I have been a bad blogger and a poor friend. I have been posting very little other than my Flash Fiction Friday stories which translates to once a week. I've been trying to follow your posts but have only caught them piecemeal and haven't had the time to comment. Flannery and I have agreed to have her side of the family over for Xmas so I've been trying to transform our messy but comfortable home into a good place to entertain for the holidays. This has been more of a chore than you can possibly imagine.
I am more than a little overwhelmed. I have pumpkins growing out of the bathroom sink for one. The walls have signatures in marker on them from both of my kids and are only punctuated by hand prints of various foods, drinks, or makeup. The sofa is full of half-eaten pop tarts and an assortment of crayons, chips, popcorn, and loose change. Every window has nose prints and every floor needs cleaned. I am attempting to climb the mountain of laundry but I'm going to need a Sherpa guide to reach the summit, and my schedule at work has picked up considerably.
In short, I'm swamped.
That being said, I make a solemn promise to post more and drop by more often. I have a few choice pieces from the archives that deserve dusting off and reprinting. I have several new readers who may have missed these the first time around and I am a firm believer in recycling. In the next couple of days, be on the look out for a Christmas story that I am particularly proud of.
My picture will appear in the local paper tomorrow. It is with deep regret that it will not be in the financial pages, the comics, or under the heading, "Drunk Nude Man Arrested At Rotary Club!" No, my bakery is being featured for our exceptional cookies and I was forced into the photo op. I don't know about you but I dislike having my picture taken. I am, by nature, a ham and it would make perfect sense if I liked being photographed but I don't. The only good picture of me was taken twenty some odd years ago and I was dressed as Indiana Jones. The header pic above was put up by Flannery and I am just too lazy to change it.
Lately, I have been consumed with a horrible lethargy and it is much too early for the winter blahs. My chest pains have returned and I've managed to bust my ankle somehow. I have a broken tooth and a loss of appetite. Should any of you have a cure to suggest, I'm all ears.
Look for the fist part of a Xmas story tomorrow.
Doc
Showing posts with label Things I Shouldn't Publish. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Things I Shouldn't Publish. Show all posts
Tuesday, December 15, 2009
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
I Have Seldom Been Right
I read once that, "No man is a saint is his own land and no man is ever a hero to his wife." I believe there is a grain of truth in that.
I'd love to kid you and tell you that I once saved Flannery from a ring of white slavers, or halted a war by getting the factions to sit down and drink a few beers together but that would be a lie.
I was right in front of my wife once, and that is like making Haley's comet appear out of nowhere. Gentleman, back me up here...
Flannery and I had only been married a short while at the time and I had whisked her off to my country home in Licking County, Ohio which left her far from the comforts of city life and civilization. We lived in the stone house that I had grown up in and were starting out on our uncertain married life there. We had two incomes, no kids, and life was rolling along nicely.
What she couldn't understand was my evening forays into the woods after work each evening. "What are you doing?" she would ask. "I'm going to go cut wood," I'd respond. "What for?" she asked bewilderly. "I've got to cut wood for this winter," I said with the casualness that this was as obvious as the nose on her face. "It's June!" she remarked. "No better time," I responded as I slipped two beers and a handful of Starbursts candies into my pockets.
After a week of this odd behavior, her curiosity got the better of her. She waited an hour after I had gone and then set out to find me. It wasn't hard. She hiked up the hill across the road and followed the sound of a saw cutting into wood and my swearing. In five minutes time she located me about one hundred yards from the house.
"Whatcha doing?" she queried as she hiked up the steep grade.
I wiped my brow and took a long pull at my can of Budweiser. "Cuttin' wood," was all I could say as I wipped the foam from my lips.
"Huh," she responded, as she was unimpressed by my progress. I had managed to cut through a large tree (19 to 23 inches wide) with only a bow saw as I refused to purchase a chain saw out of sheer contempt and the lack of funds. I hated the noise and even more so, I hated to unleash the fumes on an already beleaguered planet. With the bow saw, I needn't spend money on going to the gym and I could keep us warm this winter. It was win-win.
Flannery's "Huh" was an affront to my ego and my lifestyle. I felt obliged to defend myself and my way of life to my new bride. I had been mildly insulted and I felt that I needed to quell the unrest right here, so I pointed to a forked tree not twenty yards off.
"You see this here dead tree I've been sawing on for an hour?" she nodded her head and appraised the dead tree that I'd been cutting at.
"Do you see that forked tree twenty yards yonder?" she nodded her head.
"I'm going to drop this tree and let it fall to where it is going to strike this second tree in the crotch and split in half, and I can thereby drag it into the front lawn of our yard and cut it up in at my liesure."
"Sure," she nodded as if I told her a tale right straight out of Hans Christian Andersen.
I used a crow-bar that I had to run and fetch to knock over the large tree, but the result was just as I predicted. The tree fell and struck the other as I forecasted and the split of the wood was enough to drive the chipmunks and deer from our neck of the woods for a while.
I smiled a knowing smile and made to move this large boost to our winter heating bill down from the hill and to our front yard with the knowledge that I had interpreted this just as it happened.
I congratulated myself on the fact that I had foreseeen the end result, but more importantly, I had had the chance to show my new wife a thing or two. I lugged the pieces down to my front door with the reassurance that I could cut them later and my wife would respect me as if I knew what I was doing.
Gentlemen, treasure this moment while you can. You will find many occasions when she proves you wrong, but always treasure the one chance you had to prove yourself right.
Doc
I'd love to kid you and tell you that I once saved Flannery from a ring of white slavers, or halted a war by getting the factions to sit down and drink a few beers together but that would be a lie.
I was right in front of my wife once, and that is like making Haley's comet appear out of nowhere. Gentleman, back me up here...
Flannery and I had only been married a short while at the time and I had whisked her off to my country home in Licking County, Ohio which left her far from the comforts of city life and civilization. We lived in the stone house that I had grown up in and were starting out on our uncertain married life there. We had two incomes, no kids, and life was rolling along nicely.
What she couldn't understand was my evening forays into the woods after work each evening. "What are you doing?" she would ask. "I'm going to go cut wood," I'd respond. "What for?" she asked bewilderly. "I've got to cut wood for this winter," I said with the casualness that this was as obvious as the nose on her face. "It's June!" she remarked. "No better time," I responded as I slipped two beers and a handful of Starbursts candies into my pockets.
After a week of this odd behavior, her curiosity got the better of her. She waited an hour after I had gone and then set out to find me. It wasn't hard. She hiked up the hill across the road and followed the sound of a saw cutting into wood and my swearing. In five minutes time she located me about one hundred yards from the house.
"Whatcha doing?" she queried as she hiked up the steep grade.
I wiped my brow and took a long pull at my can of Budweiser. "Cuttin' wood," was all I could say as I wipped the foam from my lips.
"Huh," she responded, as she was unimpressed by my progress. I had managed to cut through a large tree (19 to 23 inches wide) with only a bow saw as I refused to purchase a chain saw out of sheer contempt and the lack of funds. I hated the noise and even more so, I hated to unleash the fumes on an already beleaguered planet. With the bow saw, I needn't spend money on going to the gym and I could keep us warm this winter. It was win-win.
Flannery's "Huh" was an affront to my ego and my lifestyle. I felt obliged to defend myself and my way of life to my new bride. I had been mildly insulted and I felt that I needed to quell the unrest right here, so I pointed to a forked tree not twenty yards off.
"You see this here dead tree I've been sawing on for an hour?" she nodded her head and appraised the dead tree that I'd been cutting at.
"Do you see that forked tree twenty yards yonder?" she nodded her head.
"I'm going to drop this tree and let it fall to where it is going to strike this second tree in the crotch and split in half, and I can thereby drag it into the front lawn of our yard and cut it up in at my liesure."
"Sure," she nodded as if I told her a tale right straight out of Hans Christian Andersen.
I used a crow-bar that I had to run and fetch to knock over the large tree, but the result was just as I predicted. The tree fell and struck the other as I forecasted and the split of the wood was enough to drive the chipmunks and deer from our neck of the woods for a while.
I smiled a knowing smile and made to move this large boost to our winter heating bill down from the hill and to our front yard with the knowledge that I had interpreted this just as it happened.
I congratulated myself on the fact that I had foreseeen the end result, but more importantly, I had had the chance to show my new wife a thing or two. I lugged the pieces down to my front door with the reassurance that I could cut them later and my wife would respect me as if I knew what I was doing.
Gentlemen, treasure this moment while you can. You will find many occasions when she proves you wrong, but always treasure the one chance you had to prove yourself right.
Doc
Monday, May 19, 2008
And Love Goes On...
George Takei is getting married and I think that's grand. After 21 years of courting the same person he is going to tie the knot, and good for him.
Now pardon me while I slide a little further out this branch and proceed to saw it off behind me.
George Takei is marrying Brad Altman, his business manager, and they are shopping for rings in Arizona.
Normally the news of celebrity weddings passes under my radar, but this caught my eye in the short blurbs of Yahoo news and I'm glad that I bothered to investigate. I love to hear about people finding love. It reaffirms my belief in man. Unless I miss my guess, that's why we are here, and if so, then shouldn't it be celebrated with a party and a piece of paper with a very official looking seal? Here are two people who have spent 21 years together, can't we at least spare them one piece of paper to say it's okay to love and be loved in return?
I am no expert on life, love, or right and wrong, but is it too much to ask that two people seek to have it recorded in official documents that they love each other. Hell, we can spare one piece of paper, they are cutting down more of the rain forest every day. It is that much more of a tree that doesn't wind up as junk mail. If two people enter into a contract with each other to start a business, it is recorded on official documents, and if the business is a failure then both share in the debt, as well as if it is a success. Is this too much to extend to Americans? Regardless of the paperwork, the love still goes on, and shouldn't we extend this Christian charity that we speak so highly of to one tenth of our population? George Takei is 71 and he is getting married. Is it really too much to give it a piece of paper and a file somewhere?
Perhaps I've got the wrong end of the stick, but didn't Jesus mention something about love thy neighbor and pray unceasingly. I seem to remember that from my years of bible school.
I have no idea how things will shake out for George and Brad, but then, who does?
Doc
P.S.- Pardon me for this diatribe but I felt compelled. Just for the record, I am straight, married with two beautiful children, and a redneck. None of the above should be considered representative of any of the above qualifiers. Thank you for reading THIS far, and I won't be revisiting this topic again. My hope is that you have found a love like I have, and are as enriched as I have been. I now return you to your regularly scheduled Beer blog.
Now pardon me while I slide a little further out this branch and proceed to saw it off behind me.
George Takei is marrying Brad Altman, his business manager, and they are shopping for rings in Arizona.
Normally the news of celebrity weddings passes under my radar, but this caught my eye in the short blurbs of Yahoo news and I'm glad that I bothered to investigate. I love to hear about people finding love. It reaffirms my belief in man. Unless I miss my guess, that's why we are here, and if so, then shouldn't it be celebrated with a party and a piece of paper with a very official looking seal? Here are two people who have spent 21 years together, can't we at least spare them one piece of paper to say it's okay to love and be loved in return?
I am no expert on life, love, or right and wrong, but is it too much to ask that two people seek to have it recorded in official documents that they love each other. Hell, we can spare one piece of paper, they are cutting down more of the rain forest every day. It is that much more of a tree that doesn't wind up as junk mail. If two people enter into a contract with each other to start a business, it is recorded on official documents, and if the business is a failure then both share in the debt, as well as if it is a success. Is this too much to extend to Americans? Regardless of the paperwork, the love still goes on, and shouldn't we extend this Christian charity that we speak so highly of to one tenth of our population? George Takei is 71 and he is getting married. Is it really too much to give it a piece of paper and a file somewhere?
Perhaps I've got the wrong end of the stick, but didn't Jesus mention something about love thy neighbor and pray unceasingly. I seem to remember that from my years of bible school.
I have no idea how things will shake out for George and Brad, but then, who does?
Doc
P.S.- Pardon me for this diatribe but I felt compelled. Just for the record, I am straight, married with two beautiful children, and a redneck. None of the above should be considered representative of any of the above qualifiers. Thank you for reading THIS far, and I won't be revisiting this topic again. My hope is that you have found a love like I have, and are as enriched as I have been. I now return you to your regularly scheduled Beer blog.
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