Haven't checked in for a couple of weeks, largely because of life and it's many accessories. Been writing a bit, without terribly much inspiration or leeway, but pecking away nevertheless. I once had an English professor who compared writing to, well, diarrhea - you just gotta get it out there, and it ain't always pretty. Still, I'm determined to finish the (Next) Great American Novel...by 2014.
Took McKenzie camping last weekend, a 24-hour getaway to Bastrop with five other dads and their lil'uns (10 all told). Have to report that, for a kid/princess who sleeps with a rhinestone-speckled eye mask. goes through multiple costume changes a day and rarely leaves the house without pearls, she hung in there pretty well. True, she was a bit mortified when I told her to go squat in the woods - "Dad, that's just gross" - but she went fishing (no luck), roasted marshmallows, told a non-sensical ghost story around the campfire and took three slugs out of a beer. Not bad for a rookie.
She did, however, manage to break the zipper on our tent 'door' as we hit the sack. If you recall, it was a bit chilly on Saturday night - 28 degrees. Together, we slept like a s'more.
Asked Jenn if she would want to go as a family sometime. I received the same look as in '99, when we were driving home from our first and only camping trip together. We were dating then - courting - and she seemed adequately keen on the idea of a camping trip. So we got a fancy tent and the fixings and went on an overnight stay with friends. I thought it was a blast; Jenn, apparently not so much. Seems camping is a dating, not a married, thing. Bait, if you will, like the time she told me she would "love to" learn to play golf...
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
new day
Why anybody would want to be president - in general and in these times in particular - is beyond me. Me, I often got flustered waiting tables at the Black Eyed Pea, circa 1988.
But Barrack Obama - or Rocko O-ba-ba, as McKenzie calls him - seems an energetic, optimistic sort, and, though I still think the task is too tall for any one man to see over, we could certainly use an injection of hope. Time waits on his legacy, but, regardless of the direction I cast my vote, I wish the guy luck.
Travis County is decidedly Obama Country, and my little gym is a microcosm of such. I try to steer away from political speak around my hut, but I do have to admit that, though I took part in the process, we, as Texans, really played essentially no role whatsoever in the election results. If McCain was your guy, then as a Texan, you were a winner because the Lone Star State went red. But, wait, your guy got trounced in the big picture. If you gave Obama the nod, then your state lost, collected nary an electoral vote, but your man won.
To me, seems like Texas was a little-used kid in the team photo of the league champions. He gets the trophy, sure, gets to flash the 'we're number one' finger in the team shot and all, but he didn't play much.
But Barrack Obama - or Rocko O-ba-ba, as McKenzie calls him - seems an energetic, optimistic sort, and, though I still think the task is too tall for any one man to see over, we could certainly use an injection of hope. Time waits on his legacy, but, regardless of the direction I cast my vote, I wish the guy luck.
Travis County is decidedly Obama Country, and my little gym is a microcosm of such. I try to steer away from political speak around my hut, but I do have to admit that, though I took part in the process, we, as Texans, really played essentially no role whatsoever in the election results. If McCain was your guy, then as a Texan, you were a winner because the Lone Star State went red. But, wait, your guy got trounced in the big picture. If you gave Obama the nod, then your state lost, collected nary an electoral vote, but your man won.
To me, seems like Texas was a little-used kid in the team photo of the league champions. He gets the trophy, sure, gets to flash the 'we're number one' finger in the team shot and all, but he didn't play much.
Monday, November 3, 2008
Prayers and pigskin
Each night, when I lay my head to sleep, I say a set of standard prayers. Been saying them for years, virtually the same spiel, and could recite them in my sleep. I could add a few ammendums, however, such as:
* Please Lord, make McKenzie stop dancing like a Pussycat Doll. She's 7.
* Please Lord, make McKenzie stop treating McCoy like a P.O.W.
* Please Lord, don't ever let me be as hairy, concave and generally goofy as Chevy Chase before I jump into a swimming pool with a supermodel.
* Please Lord, let McCoy someday say something other than 'ball.'
* And thank you Lord, for letting the election come tomorrow.
*********************************
Exciting stuff on Saturday. While I was pulling for the 'Horns - okay, I admit it, I have a man crush on Colt McCoy - I still would have felt a little bad for the Red Raiders had they blown it. Even the most diehard Orangeblood would have to concede that TT look more prepared, more inspired and probably deserved to win. I guess it's the West Texan in me...
(A sincere apology goes out to the 117-pound busboy at Matt's El Rancho, where we took in the game. When Blake Gideon made the late 'interception,' I jumped on the poor kid's back and galloped him around the joint. Wait, he dropped it?)
Take heart, though, Horns faithful. In the same week last season, Ohio State lost to Illinois and was given up for dead. A couple months later, they were getting pounded by LSU in the national championship game. Lotta football left to play and upsets to be found, so keep the faith...
* Please Lord, make McKenzie stop dancing like a Pussycat Doll. She's 7.
* Please Lord, make McKenzie stop treating McCoy like a P.O.W.
* Please Lord, don't ever let me be as hairy, concave and generally goofy as Chevy Chase before I jump into a swimming pool with a supermodel.
* Please Lord, let McCoy someday say something other than 'ball.'
* And thank you Lord, for letting the election come tomorrow.
*********************************
Exciting stuff on Saturday. While I was pulling for the 'Horns - okay, I admit it, I have a man crush on Colt McCoy - I still would have felt a little bad for the Red Raiders had they blown it. Even the most diehard Orangeblood would have to concede that TT look more prepared, more inspired and probably deserved to win. I guess it's the West Texan in me...
(A sincere apology goes out to the 117-pound busboy at Matt's El Rancho, where we took in the game. When Blake Gideon made the late 'interception,' I jumped on the poor kid's back and galloped him around the joint. Wait, he dropped it?)
Take heart, though, Horns faithful. In the same week last season, Ohio State lost to Illinois and was given up for dead. A couple months later, they were getting pounded by LSU in the national championship game. Lotta football left to play and upsets to be found, so keep the faith...
Thursday, October 30, 2008
Cherrios and other crumbs
A few folks here at the gym like to tilt back those Five-Hour Instant Energy poppers that look tantalizingly to me like an airplane bottle of scotch. Then this week I caught an ad for a Six-Hour Instant Energy concoction along the same vein.
Coming soon, I've no doubt: Seven-Hour Instant Energy!
Me, I'm just high on life....and coffee.
********************************
As I've stated before, what I don't know about politics is a lot. Honestly, I feel like the presidency poses unthinkable challenges and unsolvable problems, like trying to build a football power at Baylor (Recruiting pitch - "You'll love Waco! And our girls are Baptist!"). And while I've typically been a member of the Apathetic Party - "Apathy! Apathy! That's our cry! A-P-A-T....aw, screw it." - I do have a dimestore theory:
Seems that we Americans are posed with a choice: On one hand, you have a fella who finished first in his class at Harvard Law School. On the other, a guy, tough as nails though he is, who placed 894th outta 899th in his graduating crew at the Naval Academy.
Didn't we just spend eight years with the dunce of the class?
************************************
Kids are great for the soul - and hell on your car. Cleaned out my Accord last weekend. A backseat inventory of such:
- 1 Barbie Leg
- Skittles, circa '07.
- Popcorn from taking McKenzie to see "Cheaper by the Dozen"
- 1 Barbie Head
- Cheerios, circa '05
- 14 McDonald's Happy Meal toys
- 1 Chewed Barbie torso
- Popcorn from taking McKenzie to see "Cheaper by the Dozen II"
- 1 Sippy Cup full of raisins (originally grape juice)
Coming soon, I've no doubt: Seven-Hour Instant Energy!
Me, I'm just high on life....and coffee.
********************************
As I've stated before, what I don't know about politics is a lot. Honestly, I feel like the presidency poses unthinkable challenges and unsolvable problems, like trying to build a football power at Baylor (Recruiting pitch - "You'll love Waco! And our girls are Baptist!"). And while I've typically been a member of the Apathetic Party - "Apathy! Apathy! That's our cry! A-P-A-T....aw, screw it." - I do have a dimestore theory:
Seems that we Americans are posed with a choice: On one hand, you have a fella who finished first in his class at Harvard Law School. On the other, a guy, tough as nails though he is, who placed 894th outta 899th in his graduating crew at the Naval Academy.
Didn't we just spend eight years with the dunce of the class?
************************************
Kids are great for the soul - and hell on your car. Cleaned out my Accord last weekend. A backseat inventory of such:
- 1 Barbie Leg
- Skittles, circa '07.
- Popcorn from taking McKenzie to see "Cheaper by the Dozen"
- 1 Barbie Head
- Cheerios, circa '05
- 14 McDonald's Happy Meal toys
- 1 Chewed Barbie torso
- Popcorn from taking McKenzie to see "Cheaper by the Dozen II"
- 1 Sippy Cup full of raisins (originally grape juice)
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Joke 'O the Day
Shrek, Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt were all having lunch together. Shrek said, 'I have always thought that I'm the strongest man in the world, but how can I be sure?' Brad Pitt said, 'I'm pretty sure I'm the sexiest man alive but I've never had it confirmed.' Angelina Jolie agreed. 'I'm told I'm the most gorgeous of them all, but sometimes I wonder.'
So they all decided that the best way to find out if their beliefs were true was to ask the famed talking 'Mirror, mirror on the wall' to confirm for them whether Shrek was the strongest, Angelina Jolie was the most gorgeous and Brad Pitt was the sexiest. So they made separate appointments with the mirror at 9a, 10a and 11a and agreed to meet again the next day for lunch to discuss their findings.
The next day, they met up, all with sad faces. Simultaneously, they said:
"So who the hell is Jeff Mudd?"
(the above joke was stolen and improved upon)
So they all decided that the best way to find out if their beliefs were true was to ask the famed talking 'Mirror, mirror on the wall' to confirm for them whether Shrek was the strongest, Angelina Jolie was the most gorgeous and Brad Pitt was the sexiest. So they made separate appointments with the mirror at 9a, 10a and 11a and agreed to meet again the next day for lunch to discuss their findings.
The next day, they met up, all with sad faces. Simultaneously, they said:
"So who the hell is Jeff Mudd?"
(the above joke was stolen and improved upon)
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
phones, Joe Pa and McCoy
Though my Ohio State Buckeyes are stumbling along this season - however, I do believe they have a Vince Young clone in freshman QB Tyrelle Pryor - I still got a kick outta watching Penn State Coach Joe Paterno during the Nittany Lions' win last week. Joe Pa, 83, has a bum hip from showing an 18-year-old punter how to correctly execute a pooch kick, so he's been exiled to the press box high above.
They showed him 76 or so times during last week's game, and the guy looked about as involved and interested as I did during high school geometry. I firmly stand by my theory that his headset isn't even plugged in and that he's reading not the playbook but instead Playboy.
Reminds me of former 20/20 co-anchor Hugh Downs. For the last few years of his career, I think they simply turned off his mike, rolled him just off-camera and had him read dummy cue cards....
********************************
I don't mind my fellow motorists 'o the road talking on their cell phones or text messaging or emailing while wheeling. Really, I don't. We all have our thing to pass transit time. Me, I sing loudly, perfectly pitched, to hair bands of the late 80's.
I do have one sincere hope, though. In the very near future, I hope that car companies can create phone booths and cubicles equipped with engines and wheels, so I can be alerted to those who pay more attention to their phones and computers than they do me.
And Bon Jovi, for the record, never killed anyone.
****************************************
Celebrated McCoy's 2nd birthday at, fittingly, McDonald's on Sunday. With a second kid, you learn to never spend more than, eh, three bucks/kid at an event that features an honored guest who still craps himself. Plus, as if recall were an issue, he bumped his head on the slide and spent the cake-cutting/present-opening portion of the festivities in an apparent post-concussive fog. As you can see, he was elated to see everyone.
McCoy is my sidekick, my tail, my wingman. He's my little Pavlov experience. If I ta
ke a step away, he whines. A step closer, he smiles. A lean away, a tear. An inch closer, a laugh. Mostly, though, the kid just waddles within my shadow. The kid eats nothing that isn't produced by Nabisco - though he does a nice javelin throw with a carrot - and still drinks way too much milk. He's 47 or so words shy of the projected '50 words by the age of 2' mandate and sleeps through the night as often as Joe Paterno. He licked the flyswatter the other night and, frankly, throws a bit like a girl.
And I couldn't love him more if I tried.
Happy Birthday, kid.
*********************************
They showed him 76 or so times during last week's game, and the guy looked about as involved and interested as I did during high school geometry. I firmly stand by my theory that his headset isn't even plugged in and that he's reading not the playbook but instead Playboy.
Reminds me of former 20/20 co-anchor Hugh Downs. For the last few years of his career, I think they simply turned off his mike, rolled him just off-camera and had him read dummy cue cards....
********************************
I don't mind my fellow motorists 'o the road talking on their cell phones or text messaging or emailing while wheeling. Really, I don't. We all have our thing to pass transit time. Me, I sing loudly, perfectly pitched, to hair bands of the late 80's.
I do have one sincere hope, though. In the very near future, I hope that car companies can create phone booths and cubicles equipped with engines and wheels, so I can be alerted to those who pay more attention to their phones and computers than they do me.
And Bon Jovi, for the record, never killed anyone.
****************************************
Celebrated McCoy's 2nd birthday at, fittingly, McDonald's on Sunday. With a second kid, you learn to never spend more than, eh, three bucks/kid at an event that features an honored guest who still craps himself. Plus, as if recall were an issue, he bumped his head on the slide and spent the cake-cutting/present-opening portion of the festivities in an apparent post-concussive fog. As you can see, he was elated to see everyone.
McCoy is my sidekick, my tail, my wingman. He's my little Pavlov experience. If I ta
ke a step away, he whines. A step closer, he smiles. A lean away, a tear. An inch closer, a laugh. Mostly, though, the kid just waddles within my shadow. The kid eats nothing that isn't produced by Nabisco - though he does a nice javelin throw with a carrot - and still drinks way too much milk. He's 47 or so words shy of the projected '50 words by the age of 2' mandate and sleeps through the night as often as Joe Paterno. He licked the flyswatter the other night and, frankly, throws a bit like a girl.And I couldn't love him more if I tried.
Happy Birthday, kid.
*********************************
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
pre-book stretch
Haven't checked in for a few days. Along with running this joint and doing the family juggle, I've been trying to formulate a workable plot line for "Food Sex Sleep." While blogging is a breezy exercise in writing calesthenics, the art of long-form storytelling, which calls for tone, theme, scene development, snappy dialogue and memorable characters (the elements that our English profs butchered our term papers over) can be something of an excruciating mental marathon. But I've done the Town Lake stretch - to execute, reach foot behind tush and tug - and think I'm ready to roll.
Now all I need is a 37-hour day.
Now all I need is a 37-hour day.
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