Friday, August 30, 2013


Earlier this year my 90+ grandmother finally expired.

It was odd…I have known this woman for my entire life and I felt nothing for her crossing.
Oh I felt bad for one of my surviving uncles but that was all.

See this lady was one of the most selfish, self centered, manipulating woman I ever met.
We did not get along and I did not like her very much. I felt sorry for her

When my father was growing up they ate fried baloney for supper (which aint half bad) just one slice each and maybe some potatoes and she bought herself fur coats.

When my dad went into the service he had a sweet ford mustang that he had restored himself. It purred for him (which is odd for a horse I guess). He had instructed his younger brother to go out and just start it once a week and he could drive it occasionally to keep everything all lubricated and running.
He came back from his tour he found a seized rusted engine waiting for him. He then found out that his mother had insisted that his brother not touch the car for no reason whatsoever.
Just because she could.

See she never really liked my dad very much. He was one for 4 boys and he was the only one of the 4 that would stand up to his mother. Not in the hoodlum, leather jacket “rebel without a clue” kind of way but in the “why?” kind of way.
“We need to go left” – “why?”
“We need to hurry.” – “Why?”
“Do not do that. “ – “why”
He always questioned her judgment and when he found flaw with it he used his own and she did not like that.

You get the idea.

I guess she had bought her first husband, my dads dad, a shotgun at one point.
My dad and his dad would go out hunting frequently before his passing. After his dad died the gun sat in a closet collecting dust.
At one point my dad retrieved the shotgun.
He did not do it secretly, he let everyone know what he was doing and why.
Since no one else was a hunter in the family, no one protested.
My dad has passed away and I now have the shotgun. I wanted it as a reminder of him. I’m not much of a hunter but it is pretty and it was his and well, it reminds me of him.

Then this lady starts hounding first my mother, then me to return to her this shotgun.

Paraphrased conversation:
“You live in a rest home and you are blind and arthritic and do not hunt. This shotgun was my father’s while I was growing up. For my entire life I have only known this as my dad’s shotgun. Why, after all this time, are you demanding I give you my dad’s shotgun?”

Verbatim response:
“I want to keep it in the family.”

That hurt me enough that I never spoke to her again. I am my father’s son. Her son’s direct blood relation and yet that’s not family enough for her.

She went as far to inform my sister that I was out of her will because I refused to give her this shotgun.

I am ok with that.

Wednesday, August 21, 2013

Stroke of Luck

I…I just can’t think of a downside to this?
Giggling at a funeral?
Cant appreciate a good hallmark movie?
Maybe it might get tiring but that would such a small price to pay!

When I have my stroke this is what I am going to shoot for.

Malcolm Myatt, 68, had a stroke. It affected the frontal lobe of his brain--the part of the brain that governs emotions. As a result, he's lost the ability to be sad:
Experts have confirmed that it is not uncommon for strokes to cause psychological, emotional and behavioural changes.
The retired lorry driver said: "I am never depressed. Being sad wouldn't help anything anyway. I would definitely rather be happy all the time than the other way round. It's an advantage really.
"The stroke could have become my worst enemy but I wouldn't let it. Now I barely even notice that I don't feel sadness.” [...]
Many of the psychological changes that occur after a stroke are down to the physical damage of the brain, and will depend upon which part of the brain has been affected and the extent of the damage, The Stroke Association said.
Dr Clare Walton explained: “When a stroke strikes, the blood supply to the brain is cut off, brain cells die and permanent damage can be caused. Every stroke is different, and the area of the brain that’s damaged will determine how the person is affected.
Link -via Glenn Reynolds | Photo: Caters

Saturday, August 17, 2013


There are just a few things I just cannot tolerate.
I am a laid back groovy kinda guy.
Most things just slide off me like water off a duck.

There are some though that sticks in my craw.

I cannot tolerate forced stupidity.
If you are ignorant, that’s fine. Ignorance just means you have not been taught.
I can deal with that.
If you are borderline autistic. That’s fine; you do not have the processing abilities that the average person is capable of.
I pity you and I can deal with that too.

It’s those people who are too lazy to actually think for themselves.
GrRrRr a pox upon their house!
The “please think for me” people.
They raise my blood pressure to astronomical heights.

In my line of work I have ran into quite a large number of them too
For instance:
  • “Do you want me to turn it on? – Nope. Computers no longer use electricity. They run off of fairy tears and unicorn dreams.
  • “Well the power is out to ½ the store. Do you think that could be the issue?” – Nope. I think that your computer actually runs on LUCK and yours just ran out.
  • “A customer spilled their drink on it yesterday and it smoked some but seemed ok.” – Really!? A smoking terminal wasn’t a clue to you? Were you waiting for a big blue paw print to appear?
  • “My network is down but I can’t get to the internet either.” –That’s strange because everyone should have their own personal copy of the internet to use.
  • “do you want me to get in front of it” – No I want you to use the force to turn it back on.*1

Then it’s my fault if I sound just a little testy on the phone.
Stop being an idiot and I’ll stop being a dick.

*1- A side note: If you are calling anyone about something wrong with anything be sure to be able to physically touch that thing by the time they say hello. Being across the room from whatever it is, well it’s just a waste of your and my time.

Saturday, August 10, 2013


I am not a vain man by any means. in fact, I think I am pretty close to being humble.
I did not consciously choose it but I have discovered that I live by the old gunslinger rule.
“No matter how good you are there is always someone better.”
there are a few things I am pretty damn proud of
which is odd because I had so little input in their creation
My Son and my Daughter
Man I am so very proud of them

I have mentioned it here before but I was ambivalent about having kids when I was younger.
I thought I wanted them and I felt some kinda odd pressure to have a son since I was one of the last of my bloodline but it was never a pressing need or desire.
Then came that day I held my newborn baby girl in my hands.
It may sound corny but I felt the cement around my heart just crumble to dust.
I felt something stir in me that I did not even know existed.
I immediately fell in love with this little creature and knew from that moment that I would eagerly and readily give my last breath for her.

**phew** at least that’s over
I can rebuild all my walls again with one little niche left out to incorporate her into my so called life.

Then I met my son.
and it happened all over again!

I gave up then trying to rebuild my protective barriers around my heart.
every day a smile or a giggle would just reduce me to a gibbering daddy puddle.
then came the “I love you daddys” wow that was an entire airstrike.
and holding their hands as we walked around.
watching them as they laughed and grew and succeeded and failed and cried
all were just as devastating to my tough macho inner development.
I gave up.
If mushy I am destined to be then mushy I shall be.

I then realized that all I ever wanted out of this life is to be their daddy.

It feels like every day I start not with a clean slate but with a starting grade of F- and have to try to build up from there.
I have never worked so hard at anything before in my entire life.
For me there are a lot of things that come really easy. I only have to put a quarter of the effort into them than most people. This job though no matter how much I put in it never feels like enough.
No matter how successful I might be its never quite enough.

But I keep trying.

Saturday, August 3, 2013

I mean, it’s only a memory

I have a pool. A indoor pool.
Ok not so much a pool as a puddle.
OK Basically my basement flooded.
Lots of rain and the electricity went out meaning the sump pump stopped pumping and …squishyness ensued.

Its. A. Mess.

Man it is a really sad thing to dispose of a flooded basement.
If you have never done it before I certainly do not recommend it.
You see, in your home the upper level is the living level.
Everything there is either currently essential, part of your core being or in flux. Influx meaning it is transitioning currently through your life to either be used or disposed of.

But the basement.
The basement it where you send your memories to store.
That’s where everything that you hold as too important to get rid of but not really needed right now for day to day use.
That’s where your memory debris is kept.

The toys from when the kids were little, the girls Barbie dolls, the boys teddy bear, the school papers from kindergarten, the school projects from years gone by, the little note from your 5 year old that says “I love you” that got shifted down there in a mass cleaning drive that you cherished but then forgot about as the years piled on top of it.

This is the stuff that you didn’t realize just how important it was to you until you had to throw it into a trashbag as sodden wet destroyed mess.
The stuff that you had forgotten about but end up going “Awwww” or “Danngg it” as soon as you see it again. You throw it away and quickly forget about it.

I mean, it’s only a memory.