Don’t tell Junior but her birthday present is in the works:

From Gun Porn

My wife has an uncanny ability: any computer she touches will lose its internet connectivity. She won’t touch any settings. Just turns it on to check email or write something and our household internet connection goes poop. Sadly, I think there’s a gene that causes this and my son has it too.

My kids are into The Super Hero Squad. It’s entertaining. Yesterday’s episode featured a scene in which we discovered that all the super villains were planning their world domination on a social networking website called Maskbook, which looked just like Facebook. Funny.

Over at nonlogic comes some wailing and gnashing of teeth because a guy who is a state rep bought his four-year-old daughter a pink .22. My little girl shot for the first time at age five. And plans for her first gun are already in the works. And she’ll only have access to it when I’m around. And it will be a fun teaching aid to teach here about gun safety.

Junior on anatomy

Last night, at bath time I was rinsing the kids, when Junior looks at me, points to her chest and says This is my booty. On by booty is a knuckle.

I lost it at Luke Skywalker Inside A Rotting Carcas (sic). Via tom.

This year, my kids are going to be a dalmatian and a dragon.

Trailer for the movie Where The Wild Things Are. The Mrs. is excited and wants to take the kids to see it. I wonder, though, how exactly the movie is going to work. The book is fairly short and how will they make a feature length movie out of it?

Dad came by on Friday and brought me a present. This Trapdoor Springfield belonged to my great grandfather (sorry for the pic quality, but photography isn’t my thing):

From Gun Porn

It even has the original bayonet, though it has some surface rust:

From Gun Porn

Also, it has the original leather sling with it:

From Gun Porn

A bit of surface rust on the top too:

From Gun Porn

It just wasn’t tacticool enough for me, so I put an EOTech on it:

From Gun Porn

I kid. I just set that on there for a funny picture.

Anyway, I need to get it cleaned up real nice. Any advice on the best means to remove the rust that is also safe for the rifle’s finish? Any recommendations appreciated.

Second graders answer that and other questions.

My kids are into songs by They Might Be Giants. My son really digs Particle Man. But we don’t know why Triangle Man is such a poopyhead.

Also, he’s into Peaches by POTUSA, which is the greatest rock video ever because everything is better with ninja fights:

Wifey says to me that I write too much on facebook. And that she ignores people who write too much. I say ‘well, if you ignore what I say on facebook, it will be just like real life’.

Heh.

Teaching some kids to shoot a handgun. The inlaws came by and their kids wanted to go shooting. So, we broke out the suppressed Walther and went to work. Junior witnessed the goings on and wanted to give it a shot, so I let her. I’d never pressured her to shoot and figured when she was ready, she’d tell me. She did. She shot off two magazines. Don’t tell NY, but I took some pics too:

From Kids

This is why we practice our Todd Jarrett Kung Fu Grip. And, I know, you gun nuts are gonna get all where’s the eye protection on me. And, while I probably should have, didn’t think it was necessary with the 22.

Working with Junior on her Todd Jarrett Kung Fu Grip:

From Kids

I made a bowl of ice cream the other night. Putting away the ice cream, I turned around to see this:

From Pets

Then, a minute later, I saw this:

From Pets

Walter Olson:

under a law Congress passed last year aimed at regulating hazards in children’s products, the federal government has now advised that children’s books published before 1985 should not be considered safe and may in many cases be unlawful to sell or distribute. Merchants, thrift stores, and booksellers may be at risk if they sell older volumes, or even give them away, without first subjecting them to testing—at prohibitive expense.

The Mrs. collects children’s books. She has for years. It appears she’ll soon need a black market book dealer. HT to SIH who notes you need an interest group for everything.

Junior starts kindergarten this week. We (and by we I mean mostly the Mrs.) have been doing the prep stuff. Last night was open house where we got to go meet the people who will be shaping Junior’s life. Frankly, they were not the most organized bunch and I really question some of the things they did. For instance, yesterday was open house. And this morning was document day, in which I had to haul over various documents showing proof of immunizations and such and pay some fees. Why they can’t combine open house with document day and save me 45 minutes of time, I do not know.

Also, one of the documents was a computer usage agreement. In this agreement, Junior agrees not to look at porn and bomb making instructions on Al Gore’s Internets. And she has to sign it as though it’s a contract. For a five year old. I guess we gotta introduce them to legal contracts at some point.

Next issue I had was the ridiculousness of paying for stuff. We had to pay a supply fee, buy a tote bag, and get a prepaid meal card. Now, one would think that the school would be set up to handle common transactions in a convenient manner. You’d be wrong. I have to write one check to the school. One check to the cafeteria. And one check to the PTA. I guess they don’t have an accountant or bookkeeper to sort that out. I wrote three checks today, which is more checks than I’ve written in the last five years.

Speaking of the supply fee, that really annoyed me. In addition to paying a $40 supply fee, we also had to go buy supplies like markers, pencils, hand sanitizer, and tissues. So, we buy supplies. Pay a supply fee. And, of course, I’ve paid property taxes in The City (My The City) for a while that I thought were there to partially fund the schools. But then, it gets better. You see, those supplies we bought? Yeah, they’re community supplies. They’re not Junior’s supplies. They’re for everyone. I figure it’s a good way to teach Junior about taxes. Or communism.

The tote bag seems like a scam to me. Sure, it’s only $5 but it looks like it cost $1.25 for Chinese kids to sew it together. All the kids have the same bag. Between that and the community supplies, I’m not getting a big individualist groove from the school. I think that will be a problem for Junior, who tends to take after me. Also, we were sternly warned that the bag is for school supplies only. Sorry, Sparky, I paid for it. It’s mine. I’ll use it for whatever I choose.

It also makes me wonder. I’m guessing that not all parents can readily afford these expenditures. And it might be a particularly undue burden on some of them. I guess that’s why we all pick up the tab on supplies. But what about the fees and such?

Complaints aside, her teacher and assistant seemed to be nice folks. And the school’s renovations were nice. And they have a lot of interesting items and activities in store. This is going to be fun. But I’ll still complain about it.

The Mrs. is not a fan of my language choices, a lot of times. But good news, dropping a few f-bombs is healthy:

Well, it turns out a potty mouth does more than earn your conversations an R rating: it actually relieves pain, according to a new study by Richard Stephens, John Atkins, and Andrew Kingston of Keele University in the UK. But that’s not all: you’d never know it from what your mom told you, but there are many positive, beneficial aspects of swearing, including harmless venting and social bonding (not to mention reams of adult comedy). Bad language does a lot of good.

Fuck yeah!

Sort of mood. Junior and I made some pickles, pickled garlic and pickled peppers:

From Home Life

Noms commence in a week or so.

Told you we went fishing:

From Kids

At the pond with Junior. Blog later. Maybe.

The kids dig watermelon. Trouble is, we can never eat a whole one before it goes bad. So, I started making watermelon popsicles. Fill your blender with watermelon and hit the juice setting. Then strain to get rid of pieces of seed. Place in a popsicle tray overnight and the kids love them.

Also, the latest creation is, and I am not making this up, cucumber popsicles. Our cucumber plants are out of control and, frankly, we can’t go through them all, even giving them to our neighbors. This is a bit more work but is delicious. Put a quarter cup of lime juice and a half cup of sugar in a pan and heat it up. While the sugar is dissolving, seed and peel 3 whole cucumbers. Put them in the blender and add your sugar and lime juice mix and hit the juice setting. Freeze in popsicle trays over night. No need to strain these.

Night before last, Junior and I headed to one of the fields near the house to pick blackberries. We should have waited a few days because ripe ones weren’t that easy to find. We’ll be going again soon and I expect more to ripen by, say, Friday. For the record, Junior is the worst blackberry picker in the world. Out of every four she’d pick, one made it to the bucket and three made it to her belly. Then, she carries the bucket on the way back home and eats them on the way. I think her involvement was a net loss in terms of production.

Took the kids to their grandparents this weekend for some swimming. Junior swam all the way across the pool. Cool.

We got a new dog a few months back. Then, a bit back, we got another one.

Junior has always wanted a cat. Neither the Mrs. nor I were ever cat people. But Junior was persistent. So, we now have a cat. Well, I think we still have it. I haven’t actually seen it since about 6:00 yesterday.

We’re up to three critters.

The theme on blogs lately seems to be kids and guns. A topic I’m familiar, since I have some of each. One is loud, requires regular maintenance, and is expensive to feed. Wait, actually, that’s both of them. Anyway, Laurel notes that BabyCenter tells you:

Get rid of them — they’re not safe around children.

Well, I did not get rid of mine and they are not around children. You cannot wrap the world in Nerf and your children in bubblewrap. There simply is no way to make your little darlings perfectly safe. Sure, you get rid of the guns. Then you have a home invasion. Or your child can drown in a bathtub. Or die by eating household chemicals. etc. The trick to this parenting thing is, uhm, being a parent and no amount bubblewrap can make up for using your brain.

Meanwhile, Marko ponders toy gun control:

I know there are parents out there who refuse to buy toy guns for their kids.

As a responsible gun owner, I’m of two minds on the issue. On one hand, I don’t want to encourage or even tolerate picking up the habit of unsafe gun handling. On the other hand, I don’t believe in the “pretend it doesn’t exist” prohibitionist approach to anything—guns, drugs, sex, or what-have-you—because those methods don’t work.

He continues discussing options. Now, I never really thought much about the toy gun aspect. We have toy guns. Our toy guns are even the little Nerf guns that actually shoot the little foam padded suction cups. They’re great fun. The kids and their cousins have little war with them all the time. I did the same thing when I was a kid and I handle real guns safely.

I’ve not done it with my kids yet but their older cousins (who are 9) have been shooting (airguns) with me. Their parents, who do not own guns, wanted me to teach them gun safety and I said OK under the pretense they actually go shooting too. And they did. Had a good time putting holes in cans with a Gamo. A few months later when I returned from the GSSF match and had to clean my gun. My nephews were there. They wanted to watch. I taught them how to field strip a Glock. Their mom seemed less happy about that than about the air rifle. But one thing I didn’t do was go hide the gun and act like it wasn’t there after they saw me take it out of the truck.

When we were at Disney, we went to animal kingdom. There was some exhibit that had all kinds of stuff on critters in the US. One thing we learned there was that a bat could eat 12,000 mosquitoes a night. So, they said building bat boxes was a good idea and a natural way to kill the little buggers. Well, I never built a bat box but we have a group of about six that I see frequently. I guess there is a cave nearby.

I bring this up because, right now, I am on the back porch continuing my silent protest of the tobacco bill by enjoying a nice Gurkha Legend. When I came out, I marveled at how quickly the mosquitoes swarmed the screened-in porch. They can’t get to me because I’m behind a screen. But I guess they sense my presence somehow (from my carbon dioxide emissions, iirc). And within a few seconds, about four bats were putting on a nice aerobatic show while sucking down the mosquitoes.

Snooping around my web album, I noticed the similarity between a pic I recently posted and one I posted a bit back. Now:

From Home Life

Then:

From Home Life

Lack of a kiddie pool aside, I thought the comparison was pretty neat.

Five years ago now, I was at the hospital with the Mrs. I was nervously pacing and carrying on. And we’d already been there for several hours. The Mrs. was hooked up to an IV. And we were many hours away from one of the happiest moments of our lives.

Happy birthday, Junior.

Wow, it’s been five years. I can’t recall a time when she wasn’t here.

Junior loves the show Fairly Odd Parents. Tonight’s episode contained this gem:

Timmy Turner: You mean, you’d let an unsupervised minor go on dangerous missions without worrying about his safety

Adult (handing him a gun): not without a really dangerous weapon.

Heh.

Had a storm yesterday. Our damage wasn’t quite as bad as JRs but we did come home to this:

From Home Life

That’s the kids kiddie pool in the field behind the house. That pool is 4.5 X 9 for scale. Also, apparently darn good quality since it did not pop on it’s journey.

Seems silly:

A Franklin woman will serve six months’ probation for leaving her 4-year-old daughter in a running vehicle while she went into a store.

Judith L. Rogers was charged with leaving a child unattended in a running motor vehicle, a class B misdemeanor.

My truck has one of those electronic keypads on the door so I can unlock it without a key. A few times I’ve had the kids in the car and realize that the place I stopped at for gas doesn’t have pay at the pump. So, I leave the air on, lock the door, and run inside to pay. The truck is locked and I always make certain that I can see my vehicle. It’s a lot more convenient than unstrapping two kids; taking them into a dirty gas station; then having to buy them a Slushee because once they see it, they must have one; herding them back to the truck while they’re under their initial sugary beverage rush; getting them back in their seats; and strapping them back in. I didn’t know I was breaking the law.

The kids are both going through a phase where crying is the reaction to, well, most things that disappoint. Can’t get your shoe tied, cry. Can’t get the pudding open, cry. I usually respond to them with something like You could try to do it another way. But the crying doesn’t help.

Also, after bath, it’s a race between Junior and the Second to see who can get dressed first. And the loser usually cries about that.

The other night, the race was on. Junior was hurriedly getting dressed and I was helping The Second put his jammies on. As a joke, I grabbed Junior’s pajama top and tossed it up on the bed to buy The Second some time. And she started crying. And I, in my usual fashion, state that she could sit there and cry about it or go get her top. And I say to her, for the millionth time, that crying doesn’t help. She runs up to the bed, gets dressed, and comes over to proudly display that she still won, despite dad’s attempt at a setback. She then looks at me and says See, crying did help.

Like father, like son:

From Kids

He keeps asking me to buy him the Sig P250 advertised in there.

Last night, Junior graduated from pre-school. The ceremony was entertaining and obviously all the kids were excited and anxious. I’ll miss that school; from other kids; to other parents; to the staff; the bye-bye buggy; the little knickknacks, doodles, and artwork she would bring home. Junior learned a lot of stuff there. She’s better off because of that place. In the Fall, she’ll be starting kindergarten. Where does the time go?

That’s awesome. But can she do this:

Conversation from the Uncle Household.

Me: You know how I always dreamed that Politically Incorrect Dog could talk and he had a deep voice with a British accent?

The Mrs: Yeah.

Me: Well, in my dreams, Flash sounds like Samuel Jackson.

The Mrs: Why do the dogs always talk in your dreams?

Me: Guess they got shit to say. That’s what Flash would say.

Tam notes that bogarting all the ammo is considered a faux pas these days. But some good has come from the ammo shortage. You see, when The Mrs. heads to Wal-Mart, she knows to look for some 45ACP, 380, and 223. Before, she didn’t really know what kind of ammo I needed. But now that it’s hard to find, she’s made the effort to learn and doesn’t need to call me and ask like she used to. They still never have ammo but she knows what I shoot now.

Today is the Second’s third birthday. Wow. Where does the time go?

I like to cook. The wife and I have various recipes strewn about the house on paper, note cards, and carrier pigeons. And I have the oft neglected recipes category on the blog. So, I decided it’d a good idea so start typing them up to put on the old webpage so that I can 1) find them easily; 2) share with people; and 3) for the kids to find later. I’ve discovered at this point in life that my mom and dad made some really damn good food. And I occasionally want some of the old favorites. But, I don’t have the recipe. So, I call up mom and ask how to make stuff. Like her clam chowder. So, if my kids want that, they’ll have it.

Speaking of mom, I generally like to make my own salad dressing. Here’s one of my faves from Mom: Hawaiian Dressing. And, so, it seems appropriate to start this new endeavor with a new favorite of mine: Homemade Caesar Salad Dressing (quick and easy).

1 cup mayo
1 tablespoon lemon juice
1 teaspoon Worcestershire
1 teaspoon minced garlic
1/2 cup Parmesan cheese
Quarter cup of milk

Add salt and fresh ground pepper to taste. Whisk until smooth.

Update: For you purists, no there’s no anchovy paste. Mostly because I don’t usually have any around.

Today, we register Junior for kindergarten. Can you believe that? Me neither.

I’m a bit bummed. See, a few weeks back, I had to get rid of my dog. I’m sad to say that Politically Incorrect Dog is no longer a part of the Uncle family. No worries about his well-being or anything like that. He’s found himself a good place and, per updates we receive, he’s doing quite well and is happy.

The reason he left was that, well, he was too much dog for two small kids. His attempts at getting affection and play were a bit on the reckless side. And he was clearly jealous of the amount of attention the kids received. I did not think for a minute that he’d intentionally harm my children but that he might do so inadvertently. He was corrected for the behavior yet it continued. And, well, with little ones around, there is no room for mistakes.

So, I delivered him to the nice lady who would be his new home. When I dropped him off, I cried. A lot. It’s a tough thing after you’ve had a dog for seven years. But leave it to Junior to add some levity to the situation. As I was leaving with him, she said So, can we get a kitty now? We’re undecided on the cat. She wants one but me and the Mrs. are not cat people.

Anyway, the Mrs. wanted a new dog. I was wanting to wait a bit. She was pretty insistent on getting a dog. And we know how that goes. We opted for a more docile animal. Meet Flash:

From Home Life

Only had him for a few days. Two and a half (ish) year old Bassett hound. A rescue, of sorts. Talk about extremes. I’m not used to having a dog that lounges around all the time. And in terms of obedience training, he has none.

A pic from breakfast:

From Kids

This weekend, me, the wife, and kids built a raised garden. Ours is 10X4. Gonna put some tomatoes, peppers, cucumbers and some veggies. Any suggestions for something I might be missing? Junior wants to do watermelons.

Update: I didn’t know it was a survival garden.

Coincidentally, compost is easy to get when you share a border with a cattle farm.

In the car and they were advertising the local symphony performance of Bollero on the local Vast Right Wing Conspiracy radio show. Got out of the car, me and the kids were walking and could hear some birds. I had the earworm Bollero in my head and started whistling it. Junior looks at me and says “I didn’t know you could speak bird.”

we did Animal Kingdom today. The rugrats seemed to have a great time. Also, that’s why the blogging has been light.

Right now, the kids and the Mrs. are asleep and I’m having a Macanudo and a bourbon on the patio.

We’re going on a safari. Later, kids.

If you are an owner of a dog that belongs to a ‘dangerous breed’ category and you also have a small child please take this as a warning. Don’t leave your dog with the child unattended under any circumstances.

Only a little moment was enough for the following to happen.

From Stuff

From Guav.

When your wife walks in and says You know that one chore around the house I never do? And then you’re not smart enough to realize that the question may either 1) be rhetorical or 2) if you keep your mouth shut, she’ll answer for you. So, you try to guess. A few times.

Via Roberta, comes a book called No Fear: Growing up in a risk averse society. Turns out, nannying them is probably not a good idea.

We got some snow the other day. Me and Junior built a snowman:

From Kids

You’ll notice our snow man is sheriff. We should have built him a snow gun because it seems some outlaw snow men came by with a snow shotgun:

From Kids

Junior keeps telling me my new name is Poopy Stinky Butt.

She’s also saying fart a lot. Not real bad but there are better words for it.

And we decided to let the kids watch A Christmas Story. Trouble is, a lot of it is inappropriate for a four or a two year old. Kids cussing, violence, and the F-bomb.

This from Michael reminded me of this:

For those not in the know about The Elf on the Shelf mentioned here, the elf is magic. He flies back to the North Pole every night and returns to a new location. When your kids wake up, they try to find his new location. It’s quite amazing that I can be in the car with two kids and point out a big red fire truck with it’s lights/sirens on right next to our car and they won’t see it and will keep asking where, where? But a little toy elf is found within seconds of waking up.

The power of observation.

Our kids watch a lot of Nick. There’s a commercial for Big Green Help, which encourages kids to be more eco-friendly. There’s a game shown on TeeVee that you can access at the website where you run around zapping threats to the environment. One of the threats is a big truck. And not just any big truck. A big truck that is morphed into some evil looking Transformer type of thing. I guess they’re trying to scare kids into saving the Earth.

I’m not a fan. I don’t care for the disease-ridden vermin. My mother in law likes them. In fact, she has several bird feeders and a bird bath to attract them for, as far as I can tell, the sole purpose of shitting all over her patio. One year, she asked me and the Mrs. if we’d like a bird feeder and a bird bath for our backyard. I said I would love an automatic moving-target re-generator. Both she and the Mrs. shot me a look. Needless to say, she didn’t get us either one.

I guess lots of people actually like birds. They like them to the extent that there is actually a market for bird bath warmers. No kidding. I know this because that’s what the mother in law asked us to get her for Christmas.

Heh.

I did ours this weekend.

He’s big into cars:

Market capitalization of General Motors: $3.2 billion.

Market capitalization of Mattel, Inc.: $4.9 billion.

The Mrs.’s grandmother isn’t doing so well. If you’re the praying sort, send a few her way.

Jay:

The greatest compliment I can imagine – and I get it frequently – is when one of my kids comes up, completely unbidden, and tells me that they love me. I eat that up for breakfast. It makes everything worthwhile, and I hope they do it until the day I die. No matter how fast they grow, or how big they get, I’ll never stop worrying about them, and I’ll never stop loving them with every fiber of my being.

I will, however, stop doing their laundry before they hit high school…

Marko notes that since he no longer has a TeeVee, he’s suffering a near-complete pop culture disconnect. Tam is in the same boat.

I have recently became disconnected from pop culture for a very different reason. I got TiVo. See, now I only watch what I want, when I want to watch it, and without commercials. I’m not exposed to what’s hot. Generally, I have no idea what movies are out (this week is the exception in that I know Madagascar 2 is out because the kids at Junior’s school are into that). I generally have no idea who any of the people are that are mentioned in the Yahoo! entertainment blurb that pops up on the home page. I have no idea who the people on the cover of any magazine at the supermarket are. Marko suffered a disconnect from getting disconnected. I suffered the disconnect by upgrading technology.

I don’t miss it. Most TeeVee sucks. I watch very few shows. A list would include Mythbusters, Battlestar Galactica, Family Guy, The Daily Show (occasionally), My Name Is Earl, Mail Call, Southpark and The Simpsons. That’s really it, except the occasional sporting/poker event. Southpark and The Simpsons are probably coming off the list because lately they suck. Now, I also manage to watch a whole lot of Blues Clues, Spongebob, Dora, Diego, Back at the Barnyard, and Fairly Odd Parents as a function of having kids. But they’re not exactly piping pop culture into the house. Of course, I’ve mentioned before Junior’s utter shock at the discovery of commercials.

Another interesting trend is that, once again because of technology, I can’t name a Top 40 song. No idea. But, then, I’ve never been a big Top 40 guy either. I download my music and pick only what I want to listen to.

I guess you can disconnect or plug in more heavily and become disconnected from pop culture.

So, for the election last night, I was clinging to my guns. OK, actually, I had to clean the Para 45 because I went to the range Sunday and hadn’t gotten around to it yet. After I got it apart and cleaned, I reassembled it. As a result, I had some gun oil on my hands. When I racked the slide, my oily hands slipped causing my left index finger to get pinched pretty badly between the slide and the barrel. It hurt.

But you know what hurts worse? Brake cleaner in an open wound.

Also, it bled quite a bit. I needed a band-aid. And the only band-aids I could find in the house were SpongeBob SquarePants band-aids.

Conversation from a couple of weekends ago:

Me: You want to call Poppa and Honey and tell them Happy Anniversary?

Junior: No.

Me: Why not?

Junior: ‘Cause that’s hard to say.

This past weekend, The City (My The City) hosted the Foothills Fall Festival. We took the kids on Saturday and watched some live music featuring a bunch of country singers I’d never heard of and Billy Ray Cyrus, who I have heard of but only ever heard one song – and you know which one it is. It’s not that these weren’t big names it’s just that I don’t listen to country. It was a good time. Our kids’ first concert.

Then on Sunday, we left the kids with the in-laws and me and the Mrs. went at watched a bunch of country singers I’d never heard of and Kenny Rogers. At 70, that man is one Hell of an entertainer. And it helped that I’d actually heard some of his songs before.

And the food was awesome. Funnel cakes and big greasy burgers. Oh, and one place had ribbon fries that were to die for.

It was a good time.

Junior likes to check the mail. And she likes to get the various packages we have delivered. Last night, the Mrs. notices a package on the front porch. And she tells Junior that there’s a package on the front porch. She excitedly runs to get the package. After a few minutes outside, she starts calling for mom. The Mrs. didn’t realize that it was 250 rounds of ammo that Junior couldn’t lift, but it wasn’t for lack of trying.

I got home late Sunday from the trip and my kids were asleep. I went to work Monday morning and only saw them briefly that morning. I got home Monday night and, after some play time and stuff, set about catching up on the ever-increasing honey-do list. I noticed Junior was hiding behind the big comfy chair, not uncommon for her and The Second to disappear behind the chair for a bit.

A bit later, she was out and running around. I look at the Mrs. and say Did Junior get a haircut? She tells me no. I said Hmm, looks like she did. I’m assured she did not. A few minutes later, the Mrs. says Oh my god, what did you do to your hair?

Apparently, while behind the comfy chair, she had a pair of scissors and was cutting the front of her hair. Boy, was the Mrs. pissed. She could have chewed some aluminum and crapped nails. I thought fireballs were going to come out of her eyes. I briefly felt sorry for Junior.

Lesson learned: let me know when the kids have scissors, which will now be in approximately never.

A bad slogan made into law. It would be kinda neat to have a Prius that sounded like a Harley, though.

Update: And Tam: There oughtta be a law to protect inattentive morons.

Coincidentally, I had to explain to Junior what an idiot was this morning because I used that word in reference to some kid. You see, one idiot child in my subdivision was crossing the street this morning with his head buried in his cell phone or iPod or some such. My truck is much louder than a Prius and if I were as inattentive as said idiot, said idiot might be a squishy spot right now.

Junior is into gymnastics, which she calls mynastics. It’s fun for her and she enjoys it. Yesterday, she was helping the Mrs. put up the laundry and her job was to put the towels up. She decided, while she was there, to practice her mynastics on the towel rack in the downstairs bathroom. Said towel rack is designed to hold a couple of towels and not 36 pounds of mynastics grade enthusiasm. So, the towel rack came off the wall. Later, when the kids were in the tub, I noticed the broken towel rack (I hadn’t yet been told it was broken). I asked what happened and Junior said she didn’t do it. The Mrs. then told me what happened. We had the talk about lying.

So, I decide to fix it. While fixing it, I look at Junior and tell her we don’t hang on things. And she asks me why. I say because if you do that, then you break my stuff and I don’t like that. How would you like it if I broke your stuff? Rest of the conversation goes like this:

Junior: Don’t break my stuff!

Me: But what if I did? Would you like that?

Junior: If you broke my stuff, I’d tell on you.

Me: Who would you tell?

Junior: Your dad.

Me: Do you know who my dad is?

Junior: Yes.

Me: Who is it?

Junior: Poppa

She did know.

It’s kinda funny because just this weekend the Mrs. bought that exact item for the kids. She was going to take it back to the store but my son really liked it.

This story was relayed to me by my wife. It was relayed to her by my mother in law, who apparently could not stop laughing while telling the story.

The grandparents (Mommo and Daddo) and kids pull up to a red light. The light turns green. The car in front of them does not go. Daddo waits a bit then honks the horn to let the guy in front know he should pay attention. After Daddo honks the horn, The Second says Beep beep. Junior says When that happens in Daddy’s car, he says fuck and damn.

Careful what you say and when you say it.

We’ve been working with Junior a bit on some things since she should start school next year. Some of those things include getting her to learn her address, write her name, etc. Like her dad, Junior has an attention span measured in seconds. So, getting her to sit down and focus is a trying task. So, for several nights, the Mrs. would say to Junior Let’s work on writing your name. Junior would refuse. Adamantly. She’d start crying and whining about it. After about a week of repeatedly asking, the Mrs. looks at Junior and, once again, says Let’s work on writing your name. And Junior says I don’t want to. Like she always does. The Mrs. says I’ll give you a dollar. And Junior says OK and proceeds to quickly write her name.

She knows the value of a dollar and how to write her name. I was so proud.

So, after all the festivities this Fourth of July, we had the in-laws over. And I had the pleasure of teaching two nephews (age eight) and my niece (age seven) gun safety. I printed off the four rules and had them each read the rules. Told them they’d be quizzed on the rules later too. They memorized and were reciting the rules pretty quickly. They were very excited about shooting.

After, we broke out the Gamo 220 Hunter, a rest, and a mat for shooting. Explained the rules of the backyard range (i.e., don’t cross the firing line; range hot and cold, etc.). I take the first shot so they know how the gun sounds.

First round of targets were at about 10 yards and I had stuck some Shoot-N-Cs to a 3/4 inch board. First nephew lines up his shot after I explain how to address the gun in the prone position; how to line up the scope; squeeze the trigger and do not snap it; etc. First round connects. Second nephew barely missed and I told him he pulled the gun. The niece missed as well. I attributed that to nervousness.

After that, all three were dead on. We shot all manner of can, water bottle, box, and more Shoot-N-C targets. They all took their targets home to show their friends.

I told them they could come back any time and we’d do it again.

Junior was invited. She came and watched the first shot by her cousin and then grew bored. Hard to keep a four year-old entertained when there’s a lot of just standing around.

The Mrs. is out of town. Just me and the kids. Can you tell?

In addition to the giant mess of toys everywhere, it’s one o’clock and we’re still in our jammies.

Breda told her mom about her blog.

Kinda interesting to me. See, I never really told anyone I knew in the real world about my website. I didn’t even tell my wife until after a year or so (and that’s only because she saw the domain hosting charge on the credit card). And, it wasn’t until about 2005 (when the blog was three) that I happened to mention it to a couple of friends. Then, one of those friends told another friend. He told my brother in law. And then, this year, my wife told my other brother in law. She even opined that she just thought everybody knew. And this year, my dad found out. He found out because I logged in at his house, did a quick post and didn’t clear history. He’s been reading ever since. In fact, he told me he went back one night and read the entire Notes to Junior Category. Other than that, I don’t really tell folks.

And in this post, some folks asked if I let the guy I mentioned know about the blog. I did not.

There’s a reason I don’t tell people. That reason is that if they read regularly, I’d eventually piss them off. It’s true. I have, for example, mentioned a few disagreements with folks on this blog. Now, imagine they hop on the internets and see me making fun of their position? And now that I know who knows, I can’t make fun of them anymore. It’s inhibiting.

The Second really digs the movie Cars. Like, a lot. Too much. On Monday, for instance, we watched it three times and it’s a two hour movie. And when we wants to watch the movie he starts saying the word Cars over and over.

Cars Cars Cars Cars Cars Cars

Anyway, he was saying that the other day. The Mrs. looks at Junior and says: I don’t think he knows any other words.

Junior looks at the Mrs. and says: He knows bubbles.

So, last night the kids were in the tub. I was in the bathroom with them trimming up my beard. I took the guard off the trimmer so that I could trim around my upper lip. About that time, the kids got into a fight over who got what particular bath toy and I had to intervene. I got back to the sink, took said trimmer and ran it right up the center of my beard. With the guard off because I forgot to put it back on. So, I had a nice big gap in the center of the beard. As a result, I had to shave off my beard.

Well, except our kids and dogs.

Random conversation at my house.

We got new neighbors. I met them a bit ago and they have three dogs. They were telling me about their dogs, of which they are quite proud. Seems their dogs are a cross between a Pomeranian and a Chihuahua. I was telling my wife about the dogs and what they were a cross between. But, as I told her, I couldn’t recall what they were called (other than mutt). And then I said: If I were naming them, they’d be called Pomerhuahuas because that’s just fun to say. And Chimeranian, in addition to not being fun to say, sounds like a mythical beast.

Turns out, I was wrong on both counts and they’re called Pomchis.

Heh.

So, tonight we got some friends over and we’re doing a beer butt chicken (more here). But that’s all preliminary as me and said male friend will get up at 0 early thirty and smoke about 55 pounds of Boston butts. And we’ll drink beer from about 0 early thirty until said butts are done.

Mmmm. I do like butts of all kinds.

Update: BTW, all this butt talk has Junior confused. We’ve told her that butt is a bad word. So, whenever I reference a butt she reminds me we don’t say that because it’s a bad word.

A few kids in my neighborhood have a case of teh st00pid. It’s true. Case one is that I and about three other cars are pulling into the neighborhood. Standing in the middle of the street are two boys who I’d put at between the ages of 11 and 13. Upon seeing the cars backing up, the two geniuses continued to stand in the middle of the street. For a good 20 seconds before I honked, shot them a stern look, and mouthed the word idiots. Not a good place to stand since the grass at the entrance to the subdivision is a bit tall and someone who was going too fast could fail to see you in time and it’s off to the ER with your dumb ass.

The second instance and I am not making this up. Again, driving home in my subdivision. There’s a kid on a bike in the middle of the street. I’m going slow enough to not be a threat. He’s not paying attention. He finally sees me and gets over. So far so good. I look over and see that he has a bow strung over his shoulder. And, I shit you not, in his left hand he’s carrying two arrows. That’s right. A kid on a bike is carrying arrows. Holy crap.

Early intervention is key at preventing teh st00pid. I don’t know how far gone these two are but someone (like say, the parents) should step up.

Update: Note that I am neither anti-bow nor anti-arrow. I just think if you’re carrying around arrows, they should be properly sheathed. Particularly, if you’re on a bike and run the risk of impaling yourself at slightly higher speeds than, say, walking.

Heh.

Yeah, I’ve been there.

Via MKS.

Or Abstinence Only sex ed makes kids stupid.

Yesterday, me and The Mrs. took the kids to Dollywood. On the way from the car to the entrance, it looked a bit cloudy as though it might rain. I said to the Mrs.: Maybe we should get the umbrella?

The Mrs.: What for?

Me (perplexed that she’s really asking what an umbrella would be used for): To fend off the lions.

One of my female readers (yes, I have a couple), emailed me regarding the post in which I complained about my wife’s purse:

It is MY EXPERIENCE that even while you men complain about the size of our purses, we are often asked to HOLD your things because we have room for them!

I’m constantly being asked by my boyfriend to put his camera, keys or something or other in my purse, because he doesn’t have room in his pockets!

I respond with:

I don’t complain about the size just the fact that she carries too much crap and can’t find any of the crap she carries. If I needed insulin, I would under no circumstance keep it in my wife’s purse.

I’m with Phelps, women just carry too much shit. Not counting clothing, on my person as we speak are the following:

Wallet
Keys
Watch
Wedding Band
Kel-Tec in holster
Extra mag for Kel-Tec
Phone (which has mp3 player, camera, GPS, and games!)
Knife

That’s it. You can drop me off almost anywhere in the country with those items and I’ll likely be fine. With the contents of my truck, it goes from almost anywhere to seriously anywhere.

What else do I need?

The Mrs. carries a monstrous purse. And she can never find her phone.

The Uncle household contains 14 trash cans.

I don’t know why but last night I decided to count them.

Update: I mentioned it to the wife. I was wrong. We have 16.

Update: Up to 17 now if you count the one under the shredder.

So, last weekend me, Junior and her cousin attended Michael’s daughter’s birthday party. Les Jones was there too. It was at Sprout Studio. It’s a neat place for small kids with lots of activities. Now, I’m not sure who came up with it first but Michael and I thought the place needed beer. And hot wings would be good too.

Pic from a couple of weekends ago of a future Triangle of Death member:

Junior has started saying Oh my God, that sucks. The reason she says it is because The Mrs. uses that phrase a lot. The Mrs. doesn’t like that Junior is saying that phrase. As the Mrs. said to me: You don’t realize how bad something sounds until you hear it from a three year old.

In other news, I think it’s the first time Junior has picked up saying something bad and it didn’t come from me.

Kim has part 2 of the series: Rimfires.

Kim discusses air rifles. I have a Gamo 220 Hunter that will work fine. Tomorrow, I’m heading to Coal Creek to get some pink furniture for Junior’s first AR. Assuming someone remembers to dig up a complete set from the back (hint, hint).

The other day, I mentioned to the Mrs. one of the new fuel efficiency vehicles. It’s a passing interest of mine. I figure in the next year or two, I’ll have the itch for a new ride. And I’m pretty sure the smart thing to do with our next vehicle purchases is to get something that has increased fuel economy. Right now, I have flex fuel vehicle. But the only place that sells E85 is Pilot Oil and I don’t shop there because Bill Haslam is a member of Mayors Against Guns. Anyhoo, that leaves the various hybrids, fuel cells, battery powered, and what not vehicles. I mentioned one to the Mrs. and she asks:

Why are those vehicles always so ugly?

Good question. They are all atrocious looking. That new Jeep concept is horrid. The Prius looks cheap. A few companies are getting it and just making existing body styles hybrid. I told the Mrs. I thought it was because they wanted them to look futuristic. But, apparently, the future is ugly.

In a school, a bunch of eight year olds build a town of Lego’s. The town, as is the natural order of things, becomes capitalist with the kids trading Lego pieces and various kids owning various property and Lego’s and such. The teachers then freak out what with all this free market idealism and stuff. The teachers, as it always happens in these cases use the threat of authority to turn the kids into communists. I shit you not. The whole thing can be read here. Some themes they re-educated the kids about:

Collectivity is a good thing

Shared power is a valued goal

Moderation and equal access to resources are things to strive for

And that is how we create kids that will grow up and vote for Obama.

I think I would sell that to Dyson to be used in a commercial.

No, it is not a Mister Winky, it is a hoohoodilly.

They communicate differently!

The grandparents picked the kids up from school and kept them a few hours. The Mrs. picked up some sushi for dinner. And she and I stayed home drinking and playing Wii. Do I have a great wife or what?

Always … no … Never let your wife know that you know how to hang shelving. At least this batch is in the office closet so I can type this up quick.

In the mornings, I take the kids to school. My job is to get them ready and all that. This got considerably easier once Junior learned to dress herself.

Occasionally, I get it wrong. See, the other day, I sent The Second to school with two left shoes on his feet. In other news, why do we have two identical pairs of shoes?

Also, Junior likes to wear her pants backwards. I don’t know why. She swears they’re not backwards when you point it out to her. Not sure why she does that either. The other day, she dressed herself. I informed her that her pants were on backwards. She argued a bit and then turned them around. We get in the truck and (as she does almost every morning) she decided she had to go pee. So, unstrap her from the car seat so she can run inside. She gets back to the truck and off we go.

I pick her up after school that day and there’s a note saying her pants were on backwards. So, she tricked me. She swapped her pants when she went to the bathroom and I didn’t think to check.

The school must think I’m retarded.

Real gun safety works.