Wow...I jumped in to Facebook with both feet, actually not totally in to Facebook and all of the Cyber-note passing or button tossing or bumper stickering. Mostly the Farm Town. Facebook is cool because I've actually found a bunch of old friends from high school who I haven't talked with for twenty-some years. You can even find people around the world who have your same name, or people with your last name, but you've never heard of them at family reunions. Could they be related???
I shouldn't say that I jumped in with both feet...it's more like I've been sucked in by Farm Town. After the kids and my wife all go to bed for the day, I jump on-line and check out the crops. I've become a Farm Town Junkie looking to sell off another harvest...just one more section of Coffee Beans to plant over there...then I can cash them out and buy some more seeds...sell them off and I can buy a Waterwell. But with life in Farm Town, a waterwell is never the end of it...you become bored with a Waterwell...then you're hooked on Silos and Windmills...then you NEED a barn...you'll sell off all your pigs and cows and sheep...then your fruit trees. Just to score a barn.
You spend HOURS on-line, and the next thing you know, it starts to affect your work...your home life...you're not sleeping as much as you used to...you should be folding laundry, but if you expand, you can reposition your corrals and put in two more rows of wheat. But if you overlap your fields you can stack field upon field...but you've run out of coins and can't buy more seed unless you go to your neighbors farms and work for them...watering here, pulling weeds or raking leaves there...just so you can finish planting your feshly plowed fields. Then you have to go to sleep and check your crops the next morning...so you can score the big one...two sets of wheat, one coffee, and one potato field. Harvest, sell, replant...can you plow some more field??? Where?!?!?!?
And then you realize your lunch break is over and it's time to go back to work.
Kids Say (and Do) the Darnedest Things
Sometimes it's tough to keep from laughing...
While cooking dinner one night, my 5 1/2 year-old daughter told me she wanted a drink of Apple Juice. I thought to myself, "Apple Juice?!?!?!? I think we're out of juice." I turned to see her take a nice, long, healthy swallow from the Olive Oil container that was sitting on the counter. I must commend her for not backwashing into the jug, but the poor little lady swallowed it all. This helped her learn that patience is a virtue, and curbed her desire to drink from the container, too.
While cooking dinner one night, my 5 1/2 year-old daughter told me she wanted a drink of Apple Juice. I thought to myself, "Apple Juice?!?!?!? I think we're out of juice." I turned to see her take a nice, long, healthy swallow from the Olive Oil container that was sitting on the counter. I must commend her for not backwashing into the jug, but the poor little lady swallowed it all. This helped her learn that patience is a virtue, and curbed her desire to drink from the container, too.
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
Monday, January 26, 2009
Remember the First Time???
Do you remember the first time you [fill in the blank]? I don't think it really matters what you did...just that excitement unparalleled by any other emotion. The first time you got behind the handlebars of your new bike...the Schwinn with the banana seat and sissy bar, and let the wind blow through your hair for the first time. Or the first time your parents let you dive by yourself with your brand new license...windows rolled down, tunes cranked from the in-dash AM radio, or the Panasonic AM/FM/Cassette? Van Halen never sounded so good coming out of those Kraco speakers. Or the first time you kissed your high school sweetheart; or better yet, kissing your spouse right after saying "I Do." Or seeing your child for the first time, and it didn't matter whether it was our first or fifth kid. All of these had the same effect...shortness of breath, weak and wobbly in the knees, and your heart racing until it started baning away in your chest like the engine of a race car that has just blown up after being red-lined. Well, I found one more to add to the list and it happened just tonight.
I had just arrived home from my band rehearsal and there were a couple bags on the back porch...Chanon's way of letting me know that "Take Toys To The Garage" was #1 on the "Honey-Do List" for the evening. Along with that was the usual garbage detail, because I have to be outside anyway. So it became time to take care of checking "Move Toys..." from the list. By now it is almost 10:00 pm and fairly well dark for the past 5 hours and quiet in the small town of Black Diamond, WA for the last two. I picked up the first bag only to hear a small girl's voice giggle and say, "I'm watching you!!!"
It takes a man secure enough in his masculinity to say that he's damned glad his knees didn't get weak and wobbly, but it was a bit on the disconcerting side that paralysis of all major muscle groups ensued...except for the racing of the heart and the pounding in his chest to the point that he envisioned his heart exploding from his chest, landing on the frozen ground in involuntary convulsions. After dispatching the bag to it's rightful place in the garage...although the garbage can did cross my mind...after the urge to disrupt the peace and tranquility of Small Town, WA, USA by unloading a full clip from a 9mm pistol into the bag...I went inside and expressed my displeasure over danged near sullying my garments and the entire back porch.
I'm not too sure whether it was the cold weather outside or the sheer terror that sent chills straight through my veins, bones, marrow, and shot out my feet. Either way, I am DONE for outside chores tonight. I'm on my second cup of coffee and hope to God that sleep doesn't come too early tonight.
Chanon on the other hand likes to nestle down to bed after a good comedy show...sleeps like a baby after a real good laugh.
I had just arrived home from my band rehearsal and there were a couple bags on the back porch...Chanon's way of letting me know that "Take Toys To The Garage" was #1 on the "Honey-Do List" for the evening. Along with that was the usual garbage detail, because I have to be outside anyway. So it became time to take care of checking "Move Toys..." from the list. By now it is almost 10:00 pm and fairly well dark for the past 5 hours and quiet in the small town of Black Diamond, WA for the last two. I picked up the first bag only to hear a small girl's voice giggle and say, "I'm watching you!!!"
It takes a man secure enough in his masculinity to say that he's damned glad his knees didn't get weak and wobbly, but it was a bit on the disconcerting side that paralysis of all major muscle groups ensued...except for the racing of the heart and the pounding in his chest to the point that he envisioned his heart exploding from his chest, landing on the frozen ground in involuntary convulsions. After dispatching the bag to it's rightful place in the garage...although the garbage can did cross my mind...after the urge to disrupt the peace and tranquility of Small Town, WA, USA by unloading a full clip from a 9mm pistol into the bag...I went inside and expressed my displeasure over danged near sullying my garments and the entire back porch.
I'm not too sure whether it was the cold weather outside or the sheer terror that sent chills straight through my veins, bones, marrow, and shot out my feet. Either way, I am DONE for outside chores tonight. I'm on my second cup of coffee and hope to God that sleep doesn't come too early tonight.
Chanon on the other hand likes to nestle down to bed after a good comedy show...sleeps like a baby after a real good laugh.
Tuesday, January 6, 2009
The Switch
What happens when you flip a switch??? A myriad of things can and sometimes miraculously work properly...or "go skittering wildly out of control as the sanity bolts work themselves loose" as my brother-in-law so eloquently phrased it. My wife is perplexed at whether my "Switch" is broken or operative...or was ever installed in the first place. You know, that switch that should open to prevent certain phrases from emanating from your mouth. Personally, I think it is a sticky or slow switch, because the thing works AFTER you said what you shouldn't have said, like, "Are those pants shrinking in the wash? They look a little snug on you." WHAM!!!! The switch opens just in time to prevent any and all replies to what comes next. I have dome some research on the subject, and here is what I have found.
In all males, the switch operates as it was originally designed to work. Some operators of the switch have just mastered alternative ways to use it, or developed a sixth sense to engage preemptive thought processes which take up that delay between what you are going to say and the opening of the switch. The switch sometimes is confused with thought processes and will begin to open at the beginning of a thought rather than with the beginning of a sentence. I can track the faulty switch back through my ancestry which will clear up why my switch operates as it does.
Everyone's ancestry can be tracked back to Adam and Eve, and even Adam had a faulty switch. Eve asked Adam, "Want a bite of this apple?" Adam thought to himself, I really shouldn't, but "Sure!!!" Crunch, crunch, WHAM!!! We all know what happened next.
Fast forward to the Revolutionary War and a more recent event in my family history. One of my ancestors, General Swift (what's in a name anyway???) and his charges captured a British picket squad. Before securing the prisoners, one of the detainees asked, "Where is General Swift?" to which the General replied, "I'm General Swift." WHAM!!! Ka-Boom!!! And that is how General Swift became a war hero.
It's not just men that are guilty of being in possession of a faulty switch; it's just that we get caught with it in our possession. Our teenager asked her mom, "What do you do all day when we're at school?" to which I added, "Yes, honey, what do you do all day???" WHAM!!!
Coming next time: Reflection on Inflection and The Look.
In all males, the switch operates as it was originally designed to work. Some operators of the switch have just mastered alternative ways to use it, or developed a sixth sense to engage preemptive thought processes which take up that delay between what you are going to say and the opening of the switch. The switch sometimes is confused with thought processes and will begin to open at the beginning of a thought rather than with the beginning of a sentence. I can track the faulty switch back through my ancestry which will clear up why my switch operates as it does.
Everyone's ancestry can be tracked back to Adam and Eve, and even Adam had a faulty switch. Eve asked Adam, "Want a bite of this apple?" Adam thought to himself, I really shouldn't, but "Sure!!!" Crunch, crunch, WHAM!!! We all know what happened next.
Fast forward to the Revolutionary War and a more recent event in my family history. One of my ancestors, General Swift (what's in a name anyway???) and his charges captured a British picket squad. Before securing the prisoners, one of the detainees asked, "Where is General Swift?" to which the General replied, "I'm General Swift." WHAM!!! Ka-Boom!!! And that is how General Swift became a war hero.
It's not just men that are guilty of being in possession of a faulty switch; it's just that we get caught with it in our possession. Our teenager asked her mom, "What do you do all day when we're at school?" to which I added, "Yes, honey, what do you do all day???" WHAM!!!
Coming next time: Reflection on Inflection and The Look.
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