He recorded some stuff featuring his new favorite toy (Trash Packs) and we may put some up tonight.

I actually talked a little bit about self-defense with my kids and my nephews and nieces. Teaching them useful things like fight in public and never go to a second location. And not to scream help in public since that doesn’t get attention but rather to scream things like You’re not my daddy. I don’t know you. Leave me alone.

A five year old who can’t clean his room, fold his own laundry, or remember to flush the toilet can hop on the internet and tell you that the local Target store has an item in stock. I like living in the future but not that much.

Heh.

They were watching Lifetime while scrap-booking.

I laughed. Internet trolling in real life.

Believe – Trapped Under Ice
God’s Gonna Cut You Down – Johnny Cash
Nothing Compares 2 U – Me First and the Gimme Gimmes*
Turning Point – Superjoint Ritual
Bring the Noise – Anthrax
The Horror and The Gag – Ramallah
Madhouse – Hed P.E.
This Dearkened Heart – All That Remains
Three Little Pigs – Green Jello*
Punk Rock Girl – Dead Milkmen*

The ones with asterisks are there because they’re on the kids play lists and they like those songs. I like them too. The rest seem to be the first song of particular play lists I listen to most.

it’s funny ’cause fat people are falling.

That show, by the way, I think marks the end of western civilization.

We were shooting at pumpkins and gourds left over from the fall season. Now, he’s five. You can see he’s having some trouble shouldering the suppressed 10/22. Over CTD, they’re discussing guns for the young shooter. And this reminded me that my dad, who was there when my son was shooting, said maybe I should get him a Mare’s Leg in 22LR. He could shoulder that. Something to consider.

Her: Yes, you argue about dumb crap too.

Me: No I don’t. And don’t say crap.

Her: Oh, yes, you do.

Me: When have I argued about dumb stuff?

Her: Always.

Me: I do not.

Her: Uh huh.

Me: Oh please.

Her: You’re arguing about dumb stuff right now.

Me: Well played, Sparky.

And I laughed hard. I was both taken aback and proud that I was outsmarted by my 7 year-old daughter. Still brings a smile to my face.

Update: Rage comic by Michael. LOL.

She asks me then Where did that come from?

But, she’s right, parents these days probably wouldn’t let their kids bob for apples.

I immediately opened it, took the contents out of the handle, played with the compass. Sorted out the matches and fishing stuff in the handle. Dad didn’t want me playing with all that stuff and told me to put it away. I didn’t. So, he took the knife from me. This was in 1982.

Monday night, I met dad for the weekly card game. He asked me to get something out of the hallway closet. While doing that, I saw the knife sitting in there. I picked it up and showed it to dad. And I reminded him of taking it from me. He laughed and sad Well, you’re forty now. I guess you can have it.

Then at about noon, we got a call that a friend of mine’s dad had died.

And, then, about thirty minutes before the festivities were to start, my mom called to say that dad was on his way to the ER. They were driving to my party when dad’s vision got flaky. He’d had a heart attack. He’s fine now and home. Very minor but, still, gets your attention.

Other than that, it was a good birthday. Catching up with old friends, a nice little get together where we all say we should do this more and then we never do. One of my friends, I hadn’t seen since my wedding. It was good to catch up.

And here I was not fretting about being over the hill when life smacked me right up side the head with a dose of mortality.

Anyway, it’s a fantastic machine that gives you all the carbonated awesomeness you can stand. However, every time I’m at the sub shop partaking of this phenomenal piece of technology, I manage to get behind an 80 year old woman who is looking at the machine much like I think my 5 year old would look at a quadratic equation. And it takes ten minutes for them to either find Diet Coke or realize the iced tea is still in the machine on the counter.

See, I never wanted cats but Junior did. And the Mrs. caved but I didn’t. I was adverse to keeping a box of turds in the house. And, so, I finally agreed under the arrangement that 1) the litter box would be kept clean and 2) I’d never have to empty it. Like most marital arrangements, that lasted about two days. And I was doing more than my fair share of emptying it since my fair share was zero.

So, being weary of emptying the turd boxes daily, last night I turned it over to Junior. And she fought me every step of the way. The conversation went roughly like this:

Me: It’s time you started emptying the cat litter.

Junior: I don’t want to.

Me: They’re your cats. Time you take some responsibility for them.

Junior: No. I don’t want to.

Me: This is not a negotiation, you do not get a say, and what you want will not change the outcome.

There was a lot of whining and fussing but we made our way to the litter box where I showed her the scoop and the bags. I even held the bag for her. And she thought she was done. When I reminded her that we had another litter box to empty. More whining.

Junior: I already did one. You do the other.

Me: No, Babe, you’re going to be responsible for your pets.

Junior: Fine!

Me: Doesn’t having cats suck?

Junior: No! You suck!

At that point, I was rolling on the ground laughing that she said that. Probably shouldn’t have encouraged her but the tone in her voice just floored me. I’m still laughing about it. Any way, we both laughed as she emptied the other turd box.

I’ve actually explained this to my wife before but there are certain sounds that drive me insane, make me uncomfortable or really piss me off. A continuous rap on a hard surface and I have to leave the room. The sound of babies crying, who are not my own, I cannot listen to. Or whining dogs.

When Junior was just shy of four, she watched intently as I used a cordless drill to tighten some screws. She asked about it. I sat her down in the work area of my basement and gave her a couple of old boards, a handful of screws, and the drill. I showed her how the drill worked, how to hold it, and how to change it from tighten to loosen. She sat there for about 45 minutes putting screws in the boards, taking them out, and bolting them together. After, she tried the hammer too. At three years old.

That was 19 years ago at the Starwood Amphitheater.

Lollapalooza turns 20 this year. And MTV turns 30.

How did that happen?

Children who are not exposed to risks can’t learn to cope with them. The world is not coated in Nerf and bubblewrap. And kids should know that.

Mom: It wasn’t fun?

Son: We sat there and the lady talked to us the whole time.

Upon hearing of the conversation, I say to him Well, get used to that. You’re going to spend a lot of time doing that.

Regardless, he’s old enough to start school.

When did that happen?

Now, I understand the reasoning here. The conservation minded would like you to use one button for number one and the other for number two, thereby saving some water and utility bills and stuff.

But here’s how it actually worked. The kids saw the two buttons and I explained to them how it worked. They each then proceeded to hit each button about six times so they could verify that, yes, one button did actually use less water.

Me: I’d go south.

Her: Why?

Me: Because the only thing that sucks more than fighting zombies is fighting zombies in the cold.

Her: So, we can fight zombies on the beach?

Me: Yes.

Her: Awesome!

And just prior to that, she asks her mom: Why would someone make up the word vampire when vampires are not even real?

I chime in with: Same reason someone would make up iCarly. Entertainment.

Her: Shut up, Dad.

I wonder if she’s been watching the news?

And, this morning, I dropped Junior off for her last day of first grade. She didn’t seem to care about it too much. But I did.

When this happens, I sit back and wonder where the years went. And someone reminded me on Facebook that They may have went, but they were full.

Indeed.

I was unaware though that today is also Tactical Day. I have tactical kids.

Grass mowed, cars washed, sink fixed. Meal number four in the new grill is coming along nicely. Will add some portabellas in a bit:

From Home Life

Also, at the light, a Dodge Charger revved at me. Very well, I accept your challenge. And then the realization I was in the wife’s SUV. Oh well.

And the kids found a swimming hole in the creek. Big fun.

From Kids

Photo by Oleg.

From Sauce

Mixing it up this time, I added some mangoes and an apple to the usual combination of onion, ginger root, tomato and peppers. Gives it a nice sweet flavor. Now, chop all those veggies up and set aside:

From Sauce

Remember that bacon grease? You left it in the pan, right? Well, heat it back up to medium and toss in quite a bit of minced garlic:

From Sauce

After the garlic gets a bit of a browned look, toss in all those cut up fruits and veggies:

From Sauce

Cook on medium or low until tender, stirring regularly:

From Sauce

Now, you can skimp on a lot of things in this recipe but not on the spices. Don’t buy cheap chili powder or paprika. I like the Spanish paprika and medium chili powder from Penzeys. Here, we have some paprika, chili powder, and black pepper (ground in a coffee grinder):

From Sauce

Add enough chili powder to soak up some of the moisture, probably about half a cup. Add paprika, black pepper and some kosher salt to taste:

From Sauce

Stir it up to get those fruits and veggies coated in a nice layer of spicy goodness. Cook for about 5 minutes:

From Sauce

Let it cool, or the next step could be painful. While you wait, you can read you daughter’s book on Samoyeds.

From Sauce

Drop that concoction in the blender and hit the liquefy button:

From Sauce

Now, we have what looks like baby food:

From Sauce

Trust me, it gets better looking. Add the rest of the ingredients, which are (approximately – use your own judgement):

You could puree up some tomatoes and sugar and vinegar or read the ingredients on ketchup and use about four cups of it.
1 cup yellow mustard
1.5 cups apple cider vinegar
1 cup Worcestershire sauce
1/2 cup lemon juice
1/2 cup dark molasses
1/2 cup honey
2 cups brown sugar
1/4 cup Soy sauce
Some hot sauce if you want. That jalapeño was kinda mild so I added a few dashes.

From Sauce

Now, if you happen to have your smoker going, you can cook this on it in a big pot. But I’m feeling lazy today so I’ll add a bit of Liquid Smoke and finish it in the Crock Pot. Not much Liquid Smoke, a little goes a long way:

From Sauce

Whisk away until nice and smooth:

From Sauce

And, now, that baby food looks like sauce. Leave on low heat in the Crock Pot covered all day and stir every once in a while:

From Sauce

From Kids

I note his teacher cannot spell but I’m not one to talk.

From Drop Box

And alphabet blocks too!

By the way, in my house that is known as The Bureau. You see, on top of my safe is my humidor and to the left is my beer fridge. So, it’s the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms.

Life is risky. Katie wonders if they ask about pools, chemicals, and hot tubs.

A lot of gun owners stay in the closet and don’t admit they own guns, depending on the area where you are. Here, I pretty much presume that most households have guns. And I choose to educate my kids on guns. My kids know that any time they want to shoot a gun, just ask. And I’ll take them. It eliminates the curiosity if they can do it when they want. And, of course, they know the rules.

Prior to Junior’s first shots:

From Kids

If you’re a parent and you don’t have a supply of 100w incandescent bulbs, you’ll need one for the oven. It doesn’t come with one. And congress banned their sale. Fortunately, we managed to store up some pre-ban light bulbs.

I sneak into her room and slide my hand under the pillow. Grab the bag the tooth is in and she stirs. So I hightailed it out of there. Had to wait a few minutes sneak back in with the five spot. She can be a light-sleeper.

Other things I’ve had them do include:

Rake leaves
Pick veggies from the garden
Help me wash the cars, they get tire duty
Wipe up the water they leave in the bathroom floor after they shower
Carry in groceries

Junior actually volunteers to clean the windows.

Man, where did the time go?

He explains to me that he modded it. Turns out, you can replace the springs in it with springs you get at Lowe’s. The also come with a power restricting dampener, that he had removed. And he used duct tape to make the air chamber smaller.

I was so proud. A future gun nut. But I knew that already.

Heh.

For my birthday Friday, the kids made a me a couple of cards. It’s always fun to hear their explanations for why they put a certain sticker or doodle on the card. And they always make me smile. A bit after giving me the cards they made, Junior comes walking up to me later with her hands behind her back. She pulls out something from behind her back and hands it to me. It’s the card that the grandparents gave her. Except that she’s scratched out her name and wrote my name there, addressing it to me. And in the card is the $20 she got from the grandparents, which she said that it was the best present ever. I had to agree. She gave me what was the most important thing to her that day. I kinda teared up a little.

I told her I had my eye on a new DS game so maybe she could go with me and we’d spend my money on that. She said it was a good idea then gave me a coupon for a free ice cream, another gift she values immensely.

Later, me and the wife had a good laugh about it, she pointed out that the grandparents only gave the kids $10 each. So Junior had taken her brothers money and given it to me too.

Still, it’s the thought that counts.

And, the other night, she was playing Angry Birds on my droid. She comes up to me and says Daddy, I can’t get it to work. She shows me the screen. Somehow she had installed a speed dating application on it. Gotta watch those ads, I guess.

Wife: Aw, how cute

Me: With his wiener.

Anyway, I’ve told the kids to watch their mouths. I told Junior she needed to get her language under control or she would get in trouble. She says to me What if I accidentally say a bad word?. And I ask her how she could possibly say a bad word accidentally. She says Well, if I say shampoo, then I’ve said poo.

I guess you can’t argue with that.

I sat there for a moment pondering what exactly a four year old could ask about his junk. And I settled on things like: What are they for? Why are they fun to play with? Why does it hurt when I get hit in them?

You know, typical ball stuff. Because, frankly, I had no idea what he was about to ask.

I walk in to the bathroom and he’s in the tub checking himself out. And I say Your mom said you had a question about your dudes? Then, he does something that if I did would cause me to lose the ability to walk for a few minutes. With a firm grip, he asks me Why they have “cracks” in them? I tell him that those are veins and blood vessels. I show him that he has the same on his arms. And explain blood flow as best I can to a four year old. He seems satisfied with that answer.

Then he asks why they feel like grapes.

I have no idea.

With kids, you mentally prepare for something, and it never goes the way you prepare for.

He sat on the couch watching TV and drinking Sprite to settle his stomach. He sat there for about four hours. He finally got hungry and asked for Froot Loops. Having felt bad because he was sick and hadn’t eaten the night before, I gave in and let him have some. And I let him have another bowl. We get to the doctor’s office where they run tests and whatnot. The doc comes back, alarmed, and says that my son’s blood sugar is “over 300″. And they think he may have diabetes. I inform the doc that he had the Froot Loops so that was probably it. My son chimed in to say that, when I wasn’t looking, he snuck a cereal bar or maybe two. And, of course, the Sprite. Still, wanting to be safe rather than sorry, follow up tests were scheduled, as was a trip to an endocrinologist.

Just a bit ago, I got the final word that he does not have diabetes. His spike was caused by a combo of not eating dinner the night before, dehydration from vomiting, and a diet consisting almost entirely of sugary products because I felt sorry for him.

Several doctor visits, tests, vials of blood, screaming, and hundreds of dollars later, it’s because of poorly timed Froot Loops. The moral is no more FrootLoops before doctor appointments.

Like dad says, life is short and hard like a bodybuilding elf.

One of my nephews looks at the stereo then at me and says What’s a Butthole Surfer?

Got to be more mindful. And not the first time I’ve had issues with the nephews and music.

From Kids

And look at that form. Todd Jarrett Kung Fu grip and all. Not bad for a nine year old.

I love how I buy Spam Light and you cook it in bacon fat.

And I laughed.

Then I wondered exactly what percentage of cars actually have GPS systems? I’d say quite a few. And if the GPS systems transmit as well as receive? Mine transmits since it’s a Droid. Then it occurred to me that if cars with GPS systems transmitted their location, then someone could use that information for live traffic reporting. A bunch of GPS systems in one spot would indicate a problem.

Technology is kinda scary.

From Home Life

See how it’s clean where the silly string landed? So, silly string can restore iron. Who knew?

In the car, I have an iPod that feeds the stereo system. I keep a couple of playlists of kids’ songs for when they’re in the car. This weekend was kinda depressing. Junior was telling me which of her new songs she wanted in the car and that she didn’t want some of the old songs anymore.

I replaced Animaniacs, Jack’s Big Music Show, and They Might Be Giants with Justin Bieber, Hannah Montana, Taylor Swift and Lady Gaga.

*sigh*

The latest one I’ve run across is this piece, wherein our heroine asserts she may have married the last manly man. A new twist on an old classic. And I can sympathize.

Except that it’s nonsense. Manly men, real men, etc. are everywhere. They’re out working in their yard now; at the office; working on a car; playing with kids; teaching a dog to fetch a beer; getting manicures; or where ever else. Yeah, that’s right. Getting manicures. A lot of folks seem to think there are certain lists of specific behaviors that indicate what is and isn’t a real man. That’s also ludicrous. Personal grooming preferences make you no less a manly man than drinking beer, farting and scratching your ass make you more of a man. Real men are still there but perceptions have changed. Social roles have changed. Men may or may not be the primary breadwinner and that doesn’t make them more or less a man. And men now take a far more active role in childcare. Hell, that definitely makes them more of a man. Being a real man or manly man is more about stepping up or down when you have to.

Also, social perceptions of the ideal man have changed. We’re quick to jump and say that this person is or isn’t a real man. Even though that man is portrayed as a sex symbol in popular culture. Before, it was rough and tumble men of action. Now, it’s men of action who wear nice clothes and get manicures. There’s not a man I know that hasn’t looked at a trailer for one of the Twilight movies and laughed at the feminine male vampire lead. But none of us have met Robert Pattinson and don’t know if he’s a real man or not. Meanwhile, soccer moms are acting like the hyper tweens they were when they attended that New Kids on the Block concert in high school.

I do agree with the author that a lot of the issues with men these days are the result of the death of manners. It costs nothing to be polite. Take your hat off. Open the door for a woman. And ladies first. But I think the death of manners is because people don’t get their asses kicked any more. That is, folks don’t encounter one of these manly men for guidance that often. A good friend of mine has a son older than both my kids. His son is into sports and as rough and tumble as they get. But he opens the door for my little girl, lets her go first, and offers her the first juice box. He’ll be a manly man. His dad has done well.

Via Glenn.

I asked why that was. and where she learned that. She said she didn’t know. I explained to her that gun is not a bad word. And no to believe every thing everyone tells her.

This sort of left me scratching my head, honestly.

But an interesting thing happened. Nothing.

She’s never asked. It’s never come up.

From Travel

Here’s a pic from the dog sled, which was more like a dog cart. In the off season, sleds don’t go as well as a wheeled cart. Who knew?

From Travel

We also flew to a glacier and here’s a shot from the plane:

From Travel

Mount McKinley is back there somewhere, behind the clouds. Here’s Pippi err The Mrs. standing on a glacier:

From Travel

And here’s a view from the lodge:

From Travel

We were behind that having some local brewed Alaskan beers.

From Travel

I note they did not ask us to discontinue use of any electronics prior to decent. Our runway:

From Travel

Poor moose:

From Travel

No word on how many people died. BTW, moose are gigantic.

At first, I was like:

From Travel

And then, I LOL’d:

From Travel

The major difference between a polar bear and black/brown bears is that polar bears actually consider people to be food. Or so I am told.

On the plane, I sat next to a woman from NBC. I asked her what she was doing and she said “covering Sarah Palin”. I said “Oh, are you stalking her and planning on moving in next door?” and she said that she was actually there to do a story on the crazy stalker guy who bought the house next to her write his book on her. She even said that he was a crazy stalker guy.

No one in Alaska is in a hurry. This also, unfortunately, applies in traffic.

Everyone is very, very polite. I say that as a Tennessean. When folks from Tennessee think you’re very, very polite then you’re really polite

Speaking of Palin, the town of Wasilla looks like any small or midsized town in the US. Quite clean, SuperTarget, and strip malls. Not the podunk, hick town I was expecting from the press.

Free public ranges! Well, OK. One. I saw it on the drive.

When you reserve a compact car (because it’s all that’s available), they actually give you a four door F150.

In AK, iPhone beats Droid because I have no data plan that works without roaming.

Despite rumors, I did not kill a grizzly bear in a national park, re-igniting the park carry debate. Wasn’t me

In downtown Anchorage, I saw a vehicle with the ar15.com logo sticker on it. Small world, made smaller by the internet.

The city that Northern Exposure’s Cicily was patterned after looks nothing like it. And Talkeetna is fun to say.

In some of the smaller towns, there are no street numbers in addresses. You just hope to be observant.

Related, your GPS won’t work. You need a special Alaska GPS. Sounds like a scam to me.

The scenery is quite breathtaking. Took a plane ride to a glacier. How often do you get to stand on top of 5,000 feet of solid ice? Or land on it in a plane?

In the off season, sled dogs practice with wheeled carts and I got to ride one.

Tomorrow, I must work.

Him: I did?

Me: Well, you are four today.

Him: Yeah. I did grow last night.

Happy birthday, son.

The police department came by our school to teach us about gun safety. And they sucked at it.

Followed by my other nephew, who looks at his mom and says:

Are we allowed to say sucked?

AR-15 22LR conversion kit (available at Brownells)

conversion unit

Took it to the range Saturday in Junior’s pink AR and ran 3 magazines through it. It ran perfectly. I was hitting clays at 30 yards with it easily (not flying, stationary). Next, I’ll give it a go with some subsonic ammo.

This weekend, I had to go do some grocery shopping. An otherwise uneventful trip to the supermarket ended oddly. I was at the check out and some elderly man walks by and asks the cashier if they have a pay phone. She says they do not. He seemed a bit flustered and concerned so I offered him use of my phone. He was thankful, said his phone’s battery had just died, and he just needed to call his wife and tell her he was running late. He made the call and left a message. He gave me the phone back and said bless you.

Then, I’m in the parking lot loading my groceries in the car when a man comes walking toward me. He seemed a bit disheveled and intent on being near me so I made sure my truck’s door was between us and had my weak side toward him. He holds his hands out toward me palms up and begins to speak. Conversation goes like this:

Him: I ain’t no bum or nothing [he shows me his calloused hands that indicate he was a laborer]. I’m a roofer. I work for [such and such].

Me: [an odd opener I thought] I believe you. Can I help you?

Him: Today’s payday and I just spent my entire check to fix my wife’s car [he motions to a car and a woman and child are sitting in the car, it's not running]. It’s just about out of gas and I need some gas to get my family home to [a few towns over].

Me: Sure. How far a drive is that? [And I hand him $10.]

Him: ’bout 50 miles. Do you have a card or a phone number? How can I get this money back to you.

Me: Don’t worry about it. Be safe and get your family home.

Him: Bless you.

Me: Thanks.*

I get in my car and start heading home. My phone rings. It’s the number the first guy called. She inquires who it is and I explain that I loaned her husband my phone so he could call. I tell her he said that he was going to be a bit late. And she thanks me and says “bless you.”

* yeah, his story could have been bogus. Who knows? But he did have a wife and kid in his car. I believed him. And I’m not gonna leave a woman and child to sit in Kroger parking lot.

From Pink AR

From Pink AR

Her birthday is in June. I can’t wait.

Not bad. So, NK, that solution already taken care of. But not the solution I’m looking for.

And more

And Music for Aardvarks:

It’s campy kids’ music but it’s good. Of course, I also expose my kids to my music. Junior currently loves She Don’t Use Jelly by Flaming Lips and sings along to every word. Which is funny:

Also, I’ve always liked They Might Be Giants. My kids like their songs too and sing a long to almost all of them. Because of my kids, I discovered there were a lot cartoons that used TMBG songs, such as Tiny Toons:

And, of course, TMBG do a lot of TeeVee themes.

Listening and singing along to music with your kids is probably one of the funnest things to do ever.

Junior: Why is the cat sneezing so much?

The Mrs.: I think she’s allergic to something. Could be something new in the house.

Junior: The Elf on the Shelf is new in the house.

The Mrs.: He is new in the house.

Junior: And he goes back to the North Pole every night.

The Mrs.: Yes, he does.

Junior: The cat is allergic to the North Pole.

how would you describe your success with concern to having children and guns in the same house?

Like this:

From Kids

I’ve told Junior that any time she ever wanted to go shooting, she just had to ask. And we’d drop whatever we were doing and go. So, there’s no need for her to handle a gun out of curiosity when I’m not around.

I’ve written about Kids and Guns quite a bit.

We, generally, have access to information at all times. Instantly. Within a few clicks of a mouse or buttons on your smart phone, you can convert gallons to M³, find a recipe for goulash, do algebra, calculate adjustments for windage, learn first aid, confirm that Johnny Galecki was actually Rusty in Christmas Vacation, and anything you want or need. You don’t have to commit a lot to memory because you can look it up. In other words, you have a hard drive.

This is interesting to me. See, as a financial guy, I’ve spent a lot of time learning and retaining lots of information. I mean, other than dick jokes and song lyrics. Information that I and anyone else can look up instantly online. That wasn’t always the case but it is now. Seems the future will belong to those who learn to quickly look stuff up.

One of these days my kids will say something like I don’t need to know that 2.2 kg equals a pound 2.2 pounds equals a kilogram* or how to solve quadratic equations. And they’ll be right. What they will need to know is how to use information.

The future is thinking not knowing.

* ETA: LOL. From memory, I got it wrong. Shoulda googled it.

I have a few pet names for my lovely wife, such as sweetie and honey. I also refer to her, at least weekly, as the light nazi. My wife has this superpower to detect wasted electricity almost instantaneously. For example, if I leave a light on and exit the room, she immediately hones in on the room using her bizarre extrasensory capabilities (seriously, the Department of Homeland Security could probably use her to detect unusual electrical fluctuations). Upon her discovery that I am ‘heating the neighborhood’ or ‘letting the flies out,’ I’m in for a quick reminder to turn out lights and shut doors.

One problem I have with her ability is the fanatical zeal in which she enforces her duties as the sworn protector of home electrical efficiency. Another example: when I am in our office and have the lights on then decide I’d like a refreshing beverage, by the time I return from the kitchen the lights are off in the office. Also, in her zeal, she has turned lights off on me while I’m still in the room reading. She seems so obsessed with ‘saving that quarter’ that she occasionally fails to notice that someone is actually benefiting from the use of the electricity in question.

My wife apparently has been saving up all this electricity usage for the holidays. Every year, me and the wife also get into an argument over Christmas decorations. The argument stems from the fact she wants to put the decorations up right after Labor Day. Whereas, I prefer them to be put up about the second week of December. This past weekend, satisfied that she had saved up enough electricity to warrant decorating for the holidays, yours truly wound up doing a lot of work in preparation for the upcoming holidays. Until this past week, the wife and I were the only ones living in our subdivision. We just got a new neighbor so I suppose the new neighbor was the cause of the tackiness that is holiday decorations. Since, other than us, he’ll be the only one to see them. Unless of course people start driving down a new subdivision to look at houses in the dark.

On Saturday, the wife and I pulled all the holiday knickknacks out of the attic and started decorating the house. I argued about it less this year than ever. I basically said ‘honey, it’s not even Thanksgiving yet?’ and she replied with ‘but Thanksgiving is late this year.’ I shrugged and said ‘Oh.’ Learned helplessness has finally set in. I can just agree and do it quicker then I can disagree, argue, and wind up doing it anyway. Ah, the holiday spirit.

We put out our Frosty the Snowman salt and pepper shakers, put up our Christmas tree, put a Nativity scene on the mantle, and put out all the other stuff from the eight boxes that were in our attic labeled ‘Christmas.’ This took up half our day.

Sunday rolls around, and I find out the wife had bought about nine boxes of icicle lights. Yours truly was then taken to task to take said nine boxes of lights (at 300 lights per box) and trim the house with them. A friend came by to help. Fortunately for me, my friend had done this before. I hadn’t.

Your average SayUncle is about six feet, one inch tall and weighs about 170 pounds. Your average SayUncle is also lethargic on the weekends. And your average SayUncle’s natural habitat is some primitive, oblong, leather bedding (commonly referred to as a ‘couch’) where the SayUncle stalks its prey, the elusive Sam Adams and the only slightly less-elusive rum and Coke. Your average SayUncle is also poorly equipped for climbing steep inclines, which is a required skill when hanging 2,700 icicle lights. The reason the average SayUncle is so poorly equipped for climbing is because the largely sedentary SayUncle often catches several Sam Adams’ or rum and Cokes per day on the weekends, in between naps of course. Mind you, the only known SayUncle in existence hasn’t lived in its natural habitat since it wed the SayAuntie, who is hell bent on destroying the SayUncle’s natural habitat.

The friend shows up. We put the ladder up to the house and he climbs up. Then I climb up. I realize in about five seconds that my boots are poorly equipped for walking on the roof. You need something that allows you to bend your ankles. It was also at this point that I realized I’d never really used a ladder to climb on a roof before. And that I didn’t really know how to get from the roof to the ladder, and subsequently to the ground, safely. After my friend’s instruction, I figured the whole ladder thing out, climbed down, and put on some sneakers. Then it’s back up the ladder to discover my friend had already placed one box of lights. Then, I cut myself on the gutters. I refuse to climb down and am content to finish the job while bleeding on the hangers. We then develop a system in which I place the hangers and my friend inserts the icicle lights into the hangers. About three hours later (when it’s dark, but we’re working with lights so . . ) we’re done.

I call the wife. The friend calls his wife. And we all stand around outside looking out over our icicle lights and the lighted garland on the porch. My wife looks me lovingly in the eyes and smiles, she’s happy. I look at her and smile. The whole time thinking that we will waste more electricity on these Christmas lights this year than I will waste by leaving lights on for the rest of my life. Also, I hope our only neighbor appreciates the holiday display because I don’t think anyone else is going to be driving by our subdivision to look at our lights. I put my arm around my wife and smile again because I know that I’m bleeding on her holiday sweater.

With the light nazi appeased, the SayUncle was allowed briefly to return to his natural habitat before bedtime.

Happy holidays!

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.

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