SHOOTING SOME HOOPS

It's Spring break and the daughter is thinking about her summer activities. Drama camp, guitar, cheerleading, soccer, basketball? What will she choose? The wife and I are working out the details in committee and we hope to bring the vote to the floor soon:

• How many activities is a 10-year-old allowed? 
• Is she getting enough exercise? 
• Is she too involved? 
• What activities promote her strenghts? 
• How can we build on her weaknesses? 

Don't expect any stupid amendments or an attempt to slow the process down. The decisions must be made, as they are in the best interests of the child's development. 

There's more to life than sports. Big time. Music does wonders for the brain and mathematics specifically (according to research). We need a nice balance and assurance that there is plenty of sweat time. She is so good at drama that we cannot neglect that either. Then there is the issue of what the daughter wants. We believe in choice. 

The daughter is interested in basketball. She cheers like a banshee at the Lady Bears games and had a blast watching her older cousin play in a tourney. So it was off to the store today to pick up a girls' basketball. A pink and white, indoor-outdoor, intermediate size fit the bill. We've spent the last hour dribbling, practicing proper shot form, and playing P.I.G and Around the World. 

We'll see where that takes us. We have a b-ball goal and never bought a ball. We needed one anyway. So no big deal to buy one even if she doesn't play in a league.

THE TWO GEEKS

I am raising a good girl. She is a nice mix of girl and geek: girlygeekchic. She loves pink and blue and sports and The Lord of the Rings. That last one required a bit of coaxing, but once we sat down she was hooked.

It all started earlier this week as she and I were home because of the snow. We watched the Rankin/Bass classic, The Hobbit animated film – one of my childhood favorites. Then I convinced her to try The Fellowship of the Ring. It was a hard sell as her mother uses that film to tease me so the kid was skeptical. Once I turned it on, she got into it. She's a geek at heart and loves those fantasy stories. I paused often to make sure she understood (she did most of the time) and to fill in gaps.

I nearly hit the floor when she asked – repeatedly – to watch The Two Towers. They are long movies for an elementary aged student, but she kept in there. We watched the first half of the extended version then took a break. I can't wait to give her the rest as it really kicks into gear.

She is raised well and will go far in this world where geeks are taking over.

THE PARK, A DOG, AND A GOOD BOOK

The daughter asked that we go to the park – what she calls "her park" – today. So we loaded her bicycle, the dog and two books and headed down the way. Mind you, it was a picture perfect day for a motorcycle ride. Sometimes family comes first. I didn't move as much as I should have. I sat under a tree, held the dog's leash and read two books. I probably should have used that time to do a few laps with the dog in the warm sun, but it's been so long since I had time to read. I couldn't resist. It was nice.

The daughter met up with some other kids and they played for a long time. The dog finally convinced us that he was thirsty so we packed up and left for home. He was thankful for the fresh, cool water in his dish, thanks to mommy.

LORD OF THE FLINGS

We hosted a trebuchet weekend at our home. Our college friends, most of whom have elementary-aged children, got together Saturday morning until Sunday afternoon. The menfolk took the children and stayed at our home for LORD OF THE FLINGS. (The ladies had a girl's night out. They took some kind of dance instruction.)

The fellers along with the kids (two girls and two boys) built miniature medieval siege weapons – trebuchets and catapults – and fired them into the next door neighbor's yard. Huzzah! It was great fun.

The catapult my daughter and I built.

Each child had an adult mentor. My daughter and I built a trebuchet, but it didn't work too well. Our catapult, on the other hand, was dynamite: powerful, fast and it shot wicked far. Smoke bombs are really fun to shoot.

We instructed the children – nay, we warned them – not to walk in front of the weapons, not to enter the war field when it was hot, and not to lean your face over a cocked and loaded machine. Lesson was well learned when one of the boys put his face over the thing then pulled the trigger.

We figured out a new way to knock out an already loose baby tooth. I told him to quit spitting and let the blood pool in his mouth so I could take pictures just for his mother-the-nurse. I'm a dandy like that.

He wasn't hurt, by the way. Didn't shed a tear.
The miniatures don't really shoot hard at all.

We also read a lot of comic books and ate out twice. Then on Sunday the men-children met up with the mothers at the Close Memorial Park to see the butterfly exhibit, which is really fascinating and free. Oh yeah, we also made boffers swords and fought each other. The kids really liked that.

All in all, it was a really fun weekend, but I was tired afterwards. I think the adults enjoyed the time as much as the kids. I know I did.

Two of us purchased our trebuchet kits from trebuchet.com. They worked very well and were not too expensive.

UNINTERESTED IN HOUSEHOLD CHORES

I accept, as my responsibility, 90% of the household chores in the summer; however, after this weekend I am completely and utterly disengaged in the process of cleanliness. I am more interested in watching HEROES.

The television series, HEROES, is one of my favorite shows. I was able to watch most episodes during the first season but college got in the way of seasons two and three. No way; no how. I have indulged myself this summer. I have finished season one (23 hour-long episodes) and have started season two (11 hour-long episodes because of the writer's strike I think).

Somehow the wife and daughter seem to think that clean floors, washed dished and hot food is also a priority. [sigh] I don't think I am going to change their minds so I should quit blogging and get to it, but I am not inclined to do so.

DRAMA CAMP

Today was my daughter's first day at her two-week drama camp (as if she needs lessons in drama). She came home beat, which is just how it should be. Keep em moving and grooving, says I. Tomorrow we find out what part she gets to play then we practice, practice, practice. She's also taking guitar lessons (by DVD right now but hopefully from a real live teacher this fall).

IT'S AS HARD AS GOVERNMENT WORK

Garage sales make good money but they aren't nearly as much fun when you are in charge. Typically, Skinny Kitty takes care of the garage sales. I help out, move tables and talk to customers, but the wife and her mother are usually in charge. This time Skinny Kitty was out of town so it was left to the mother-in-law and me to handle.

Oh, that part was fine. We work well together.

But man, that garage sale business is hard work. We held it Thursday and Friday and when we closed today at 2 p.m. I had one and a half tubs of junk left. That's it. The rest sold. What I had left I donated to Goodwill.

I am surprised how much hard work running a garage sale is. I don't like waking up at 5:30 a.m. either. The daughter and I have grown accustomed to sleeping in during the summer. Oh, woe is me.

The wife jetted in from St. Louis today, got fed and gave her blessings. That's all good. I done good, but I hope she doesn't get used to it. I'm not a fan of running a garage sale. I prefer being a minor player in the whole affair.

TECHNICAL DIFFICULTIES

You could probably see this coming, as I am a gadget guy anyway. My DVD player started making crazy train sounds last night during our movie (THE WRESTLER). I had to turn the sound up just to hear the movie over the thing.

That is especially annoying with a new hi-def TV. So I am thinking that the wife and I need to buy ourselves a Blu Ray player for our anniversary. Makes sense, right? Might as well get the most use out of that 47-inch TV, don't you think? This is very logical and practical.

While I'm at it, I might as well buy one that is Netflix capable so I can stream the play-it-now movies straight to my television. My logic is sound. Feel free to convince her of this necessity by adding your comments of support below. (You can bet your sweet Aunt Minnie's fanny that I will delete any comments that serve to derail my plans.)

Will she go for it? Will my logical argument be met with acceptance or foot-downing and the counting to three? Will FAT JACK live to see another anniversary? Stay tuned for our next exciting episode:

FAT JACK GOES SPLAT
or
THE WORLD IS A DANDY SHADE OF BLU!

GRIN AND BEAR IT

That’s exactly what you do when your 9-year-old decides to have a slumber party for her birthday. Eight soon-to-be fourth graders can wreak havoc on a clean house and drive the pets insane, especially the cat, but it is worth it when that same daughter looks back on her life and remembers the year she had the best slumber party ever.

I kept reminding myself of the memories I was instilling in her spongy little brain as they … did … things … to … me.

No childhood slumber party is complete without scary movies, staying up late, and getting in trouble for being too loud after you are supposed to be asleep. Considering their age we opted for the Goosebumps series of just-scary-enough-to-be-spooky-but-not-enough-to-create-nightmares movies, which they watched in total darkness for the first half hour and with lights on the next hour or so.

After each activity the girls would get restless and goosy, so I often guided them toward fun things that had a purpose. Girls that age tend to argue about cliques and “she’s mean to me” if left to their own devices. So I gently suggested they do their nails. I put down towels but they still managed to spill nail polish remover on the old hardwood floor. Next time I will supervise the nail polish remover. (Note: nail polish remover bubbles the finish on the wood floors.)

Then I gave the girls facials. They loved that. I cut up cucumber and then applied lotion to their faces. I finished their eyes with the veggie. I took pictures but I didn’t want to post the kids’ faces on my site. Use your imagination.

Then the girls got a wild hair and decided to give me a facial and I agreed. Remember the memories you’re creating, Big Daddy. I plopped in a chair in the middle of the kitchen and let them cover my face with whipped cream and cucumbers, and I smiled at their giggles as they did it. It smelled awful, I tell you, but they enjoyed it. The daughter has managed to tell everyone she sees about it.

Of course I had to get on to them for staying up too late and having sleeping bag races across the kitchen floor. I knew that was going to happen before the party ever started. It’s part of the childhood experience. I am okay with that. I did my duty and settled them down. I think they went to sleep about 3 a.m.

I didn’t stop the dog from licking face after face at 7:30 in the morning. That’s all part of the experience, too.

OH, THE PLACES YOU’LL GO!

I’m already headed places, thank goodness, now that I’ve graduated with my master’s degree. I am looking forward to it all. For graduation, my parents bought me two gifts, one practical and one sentimental and I love them both.

The first was a new television. Funny story. Whenever my mother and wife send Dad and I out to buy something … well, there’s really no telling what we will come back with. That day my wife was at work and my mother was visiting friends in the hospital. So, she sent Dad and I out to pick out a new TV for our kitchen/dining room area. (I love to watch the news while I make breakfast for the girls.)

When we got to the store, Dad pointed out the silliness in buying a new LDC television for the kitchen when I have an old school TV in the one room we watch the most boob tube. I love his way of thinking. So we started looking at slightly larger sets down the big boy aisle, and we came home with a 47-inch widescreen big dog. Boy howdy can you watch movies and game on this puppy. There’s no longer glare on my TV. None. Zip. I can have every light on the house on and have no glare. It is a thing of beauty and we love every minute of it. Skinny Kitty is especially enamored with watching with insane hugeness her favorite jewelry craftsman, Jay King, on HSN.

The other gift, which came first, is equally worthy of blog space. My mother, with her artistic eye and infinite creative juices bought a slipcovered version of Dr. Seuss’ gradation book, Oh the Places You’ll Go! Inside, she scrap-booked on the pages using old greeting cards, thank you notes and other memorabilia. The result is a handmade book that I absolutely adore.

One particular page is very sentimental. My parents ran my high school Sunday School class. Two things I remember from the years they took on that endeavor: the biscuits and gravy and her mantra. Every story, every lesson, every unique teaching moment my mother impressed upon us teens this bit of ideology: God uses ordinary people to do extraordinary things or a version thereof.

The point, of course, is that one person can make a difference and that regular old folks can be heroes and influential in the world around them. I like that message. I like the idea that heroes are really just ordinary people who have endured a journey in which they emerge from the other side as someone great.

Much obliged, parents, for the gifts and the lessons and most of all the love and support. (They have done a lot to help put me through school.) It definitely took a village to raise this child.

DADDY, WHAT'S A DOUCHE BAG?

Seriously? My nearly 9-year-old wants to know this? Okay, how are you going to handle this one, Big Daddy?

I took a deep breath,
and told her the truth
geared for a child.

She's heard some kids at school call each other that word and she wanted to know what it was. Understandable. I'm glad she had the guts to ask me. I'm glad I had the guts to tell her. She agreed that it is not a nice word and that we don't use it. I also told her that the act of douching is not healthy or natural and that our bodies clean themselves.

Now she knows and knowing is half the battle.

HOTTIE UNDER 40

Last night I donned the bow tie, cuff links and jacket for The Springfield Business Journal's 40 Under 40 celebration. My wife the advocate and do-gooder was honored for her incredible and influential work with persons who have disabilities.

Approximately 300 of Springfield's finest attended the event to honor these 40 influential people. This year's celebration took on an Oscar theme, which is right up our alley. We walked the red carpet and took pictures getting out of a limo (photo prop) and it was a hoot. Local radio personalities, Kevin and Liz, were the emcees and they were snappy with the impromptu jokes. It was a great time.

MAKING AN OLD WOMAN HAPPY

I could care less about yard work. It is not important to me and I avoid it like the plague. However, I had a wild grape vine growing on the house and into the fascia/soffit. I also had some not-so-sapling trees growing next to the foundation

It was time to do something and Grandma was very excited. She is 92 and her health is failing, but the woman lives for two things: teaching elementary school and yard work.

Grandma: "What are you doing tomorrow? Do you want to clean up your yard."
Jack: (Oh, Hell no.) "Sure, why not.
Grandma: "Come pick me up. What time will you be by?"
Jack: "After my meeting."

She was so excited, she starting working in her own, quite meticulous, yard that morning. I picked her up and we started cutting, sawing and snipping. Grandma can't cut or saw, but she can take the hand clips and snip-snip all kinds of little buggers. We worked for a while and then I made us take a break. She looked tired. We sat on the porch with two glasses and a pitcher of ice water and admired our work. She was proud and pleased. We cut more than I wanted to, but it really did need it.

After our break she sat in a chair and bossed me: "cut this; cut that; you didn't cut that right." It was really cute. I took her home in the early afternoon so she could rest, as she was really tired. One might be inclined to cringe that a 92-year-old woman was doing yard work, especially one who has had a mini-stroke.

We have talked as a family and we decided that she is happiest when she can work in her yard and have control over her life. If Grandma, God forbid, were to keel over and die right in the backyard she would, I can assure you, meet God with a smile on her face and snips in her hand. I am okay with that. Even the elderly need control in their lives and they need to do things that make them happy.

She is all the more happy that she gardened with her grandson. So I am. Don't tell her, but I rather enjoyed it. I don't like yard work anymore than I did, but I enjoyed our time together. I loved the fact that she loved bossing me. I don't listen much, but I giggled when she tried to do it.

TO MY VILLAGE

In 1994 a friend of mine spent a semester overseas. He went to Scotland and, knowing I was a fan of scotch, brought me back a beautiful bottle of single malt, which in today’s market sells for approximately $62.

Cadenhead’s
Authentic Collection
Cask Strength
Single Malt
Aged 19 Years
Distilled March 1975
Bottled June 1994
Ardbeg Distillery

This whiskey has been bottled from a selected individual cask in its natural state and shows the character of that cask. It has not been diluted with water. It has not been treated to change its colour and is free from all additives. It has not been subjected to any filtration that might remove natural constituents and spoil its flavour. It is the authentic product of its distillery.

Notice the scotch is cask strength. It is unavailable in the US (and it cannot be ordered online) because there is no proof listed. What comes out of the cask is not watered down. This is the real deal.

I mention all of this because I have hung onto this bottle for years. I just didn’t know when to open it. I debated cracking it at my daughter’s birth, and that would have been a perfect time. But somehow celebrating her birth with scotch didn’t seem right. Her birth was not my accomplishment; it was my blessing. We were busy and excited and nervous. I got to work raising my daughter and didn’t open it.

This weekend I will graduate with a Masters of Science in Education (MSEd) degree from Missouri State University. This time, my daughter is a part of my celebration. She has spent time decorating my gift and being excited.

With this accomplishment things are different. This journey has taken my entire village of family and friends to get us through it. I say “us” because while the schoolwork was my accomplishment, it took sacrifice and patience, late nights and dedication on the part of my wife, daughter, and other family members to get us through this experience.

My wife has often felt like a single parent. Our parents and my grandmother have helped us out financially, and everyone has helped watch our daughter when my wife and I were detained or otherwise unable. It has been hard on everyone and it is an accomplishment that is shared by so many.

This weekend seems the perfect time to open this bottle and share with my family and friends. It is my way of thanking them for their love and support.

I tip my glass to all who have offered a hand, and I sip my scotch in your name. Some of you will share in that drink and to you:

I thank you most of all.

To my wife, I say to you that you are no longer a single mother. Although they do say that first year of teaching is pretty rough – long hours spent grading papers and preparing lesson. We’ll drink that bottle of scotch when we come to it.

Cheers!

LIFE IN HIGH DEF

The third grader can't read the digital clock on the oven from 10 feet away. Oh dear, we think she caught the myopia from her pop. The wife got right on it and scheduled her for an eye appointment. Not that we needed to know whether or not she needed glasses. We knew she did. We just needed a Rx. The eye socket doc told us what we knew and she picked out the cutest rectangular plastic glasses. She looks adorable.

AT one time in our history needing braces or glasses was a near death sentence to youngsters, but that's not the case anymore. Both are stylish and accepted. She is not phased at all and I am glad. In fact, she looked forward to them.

I remember the first time I put on my eye glasses. I looked out the window and was stunned at the world I had missed. I could see ... leaves. I never knew I couldn't see them before. For the first time I saw the color distinction between the top and bottom of the leaves. Wow. I was with the daughter when we picked up her spectacles tonight. She had the same reaction, commenting that she could see the rivets in the FedEx van sitting out front.

ROLLER SKATING AIN'T SO MUCH FUN

This isn't her x-ray, but it is almost identical to hers.
Notice the dark line spiraling around the big bone (tibia).

We spent a nice four hours in the emergency room last night. The daughter went to a roller skating birthday party. A perfect sounding event for an 8-year-old kid. She was unsteady, it being her first time on roller skates, but before long she was making her way around the rink.

On the last song, the very last song, she fell. As near as we can tell, her right shin fell on top of her left skate, with her body crashing down on top. Some twisting occurred causing a spiral fracture. I don't react with too much concern with things like this. Get up, dust off, and walk it off is usually the best solution. Her crying was different this time. She touched one toe to the floor and I wondered. Luckily, the roller rink had a wheelchair so we took her to the car.

When I watched her swing her leg in, I knew something was wrong. By the time I pulled out of the parking lot I called the Mom and headed for the ER. Her cry was different. Good thing I didn't wait.

The tibia is in the correct position, so the ER put on a temporary cast and sent her home with pain meds. We call the bone doc on Monday.

She slept well through the night and is getting around well. Bless her heart. They say 4-6 weeks in a cast. At least it happened before summer.

DOGS BRING OUT THE BEST IN PEOPLE

Yeah, there's plenty of stress this semester. More than any other thus far in my program. That should not be misconstrued to mean that it is a bad semester. I am enjoying the learning immensely and I am happy. The stress is high – very, very high – and the paperwork is overpowering, blinding, breath-taking.

On top of that, my grandmother has experienced several mini-strokes called TIAs. While the American Heart Association states there is no lasting damage, that is not entirely true in Grandma's case. She has some serious holes in her short term memory and other issues. Thank the Lord on High that my mother is retired and able to help her. Mom is living with Grandma and helping her adjust and deal. Grandma has never been sick a day in her life so she is having a hard time dealing with any ailment, especially a significant one.

We check on Grandma most every day, which means our evenings are busy and late. It takes a toll on everyone, but that is what families do and we are glad to support her. I want someone to support me and my family when I get old and sick.

We have been leaving our little 6-pound Bichon-Yorkie over there during the days and many nights. He has done wonders to help her cope with her situation. He loves her, kisses her, and lays between her legs when she sits in her chair. He has done wonders to lift her spirits and keep her mind focused on something other than her situation. We miss him bunches, and bring him home sometimes, but he spends the bulk of his time over there right now. Dogs are amazing animals.

The other day he broke into her room. She awoke to a dog licking her face and commented that it was a nice way to wake up. Grandma has never taken up with animals before, so it's really interesting that she's done so now. But I'm thankful.

RELUCTANTLY MOVING ON

We spent half of Friday and all of the weekend in Branson at my late grandmother’s home. Saturday was the auction and most of the family was in town for the sale. It was difficult to see people walk away with her things: her porcelain strawberry, her easy chair, her cookie jar. These people just cart it off like it’s a thing, some object, as if it had no significance. It is just a thing, isn’t it. It’s all just stuff, but it’s hard when it’s your granny’s things and you attach memories to those things. My goodness we moved things: boxes and boxes and those things.

Luckily, those of us left were able to take a few items to appease our need for sentimentality. I have her secretary, a very beautiful piece of furniture that we have already placed and filled with stuff. We put our Japanese tea set in the glass hutch and filled the drawers with school and art supplies. Grandma would have liked that fact that we are using the secretary.

I also have her oattie bowl. It’s a small bowl with a handle, a truly unique piece, that she used to serve me oatmeal in. Now I serve oatmeal in it to my daughter. And life moves on. The world moves on. And I think the sale helped all of us to do that too.

Organizing Spaces

Ever since we remodeled the kitchen the rest of the house has looked rather shabby and unusable. We realized that the other rooms did not function properly; they did not flow. What better time for a house makeover than when I am not in college?

My Mom, the amateur interior decorator, came up with bags packed. The promise: She was not leaving until the house was organized and clean. Her standards of clean and ours differ a bit. When she says clean, she means the curtains are washed, the furniture is moved out and the floors are scrubbed. Oh yeah, and ceiling fans are dusted. She is not a fan of the Dust Bunny Snow Storms, and she nearly stoked out after reading that story. As you can see by the picture above, she remedied the ceiling fan debacle by shaking her finger until I got up on a ladder and scrubbed the dirty little devils. I did as I was told.

Mom came on Monday, the day after our vacation, and stayed until Friday night. We went through every room in house save the daughter’s bedroom: kitchen, living room, family room, master bedroom, office (which was a nightmare), the utility room, both bathrooms, the porch, and the garage. We worked sometimes until 11 p.m.

It was especially fun as I don’t get to spend time with my mother unfettered. For five days we worked together and it was really enjoyable. She worked me hard. I think I moved every piece of furniture in the house multiple times, but it did get organized. It was our own version of Trading Spaces except I didn’t work on her house.

Incidentally, we bought those Hercules Hooks that you see on TV. They really work well, especially when you have a lot of pictures to hang. We did and we used the thunder out of those things.

Come Thursday, Skinny Kitty’s mother called and wanted to have a garage sale. What to do; what to do? We opted for the sale at the same time so we could clean the garage too. At noon today, all was done –my mother left Friday night and the sale ended on Saturday. The left-overs were taken to the Salvation Army. Now we just relax and reap the rewards of a clean and very organized house, one that functions and flows well, a home that is peaceful and calm and tranquil.

It’s not all candy and popcorn, though. I had to give some things up, which my mother reminded me as the price of having a small house. I get dressed in half the rooms of the house. My shirts and pants are in the bedroom. My socks and underwear are in the office, while my shoes are in the utility room. I do have a chair in the utility room, which is nice. Then my toothbrush is in the half-bath by the garage. I don’t mind too much. I need the exercise anyway and the organized house makes the wife happy. That makes me happy.

Go Meat!

My puppy could be the mascot for those funny Hillshire Farm Go Meat commercials. He’s spent the better part of two weeks at Camp Nanny (my parents’ house) with my daughter, a niece, a nephew, a cousin and two other tiny dogs . My father still works but my mother is retired so she entertains the kids and dogs for a couple of weeks in the summer. (The dogs are all under 5 pounds).

My daughter is home now and is fine, but the dog is spoiled rotten. He won’t eat. His food bowl has been full for days now. You see, he gets the meat while at Camp Nanny: boiled chicken, ground beef, steak, brats, you name it they feed it. Now that he’s home his is some kind of mad, holding out for the good stuff. It’s not like that at home. The table food is seldom served. We buy high quality dry food from All About Cats and Dogs; it is good stuff, but it is not the real meat.