Acing The Test Of Time

     What's today?  Friday?  Yeah, so it was on Wednesday when the boss and I went to Costco to gather up all of the gear we are going to need for "Shorts Stack's" first birthday party tomorrow.  Sodas, snacks, sandwich platters ordered, cake ordered, candy for all of the kids who will attend and whatever else we loaded in the basket.  None of this matters, nor does any of it have to do with the point of the story other than to give purpose to our visit in the first place.

     With all items purchased and dent deeply pressed into the bank account, we followed the herd toward the exit.  In front of us, the boss notices this old couple holding hands.  "Oh my God, how cute are they?" she asked in a pointing without actually physically pointing tone.  I am a football watching, beer drinking, places that itch scratching, nose picking and flicking kind of guy, as I have mentioned before. So I don't find very many things in life to be "cute."  But Holy shit, Batman, she's right.  This was pretty damn cute.  Which got me to thinking.  What are they smiling at each other so intensely about? Perhaps one of them said something funny.  Perhaps they are just so in love with each other that they just can't help but smile.  Maybe they were excited about going home for a quick afternoon rendezvous (it could happen.) Whatever the reason, and whatever you want to call it, seeing them together made me feel comfortable or all warm and fuzzy if you will. 

     In a world where people get divorced as quickly as they drop off their dry cleaning. It was nice to see that some people do stick together and love each other even after a lifetime of underwear on the floor, empty toilet paper rolls left for someone else to replenish, and toothpaste tubes squeezed from the middle and not from the end. 

     In April, the boss and I will celebrate our 10th wedding anniversary.  A mere drop in the bucket compared to some, and a major feat for others.  Watching this old couple completely enjoy being with each other, I couldn't help but smile myself.  I hope that in another 40 years, we will have aced the test of time and that the boss will still let me hold her hand.             

    

Going Postal

      The Boss had to work on Saturday afternoon which left me alone with the girls with just one errand to run.  All I had to do was run to the post office to get some stamps and mail off a letter.  "I got this," or so I thought.

     With the girls safely loaded in the truck, we were on our way to send a letter.  As usual, I shuffled from one radio station to the next as I always do to prove to "Tall Stack," (one of millions of nicknames we have for our first born) that I know every single song on the radio and that I can sing them in an American Idol finalist sort of fashion.  She is never as impressed with my obvious talents as I am.  She never actually says that I am a horrible singer but I can tell by the look of disgust that she tries to hide from me as to not hurt my feelings.

     Finally, and much to "Tall Stack's" relief, we made it to the post office.  I got out of the truck and got "Short Stack," (the one year old and an obviously much shorter stack than "Tall Stack," hence the name) out of the back seat.  I close the door and we walk about five feet before I realize that the damn keys have just been locked in behind me.  

     With the next band of the storm looming on the horizon, I knew I had to act fast or we were going to be in some serious trouble.  Having just recently renewed our Auto Club accounts, I knew the help was just a phone call away.  

     With the letter mailed off and help on the way, all we had to do was wait.........and wait........"The storm is getting closer Dad.".........and wait........"How could you do that Dad?"............riiiing......riiing.......The phone rings and the tow truck company claims to be here but there doesn't seem to be any sign of me, my kids, or my truck in the parking lot.  "That's because I am not at the post office on Grand Ave.  I am at the post office on California Ave."...........and wait.............and wait............."we're going to get rained on Dad."  

      Finally the tow truck arrives and the guy gets my door opened for me.  Everyone was once again safely loaded into their seats and we were on our way, dry I might add.  

     What makes this story so funny to me is not that we lost an hour of our lives in the parking lot of a post office. But that I have become the guy who I would usually laugh at for being such an absent minded fool.  "That kind of thing doesn't happen to me," I would say as I point and laugh at the douchebag stuck in the parking lot with no keys and a crying baby in his arms.  I'm afraid I've lost a step my friends.  I am not as cool as I was in the younger days.  The time has come for me to pass the torch to the younger generation of punks who will point and laugh at me while I make foolish geezer mistakes.

     While "Short Stack" was none too pleased about the whole situation, on the way home and in between me singing a little David Bowie, followed by a little Gwen Stefani, "Tall Stack" and I had a good laugh about the whole thing.   

       

    

Girl Scouts: Do-gooders Or Saboteurs?

     Yeah so it's that time of year again.  It's time for New Years Resolutions of becoming a healthier you to come to an end.  It's time for Chips Ahoy and Oreo sales to drop dramatically.  That's right, it's Girl Scout Cookie season again.

     To most people this is a great time of year.  You run into the booth in front of the grocery store and pick up a box or two of those world famous Thin Mints and you feel good about your decision.  You feel good because not only are those Thin Mints delicious, but the $4 a box is going to a very good organization which teaches values and morals to the young girls of America. 

     As the father of one of these young girls, I have seen the positive effects that the Girl Scouts of America can  have on the lives of these girls.  They do things for the community, they go on outings to teach the girls life skills, and everything they do helps to build the self confidence and self esteem.

     Here's where The Girl Scouts of America and I have a problem.  The estrogen and sugar fueled marketing campaign that is the Girl Scout Cookie Season leaves a trail of failed diets, abandoned workout regiments and overwhelming feelings of guilt in its wake. 

     About a week ago, I started the P90X challenge as some of you may know.  You can call it bad timing if you'd like, but I call it sabotage.  A day or two after I started the program, The Boss and daughter come home with a car full of Girl Scout Cookies.  You heard me right, A CAR FULL!  With my arms hanging from my body like wet noodles and the extreme soreness that engulfed my entire body from the previous night's workout, I helped them unload the boxes of evil deliciousness into the garage.  Box after box of Thin Mints, Thanks-A-Lots, Peanut Butter Sandwichs, Shortbread, Peanut Butter Patties and Caramel Delights were simply too much for my will power and self control to handle.  Not to mention the big blue eyes, now in puppy dog mode accompanied by the pouty lower lip, "Wont you buy some cookies from me Daddy?"  I mean, who are the ad wizards who came up with this perfect scheme?  I had no choice, I bought the cookies.  I bought 3 boxes and I got my fix.  That night, I did an extra set of Feifer scissors to make up for my earlier lack of self control.  My P90X friends, you know what I'm talking about.  Thanks a lot Girl Scouts of AMERICA!!!