A New Seed Is Planted

As you know from my previous post, we have moved into an apartment across town from our home which we have had to relinquish to the bank.  What originally seemed like a financial no brainer has turned into a case of complete isolation from our friends, our community and everything else that is important to us.  We have not begun to unpack any of our boxes.  I don't even know where most of my clothes are, nor do I have any intention of trying to locate them.  

A couple of weeks ago, "The Boss" went to our house to pick up a few things that we need to add to the clutter of our tiny abode.  She was gone for less than an hour when the following text conversation began.  THE BOSS:  "The house between Wendy and Gina is for rent."  (Wendy and Gina and their families live just around the corner from our house.)  ME: "Oh yeah?  I wish we would have known that before we moved to this little apartment."  THE BOSS:  "I want that house!"  ME: "Me too but we signed a lease here and it will cost a lot to break that lease.  Not to mention the security deposit and first months rent on the new place."  THE BOSS:  "I want that house."  ME: "This is not a conversation to have via text messaging.  We will talk about it when you get home."

Needless to say, it was a short conversation that took place when she got home.  When we moved into this little apartment across town, we took "Tall Stack" (our oldest daughter who just turned nine this month) out of her home, out of her school district and away from her friends.  So, two cashiers checks, one broken lease and one freshly signed contract later, we are on the move again.  Like a band of gypsies, we are packing up our gear and heading out of here after just over a month.  

You might be wondering if this makes any sense financially.  I asked myself this same question about 1000 times.  Here's the thing though.  Keeping "Tall Stack" in her school, living in between two amazing families who are dear friends of ours and not seeing "The Boss" cry every night because she feels so guilty about moving over here in the first place.  These reasons are not something that you can slap a price tag on.   

So we aren't going home, but we are getting as close to home as we can possibly get and we are looking forward to the BBQs with friends and neighbors.  We are looking forward to having space to put all of our stuff again.  But most of all we are looking forward to seeing "Tall Stack" return to her school that she loves so much. 

It doesn't always seem to make sense at the time, but things really do happen for I reason.  It's taken me 36 years to finally believe that.  Do you believe it too?

  

 

My Tree Has Been Chopped Down

     So in the past several months, things haven't gone according to the plan that "The Boss" and I had laid out for our family.  Due to several medical bills and other unexpected expenses of being alive, we found it more and more difficult to keep up with our monthly house payment.  7 months of jumping through the flaming hoops of our mortgage company to get our loan modified, they denied us because we make too much money.  As it turns out, we make too much money to do a short sale too.  So we decided to walk away from our house and move into an apartment  so that we can have a fresh start and actually be able to enjoy our lives instead of working our asses off only to be in the red at the end of every month.  The sense of failure and overwhelming damage to the ego of a man who is supposed to be the protector and provider for his family is not easy to put into words.

     Yesterday was my first day back to work after taking a few days off to get us moved into the new apartment.  As you can imagine, I spent a good portion of the day feeling sorry for myself as I hosted a rager of a pity party in my own mind while on the outside I had to manage people and maintain a professional and positive attitude.  Late in the day, I ran into an employee who used to work for me but who now works in a different department.  We will call him Ruben, because Ruben is his name.  I haven't seen Ruben for a while so it was nice to see him.  We shook hands and exchanged pleasantries, and that's when it happened.  He said to me in his very deep Guatemalan accent, "Ju fine what choo loose."  "What?" "Ju Fine what choo loose."  "What do you mean?"  "Joor getteen big agang."

     This time last year, I lost about 25 pounds and was looking pretty good.  I have gained almost all of that weight back and I was already feeling like a big fat loser.  I could have done without a comment like that.  He is absolutely right though.  I did indeed fine what I loose.

     As tough as things may seem and as homesick and cut down as I might  feel,  my beautiful wife and daughters are happy and healthy.  That really is all that matters to me.  As long as we are together, no matter where we are, we're home.  That alone is what will get me through this with my sanity.  That and dragging my fat ass through the P90X program again. 

         

         

How Do You Know?

     On April 8th, my wife and I celebrated our 10th wedding anniversary.  10 years!  10 years!!  I've never committed to anything for 10 years in my life, which brings me to the point of today's post. 

     How do you know when you have found "The One?"  Now, I'm no expert on marriage and I don't have a degree in family psychology, but the following is a list of observations and life experiences that I have compiled over the past decade that could just answer that age old question. 

     When I first started seriously dating "The Boss" we had a conversation that went a something like this.  (Me) If we are going to be together, you need to be OK with the fact that I am sometimes and probably more often that you'd like, going to fart. (The Boss) OK good, me too, I'm glad we cleared that up from the start. 

     (Me)  I know that you will still find other men attractive as will I still find other women attractive, but you can trust that when I am with you, I am only with you.  (The Boss)  OK good, I'm glad there wont be any jealousy to ruin what we have here and trust is the main ingredient to our being together.  Hey, look at that girl over there, I bet you think she's hot.  (Me)  This relationship is going to work out just fine.

     As the years rolled on and our marriage fell into its routine of being parents first, lovers a very close neck and neck second, and everything else a distant third.  We began to develop our own language, some of it not much less primitive than tribal clicks and vibratos but one that we and only we understand.  In a social setting we can have a conversation from across the room without ever saying a word.  A flicker of the eye, a quick and unnoticed by anyone else hand gesture and we are immediately on the same page.

     Just recently we had a conversation that I will share with you here at the risk of losing some of my followers with sensitive stomachs.

     I got home the other day to find her just hangin' on the couch and biting her finger nails.  Without noticing that I was watching her, she lobbed a piece of fingernail behind her head between the couch and the wall. 

     (The Boss)  I just tossed my fingernail behind the couch.  (Me)  Oh My God!  I do the same thing.  (The Boss)  Sometimes I flick my boogers back there too.  (Me)  Oh shit!  Me too!  (The Boss)  There aint nothin' back there but boogers and fingernails.  (Me) Good thing I just bought that 5 horsepower 12 gallon shop vac at Home Depot because I don't think the Oreck could handle a job like that.  We must have laughed for 10 minutes before we agreed that something must be done about this.  (Me)  I'll take care of it. 

     Wanting her to be the first person I talk to in the morning and the last person I talk to before I lay my head to rest.  Knowing that no matter how bad a day I might have had at work she can make me smile when I get home.  Knowing that whether or not I get the things around the house that need to be done done, she will still love me.  Knowing that we both love our daughters more than anything in the world.  Knowing that when we get burned out on real life, Fred will always have margaritas for us down in San Diego to help us ecape.  And knowing that no one else can ever make me feel as good as I do right now, is how I know that I have found the one.  I love you babe.  Happy Anniversary.  I only hope that you will let me stick around for another 10 years.    

    

All Rise

  

     Yesterday I was once again called upon to perform my civic duty.  Normally I would consider it a drag to have to miss work to sit around all day at the court house.  But this year was different.  You see, I have not had a vacation since around the first week in June which was when I took my paternity leave after "Short Stack" was born.  And let's face it, those sleepless nights for the first few months were anything but a relaxing vacation.  So this year, I looked at it as a sort of short break from reality.  In fact, I was almost hoping to be selected for any sort of trial that could last for an extended period of time.  So I, along with several hundred other civicly responsible people lined up to be herded into the Hall of Justice one by one through the metal detectors.  No threat from me, all I had was a cell phone, keys and this beat up old copy of Empire Falls.  (397 of the 480 some odd pages were already a thing of the past but I figured today might be the day that I would finally put the entire book behind me.)  But I nonetheless appreciated the thorough precautions.

     Once settled in, if that's what you would call sitting uncomfortably close to hundreds of complete strangers on a chair that after a few minutes makes your back scream at you, I could finally do what I was really there to do.  Yes we are all there to fulfill our responsibility to society, but what I'm there for is to watch the people.  There's always the realtor on the phone who thinks that the louder she talks to whoever is on the other end of the phone, the more important she appears to be to the 399 of us who are sitting around her.  Next to her is that young guy whose pants hang off of his ass and you can see half of his underwear.  Go ahead and look at him it's ok because his mind is lost somewhere in that overly loud ipod that he is listening to.  Next to him would be me.  I'm the guy fighting against my own body, twisting and repositioning hoping against all hope that I will eventually find a more comfortable position but failing miserably after hours of sitting in this torture device of a chair.

     Once released for a short break, and people are finally out of each other's personal spaces, they seem to take on a whole new personality.  The smokers fire up as soon as they are out the front door.  The social and business butterflies go straight for their cell phones.  The little old man with his red had, green shirt and leather sandals, which are at least 2 sizes to big, scampers from trash can to trash can collecting any recyclables that the rest of us might have left for him.  The most entertaining to me was the pregnant druggie whose uterus was about to give way while she yelled at her loved one on the other end of the phone about how that "God Damn Judge" screwed her again.  "He got me on fuckin' probation violation again, that motherf***er."  Yep, it's the judges fault sweetheart.  The fact that you are knocked up and obviously strung out on meth is totally not your fault and I don't understand why his honor doesn't see it your way.

     Then it happened.  I was selected with a group of 45 other people to go to Department 1 that was going to meet up after lunch at 1:30.  So out we all herd again like cattle to feed.  The only thing missing was the branding iron, thank God.  Having discovered the same restaurant last year, I quickly ran across the street and down a way to this little Mexican joint.  Because it's always a good idea to fill your stomach with spicy foods when you are going to be sitting all day in a place that requires your undivided attention.  What a fool I am.  It was a damn good Burrito though.  And why wouldn't you wash it down with a bladder buster sized Coke?  It makes sense doesn't it?

     After the lunch break we all filed back in......Again.......This time we sat there and waited.......and waited........and then waited some more.......We waited for what seemed like days.  I tried to get lost in Empire Falls as planned, but the chair that was having its way with my back and the hint of an oncoming migraine simply had their hooks in me.  Finally they called, "All who were selected for Department 1 please come to the front desk.  Your trial has been cancelled and you are all free to go."  Really?!!  I sat here all day thinking we were going to see some action.  I sat here in pain all damn day in the hopes that it would result in my being selected for this trial only for you to say that I am free to go?  Where is the justice in that? 

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!!!