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Friday, May 25, 2012

Goood Morning Old People!


No one sleeps in this joint!  For serious.

Sartre's hell in "No Exit" sounds like a nice vacation these days.  Not serious. 

But my high school French teach would be proud that I referenced this play 20 years later after she kicked me out of AP class that I was essentially grandfathered into as a result of my sister's legacy as a mini-Marie Antoinette French polyglot.  Thanks sis for paving the way for my failure. Sort of serious.

On to real seriousness. Friday is here and we've got to take the party up a notch.

Show some gums.  Don't be scared.  Think of him as a piranha without teeth.  One aggressive gummer.

Hanging out with a headless lady who dresses just like me.  I like her.  She has impeccable style and doesn't say much.  I say a lot.  I need a lot of verbal bandwidth.  I kinda wish my brother was headless too.  He'd still have his cute toes and hands, but he wouldn't be blabbing and gumming and all that other stuff that irritates me.  Anyone got a headless baby that they'd like to trade?  I like ham sandwiches.

The whole world is ahead of you.  I know this sounds positive, but because I'm strapped in this damn torture device, I can't catch up to those fools that are getting further and further ahead.  I totally need to walk.  This blows.

Friday, May 11, 2012

Happy Fry Day

Things are cooking up around here.  Summer is around the corner. No one is sleeping yet. Seriously, when we survive all this I'm going too have some stories to tell you. Or maybe to a shrink.  

Here's a little nugget.

The other day EGB asked if she could go into the basement to get something from her kitchen. (I know, basement kitchens are dangerous, but we're living on the edge like that.)  After I said yes, she strutted her way down and then 30 seconds later proceeded to yell out a earth shattering shrill.

"What, what!?" I'm yelling at the top of the stairs wondering if she's fallen off the washing machine. (It could happen.)

"Daddy!  I heard a noise!!!!!" EGB is now paralyzed with fear.  

"What'd you hear?" As I had to go pick up the statue of ghostly white fear.

"Eeek, ook!!!!!!!!!"

"Ohhhhh.  That's easy to explain.  You heard the dryer or a small goblin."

"Noooo.  It was real!" Still shaking. "Daddy, it was a fox. Do foxes live in basements?".......

At this point, I realized that she TRULY thought a fox was in our basement.  

These are pivotal moments that I wrestle with as a parent.

I'm not sure about you, but in almost every conversation with a toddler, I push the elements of fantasy and reality without any major remorse.  It's fun to explore the annals of an unfinished mind. I mean, for how much longer can I tell her that we have a secret chocolate pool in a unknown gateway in our house or that I fight dragons when I go to work (partially true)?  She's knocking on the door of 4 and is getting mildly savvier about these types of things.

White as a ghost.  The realities of fear are very real.  So I did what any loving, caring, warm parent would do--I gave her some nunchucks and said, "Here you go kid.  You find that fox and bust his world up.  I know you're a girl and all, but it's time you put some hair on that chest."  And walked away.

Not sure what happened next, but I heard something that sounded like holes getting popped in drywall. 

The line between reality and fantasy should always remain blurred.  Growing older and full of this reality that things are and are not is quite boring, one-dimensional, and maybe dangerous for soul.  Ever notice that the visionaries of our times are those that don't accept reality?  Those that embrace what appears to be impossible to the rest of us.  Lucidity has its benefits.  That's the 3 year old in us all buried in layers of realistic perception.  But the only REAL reality is the POSSIBILITIES that exist in the universe.  EGB can tell you all about this if you come to her basement.

EGB is growing up quick and furious.  She's an emerging fuzzy-headed suburban mountain climbing ninja.

Some say me and my old dad look alike.  I don't see it.  He's scratchy.  I'm soft, but dangerous.  Betta believe dat.

It's friday yo. Get on your weekend hat and deliver some papers.  Maybe roll in some grass.  Grab a booby or two.  
What? Better look the other way or I'll vaporize you and take you to my leader who will sing bad karaoke to you.

Wednesday, May 2, 2012

Ever Feel Like....

You're working really hard at all of this and not really going anywhere?

Yeah?  Well you have a ton in common with Baby B and likely other 7 month olds around the world. 

Look around you.  Life can be a struggle, but there is growth in that struggle.  Keep on fighting, my people.

Tuesday, May 1, 2012

Delta Dawn What's That Flower You Have On?

So where have I been?

Making rock videos, of course. 

This one is one that EGB's mama sang in many a dusty roadhouses.  On long lingering summer evenings this tune was belted out in the spirit of the faithful searchers.  In her younger days they called her Delta Dawn. Wandering with a suitcase in her hand and looking for a mysterious dark haired man.   She never allowed anyone to know her.  She was always pretending. But she had the prettiest eyes, you'd ever laid eyes on. 

All the folks round here said she's crazy. 

EGB has that timeless spirit.  I have a feeling she'll be a searcher and likely searched, as well.  Hopefully, it aint by the Po-Po while she's on the lam after knocking off some 7-11s though.

Come on, Helen.  You did this good, but EGB gonna take your Grammy and melt it into a big gold plate for her cookies.