Hey Dad…

Hey Dave…

Do we have any…

How do I…

I can’t find…

We need more….

Don’t forget we have…

Where is the…

My life.

I’m sitting out in my backyard after cooking dinner for the family. Earlier I had asked the kids what they wanted, and they said salmon, so I picked some up because they requested it.

That dinner, aside from me taking my portion, sits on the counter getting cold.

I gave up on trying to edit/review one of my friend’s submissions as I keep getting interrupted.

I HATE BEING INTERRUPTED CONSTANTLY.

I can’t focus. As soon as I get myself focused once more on what is before me, I get interrupted yet again.

Can you help me…

We ran out of toilet paper…

I can’t open…

When is…

Were out of…

Can I…

PERSON is hitting me…

All of that, in my ‘little’ head, comes across as… “You look you’re trying to do something, time to screw that up.”

And now the kids want to go into the pool. Guess I’ll put away my laptop and go grab my waterproof *paperwhite.

*(This of course brings its own issues where I’m going to find myself reading the same paragraph over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over…)

Tootles (to my sanity)

A few hours ago I sent off the latest chunk of my Jessica Day story to my writing group.

I wish I had more time.

I wish I had more time not being bothered.

I wish I had more time to study and learn.

Just think of all the time I would have if I didn’t waste it wishing on having more time.

Errr…???

I had to yell at one of the kids to peel their cheese, from the sandwich I made them, off of the backyard table where they had flung it. This was after yelling at one of the girls to go back inside and deal with the deposit they left in the toilet that they somehow ‘forgot’ to flush.

“It doesn’t always go down…”

“Then why is there paper in there along with the rest of it?” I know that paper goes down easily and doesn’t pop back up as residual chunks tend to do.

I pulled out some pool toys from the shed for the kids to use and noticed that one of them, my favorite of course, had a hole in it. Had it been used, the stuffing, small chunks of styrofoam, would have escaped and clogged the pool filtering unit which would result in a costly repair. No sooner than I say they can’t use it as it’s broken, they come up with some plan on using it to intentionally clog in the surface intake part that skims the surface water. Their plan, since I said it was it wasn’t to be used, was to use it in the most destructive way possible. How the frick do they come up with these bass-ackward plans? I’m not made of money.

The wife and I were planning on taking the kids up to grandma’s house in Oregon and her and I ditching them there for about a week while we spend some time on the coast. That plan has now been changed to all of us visiting with grandma for a few days and then the four of us going to the coast for a ‘family vacation’. I was looking forward to the NO KIDS time as I feel this extended year of covid time has worn me thin. I don’t even get this.

Maybe I should tell the wife I’m going up to Tahoe or something and pack a bag but in truth just rent a hotel in town and lock my mentally weary self in for 24 hours. Now don’t go thinking I have ulterior motives or anything. I don’t. I just want to be able to enjoy some silence and try and rest.

Is that so wrong?

Last night, my wife allowed our son to bring his dinner plate along with a tall cup of orange juice up to our bed so he could eat there while watching a show. My wife and I have a rule that we don’t like food being brought upstairs due to the kids being horrible destructive slobs with no regard for anything that isn’t holding their interest. Now I know you might be thinking he spilled it, you would be half right. He finished his dinner and placed the empty plate and half-empty glass on my nightstand. Not the wife’s side, she was on her side of the bed, so my side was the lazier to reach. I finish my stuff downstairs and head up to go to bed. I notice the food on my side of the bed and scold my son for having it there and my wife says it was her idea. So I’m thinking, Okay, so it’s your responsibility.

I pick up the plate and cup and move them to her side of the bed and place them on top of her dresser with the cup in the middle of the plate and the plate resting on a small stolen airline blanket that the cat uses as a bed. I elect to not demand my son take it downstairs as he has high anxiety issues over the stupidest of things and melts down. I swear he is still a four-year-old that is afraid of whatever doesn’t allow him to have his way. My wife buys into his crap as she is his Beverly Goldberg to his little snookums ploys. I adhere to what my wife has asked of me on so many occasions in order to avoid unnecessary conflict, pick your battles.

Fine. This will be your mess, not mine.

I get into bed and pull up my kindle and once more attempt to bring up a book to read. I can’t focus as my daughter also comes in and in between everyone talking, and the TV going on, I can’t focus. I switch to a game of Freecell and soon zone out with that.

Twenty minutes later I notice one of the family cats has jumped up onto the dresser and is clutzing his way around. The others in our family gave him the name of Aiden. I refused and rechristened him as ‘Doofy’ for it fits him. In my mind the cat named himself. He is always tripping over things and knocking things over. Yeah, you know what’s coming, it’s not much of a leap. I lower my kindle and say to the wife and boy between my side of the bed and the dresser, “Doofy is looking like he is going to knock over the juice.”

The wife and boy start laughing as the cat is doing his ungrateful aerobatics.

I again say, “No, really. He looks like he is going to knock it over.”

Another round of laughing.

Ten seconds later the cat tips the cup over and my wife turns into a rage monster.

Guess what… it’s my fault for placing the plate there.

Uh… bite me?

We get into a screaming match as ‘we can’t ever have anything nice in our house because it’s always getting destroyed’ *(She means me for those of you that aren’t picking up on that)

I try my best to explain how, yes, I placed the illegal plate up there. I own that much. I also try to point out the illegal plate shouldn’t have been upstairs, to begin with, and how I gave several warning alarms about how ‘The Doofies are coming, the Doofies are coming” but how they went unheeded.

Doesn’t matter.

I’m finished with this story rant.

Tootles….

I “TRY” to get my latest submissions for my local peer-review writers group in by the 1st of every month.

Today is the 31st. Will I do it? Not likely.

I’m mentally exhausted and need a day off. It hurts to think.

I don’t even have a lot of oomph to write this piece of crap blog entry, but seeing how it’s been a few weeks since my last entry, I need to do it.

My kids & bonus kids start summer vacation this week and that means I’ll have even less time to myself.

I can’t wait until fall 😛

Anywho…

Sitting in front of me is a replacement laptop charger I purchased online for my son’s system. He had misplaced his original charger and so I was forced to go online and search for another. Two days later he found the original. It was sitting on the almost naked fireplace mantel.

Uhh…. yeah…

So now I’ve got to go about returning it seeing how I wasted all that time researching the right one in the first place.

Did I also mention that I burned off 3 hours the other night on something similarly stupid? No? You mean you can’t read my mind? My wife thinks I should be able to read hers when she leaves out keywords during our conversations. Her, “I told you I was Reeses in my frozen yogurt that you went to the store to get for me because I’m too lazy to go get one myself.” Okay, not her exact words but you get the idea. Now I had the audacity of scooping in Reece’s Pieces instead of Reece’s Peanut Butter Cups. I am a selfish bastard for not understanding and reading her mind properly of what she truly meant.

Uhh…. yeah…

So speaking of going back to school and learning… when do spouses learn to not project keywords and actually speak them?

Jus sayin

When is my vacation?

Hydra-Soak, take me away…

😛

I have kids.

I even have bonus kids. (Their dad is in jail and mom is working 50+ hours)

All of them range between the ages of 7 to 14.

I’m at home with them and it’s during a pandemic.

I don’t get much time to myself.

I like to reflect on my life and attempt to see things from other sides. I would like to think it is a version of wisdom with me trying to put myself in another person’s shoes. In this instance, the shoes are my own.

What the hell am I talking about?

As I’ve stated many MANY MANY times before, I enjoy being left the f-alone. There will be a time – if I don’t die first – when that could happen. A day where I can allow myself to delve deeper into my crazy thoughts and get more done that isn’t related to feeding/washing/cleaning up other people’s stuff. I had days like that before, back when I was a stupid kid. Only back then, I didn’t have the same mental focus (SQUIRRELLLLLLL!!!) that I do now and didn’t have the financial means either.

What I’m talking about is retirement. The age of being free to indulge in your basic whims (I love taking naps) and not having to worry about pissing *(on)off people.

*(on is referring to the later on years where I’m stuffed in some corner to in my own fluids – sounds exciting)

…

where was I???

I got interrupted by the boy child and had to go show him how to fix his own bike when the chain falls off. I’ve been intentionally trying to have him watch as I fix things so he can pick up on the tricks and integrate these things into his own arsenal. I’m trying to do that with all the kids as I’m a firm believer in a parent’s job is to ensure their children don’t need them.

Ahh… yes, I remember now.

If and when I reach that age where I get peace again. Oh, how I miss lazy summer days and how I would like to experience a good many years of that again. The day will come when the kids go off on their own. Will they need me? Yes, for a while. Eventually, they will learn to trust themselves and grow into their own version of maturity*.

*(2nd tangent… I was out with the older bonus child today and I said something to her after I leaned over with an open mouth and attempted to eat her brain out from the top of her skull. It was a soft bite and I got a giggle out of her so stop your bitching. Children are tasty, babies even more so, at least until they get to the stinky teenage pimply years. From that point onward, they become ‘sour’ to my attempts to eat them. I said, “You do know I’m weird, right?” She nodded. I then said, “The secret is everyone is weird. You, me, your mother, the lady behind the counter, everyone is a bit crazy. The trick in life is understanding the weirdness of the people you meet. The people that make it obvious, wear it on the outside” I hitched a thumb up to myself “are simple. What you see is what you get. The people that keep their weird all tucked away are the people you got to look out for.” I didn’t say, but I thought JUST LIKE YOUR FATHER THAT IS NOW IN JAIL THANKS TO HIS SECRET HURTFUL VERSION OF CRAZY. – alas another story for another day as the courts are still shut down due to the covid crazy.)

…

Where was I again?

Yes, kids and time.

I’m partially fearful of the day, should I age into it successfully, where my own kids+, don’t need me and also don’t want to be near me. We’ve all heard the line of “Enjoy your kids while they are young.” I’m starting to reflect more and more upon that.

My son, who still likes to sneak into our bed, loves watching The Goldbergs tv show while winding down before sleepytime. The little bugger still tries to pass out in my bed hoping I don’t go through the effort of waking him and having him go back to his own bed. In truth, I’m usually asleep before him. He ain’t that dumb 😉

On the show, the mother, played by Wendi McLendon-Covey, is a woman who is having a hard time letting her kids grow up. I feel for her but at the same time, I’m tired of cleaning up all these messes and having to do laundry all the time. I wish my own kids to have those long summer days where they can go wild and have fun but I just don’t want it to be at someone else’s expense. I want them to enjoy their youthful bodies while having somewhat more mature minds. Is this starting to sound weird? Like some inner perverted secret of mine is slipping out? I know how it’s starting to sound but in no way am I trying to be creepy about it. I would like to think I do my best to wear my weird on the outside.

*Just got another load of laundry started as the buzzer on the last load went off.

anywho…

Life is short. Enjoy the naps when they present themselves. I don’t want to get old and feeble but at the same time, I don’t want to spend eternity doing what I’m doing now. I have a house, I have physically healthy kids, I have a wife that I would like to believe loves me (at least she puts up with my version of weirdness).

Life is good.

It could be better (am I being greedy wanting more freedom?)

Life is actions and choices.

How do you live your life to the fullest but not wishing away the endless fun days for those you love without it costing you your own sanity?

Is life a system of scales? Is attempting to have more something that would tip the scales and thus cause all the rest to come crashing down?

I don’t know. My son didn’t know how to fix the chain back onto his bike. Will someone come along and show me the meaning of life and answer my questions?

I think not.

I think I am alone in my thoughts and will continue to be alone until that time comes.

EEK!

Kinda depressing.

I just farted and it felt good getting all that out… I mean- I mean both things. (I let my crazy waft in the breeze)

😉

Tootles all

Two days ago I exit a casual take-out dinner place and begin making my way to my car. As I approach, I notice an attractive woman getting into the car next to mine. It’s a mini coup. No big deal. I use my fob and unlock my car as the woman parked next to my car backs out. I get in my car, start it up, check my mirrors and notice that the woman keeps glancing at me as she is now stuck at the end of the row and unable to proceed. There happens to be a small traffic jam going on where some idiot goes down the wrong way and inconveniences everyone else with their sense of libertarianism.

So I get my seatbelt on and check my mirrors again and notice the woman, who is cute mind you, keeps looking my way. It’s a hot day and so I roll down my windows (I use the automatic mechanism button as I can’t recall the last time I had a genuine crank in a car) to allow the built-up hot air a chance to escape.

Traffic starts to thin again and now the woman starts to pull away but now has her own window down. She yells out to me. “I like your bumper sticker.” Being caught off guard, I give her a thumbs up and yell back “thanks.”

Did I mention she was cute?

Today, I walk out to my car and notice my 2020 election sticker is partially peeled off from my bumper. It wasn’t like that the last time I noticed.

I no longer have the peeling that she was that cute.

Tootles all.

😛

I can’t say when it started, only that it’s been going on for a very long time. Pre/Post Covid? It’s hard to tell.

Let me back up a bit here and say that yesterday I got my second Covid shot. Yesterday I felt some aches and pains and was more tired than usual. I did my best to power through it and, at least I would like to assume as much, pretended I was a functional adult doing what life required of me. This morning however I was feeling more worn down than usual. After getting the kids out of the house, I went out to our backyard and climbed into the hammock. I dozed off for about an hour, as that was all I had before the next wave of kid duties.

I woke up a bit groggy, that’s normal. Then… while I was driving over to the school, I started feeling mentally clear. I can’t describe it other than to say ‘it feels like I no longer have some sort of mental short going on in my head’. I felt as if I could focus on something, whatever it was. Clarity was once more a tool in my arsenal. I didn’t have anything to do, nothing was pressing or urgent, but if something did require my thoughts, I could give it and it wouldn’t feel like I was underwater.

WTF…

It is now 8:23 pm and I’m starting to feel tired again but not as mentally weary as I have been feeling over this past year.

Was it getting rest that cleared my fog? Was it the second shot? Was it all my imagination and tomorrow it will come back with a vengeance?

I’m overweight, old, cranky, short on time, short on cash, short on the hair on the top of my head, you know… the usual. But put a puzzle in front of me and I don’t think it would hurt to try and reason the thing out.

PLEASE DON’T GO AWAY…

It’s a feeling that I can best say feels like I just won a huge cash prize and am mulling over what I want to spend a part of it on. The bulk of it would be to pay off bills and stash for other reasons*

*(my crack splurges to name one)

That is the best way I can describe it. There is a sense of hope, purpose, clarity, getting lucky with the wife later, you know… all the things that keep a person sane.

Oh… I might have jinxed myself there. I’m the last person that you should consider sane.

I don’t want this day to end and at the same time, I want to make sure I get sufficient rest tonight so I might have a similar feeling tomorrow. Oh, the quandary I face in my first-world bubble where I’m not scavenging for food from a trash heap.

Yeah, I think about that stuff too.

Told you I was mental.

Tootles all

🙂

There.

Said it.

I had forgotten the date when I made my post earlier at 7 am.

Does that make me a bad fan? Or *JUST* a busy person?

I think my Sith name would be Darth Sarcasm.

😉

Where do you draw the line between the two?

Steve likes to drink. Steve drinks a lot. Steve drinks a case of beer a night. Every night. Steve doesn’t hurt anyone–side from himself.

Is Steve a bad person? I would think not.

Is Steve a smart person? Again, I would think not.

So who tells Steve he needs to take a more moderate approach to his drinking? Whose place is it to tell him such a thing? Is Steve not a functional adult who has never had a DUI, and pays his taxes, and helps his elderly neighbor lady get groceries every Sunday afternoon.

So why the stupid post Dave?

I’m reflecting.

I’m also in the middle of reading something and wondering what is going through the author’s head. Do I point out (criticize?) what they are doing or do I let it roll on by? Yes, I know, you attempt to point it out in a polite and respectful manner so as to not insult the person.

I’m trying to do that… but I’m finding it difficult.

Fictional Example of this person’s story:

Mary and Bob picked up the pizza and beers from the counter and moved to find an open booth to share. Finding one, they place everything down and take off their jackets before sliding onto opposite benches. Mary reached in to pull out a slice but had most of her toppings slide off as it hadn’t been cut through thoroughly. They shared a laugh and Bob volunteered, “My favorite topping is the smaller pepperonis that curls up into little cups with hot grease within them.” Six months later Mary attended Bob’s funeral.

Did you catch that zinger at the end? The story was building up with them sharing a moment and then-wham-we jump ahead to something that is jarring. I can assure you that the author isn’t trying to be extreme.

Cowardly or Polite?

I know that my own writing has shortcomings. Every human has shortcomings. It’s all part of the ride. Is it wrong of me to want to go back to playing with my legos and having my mom bring me PB&J sandwiches?

😛

My mom is going to turn 70 next month.

This time thing has to stop… in another six months I might find myself attending a fictional funeral for Bob.

😛

Another twist on the question, do we have the time to waste being polite? I know Steve enjoys drinking himself into a stupor every night but for the rest of us not eating PB&J sandwiches, I would like to think we would want to grow. To understand our shortcomings and try to adapt or move past them.

One of mine is just simple. Just as I said to Dwight, many just times before, just as I will continue to do. I will fight for JUSTice.

(I’m attempting to be puny here)

Okay, times up. It’s 7 am and I have to end my morning walk/escape and get back home. I need to wake the kids and prepare their breakfast PB&J’s.

😛

Tootles all.

Tomorrow I’m heading back to work after spending the past 7 days off. It was nice, it was short, and blah blah time flew by…

I was busy through most of it. I still had my daddy & step-daddy duties with picking up kids, feeding, entertaining, helping with homework, misc cleaning, and visiting with grandma while she was here. I even managed to sneak in two half-hour naps while she was distracting the kiddos.

A few nites ago, I had a weird dream, where I was taking part in some online meet and greet with Neil deGrasse Tyson. He kept calling me out to ask specific questions when it was time to do the Q&A at the end of it. My alarm went off just before that part was to start. Did I recall what those questions were? Hell no. But they were hell-a important at the time in my dream. So important that Neil kept calling me out- Oh… I already said that part. Sorry. 😛

Dreams… what… they confuse… how does… I have no idea.

It is said that dreams work as a means of clearing the brain and performing maintenance. Does Neil deGrasse Tyson dream of me? If he did, is that the part he forgot about prior to waking as I forgot the specifics of the questions he urged me to ask? Are dreams some sort of nocturnal entanglement? Yeah, yeah. I’m going a bit off the deep end here but I’m just rambling and it’s fun to ponder that which we don’t understand. Asking questions is part of learning, it’s a part of science. To not ask questions is to accept without challenging it. I mean what child hasn’t tried jumping off of something taller than themselves in hopes of flying? The art of questioning is in our human nature. To not question is to be a lemming. We need to ask the questions that everyone else is afraid to, like what is the real goal with agenda 21?

😛

Yeah, I’m a twisted perverse imp of a person at times.

While my mother was here I asked about her sister, let’s call my aunt ‘crazy’ with all of her conspiracies.

She is not alone… It scares me.

Why is it that my messed-up dreams about celebrities make more sense than the world going on around me?

w… t… f…

Maybe… just maybe… I should stop listening to everything… and join a small compound of other like-minded people where we can all talk about what flavor of beverage we like best?

…

…

Or I can just go back to work like everyone else.

…

😛

Tootles all

So I’m hiding out on our front patio, editing my chunk 08/09 for my Jessica Day novel, and the wife finds me. Guess I’m going to have to cut this short as I need to head over to Target/Walmart and pick up some hygiene products. You would think you would know your own cycle and could somehow order a decent supply through Amazon.

Seriously.

Is this monthly thing a surprise all of a sudden? Did it change from weeks to mere days? Don’t get me wrong, I don’t mind helping out and picking things up… it’s just the lack of foresight by others that kills me. I mean, you are on Amazon half the day already. Is it that hard to set up a subscribe and save thing? I know they have these programs because that is how our PUTTincat food and litter shipments are set up. Now if the PUTTincat didn’t poop daily and changed it to once every few weeks, I could understand a sense of surprise and concern. PUSSYcats don’t work that way. No PUSSYcat should work that way. You should know how your average PUSSYcat flows and be prepared. That is not what we are dealing with here.

Yes, I’m going to hell. (for the above comments?) But only after checking Target first and seeing they don’t have said items in stock will I then go there. (Walmart = hell joke)

EEK!

😛

Tootles all

Oh, and FU Dwight 😉