Squat

The Sister says she's done checking my blog because she's been checking it all week and I haven't "done squat."

Excuuuse me. It's been a busy week. Those happen when you have an actual job.

It got started early too. Sunday night I had to deal with this...



Then I spent most of the week in glamorous southeast Mississippi. That's right Bassfield, Columbia, McComb, and Picayune...where I bought a King Cake from Paul's Pastry to share with The Sister and her's on Thursday night. She couldn't be bothered though...canceled on us.

And one of y'all should probably keep the ASPCA and Child Protective Services on speed dial.

First of all...Mary-Cathcart. This cat thinks it's the funniest thing ever in the history of animal domestication to get up on the counter. It's like a game to her. She leaps up and scrambles behind the coffee pot or the blender...juts her head out, gives it a few jerky bobs...like a snake lookin' to strike. We holler at her, she scrambles to hide, we drag her out, toss her on the floor. She runs around the kitchen island and jumps on the other counter.

Sunday night me and Allan caught her loungin' on a kitchen towel where the boys sippy cups and plates had been stacked to dry...had been. She just looked at us like..."what...WHAT?". I love that cat...she's my cat but, I'mma kill her if she don't learn some manners.

Then there's The Boy. A couple of weeks ago he got the pneumonia. When I took him to the doctor he was fine except for the 103 temp. Then they gave him the steriods. It was like living with a midget wrestler for a week...a villainous one.

Roid Rage!

That passed but in the short amount of time that he was sick and we were a little more lenient...he picked up some habits. Like throwing at the first sign he's not getting his way.

Yesterday evening we had a great time..we went to Lemuria, we walked around Mirror Lake and saw the baby ducks...all very pleasant. Then we went to a store that had toys, Thomas Trains, and a big plastic riding tractor.

I guess he thought we were dropping him off to live there because when it was time to go he screamed Nooooo and ran. He was one of those children last night...I dragged his screamin' behind out of there and when we got to the car it was on. I spanked his butt (settle down...I didn't beat him...but I could have :) I didn't even hit his bare legs ), put him in his car seat and then we (meaning I talked he listened) had a discussion about his behavior lately (again...no screaming or cursing...just no nonsense.."we're done playing these games).

It was the first time I was genuinely aggravated with him*...he's too aware and smart not to know what he's doing. First time I really had to act like a Daddy...remind him that I wasn't just one of his buddies. I was doin' pretty good too 'til I asked him how he thought he could be in charge "when he couldn't even reach the sink?" I was thinkin' about how he couldn't even wash his own hands...you know.

That was a fail...Martha immediately covered her mouth and began to vibrate in her seat...all in a desperate attempt not to break out into that donkey laugh of her's. It was futile...all the stern credibility that I had built up since we left the store disappeared as her haws and guffaws filled the car.

It was time to let it go anyway...he had listened and stopped cryin' when I told him to. We had a good evenin' from then on out and that's how the week wrapped up.

* Meaning him as a person...there's been plenty of aggravation raisin' his stanky, loud a****** to this point.


Q if you don't understand something you could always ask in a comment...you know actually participate LURKER. Maybe somebody else has similar questions.

Twisters

Dig it...if for nothing else the insightful commentary (I have know idea where these clowns are from but it ain't anywhere around here).

That's what we did last Friday. If there's ten miles between my office and The Boy's little school...this is at mile 5.

Those are transformers exploding.










p.s. if anybody can explain to me how to embed a hot link into a post it would be much appreciated.

Oxford, Mississippi

I was on the road again last week...



Oxford, Mississippi



One of the prettiest towns you'll ever come across.



It's not a trick...They named it after Oxford, England as part of a successful effort to have the University of Mississippi located in the town.





Ole Miss was founded there in 1848. Bones (not the actor :) ) from Star Trek is an alum, John Grisham, Charlie's Angle Kate Jackson...the school's produced three Miss America's...



and of course William Faulkner was a student there.



The school also produced The University Greys*, Company A of the 11th Mississippi Infantry...only 4 students showed up for class in 1861 after secession.



The other 135, along with much of the faculty, enlisted. They suffered 100% casualties during the war...that's everybody either killed or wounded. Got farther than anybody during Pickets Charge...and paid dearly for it. Gen Barksdale was killed on the second day of the battle leading his men from the front. One dumbfounded yankee was overheard saying "we don't have officers like that." Damn right they didn't...they were past-masters in burning and raping things...and slaughtering Indians though.

Ole Miss is a fine academic institution but, more importantly it's the home of The Ole Miss Rebels**...founding members of the SEC. It's been about 60 years since they were dominant force on the field....but, off the field, in The Grove, they're still champs.


"Don't win many football games but, they've never lost a party." ***

Lots of music around Oxford. It's the home of Fat Possum Records...R.L. Burnside and Junior Kimbrough territory. The Silver Jews and Modest Mouse have recorded records there...Johnny Marr used to have a house there.

Books...Books and more Books...



Square Books is annually rated as one of the best privately owned bookstores in the country (along with Lemuria in Jackson...we are book lovers)...it's even too big for one store...



It's just a pretty place.

Grenada (that's Gre-nay-duh in Mississippi) is not really that pretty of a place but, I like it all the same. Had business in Kosciusko...so I stayed there Wed. night.

I ate my supper here...



Looks great...sorriest BBQ I ever had south of the Ohio River...pulled pork straight from a bucket. I've had better pork in a school cafeteria...place should be shutdown by the cops.

Should've eaten here...



or maybe here...



Anywhere but High on the Hog.

Anyway fortunately I made it home in time to see this...



Next week...Baton Rouge.


*That's GrEys...we spelled words correctly down here until after the war. Evidently a part of being reconstructed was learning a peculiar New England way of spelling English words.

**Let's not go there for now.

*** Sorry Jenny Q, Sister...I'll make it up to you after my next trip to Starkville.

Karaoke Queen

If you're a long time reader you will have noticed the recent silence of The Sister. She's been on a soft boycott of the blog ever since I told everybody she used to live in Pearl.

While the absence of insults has been pleasant I'm gonna go ahead and buckle...say something nice. It's for the boy. He was hurt when his aunt didn't comment on his smokin' guitar licks...I tried to tell him that it didn't mean she didn't love him, but...the little fella was just crushed.

So...

The sister is not without talents. As y'all know she has an artist's flair for telling people to kiss, stuff, and shut things...and she has the power to sniff out demons.

She's also a superstar at the Karaoke. Below is a still and some audio from one of her classic sets.





For those of you who may not know...this what the sister's on about.



USA! USA! USA!

The Boy and his G'itar.

That's my boy during Show and Tell at his little school. Lots of stuffed animals, pull-toys, action figures and then that.

Flippin rock star...that's all.



It's a little loud, but you know....*


*That's Rory Gallagher and Bullfrog Blues courtesy of some French TV show and Dr. Wommm's Patented Stupidity Cure...links in my reading list.

The Judgment of Parents and Children

Me and Martha have been parents now for two and half years. We're makin' it I reckon...he's healthy, we can take him out in public, people like bein' around him, he minds well. Well, at least he minds other adults...his "teachers", the lady who watches him at Church and The Sister.

He's constantly pushin' it with us...always schemin' and get's a little lippy sometimes. He's got his Moma's big, beautiful brown eyes and a stubborn streak that's force is as strong as it's origins are mysterious. :cough:

We were told that as parents we'd make mistakes...then we were told again, then again, and again. Got emails and text sayin' you will screw up...received a certified letter saying it's inevitable...some relative or close friend hired a sky writer. It was if we hadn't been raised by parents of our own :) .

I'm sure we're messin' up somewhere...not whippin' him enough I reckon. My Momma expresses regret now about every whoopin' she ever gave me, but the truth is I deserved 'em. I wasn't nearly as bad as The Sister of course, but if there was one or two that I didn't deserve...there was one or two things she didn't know about. It all evens out.

I'm not really thinkin' about parental regrets this morning though...it's too early for that anyway. It'll be years before we know just how badly we've screwed up. I'm thinking of things I should have done differently as a kid.

And not like handing my Daddy an atrocious mid-term report right after the Blues Brothers finished. I thought for sure he'd be in a better mood to take it after laughing for two hours straight...that just...that...that turned out to be a really bad idea.

I'm talking about the things I could've and should've tried to get away with like the all-ages Replacements show in the summer of 88. I was staying with my buddy for a couple of weeks in Tallahassee. We were millin' around pestering college kids in Vinyl Fever like we did most afternoons when we heard the Replacements would be playing that Friday night at the Musical Moon.

We knew we'd have to get permission but like most 15 years olds we never internalized anything...we were gonna be there. His momma was fine with it as long as my parents were. Shockingly the answer was no...they didn't want me getting a head-start hanging out in bars. Crushed...just crushed.

We should've gone...we snuck out of his house all the time anyway. The thing is we didn't ask permission to sneak out...we never had discussed sneaking out of the house so no one had ever specifically said we couldn't...it wasn't a matter of direct defiance you see.

My parents had done a really good in the sense that I hated the idea of disappointing them. The other thing was I just didn't want the hassle of getting in trouble...I'd be on my own soon enough. Plus that little town we lived in at the time was bad enough without being stuck in my room for a month. We went to the movies instead. Faced with a direct "No you may not"...I flinched. I should've run the risk...even if we'd gotten caught I'd have seen The Replacements* and chances are I'd be ungrounded by now.

Funny thing is that same summer or maybe the next...I ended up in a seedy apartment complex inhabited by a punk-rock car thief and the Filipino drug dealers he worked for. I had been give permission to go to the movies with an older associate that must remain nameless and ended up getting to know his friends instead...I actually thought we were going to the movies when we left the house. I hadn't been told I couldn't hang out with car thieves and dope pushers...besides what was I suppose to say when the little dealers walked in carrying Domino's pizza and automatic rifles...."I don't think my momma would want me here"?

Despite the danger and the illicit stench of the affair...I can't say I regret it. The car thief turned out the be the genuine article (to this day he may the only actual punk I ever talked to)...he had a bleached pompadour and his arms were covered in tattoos...this was long before every Sunday School teacher had a sunburst or a lily tattooed on her ankle. The only people I knew who had tattoos were old men like my Grandpa or fishermen. He was from Los Angeles and he'd seen everybody...Minutemen, Black Flag, Husker Du and on. He knew Billy Zoom from X.

Of course when I asked about him some years later I was told he'd been killed by the cops. I wasn't sure how my...associate...had come to know these jokers, but if I had to guess it was probably at an all ages show :).

Anyway...

*I get what comfort I can by reminding myself that by this point Bob Stinson had been kicked out of the band...so it wasn't really the Replacements anyway.

Where's you Dinner Mommy?

Before we get back to work...I just scored a victory around here. They don't happen very often so I thought I'd mark the occasion with a post for prosperity.

It's around noon and the boy is eatin his applesauce and fish sticks. Martha's sittin' with him when he looks up at her and asks...

"Where's you dinner Moma?"

She's been tryin' to feed him something called lunch at midday and then dinner at like 5:00 in the evenin'.

Southerners, like my boy, like me and like his Grandaddy, eat their dinner at midday and eat supper in the evenin'.

Lunch? Beats me...sounds more like a respiratory condition than something you'd want to eat.

You Got You Crap Daddy?

Today is my last day with my current employer. I took another job a couple of weeks ago and it starts on Feb. 1st.

I'm excited about the new gig but kinda sad to leave the folks around here, but it's time to go.

Not to worry I'll still be traveling...the 2011 ticket challange is still on. In fact, I'll be on the road more than I have been.

While we're at it, and for the record, I have already taken two road trips this year travelling over 1000 miles without a ticket....BUT not without a scrape. Slid through a mound of ice (made from clearing the roads) between Tupelo and Aberdeen...I made it through fine, but the front of the volvo took a beatin'.

It's at the shop now so we've been car-pooling this week. As we're gettin' in the car this morning I realized I'd forgotten my computer bag...

"Aw crap I forgot my bag."

I'm a pro, a veteran, at rushing back in the house for things I've forgotten...so in no time I was back in the front seat when I hear from the back..

"You got you crap Daddy?"

Ooops.

Anyway, I wont be havin' as much time to stalk my favorite blogs (even the one's that have apperantly gone on hiatus), or deal immediately with my Sisters slurs, or perry the blows that Adam tries to land against rocknroll. I'm not going anywhere though...I'll still be blowin' up your stat-counters and dealing with these two...I just won't be as ninja-quick about it.

I've got my crap together and it's almost time to go.

Bring Me the Head of Dino Dan

...somebody needs to take a look in there.


Every parent with small children probably harbors a certain amount of resentment towards the crap they're forced to watch with their kids.

I can't be the only one that's tried to report Dora and Diego to INS...or follows the Fresh Beat Band on Twitter hoping that today's the day they announce they're splitting up...or fantasized about slipping onto the set of Blue's Clues and spiking Steve's coffee with amphetamines...can I?

Of course, they're not all bad. My sister loves the Backyardagins and I'll probably keep watching Jack's Big Music Show long after the Boy has given up on it.

Good or bad, they all have their issues. Oswald is an acid-trip through a zoo in West Hollywood...those eggs aren't brothers. Speaking of drugs...have you seen Yo Gaba Gaba?

There's one though that has 'em all beat...Dino Dan.

Dino Dan is about a mentally disturbed kid that see's dinosaurs all the time, and everywhere. He has a psychotic obsession with dinosaurs that was certainly brought on when his paleontologist father abandoned the family. His Momma has concocted this cock-eyed story that he's away at a conference...a conference in Barbados with his last T.A. I guess she's done this for two reasons...one she's still holding out hope he'll come back...two, so Dan doesn't rightly blame himself for running his father off.

If this kid was any more annoying he'd be a hemorrhoid. All day long he berates people...his friends, his teachers, his little brother...with facts and anecdotes about whatever dinosaur he's seen that day on the playground, in the garage, behind the toilet. Everybody stops whatever they're doing and hangs on his every word...as if they actually care...or, more likely, they're afraid for their lives. Dan's not the kinda kid you want having bad memories of you when he becomes a teenager and discovers FPS video games.

Obviously...obviously Dan is a kid desperate to have some connection with his absent father. One can only shudder to imagine where all this is headed after he reaches puberty. If you want me to watch, show me the scenes of Dan's mother meeting with the school psychologist...show me the conversations between Dan's buddies and their parents about why he can't sleep over...show me his pharmacist feverishly at work.

All of this is completely lost on the Boy and all he sees is dinosaurs.

"I'na watch another Dino Dan...Dino Dan...Dino Dan...I'na watch Dino Dan."

What can I say to 'im...but, the truth is I'd rather have a monkey hammer thumb tacks into my forehead with a 2x4 than watch five more minutes of that crap.

"Those Aren't For You...They're for People."

That's what Martha told me when I tried to snatch a couple of these yesterday.


Guess I'm lucky she didn't hit me with the squirt-gun we keep handy for the cat when she gets a little too curious about what's on the counter.

"Fine then...Merry Christmas. I'll be in the pantry eatin' Pounces and Fancy Feast with Mary-Cathcart."


I managed to sneak a few eventually. Turns out they aren't poisonous to non-people, but are instead the Form of chocolate and peanut butter...the Form of deliciousness. I hope those people enjoy 'em.

Then there was this....



The Boy has been tellin' us for weeks now that Santy Clause was gonna bring him a red g'itar, but on Christmas morning when he was actually confronted with it...he hesitated. He stared in silence...took a few steps toward it and then backed up. Maybe he just couldn't believe it was actually there...that he could actually touch it, play it...that it was actually his.

"What did Santa Clause bring you...What is it bud?" Martha asked...tryin' to prod him along a little.

"Don't be silly Moma," the boy said with surprising deliberatness for a two year old, "that's my g'itar."

In other words butt-out of my moment...at least that's what it sounded like.

I hope y'all had as Merry a Christmas as this one did...



P.S. We went to the Sister's for breakfast on Christmas morning...she served us cold grits...on Christmas morning. For real. Fortunately her Mother-in-law was there to save the day with some scrumptious monkey-bread.




It was all actually very tasty and she did a great job, but she'll be so mad when she reads the last paragraph that she won't see this one...so, I haven't actually ruined my little joke by telling the truth.

Post #22

I was talkin' with the boy this morning about Christmas.

"Christmas is when we celebrate Jesus's birthday."

It wasn't a rant against commercialization or any of that...presents are fun, an inflatible Santy Clause that pops his head out of a travel trailer is fun, tacky Christmas displays in store windows are fun...besides he's two.

Even at two he knows what a birthday is and he at least knows the name Jesus...so I figured he could form some kind of concept in his head.

He did...

"I ['ll] get my party hat."

So I guess now Christmas won't be Christmas in his tiny mind unless we all gather around his little table wearing cone-shaped party hats...helium balloons tied to our wrists...eating manger themed cupcakes.

Why not. I love cupcakes.

Post #16

Time changed this weekend...set the clocks back an hour.

For some of you this might've meant an extra hour at the club on Saturday night...maybe you got to sleep in on Sunday...wooo hoo for you.

Of course time hasn't actually changed. I know this 'cause the boy got up at like 5:30 this morning...which woulda been 6:30 this time last week.

I was up already though. Sleepin' in for me is actually being woken up by the alarm clock...maybe once or twice a year. Put an extra hour on that...I'm up at 4am tryin' to decide between the sleep disorder info-mercial or the one about slimming jeans for big girls.

"MaaaaMUH! My 'jhamas WET! MA-MUH!"

"Sorry 'bout yer luck bud...Daddy's yer only option before six."

"My 'jhamas WET!"

Actually only his shirt was wet...soaked...his britches were dry, the bed was dry. Just one of the many mysteries a parent encounters at the changing table. Speaking of which we had another episode on the changing table this morning that Rabelais or Joyce...maybe Wilfred Owen...might be able to get away with describing...but I'm not even gonna try and attempt it.

Anyway...we survived the morning and he's gonna have to make it with Daddy until his little body adjusts to the "new" time.

We all gotta adjust...the boredom of my job on a Monday is so immense that it's gravitational pull actual slows down time. So, instead of gettin' off at 5 (which of course woulda been six this time last week)...I'll have to make til 5:03...(6:03 this tim....).

Cast of Characters

I think this has gone on long enough without y'all havin' some idea of what these people look like. These characters who work so hard to make my material existence the absurdity that it is...need faces.



Wren - A Southern lady of class and great taste...obviously.
She's also the wife of....



Allan - He is a distinguished professor of philosophy...here setting out to create what he likes to call "the beautiful negation." He's also an expert in claiming that my blog won't let him post.



Adam - A Northern (not a yank** the English kind) husband, father and archeologist...and electric guitar player. Ironically Adam is most well known for his hatred of rocknroll...you can see how passionate he is on this subject in his frequent rants against the Fall.



The Sister - This was the most gussied up picture I could find...musta been right after Church...maybe a wedding. Is anybody suprised to read that I recieved the following text from her lastnight..."Kiss my grits"?

(Disclaimer...to those who don't know. My sister, like the other ladies in this post is also a lovely and gracious Southern Lady...she does not smoke...even cartoon cigarettes, does not have a tatoo, and doesn't shop for herself at Baby Gap. She is good humored about everything except her fabulous looks.
The red hair though...is very real.
I aaam not wri-ting thiiis undeer dureeessss).



The Boy - What a rock star. (He doesn't wear that outfit everyday...his Momma won't let me get away with that...it was football team day at his little school)



Martha - the very lovely, beautiful, and gracious Martha...organizing something.

That's them y'all...that's what I'm dealing with.

Ha Ha Haa Ha Haaaaa

Mighty Gators 34 - flea biters 31 (in overtime)

As you can read...Georgia fans have turned whining about this game into an art form.

They've had a lot of practice in the last 20 years.

EDIT: I tried to link an article, or summary of excuses, from Dawgsports, but I'm an internet moran. Here's the long and the short of it.

1. He didn't want to say anything before the game, but he knew the loss was coming.

Still....

2. The Gators are the luckiest team ever and the Universe hates the Bulldogs (prolly).

3. The bulldogs gave the game away with turnovers. I'm not sure when turnovers became the sole responsibility of the offense...I'm sick of hearing this one.
a. Turnovers are part of the game...nobody tracks games you would've won if you hadn't turned the ball over.
b. More often than not the ball is taken away...not turned over...that's why they're also called take aways.

4. It's the red-shirt freshman Quarterback's fault.

5. Moral victory..."at least we didn't get blown out this year"...nobody, except losers, tracks these either.

6. The coach and his staff suck (yeah sorta).

7. Same ole crap about the Gators having the week off before the game...can they not find somebody at Georgia who knows how to read a calender and schedule their bye-week accordingly?

8. See point 5.

9. See point 5....Geeeze.

10. Rainey's a thug.

The official Flimsy Cups response?

Post #12 Sorta

My sister says there's not enough about her on the Blog..."that's what the people want" she says...that and pictures of my boy. According to her those are the blog's biggest flaws....not enough about her and not enough pictures of my son.

Also, Martha's been readin' the blog again. How she managed to find the time I don't know.

"Well?"

Her response was a suspiciously cheery "It's good."

"That's it huh...it's good?"

"Yep."...still cheery.

"It's not depressing or confusing...just good?"

At that the smile and the cheery look in her eyes thinned out a little bit.."I'm not giving you any more material."

We'll see about that...see if she can avoid it.