Few things are more tale telling than the morning ritual. Everyone has a set way they get up, get ready, get fueled, and get out the door. Begin to throw wrenches into this near-robotic act, and the outlook of the day can go from cheery to bleak faster than money can leave your pocket in Vegas. But some things can bring it to a halt in an eyebrow raising moment of disgust and laughter.
Take this morning for instance. I was the only one who had to be ready and leave the house for anything due to the snowstorm, and so I started my morning ritual. During which my children rose from their beds, and my wife cooked us breakfast, and we sat at the table and ate happily. Our two labs, Jasper and Tank, who are used to running dawn patrol in the backyard were scampering around the kitchen, anxiously awaiting dropped morsels of “human food” from the table.
This is when Jasper began his olfactory assault like a SEAL Team in the dead of night. Walking by the table he would eek out flatulence without so much as a warning or smirky glance of “take that”. The only indication you had that something was wrong was a faint hiss, much like that of a skilled ninja assassin whispering to his victim “sayonara” before their demise. Then, just as the synapses in your brain decipher what fate is upon you, you find yourself enveloped in the “death cloud”, as if you’ve awoken from a deep sleep to find you town wrapped in some mysterious fog, all senses lost except for ancient survival instincts that have kicked in. You run, only to find that the ninja assassin has laid an intricate string of deadly traps for which there is no escape.
So, does this chain of events bring gloom to a day, or does one drive to work with sly grin and twinkle in the eye saying “My dog is a ninja, rock on.”
Friday, January 29, 2010
Thursday, January 28, 2010
The Death of a Toy
Few things in childhood are as magical as a favorite toy. With the power to transform normal sprints through the house into small stints of crime fighting bliss or high speed races and crashes, toys add high octane to already super revved imaginations. Every person can remember one or a couple of toys that specifically became amazing play pals of early childhood.
However, the day when that magical friend passes on to the great toy box in the sky can be strange. Young children, not yet grasping the weight of life and death, can move on to the next toy, perhaps only to reminisce later in life about how special the play thing once was.
Toys usually live a full, adventurous, and chaotic life. A list of their endeavor can include but are not limited to flying, fighting, being a sleeping buddy, consuming mass quantities of tea, racing in Barbie Jeeps, lying around naked, the list is endless. Which can greatly affect the suddenness of the passing of the toy. Given these circumstances, it can either be quick, or a long drawn out process.
For instance, I give you Spiderman. Spiderman had been with us for approximately 8 months before his passing. However, he had only been with us about 3 day when this occurred.
Several failed attempts were made to reattach the limb.
Over the next several months, Spiderman was stricken with various other ailments. His head continued to come off and had to be reattached several times. (Some genius toy engineer though that non anchored ball and socket joint on toys were a wonderful idea. He didn’t realize the Grandma Esther Hip Syndrome the toys would acquire.)
Spiderman also lost fingers on his remaining web slinging hand, until one night he passed suddenly, via this unexplained phenomena.
He is survived by Buzz Lightyear, Sheriff Woody, and by Optimus Prime. (Suffering from early stages of G.E.H.S.)
However, the day when that magical friend passes on to the great toy box in the sky can be strange. Young children, not yet grasping the weight of life and death, can move on to the next toy, perhaps only to reminisce later in life about how special the play thing once was.
Toys usually live a full, adventurous, and chaotic life. A list of their endeavor can include but are not limited to flying, fighting, being a sleeping buddy, consuming mass quantities of tea, racing in Barbie Jeeps, lying around naked, the list is endless. Which can greatly affect the suddenness of the passing of the toy. Given these circumstances, it can either be quick, or a long drawn out process.
For instance, I give you Spiderman. Spiderman had been with us for approximately 8 months before his passing. However, he had only been with us about 3 day when this occurred.
Several failed attempts were made to reattach the limb.
Over the next several months, Spiderman was stricken with various other ailments. His head continued to come off and had to be reattached several times. (Some genius toy engineer though that non anchored ball and socket joint on toys were a wonderful idea. He didn’t realize the Grandma Esther Hip Syndrome the toys would acquire.)
Spiderman also lost fingers on his remaining web slinging hand, until one night he passed suddenly, via this unexplained phenomena.
He is survived by Buzz Lightyear, Sheriff Woody, and by Optimus Prime. (Suffering from early stages of G.E.H.S.)
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
Dawn at Das Langhaus Part I “The Rousing and the Meal”
I am fortunate in the fact that I don’t have to be at work until 9am. I am unfortunate in the fact that since I don’t have to be at work until 9am, I have to stay until 5pm. While this time spot fulfills the normal 8 hour work day requirement (which I have no problem in that obligation) it forces me to hit rush hour traffic and all the intricate idiotic parade of people who find it much more important to make as many calls or send as many texts from point A to point B as possible, instead of making it from point A to point B without swerving, wrecking, and destroying the world and all those who inhabit it.
However, this minor, though life-threatening inconvenience is thoroughly offset by my morning routine. You see I get to be the master of the morning. I like to think that without me, my family would go blindly into the day’s events without fuel or focus. Conceded? Yes. True. Well……….maybe. Ok, probably not.
Anyway, my morning task begins with rousing my daughter. This is usually a good indication of how the morning is going to flow. It’s like opening door A or B on “Let’s Make a Deal.” Will it be the shiny new 1978 Ford Pinto, or the 4-day-old bowl of porridge from the Broadway Musical “Goldie Locks and the Three Bears”??? If Madi sits up smiles and pops out of bed, we’re off to a good start and hopefully a pain free morning. If there is an assortment of groans, grumbles, and occasional tears, God be with us because things are not looking bright.
Next, I take a couple of minutes to get myself partially ready and then move to 3 year old Ethan’s room, which is an adventure for Indiana Jones and Lara Croft to tackle as a team. The plethora of waking reactions from this child is a mathematical nightmare for the finest of scientists, ranging anywhere from him leaping out of bed in fifth gear ready for anything, to the reaction I got yesterday. Pulling the covers back over his blond head of Hair Fairy visited hair he grumbles in his low voice, “Go way Daddy, I sleepin’.” I oblige by heading for the kitchen to make breakfast for everyone.
Coffee for the adults, juice, milk, or on the special occasion, “chocolate milk”, is poured for all to enjoy followed by cereal, oatmeal, waffles, eggs, bacon…whatever has been decided on as the morning meal. This is usually the time Shannon emerges from our bathroom looking beautiful for her day of work, Madison comes from her room dressed and ready for school, and Ethan comes one of two ways to the kitchen: either running in Usain Bolt like fashion, or still groggy dragging from a hard night of Professional Sleep Fighting.
The meal is usually consumed without incident, lunches are packed, kisses given and Shannon and Madison head out the door for school. Leaving me to finish getting ready for work with Ethan. Here’s where things get funny…but that’s for another day.
However, this minor, though life-threatening inconvenience is thoroughly offset by my morning routine. You see I get to be the master of the morning. I like to think that without me, my family would go blindly into the day’s events without fuel or focus. Conceded? Yes. True. Well……….maybe. Ok, probably not.
Anyway, my morning task begins with rousing my daughter. This is usually a good indication of how the morning is going to flow. It’s like opening door A or B on “Let’s Make a Deal.” Will it be the shiny new 1978 Ford Pinto, or the 4-day-old bowl of porridge from the Broadway Musical “Goldie Locks and the Three Bears”??? If Madi sits up smiles and pops out of bed, we’re off to a good start and hopefully a pain free morning. If there is an assortment of groans, grumbles, and occasional tears, God be with us because things are not looking bright.
Next, I take a couple of minutes to get myself partially ready and then move to 3 year old Ethan’s room, which is an adventure for Indiana Jones and Lara Croft to tackle as a team. The plethora of waking reactions from this child is a mathematical nightmare for the finest of scientists, ranging anywhere from him leaping out of bed in fifth gear ready for anything, to the reaction I got yesterday. Pulling the covers back over his blond head of Hair Fairy visited hair he grumbles in his low voice, “Go way Daddy, I sleepin’.” I oblige by heading for the kitchen to make breakfast for everyone.
Coffee for the adults, juice, milk, or on the special occasion, “chocolate milk”, is poured for all to enjoy followed by cereal, oatmeal, waffles, eggs, bacon…whatever has been decided on as the morning meal. This is usually the time Shannon emerges from our bathroom looking beautiful for her day of work, Madison comes from her room dressed and ready for school, and Ethan comes one of two ways to the kitchen: either running in Usain Bolt like fashion, or still groggy dragging from a hard night of Professional Sleep Fighting.
The meal is usually consumed without incident, lunches are packed, kisses given and Shannon and Madison head out the door for school. Leaving me to finish getting ready for work with Ethan. Here’s where things get funny…but that’s for another day.
Monday, January 25, 2010
Winter
Winter in the Texas Panhandle is a strange time of year. Throught out the season the day's can fluctuate between beautiful spring like days allowing the opportunity for frolicking in the outdoors, to representing a scene out of Fargo! (sans evil hired serial killer) Last winter was a rare exception, due to the fact that the entire winter was amazingly spring like. My wife, a couple of our friends and I were mountain biking in usually summer reserved gear on February 7! The most frustrating thing about this flip-flopping weather is that just as you make plans to go out and do something, the weather turns bad and all of your anticipation and planning is for not.
This winter has had weathery highs and lows, and has greatly culminated in a meteorological anomaly known as the "Cloud of Depression." Which, at present, is in the midst of a torrential downpour the likes of which mankind has never seen! Having fallen in love with cycling (both mountain and road) and rediscovered my love for tromping around in the great outdoors, I have feverishly been plotting and planning several jaunts, man trips, (Manfest 2010), and family outings. The one problem, most of them are set months away in hopes of better more predictable weather, leaving me with the ever building anticipation of GETTING OUT OF THE HOUSE!
The lack of static weather also has taken it's toll on my motivation to get out and the cycle and tally up the miles. Just as I get settled in a routine, the weather changes and tosses me back into the homestead to take up plan B, C, D, or even E in the workout routine in order to keep svelt and road ready! These alternate plans take many shapes, such as
B: The trainer, which my very soul can only tolerate for about 1 hour before I go running for the hills.
C: An hour workout including jumping jacks, mountain climber, push ups, sit ups, planks, lunges, curls, and other tortorous means of exercise oriented masochism.
D: Heading to the gym for swimming or weight lifting.
E: Quite literally E as in Ethan, whom likes to wrestle with Dad till the cows come home. (Which, due to the fact that we have none could quite possibly mean eternity. YIKES!)
Needless to say I have a winter itch that may very well be misdiagnosed by members of the medical field as some chronic psychotic mental state, ADD, or and STD!
This winter has had weathery highs and lows, and has greatly culminated in a meteorological anomaly known as the "Cloud of Depression." Which, at present, is in the midst of a torrential downpour the likes of which mankind has never seen! Having fallen in love with cycling (both mountain and road) and rediscovered my love for tromping around in the great outdoors, I have feverishly been plotting and planning several jaunts, man trips, (Manfest 2010), and family outings. The one problem, most of them are set months away in hopes of better more predictable weather, leaving me with the ever building anticipation of GETTING OUT OF THE HOUSE!
The lack of static weather also has taken it's toll on my motivation to get out and the cycle and tally up the miles. Just as I get settled in a routine, the weather changes and tosses me back into the homestead to take up plan B, C, D, or even E in the workout routine in order to keep svelt and road ready! These alternate plans take many shapes, such as
B: The trainer, which my very soul can only tolerate for about 1 hour before I go running for the hills.
C: An hour workout including jumping jacks, mountain climber, push ups, sit ups, planks, lunges, curls, and other tortorous means of exercise oriented masochism.
D: Heading to the gym for swimming or weight lifting.
E: Quite literally E as in Ethan, whom likes to wrestle with Dad till the cows come home. (Which, due to the fact that we have none could quite possibly mean eternity. YIKES!)
Needless to say I have a winter itch that may very well be misdiagnosed by members of the medical field as some chronic psychotic mental state, ADD, or and STD!
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