which our home team was beaten repeatedly with sticks, noodles and pitiful glares from row 36, seat 104.

Generally, I don't expect important emails at 11:00 p.m., so I didn't bother seeing what was making my Blackberry buzz, and the message went unread...

...until I got upstairs to the bedroom and found my wife snuggled up warmly in bed with the laptop...with her mouth as parched as the Sahara in desperate need of a refreshing glass of water.

No, actually, she said she really didn't need it that badly, but I'm a good man and got her some anyway.

I just wanted to share this brief story so that you'd know that the lines of communication are still open in our marriage after all these years.

She Probably Has Her Phone Number Written on Her Body for the Cute Young Doctors To Find

2009-02-19T07:17:00.000-05:00

Today I'm planning on driving up to Indianapolis for part of the day to visit a friend in the hospital.

She's a little spitfire. And by that, I mean that's she's little--a fairly short woman--and she can spit fire--well, not yet, but following her surgery she's likely to. She's having some repair work done on stuff involving her esophagus and who-knows-what-else, because that poor woman is just messed up inside in ways that defy my understanding.

I marvel each time I hear of the medical wonders this woman has been through, and each time God brings her through safe and sound.

She served for quite a while as my assistant here at church, which gave me a wonderful opportunity to get to know her and her story a little better. Hopefully, I'll get to spend a little time with her family today and get to know even a little bit more.

For confidentiality sake, I shall not give her real name, but some of you know who she is. The rest of you can just refer to her as "Xena, Hospital Warrior Princess."

Cheap Art Project Du Jour

2009-02-18T08:27:00.001-05:00

We're still in the middle of a gradual bedroom redecorating project.

It started with painting the walls years ago. Then we bought curtains. And a bedspread. Then years later...different curtains and a different bedspread. It's kind of an evolutionary thing based mostly on sales at TJ Maxx, Target or Kohls.

The new bedspread made some personal attacks on the old artwork on the walls, so the art just up and left one day. Who can blame it?

To replace it, we took the old frames and painted them black using paint we had laying around.

Then we took some scrapbook paper and cut into smaller pieces to assemble into a collage of coordinating styles and/or colors.

It really was a pretty cheap project. One of the things I like most about it is the textures in the papers. There was some with embossing, some with shininess and some with fuzzy feltiness.

Looking at it in these photos, I realize that the with the matting being the same color as the walls, it appears that the artwork is floating inside the frames. Maybe I repaint the matting (yes, it's painted because it's cheaper than buying new mattes).

I think it turned out decent enough to last the next couple of months until my wife decides the bedroom should be decorating in shades of pink and lime green.

------
As almost always, these crazy ideas on Wednesdays are spurred on by our friends over at Rocksinmydryer who host a list every week, except this is her last week because it's moving to a new site next week. These things happen, folks.

Not Really A LOT About American Idol

2009-02-17T21:57:00.003-05:00

I'm not really expecting to dive head-first into live-blogging for American Idol until we get to the final 12. However, I'm cozy here in bed with a plate of cheeses, both cheddar and smoky swiss; the TV is on American Idol; my wife is blogging furiously next to me.

So clearly, I have no choice but to whip out my Blackberry and toss out a quick post.

I apologize for not paying close attention to names at this point in the game. I was told that once you name a puppy, you'll have a hard time giving it up. But if you're watching along with me, then you'll know who I'm talking about. Here are a few that stuck out (for better or for worse, mostly for worse):

* Stretchy Tight Black Pants Girl

* Something Bradddddddy

* Bluesy, Long Necklace Girl

* Home Improvement Warehouse Boy

* Not Taylor Swift

* Anoop Desai (OK. I got his name, but mainly because we rewound it to find out so I wouldn't sound racist by referring to him as "that Indian-ish" dude. Thank goodness I didn't. Whew.)

* Oil Rigger

* The Girl Who Feels Like A Natural Woman

* The Guy Who Remembered the Lyrics This Time

* Crying Drama Queen

* The Hero Guy Who Has Glasses Like I Should Get

I think I missed a couple here or there when I was dealing with the cheese and crackers, but I'm going to have to finish typing so I can dial 1-866-IDOLS-12 and vote for my glasses.

So here's who going to make it, per my prediction:
Guy: Glasses
Girl: Necklace
Next: Drama Queen

I'm Guessing She Just Came From Starbuck's

2009-02-16T19:07:00.000-05:00

I'm not usually one to post weird videos people send me.

However, this particular one of a woman in an airport made me curious. Who knows, maybe it's all over the web already. I had the option of reading the story that went along with it to explain her behavior, but I find it more exciting sometimes not to know any background. This way, I'm free to imagine any number of scenarios explaining the hysteria you're about to witness. Since she is screaming/crying/bansheeing in a foreign tongue, it may be difficult to know which of the following may be the case:

a) She just found out her DVR failed to record the latest episode of "The Bachelor."
b) Her husband got her those nasty chalk-flavored conversation hearts for Valentine's Day when he knows she prefers the heart-shaped Sweet Tarts.
c) Sanjaya was in the airport.
d) She has a weigh-in for her wrestling match in one hour, and she read somewhere that you burn 672 calories for every minute of a hysterical fit you throw in an airport.
e) She realized that she could've saved $15 on her car insurance.
f) She forgot she was smuggling her illegal jalepeno juice on board in a used eye drops bottle.
g) She and her family are killing time waiting for their flight by playing Charades. "Rhymes with 'schmazed vunatic.' "
h) She just discovered that the clothes, hair dryer and 18 bottles of duty-free liquor she thought she had put in her checked luggage were really in her baby's stroller. So the baby must be...

Well, you watch and see if you come up with any better ideas and let me know:

Valentine's Recap

2009-02-16T11:59:00.000-05:00

I must confess that I failed to do my all-red/pink Valentine's dinner on Saturday for the girls.

As the day approached, I just felt apathetic about all the details of working that out.
Plus, the thought of red Jell-O, cabbage, beets and salmon turned out not to be as enticing as it seemed earlier in the week.

Instead, for breakfast we had red (well, actually orange) scrambled eggs pressed into heart shapes. And a little red food coloring in their milk.

That was enough for them to give me permission to lay off the red for dinner.

Instead, I made waffles for dinner covered in strawberries and whipped cream. They were perfect, my wife said.

However, just in case that wasn't enough to satisfy the grown ups, I also cooked some steaks and whipped out some store-bought sushi.

Believe it or not, the waffle-steak-sushi combination worked. Mostly because they were all served with a heaping helping of love, the main ingredient in every special meal.

I Hear The Floss is Really That Good

2009-02-14T06:14:00.000-05:00

I don't usually use my blog as a forum to mock people. Sometimes it just happens accidentally, but it's not my intention.

Except today.

My father-in-law (I hope you're reading this Byron, because I love you) made an overnight trip to Ohio this week. Before he left, I asked him what the trip was for.

He'd moved from there last year, so I figured there might be some business to wrap up or an old friend to visit.

"Oh, I can't find the kind of dental floss I like here in town, so I'm going to my store in Columbus that has it."

You know, you shouldn't neglect your gums.

"So you're spending all that gas money in order to drive to the next state to buy floss?"

He just smiled like he'd suckered me into believing the most ridiculous thing.

"No, silly....
...I'm also getting some Gas-X. There's this flavor that I like that I haven't been able to find..."

He really is a cartoon character in so many ways.

Before I leave you thinking that my father-in-law is some neurotic, gassy, floss-obsessed maniac, I should add that he finally ended his charade and confessed that he was going to go ahead and meet some friends since he was already going to be in town. That's pretty smart thinkin'.

So Much For My Attempts To Be More Professional

2009-02-13T11:23:00.000-05:00

Ironically, it's "Casual Friday," and my jeans are all filthy so the khakis are making an appearance.

Joining them are my blue Crocs because I slid them on to take out the dog this morning. Then I forgot to switch to shoes that actually go with khakis or my socks.

They don't even match my purse.

I'm simply a mess to look at.

Powerless In Indiana

2009-02-11T20:47:00.000-05:00

Don't you hate it when you work your thumbs to bloody stubs typing away on your Blackberry, writing a blogpost about the power being out due to strong wind storms, and then the power comes on suddenly, and you don't want to publish the post as you realize how whiny it sounded, because really, how self-absorbed is it to feel inconvenienced by less than four hours without power, especially when three of those hours were spent away from home at activities?

Hypothetically speaking.

Spicing Things Up in the Bathroom

2009-02-11T08:00:00.005-05:00

So things are a little dull in the bathroom, eh?
You have a boring mirror over the sink that has no frame and just sits there looking mirror-y?
Then do I have a quick, easy, cheap solution for you.

Here's a glimpse of our bathroom mirror before. I didn't bother cleaning it for this photo or anything. I like to be real. It's just a rectangle of mirror and that's it. It needs a little pizzazz. A lot pop. A little je nais ses qua.
I neglected to take photos of the process during the make-over. But it's simple enough, you can just imagine.

1) I bought some wood trim pieces and 4 corner "rosettes." (I think that's what those things are called. They could just as easily be calle circle-y square things.) I think all the materials cost $20 or so.
2) I cut the wood. By using those rosettes in the corner, I saved myself the trouble of having to cut angles and matching them well.
3) I painted the wood. It helps to paint the BACK of the trim too, because it's reflected in the mirror.
4) I glued each piece to the mirror. Yup. A little glue gun action and voila!

Again, I left some fingerprint smudges in to make it look more home-y.

Here's a bigger view (it really is hard to take a decent picture in a small room).

I think the frame classes up the joint a bit.

Notice I didn't include the sink and countertop in the photo, because all the classing up done by the frame would have been negated by the fact that I was too lazy to clean up all my beauty accoutrements. I did, however, include our wall cabinet dedicated mostly to pain killers and Q-tips.

--------------

There's more random ideas to make people's lives better, easier or prettier over here at Rocksinmydryer every Wednesday. But mine's the best.

It'$ Really Be$t Not To Think About $uch Thing$

2009-02-10T12:41:00.003-05:00

La$t night I $aw the headline online "Four Daughter$, Four Wedding$, One Year."

I checked the charge on our automatic external defibrillator before clicking on the link.

$ure enough, four $i$ter$ (there wa$ $ome $tep-family action) are all getting married in 2009.

A$ a father of four daughter$ my$elf, thi$ $tory hit a little clo$er to home than I care to acknowledge.

But I have to admit, I want them all to be as happy and blessed as Cindy and me. If that involves weddings in rapid succession, so be it.

I hear that the back room at McDonald's can be reserved for parties and reception$.

What Does Pink Taste Like?

2009-02-09T08:39:00.004-05:00

Valentine's Day is rapidly approaching, and as a husbad of one wife and father of four girls, I clearly am not going to let this holiday slip by unnoticed.

Usually, Cindy and I celebrate with a date on some day other than February 14, if for no other reason than waits are shorter at restaurants and babysitters are easier to come by.

However, on the actual holiday, we will probably celebrate in our traditional fashion with an all-pink or red meal with the kids. It's fun to plan what kinds of food are already pink or red and which other ones can have their colors altered to fit in our requirements. Of course, red sauces are easy, and we can find reddish pasta. Red Jell-O. Red drinks. Red applesauce. Raw beef.

I'm ready to try some new things, so as we are nearing our deadline, does anyone have some genius red/pink food ideas that would amaze my little family? If we include your ideas/recipes, I'll be sure to credit you in the Valentine's Dinner Photo Essay. Maybe I'll even send you any leftovers.

I must admit, this red meal is much, much, much easier to plan than the green one for St. Patrick's Day.

In Case You're Closely Following Our Lives Like Stalkers

2009-02-07T20:13:00.002-05:00

As the week draws to a close, some follow-ups on this week's posts and other events in the news:

* The snowman featured in yesterday's post succombed finally to the sudden 50+ degree temperatures. I'm fairly sure his scarf, hat, and face pieces will just sit in the front yard till mowing season. That's how we roll.

* I want to thank the three or four you who took me up on my challenge to email Cindy the photo of Evil Paula Abdul. I regret to inform you, however, that she didn't have the response I'd predicted, but she did laugh and roll her eyes which is still worth something where I come from.

* In checking on our bank account, we found that our federal tax refund AND our state refund came on the exact same day. Surely it's a sign that we should blow it entirely on comic books, bubble gum and hair care products.

* Our 4th grader is being a very good music student and practicing her recorder (you know, that musical pipe thingie) constantly. Evidently, mastery of the instrument involves playing "Hot Cross Buns" and only "Hot Cross Buns" non-stop throughout the house. It's stuck in our heads, so Cindy is singing the song right now as she goes up the stairs, "One a penny, two a penny, %$#@&! buns."

Now if only next week can be just as exciting.

Biggest (Coldest) Loser

2009-02-07T08:01:00.002-05:00

Yesterday, we finally built a snowman in our front yard. We had a blast, and when we were finished, it felt like he was a part of our family.
Granted, he was a little chubby and could stand to lose a few inches here or there.So we enrolled him in an intense weight-loss program, utilizing mostly solar therapy.
Within 14 hours, he was a different person.
I think he has the confidence now to go out in public, attend his high school reunion and wear a bikini.

TurboJoy

2009-02-06T08:39:00.000-05:00

OK. Seriously, folks, doing taxes can be lots of fun.

For years, my tax situation was simple; it hardly took a half hour to do my taxes, and that included the drive to the post office to mail it.

But then I graduated from highschool.
After that, I had more jobs and got married and started producing babies like some mechanized assembly line. So now it takes a little bit longer to do our taxes. But thanks to TurboTax, it doesn’t take as long as I fear each year.

I used to buy the CD for TurboTax, but I have since learned the joys of the online service. (I have it bookmarked. I’m not sure of the specific address, but you can find it at www.intuit.com.) The great thing about the online service is that I can do a little at home, do a little at work, do a little on vacation, do a little in the bathroom or anywhere I am when the mood hits me. And I think that regardless of CD or online, it will pull all your old info from the previous year. It even showed me how much I had entered last year in areas like mortgage interest or retirement savings.

The coolest part is the scoreboard at the top that shows your refund as it goes up or down with each figure you enter. It feels kind of like a game on “The Price Is Right” when those numbers spin and you wonder how high they’ll go before they stop.

I know a lot of people gather all their materials and do their taxes once they have everything they need. Sure, that probably is efficient in its own way. This year, though, I chose to enter information online at TurboTax whenever the various bits of info got here. So if I got a W-2 at work, I hopped online quickly and entered the info. Later, I’d receive some charitable info at home and enter that. Sure, it probably took more time total, but I was able to do it here and there when I found a couple minutes to spare. But I didn’t have to look ahead and plan some horrendous work session to churn it out.

In fact, in some ways, it feels like I never really even did our taxes. However, the fact that a chunk of moolah was just deposited in my bank account this morning confirms it. I submitted them online last Wednesday, and I just got my refund today. That’s the quickest yet for our family.

Maybe we’ll celebrate by going to White Castle tonight for dinner since Cindy was deprived of that on our anniversary last week.

"I Saw An Evil In Her Eyes"

2009-02-04T22:11:00.005-05:00

You probably don't spend your evenings glued to the TV watching "American Idol."

Yeah, me neither.

Except I do.

And tonight I am so glad I did, because we were able to witness the intense drama that is "Group Week" when all these divas and soloists are forced to work together with strangers and try to still sound good. It works for some...but not so much for others.

And when they sink, well, clearly it's because Paula is evil. Best quote of the night was the young man who got the boot and then explained that he saw a side of Paula that he never knew was there.

"I saw an evil in her eyes."

When the producers replayed some close-up Paula footage, sure enough. There was the evil:

Cindy and I laughed so hard at this shot on the TV, that I had little choice but to rewind it over and over and over and over. She laughed more and more each time.

I guarantee you, if you copy this photo and insert it in an email and send it to Cindy, she will wet her pants.

Daddy's Little Secret--Works for Me

2009-02-03T22:07:00.002-05:00

My intention a few years ago was to compile a book filled with helpful ideas for dads.
It would be humorous yet poignant.
It would have easy recipes and cleaning hints.
It would have shortcuts and advice.
And it would be titled "Honey, I Fed The Kids...and Other Miracles of Fatherhood."
But then I started to blog instead.
I still hope to write it. After all, we dads need all the help we can get. When the dreaded moment comes, and Mom has to be out of town overnight, every dad cries inside like a baby.

But here's one little itty hint for surviving a weekend like that.

I'm a minister and pretty much am expected to be at church on Sundays. (They like me to show up through the week too it turns out.)

But without Mom there to dress 4 little girls--this was when they were all preschoolish age--panic could have set in. That's no small feat. Not only did they have to be dressed, they had to be dressed WELL and acceptably enough for public consumption.

Instead of the catatonic rocking route, I chose the road less traveled.

I simply dressed them the night before at a leisurely rate and put them to bed in their cute dresses and jumpers. Mission accomplished.

We were at church even EARLIER than if Mom had been there to help. (Nyah nyah nyah nyah nyah.)

Feel free to use my idea, dads, but don't make the same mistake I made. Don't go bragging to all your wife's friends about your sneaky plan. Just keep this between you and me...and the kids. Tell them not to tell Mommy or else they won't be able to have ice cream for breakfast next time Mommy's gone.

--------------------
For more Works-For-Me-Wednesday ideas, check out the party over at Rocksinmydryer.

25 Things About Me

2009-02-03T08:44:00.001-05:00

Maybe you tagged me to do this. Maybe you didn't.

But you'll have to suffer through it like everyone else. So just sit down and pretend to enjoy getting to know me better.

1. I know just enough about Feng Shui to be dangerous when I visit your home and rearrange your furniture,
2. ***deleted because of it's graphic nature and because it involves my wife enjoying popping my zits*** New Safe, Non-Repulsive Replacement Fact: Bacon is yummy to me.
3. Being one of four boys, I was grossly unprepared for the raising of four girls, but I'm learning.
4. I know how to braid my girls' hair. I can't do a real French braid, but I can try and get pretty close...maybe a Belgian Braid? Or a Dutch Braid?
5. I took 12 years of piano lessons.
6. You can't tell.
7. I took 0 years of guitar lessons.
8. You can tell.
9. I love cheese. I honestly can't say I've ever met a cheese I didn't like. I even like stinky cheese. Possibly because there's a greater chance I won't be asked to share.
10. I can't wear low-rise jeans. Well, technically I CAN. I just care too much about your retinas to risk having my muffin-top burned on them.
11. I once memorized a whole book of the Bible in a challenge against my youth minister...who I don't believe bothered to memorize any of it. Some people just know how to push my buttons.
12. I can fall asleep just about anywhere. I shouldn't, but I do.
13. I must add something new to a recipe in order to make it my own. Cheese usually does the trick.
14. The only bone I've ever broken was my thumb while playing backyard football.
15. I don't know how to play football.
16. My first pair of glasses in 2nd grade came with a handy Fred Flinstone case and a free 10-year supply of self-esteem issues.
17. I think I need a second round of esophogeal stretching. Either that or I'll have to start chewing my food to keep from choking.
18. My favorite color is red. (I know that's a very boring fact, but when you buy me a new car, that fact will definitely come in handy.)
19. Falling asleep late at night on the couch with the TV on is a luxury for me.
20. I like to diagram sentences.
21. I was studying Communications and Public Relations before I decided to go into the ministry.
22. I attribute Laura Rich in Mrs. Fillmore's 3rd grade class for my life-long love of redheads and my eventual marriage to redheaded Cindy.
23. I desperately want to go snow skiing. Right now.
24. If you serve me scrambled eggs WITHOUT cheese, I'll be polite and eat it. But I may not stay at your house again.
25. My favorite sound in the whole world is my wife's laughter. I could listen to it all day.

The juju spirits require that I "tag" 25 people to write 25 things about yourselves.

Rather than mention 25 by name, I'll just say that if:
A) Your name starts with a consonant
B) You are wearing long sleeves
And
C) You have had the chicken pox,

Then consider yourself tagged...for what it's worth.

The Reason Behind The Shutting Up...

2009-02-02T18:27:00.000-05:00

I mentioned in my previous post how my with-it wife uses the phrase "Shut UP" in much the same way you might say "Get Out!" or "No way!"

What I DIDN'T mention was WHY she said it most recently.

At dinner, while we were celebrating our anniversary the way mature, classy, dignified folks do (which means "over a steaming pot of melted cheese fondue at a restaurant", of course), I gave her a new opal ring.

And the automatic response from her was "Shut UP!"

It caught me off guard, because that's the same response I got from my suggestion to eat at White Castle (greasy little burgers) for our anniversary. Only there was a slightly different tone and inflection.

Fortunately, after 15 years of marriage, I'm able to discern the difference.

However, I'm still working on distinguishing the nuances of "Get Out," "No way," and "Clean up after yourself" in their varied uses.

Shut UP!

2009-02-02T12:15:00.001-05:00

We used to tell our children that "Shut up" was not a kind thing to say.

It was mean and evil, and the road to hell was most assuredly paved with people who said it (and you thought it was paved with good intentions).

Recently, though, my wife has taken to saying the phrase...but not in the the "shut-yo-mouth-or-I'm-going-to-shut-it-for-you" kind of way.

Instead, she uses it in the hip "nuh-uh-are-you-kidding-me-that-is-unbelievable-you-best-not-be-toying-with-me" kind of way that peeps be talking these days.

This just proves how cool and hip and young at heart she truly is.

Cindy, you're much cooler and hipper and younger-at-heart than that waitress for our anniversary dinner. When you told her it was our 15th anniversary, she shouldve said, "Shut UP! There is NO way you've been married longer than 5 years. I mean, have you seen your smooth, young skin in a mirror? Seriously, have you even graduated junior high school yet?"

Like A Horse And Carriage

2009-01-29T22:03:00.005-05:00

With so many analogies at our disposal to describe this wonderful pairing of love and marriage, that whole "horse and carriage" thing puzzles me. Granted, it rhymes quite nicely...and is probably more appropriate and rhythmically appealing than other rhymes like "insult and disparage," but I think we can do better than a beast of burden and an antiquated mode of transportation. (At least I'm hoping.)

Therefore, on this our 15th anniversary, I've decided to embark upon a personal quest to come up with 15 better analogies for love and marriage...specifically my marriage to the lovely, alluring, fun, charming and witty Cindy.

Love and marriage
Love and marriage
Go together like...

15. Beef and Cheddar at Arby's. (the cheese, not the dog, silly.)
14. Black and brown which Cindy is pairing up in our new bedroom decor.
13. Salt and Caramel in Starbuck's delicious Salted Caramel Hot Chocolate. (again, caramel the candy, not Caramel the dead hamster.)
12. The white gold and diamonds in Cindy's wedding rings.
11. Lime and tortilla chips in Cindy's favorite Tostitos.
10. Cement, rocks, water and sand...the ingredients in the concrete we mixed in Mexico.
9. Chocolate and peanut butter...(well, actually you could say chocolate and then insert literally anything in the world: pretzels, chips, strawberries, coffee, cardboard)
8. "Ginger Twist" hair color and blonde highlights.
7. Buffalo wings and blue cheese.
6. Sunday afternoon and a nap.
5. Colonel Mustard and a lead pipe (and perhaps a conservatory for good measure).
4. Satellite TV and DVR.
3. Bella Swan and Jacob Whatshisname. (Cindy's on Team Jacob, I think)
2. A couch and a large fleece blanket
1. Cindy and Scott.

OK. Granted, none of these really work well in the context of the original meter of the song, but the sentiment is there, I assure you.

And if I had to be completely honest, I might admit that sometimes Cindy and I go together like oil and water. Life's just funny that way. There are so many ways that the two of us are polar opposites, but that just means the "S" on my magnet is drawn that much more strongly to the "N" on hers. (Check your daughter's sixth-grade science book if that metaphor was lost on you.)

I love the two of us together; I think we challenge each other in such good ways that we both know we're better now than we were 15 years ago.

She's the best thing that's ever happened to me, and I don't tell her nearly often enough. I watch how she is with her friends and see how much she is loved, and I can't help but feel proud that she is 100% mine. She makes me look so good, that if I think about it too long, I start to feel bad for her that she's stuck with me.

I suppose I can return the favor and try to be the best man I can be for her sake.

I love you, Cindy.
Thank you for loving me right back.
------
Feel free to suggest other comparisons you feel are fitting.

Snowed In

2009-01-28T08:05:00.006-05:00

I know that some areas of the country are well-equipped to deal with 15 feet of snow.

However, our part of southern Indiana is blanketed under 10 inches of snow. And under that luxurious blanket of snow is another blanket (or maybe an afghan, coverlet, antimacassar or SnuggyTM) of ice.

Schools are closed.
The university is closed.
The county offices are closed.
And I'm going to imagine that my office is closed.
I feel that if I close my eyes and imagine hard enough, the imaginary closed office can become a reality. Even if the place is open, I suppose I can call my secretary and ask her to put a "CLOSED" sign on my particular door.

After all, my kids have requested a snow fort.

But Will They Serve Jell-O In The Basement?

2009-01-26T23:11:00.004-05:00

This evening, I was driving three of my girls home from basketball practice.

Off on the side of the road, they saw two deer feeding in the front yard of a nursing home. We LOVE to watch deer. We frequently get to see them eating persimmons in our front yard; they've even come right up to our house to eat our flowers.

So I pulled into the nursing home parking to get a better look. Even more fascinating than the deer, though, were the accomodations inside. There was a huge picture window revealing a beautifully appointed dining room, and Jenna remarked, "Oo. I'd like to go in there sometime."

"Well, it's a nursing home," I replied, "so maybe one day you'll come to visit Mom and me in there. You WILL come to visit us, right?"

The role of the "Good Daughter" was played by Shelby who assured us, "But Daddy, you'll live with US."

The love continued to flow, and I asked if they'd really let us live in their basement.

"Yeah," said Brynne, whose spot in our will is questionable. "We'll LOCK you up down there."

Giggle. Giggle. Cackle.
And then it was all downhill while they planned terrible menus to hurl down the stairs at us.

Yup. I think we'll be looking into long-term-care insurance.

How Do You Spell Relief?

2009-01-25T21:18:00.005-05:00

Cassie keeps amazing us.

Once a quiet, shy little girl who would hide behind our legs, she keeps finding herself on the stage in front of an audience...and appears incredibly comfortable. Who would've guessed?

She had a starring role in our church's children's musical last spring.
She played violin in a school concert for the first time a couple of weeks ago.
And then this week she competed in the school spelling bee.

Amazingly, she looked natural up on the stage in front of the whole school. She didn't look a bit nervous.

By contrast, her mom (Cindy) was an absolute wreck.
Curled up in a catatonic ball under a cafeteria table, Mom could barely stand to watch each time Cassie got up to spell. It was genuinely entertaining to watch Cindy develop nervous tics and sweat and hold her breath.

Cassie was awesome. She spelled with ease, and I am so proud of how hard she prepared and how well she did. There were some really hard words that many of us had never heard of before, and we even questioned if some of them were even really words on this planet.
In the end, Cassie lasted all 18 rounds and came in second place.
PERFECT! If she had come in first, she would have had to go on to compete in the next round downtown.

And I don't know if Mom could handle that kind of pressure.

Wicked. Awesome.

2009-01-24T19:47:00.002-05:00

For Christmas Eve, our girls usually get to open one present. This year I wrote up several clues for a scavenger hunt. When they solved a clue, it would lead them to their gift. They started to catch on that the initial letters of the clues were going to spell something.

W-I-C-K-E...

Cassie was less than thrilled at the prospect of something made of "wicker" but kept playing anyway. They finally found the last clue (started with "D") which led them to their individual presents, each related to the musical "Wicked." Wicked jewelry. Violin music for the musical. A behind-the-scenes book. A real-live flying monkey. Finally we revealed that they were also receiving tickets to see it together as a family.

I honestly can't remember if I ever posted about the musical "Wicked" after the first time we saw it last year.

If I didn't, I apologize, because it is absolutely the best musical I've seen to date.

Men who are reading this, please understand that when I use the term "musical," I'm using in the technical sense that it is a play and there is music and singing. Many of us are familiar with the broader sense of "musical" which also implies "goofy," "flamboyant," and "sequined dancing freaks singing nonsensically." If musicals generally make you vomit in your mouth, I'm willing to bet that you'll be surprised at how vomitless "Wicked" could be.

If you don't know anything about the show, it takes place in Oz. You'll find out about a baby that is born green, and through no fault of her own, she is hated by her father and shunned by her peers, no matter how hard she tries to do what's right. You can imagine how that might turn someone into a "witch." Opposite this pea-colored social leper is Galinda (as in the future "Glinda the Good Witch") who is tragically blonde, beautiful and in love with her mirror, her shoes and the new guy at school.

You develop a sympathy for the green girl, which makes you feel guilty for any negative thoughts you'd had about the Wicked Witch of West from the book or movie "The Wizard of Oz." You also run the risk of digging up long-buried guilt for the way you treated others in your childhood based on their outward appearance.

A good lesson for kids. (Totally clean performance. Didn't have to cover my kids' eye even once.)

Great music for singing loudly in the car.

Some laugh-out-loud moments.

Incredible costumes, scenery and technology that makes you want to get a tour back stage as you go home wondering "How'd they DO that?"

If you end up finding the show somewhere in your area and you discover that you have six extra tickets, I'm pretty sure we could work out a way to join you for a fantastic evening.

The winged monkeys were quite handsome. Particularly praiseworthy is their creative hairstyling, maximizing the impact of all 17 of their strands of hair.

How You Say "Historee"?

2009-01-22T13:58:00.008-05:00

What a week! We have been witnessing history before our very eyes.

1. First of all, I haven't been blogging very frequently. This undoubtedly means I've been working. Historic indeed.

2. And I'm sure one day you'll be rocking on the veranda of a southern plantation nursing home reminiscing with Old Lady Higginbotham about exactly where you were on the day that former French president Chirac was mauled by his own clinically depressed maltipoo (maltese+poodle). I have to admit that I rushed home to tell Cindy the news. I couldn't risk her finding out this bit of info while she was home alone with our own maltipoo Cheddar and a full set of knives.

3. Certainly, equally historical is the fact that I'm almost finished with taxes. I'm considering going ahead and filing electronically even though I haven't received all of my paperwork yet from banks and all. The IRS likes it when we "guesstimate," right?

4. Of course, overshadowing all of these other events is the inauguration of President Obama. I'm very happy to be alive to see this day come.

As a former elementary school student who was in classes with inner city friends bused in from downtown St. Louis in the 70's, I've grown up with the understanding that little black boys and girls can grow up and do exactly the same things as little white boys and girls. However, as we all know, there can sometimes be a difference between what CAN happen and what really DOES happens. A black man/woman COULD technically have been president for many years, but in the back of the minds of this nation there was the gnawing doubt, "are we really as accepting and color-blind as we say we are?" Many minority children (and adults) have experienced that phrases like "you can be anything you want" were just trite sayings at best and outright lies at worst. Hopefully, we'll keep seeing more walls come down and more doors open.

Admittedly, I can't take any credit for the dawning of this new era as I didn't vote for Obama in November. But I hope that even we lowly McCain/Palin supporters will be permitted to celebrate.

The next threshold to cross?

Putting a maltipoo in the White House. The Obamas have said that they're going to need a hypoallergenic puppy for those girls, and I hope that they won't be prejudiced against pups like Cheddar just because of one little presidential mauling in France.

(Chirac IS expected to live. Thanks for asking.)

Why Jenna Is Grounded...

2009-01-18T16:52:00.001-05:00

So Jenna looks at me a couple minutes ago while my belly was showing, and she says:

"Daddy needs to wear bigger shirts."

I'm sure you know that Cindy's laughter only encourages her.

We Have A Winner!

2009-01-15T15:10:00.001-05:00

In my last post, my friend Tim creeped you out with his "are any of your daughters 18 years old yet" question.

We had some great guesses as to why Tim was asking this awkward question.
It turns out that rthling (Diane) was right on with her guess:

"...my guess is that he coaches a sport team, and your girls are very good at whatever sport he coaches. But they have to be 18 to be on the team."

She hit the nail on the head! Tim is our Dodge Ball team coach!
It wasn't really a contest, and I don't really have a prize for you, Diane. But the smug satisfaction that you were so stinkin' right will at least help get you through another day.
------------
Speaking of not winning...
We signed up with our bank to qualify for free stuff when we use our debit card as a credit card. Essentially, we choose to sign for purchases instead of punching in our PIN. No big whoop. But every so often, some random bank customer will find that they're the winner and that specific purchase will be paid for by the bank.

That can be really cool when you're making a ginormous purchase like 500 rolls of toilet paper at the warehouse store.

However, today I was pumping gas in suz-zero temperatures, and the gas was frozen or empty or something, so it took a laborious 2 minutes to pump ONE DOLLAR's worth of gas.

I stopped and decided to head to another station for faster and more liquid gas.
The thought crossed my mind: "I'll probably win and get that whole dollar of gas for free."

Out of Context

2009-01-13T16:00:00.001-05:00

At lunch last week, my friend Tim asked me:
"So...are any of your girls 18 yet?"

He did not mean for it to come out the way that those around us thought it sounded.

But that really doesn't matter, because with each retelling of his line, we insert winks, eyebrow raises, beady eye glares or creepy smiles where the lips curve up revealing a gold tooth that sparkles and makes that "ting!" sound. I think it embarrasses him slightly.

Any guesses why 31-year-old Tim wants to know if any of my preteen girls are 18 yet?
I'm sure you can come up with some interesting guesses before I reveal the interesting truth.

Why Do They Even Call It "Dodge" Ball?

2009-01-09T16:38:00.004-05:00

It turns out that the last words you hear before you're pulled inexorably into the light of eternal paradise are "Aim for the old bald one!" Evidently, God still has something planned for my life because he brought me back and caused me to survive what was perhaps the scariest 30 minutes of my adult life.

Not surprisingly, the scariest 30 minutes of my adult life were exactly like the scariest 300 minutes of my childhood.

I don't know why they called it "dodge" ball when "hit" ball or "inflict pain" ball was more accurate. The only thing I had going for me at gym/recess was that I didn't bruise. My skin might turn a subtly yellower shade after a particularly harrowing game of dodgeball or jumprope, but at least there wouldn't be the big black and blue welts that a lot of my friends had.
To this day, I don't know that I've ever had a real classic bruise. The closest I came was giving plasma in college. When they started pumping the blood back into my veins one time, the needle had jiggled loose [my fault], so the blood was just being squirted randomly outside the vein and under my skin puffing up like a balloon. Even then, just a bigger yellow spot. Maybe I'm an alien.
Anyway, last night was a test as I faced my childhood fear of being pummeled to death by large rubber balls. Everyone was all friendly and nice...until the whistle blew to start the match. I was suddenly nine years old and had no place to hide. I was the oldest player on both teams, I believe; I also doubled as the weakest and least-coordinated. I'm not humble, just honest.

In case you wondered, this was organized like a real sport and everything. Did you know there were RULES in dodgeball besides "1. Hurt people" and "2. Make them cry"? A lady who knew way too much about dodgeball ran through the rules with all the teams.

I quickly learned that, since the goal was to win games, it was best for me to either sit out or hand off any balls I got to the players who could throw worth squat. I tried my hardest to give the other team the impression that I was no threat, that I wasn't worth aiming for. And they STILL hit me. Good strategy is to aim low. If you throw high, the ball can get caught and the thrower is out.

This explains why my legs were numb when I left the game. And why they still feel wobbly today. And why I nearly fell down the stairs.

And why my wife doesn't think I should play any more dodgeball until I grow up.

At least someone thinks I'm young.

No Dodgeball For Old Men

2009-01-08T19:31:00.001-05:00

As I stood in the high school hallway tonight waiting for the cheerleaders to vacate the gym so our dodgeball game could begin (yes, there'll be time later in the post to address the subject of me playing dodgeball), some young(er) guys were discussing their weeks:

Punk: "I was on the Wii Fit this week, and it said my Wii Fit Age is 37 years old."

At first, 37-year-old me thought that he was bragging.

Upon further examination--namely detecting the disgust and shame in his voice--I figured out that he was complaining that he is in horrible shape and surprised not to be bedridden and expecting anyday to be shot and put out of his misery.

After being made to feel sufficiently old, it was time to suit up and play dodgeball. Yes, grown-up dodge ball.

Wait...holy Toledo! Is it 7:30 p.m. already? Wheel of Fortune's over, so it's time for me to take my pills and get to bed.

I'll fill you in on the dodgeball scoop tomorrow after my proctologist appointment and bridge game.

Switched Before Birth In a Codependent Rage After Dark By The Murderer Who Shopped Among Us

2009-01-07T22:17:00.002-05:00

I must remind myself.

Lifetime Television is for women.

It's for chicks who like to curl up on the sofa and engage in such absorbing titles as:
"The Nanny Who Ate My Chocolate And Stole My Man"
"Adopted By My Twin"
"Sleeping With The Librarian Who Couldn't Reed"

So why can't I turn it off right now? And Cindy's not even watching it!!!!!!!!

The self-loathing is almost too much for me to bear. Is there a support group out there for me?

--------------
Updated to add:
The baby's fine.
The unfaithful daddy's shot in the back.
The detective/aunt caught the c-section kidnapper who looks like Celine Dion.
Daughter forgives mother.
Blah blah blah blah.