Wednesday, October 24, 2007

He was flying high, like a paper bag caught in an updraft...

I remember pretty well Dad's version of being a soccer coach, which was to repeatedly remind us players: no matter how fast, big or strong you are, there's always someone faster, bigger or stronger out there. Mom used to say: never forget that you're unique, just like everyone else.

On my way home from the gym tonight I pulled into the local grocery store to pick up a few items. I walked over to the fruits and veggies section of Fry's, ripped off a couple of plastic bags from the spindle, and mulled around the fruist display near to a couple of large grapefruits. As I made my selections I placed each item in its own individual plastic bag and set them in my cart. Just then I overheard a young couple in the aisle next to me discuss their own purchases. The husband was arguing with his wife over a couple of items she wanted to buy.

"But these sausages are like five bucks for only eight of them... what about the other pack?"
"C'mon, those are gross, way too fatty. They're on sale because nobody wants them."

At that exact moment, eavesdropping on two strangers and holding a grapefruit the size of Dave Goff's torsional nut, it hit me, the rigamarole of it all. As different as we all are, we all do the same stuff throughout our lives. It's just the way it is.

You go to the grocery store and bag a bunch of fruit, you put it in your cart, you pull it out of the cart so it can be scanned, then the checkout bagger bags that already bagged fruit and puts it back into your cart, then you take your haul home and unbag all the items and toss the bags under the kitchen sink or in the utility closet or wherever.
Question: Joe Lieberman, James Bond and MC Hammer - what do they all have in common? Answer: They have to get their trash over to the local grocery store and bag some fruit once a week. Well, my boy Hammer probably bags the fruit more often, since he works there part time, but you get the idea. You can't get around it, it's just life. 99.9% of people in this nation are doing it, the bland, tedious mundane stuff of life because they can't afford to hire a butler.

Husbands across the globe are looking at their wives and thinking: why does your haircut cost 4 times more than mine? Wives all over the world are wondering: why is my husband so cheap? Parents all worry about their kids, especially when she says something so truly bizarre that you wonder if blasting Rage while she was in utero was a bad idea. Kids all think their parents are too strict, too old-fashioned, too lame and too cheap. Newsflash to the parents: your kids are on to something.

Amy and Aaron just had a baby. Congratulations. Well guess what guys, (ir)regardless of how well you put on that diaper - stretching out the diaper tabs so they'll seal off the lower back as an escape route, cinching up the sides such that the little poo-holding pouch is perfectly placed beneath sweet Hailey's not-so-sweet butt - YOU WILL HAVE BLOWOUTS! There will be times when you'll sit there peeling off Hailey's little cotton unitard, soaked with a pungent yellow-orange coating of colon-custard, thinking: I KNOW we didn't feed here this much junk today. Yeah, you did. It is what it is, and all parents deal(t) with this crap, pun intended. Pass the wipes, please.

I suppose what I mean to say is no one is unique. We all deal with the same problems, insecurities and imperfections. Life marches on until it stops marching, meaning we die. We're all mortal. Angela Bassett may have been Waiting to Exhale but she was also waiting to die. I don't mean to be grim, but standing in the grocery store made me think of all this, for some odd reason.
The only silver bullet we have is to live well (or live strong, if you're a Lance Armstrong fan). We can minimize risks and heartache by making ourselves right by the Lord and right by ourselves, aligning our own moral compass with God's will. The cool thing is that no one can take that accomplishment away from us. What we can't avoid is the tedium and insanity of life, and even if we could, what would be the fun in that? Maybe we just have to find the right things in life to live for... jackass!... Some pics of one of my "things" below...

Sunday, October 21, 2007

Another Saturday night and I ain't got nobody...

Nevertheless, this Saturday was eventful - as eventful as any day can be in Yuma, I think.

First, we went to a local salon for pedicures. While Brittiny and I let our feet soak in hot water foot baths and enjoyed shiatsu massages (those are awesome) Brooklyn charmed the staff into a free manicure. She chose a light green coat with sparkles. - quite fetching.

After the salon we took Brooklyn to a ''Punkin" Patch put on by the Christian Fellowship church of Yuma. The setup was pretty sweet. They had a hay bale maze, horse rides, two inflatable trampolines for the kids and a 40 ft long pirate ship - well, a flat bed trailer made to look like a pirate ship. It's as if a late November union strike left Macy's Thanksgiving float department so hurting for scabs they hired Capt. Jack Sparrow.

Here's my Brookers running through the hay bale maze, sporting her Kurt Rambis goggles.

After Brooklyn picked out her pumpkin she got to ride a white horse. She seemed to enjoy it, but kept calling the horse a donkey. The handler said: That's better than calling her a puppy or cat, which is what most toddlers think. The horse stopped a few times to eat grass on the arduous, 95 foot stroll - so freaking lazy. Oh, and horse-shoes aren't even shoes, FYI.

So Brooklyn was jumping around in one of those big inflatable tramp-o-things when she noticed Brittiny eating a sno-cone. "Brooklyn have it?" she asked.

So at the Patch we selected three Pumpkins. Once the adoption papers cleared, we were able to take them home. Brittiny painted Brooklyn's pumpkin (very well, I might add) to look like Elmo. Brooklyn was very impressed, and reminded us about 40 times that her Pumpkin looked like Elmo.

The other two pumpkins were gutted and carved up, see below. The one on the left is Nancy Pelosi, on the right, Clint Eastwood.


Tuesday, October 09, 2007


About a week ago I was reading Brooklyn her favorite Bedtime story, Maurice Sendak's Where the Wild Things Are, when she removed her binky abruptly, pointed to a particularly hairy and hunky-browed monster (inset) and said, matter-of-factly, "Daddy." Brittiny thought it appropriate that Brooklyn selected the hairiest of the Wild Things, remarking that she is a perceptive child.

I am still coming to terms with the realization that my daughter thinks I look like a half-bull, half-pig reject from the Island of Dr. Moreau. But tonight at least some of my insecurity was assuaged when, without any prompting, Brooklyn pointed to spread-toothed horned monster with the red nose of a wino and said, "Dat's Mommy." I remarked to Brittiny that our Brookers is a perceptive child. I dunno, maybe b/c that monster was hanging out with "Daddy" on every page Brooklyn got confused. But I guess if you're a hunky-browed, horned, hobbit-toed monster you've got to lower your own standards before heading out to the local bars to get your swerve on.

As not to be confused as one of the wild things making mischief of one kind (and another), here's a pic o'Brooklyn glamming it up for the camera at the be-zatch at Rocky Neck State Park, CT.