%%USERNAME%%    %%ACCWORDS%% %%ONOFF%% |
 |  Groovy Blog v 2.0 |
|
** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Thanks, vivacious  , for my groovy blog header! ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only **
|
| My daughter's wonderful smile has returned! It's been missing in action for the last four or five years. Back in the day, you couldn't keep the smile off her face. I remember a neighbor mom laughing to me one morning as we waved goodbye to our kids at the bus stop, “Gee, is Shelby ever not smiling?” Not very often. But then she got old enough to care about her crooked front teeth. The smiles became much more infrequent, and what we did get were of the tight-lipped variety. Exactly two years ago this month, she was fitted with braces. And while I think kids in braces are pretty darn cute, Shelby, of course, did not agree. Two more years of tight-lipped smiles ensued. Yesterday, the braces came off! Her smile has returned, though she's still getting used to it. She tells me it looks too perfect and fake, so she's working it in slowly.  Getting her to the orthodontist on time was kind of fun. When I left to pick her up from school for the appointment, I decided I probably had time to mail a package at the post office first. The line was long, but I stayed. It's kind of fun to watch the people waiting in long lines – each one glancing sheepishly at the person behind as if to apologize even though it's not their fault, and then glaring impatiently at the person directly in front as if it's actually their fault. And in every slow-moving, long line, there has to be one mean person who can't hold it in. Yesterday was no exception. This guy was bad! A real jackass. Just a mean person – the kind who likes to pull the wings off small children. I finally made it out of there and headed for the high school, but as soon as I turned down the street leading to the school, I was greeted by three firetrucks with lights flashing and sirens wailing, parked right in the middle of the street blocking my path. I took this as a sign from God to pull into the gas station on the corner for a 44 oz. Diet Coke with lemon for .99 cents. I zoomed in, did my 'fill to 36 oz, drink down to 30 oz., fill to 44 oz.' ritual and was on my way. Trying to exit the parking lot, I immediately got stuck in a line of cars all because the person in front was trying to make a left turn where there ain't no left turn to make! We all sat there forever and I was starting to get another sign from God that my bladder holds considerably less than 44 oz. Finally, the person just went for it, risking death and dismemberment or dismemberment and death or both, causing traffic to scream to a halt as they made their illegal turn. Meanwhile, Shelby called wondering if I forgot about her. “What? Do I know you? I think you have the wrong number,” was my response. So, with Mrs. Left Turn out of the way, I figured I could be to the school in less than three minutes, but the very next guy in the parking lot line tried the same illegal maneuver! I took this as a sign from God to get my horn fixed (it's been dead for months). Finally, the guy gave up and turned right, allowing all of the parking lot congestion to be relieved, except for my bladder which was not relieved. I picked up the non-smiling child, raced to the orthodontist as fast as the law would allow  , and waited patiently for a smiling child to re-appear. She did, complete with 'congratulations' balloons and a gift bag of candy.  I've missed that smile! |
| Okay, class, listen up! History lesson time. In honor of Feb. 29, I present to you some little known facts about Leap Day. I looked some things up and now I'll pass them on to you so you'll know more than you did when you woke up and you'll be smarter and stuff like me. First of all, why do we have Leap Year? Leap Year was signed into law by President Clinton early in 1998 when the Monica Lewinsky scandal first broke and he needed an extra day to come up with a better excuse. The day stuck. Actually, wikipedia tells us that Feb. 29 came into existence from Julius Caesar back in 45 B.C. Caesar, also known as Pontitex Maximus, or P-Max to his friends, decreed that a new calendar should be adopted with 365 ¼ days per year, thus the need for an extra day every four years. This was one of Julius's better ideas, though he was better known for his chain of smoothie franchises throughout southern Europe. ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** This algorithm from wikipedia explains it all clearly: if year modulo 400 is 0 then leap else if year modulo 100 is 0 then no_leap else if year modulo 4 is 0 then leap else no_leap This particular algorithm was written by one of the white actors who portrayed an indian in a 1960s John Wayne movie. “Hmm. Me heap Modulo 400. Many leaps. Else year 100. Ugh. No leap. Paleface speak with forked tongue. Else heap 0 modulo. Me leap. Ugh.” Not only are there Leap Years and Leap Days, but there are also Leap Seconds. Did you know that our earth is actually decelerating? It's true – to the tune of 1.4 milliseconds a day. I don't know about the rest of you, but I can sure feel it. Those last few milliseconds of the day seem to drag on forever anymore. Leap seconds are generally inserted into the clock every 18 months or so, but since the earth's speed of rotation is unpredictable, it varies, which is probably Superman's fault for circling the earth really fast to reverse the earth's rotation back in Superman I so he could bring Lois back to life. Speaking of which, I never understood how making the earth go backwards could reverse time and bring people back to life. Totally a stretch. However, the fact that he could fly around the world at high speeds in his cape and underwear was totally believable. There are many customs associated with Leap Day. For centuries, many countries allowed women the right to propose to a man on February 29. This was the only day this was accepted. The idea was to help balance the traditional roles of men and women, at the same times that the world's clocks were being balanced. Letting women have one day every four years seems a little excessive to me, but it seems to be working so far. Your odds of being born on Leap Day are just short of 1 in 1,500. There are even support groups devoted to helping you deal with the trauma of being 5-years-old, but feeling like you're 20. Really. Many choose February 29 as their wedding day, simply to be unique. This works well for the husband who only has to remember the anniversary once every four years. This concludes today's Leap Day lesson. I hope you feel smarter and not dumber. Class dismissed. Enjoy your extra day and please leap responsibly. |
| Had to buy a sympathy card yesterday. Ugh. My strange friends and I used to give random cards to each other for birthdays and major holidays. I'd send a 'Sympathy' or 'Get Well Soon' card on birthdays; they'd give me one with 'Happy Grandparents Day' or 'Happy Birthday To A Special Little Girl', stuff like that. But yesterday was the real thing. A local high school girl took her own life last Friday night. Her mom is a former co-worker of my wife, plus I got to know her very upbeat and energetic grandmother about five years ago when she was having chemotherapy treatments at the same time as my own mother. Of course, the rumors are flying through the halls of my kids' high school this week, but it appears this young girl was distraught over learning she was pregnant with twins from someone other than her boyfriend. After learning of the pregnancy, neither guy wanted anything to do with her anymore. She was bright, beautiful, popular, and a local sports star, not that any of that matters, other than the fact that all of those attributes may have contributed in some way to the pressure and pain she felt. Who knows, really? She also had a very demanding father, from what I've heard from others who know the family. Anyway, I hate shopping for cards, especially serious ones. I can't stand all of those long-winded sayings like “In this your time of great despair, it is wise to remember the words of Sir Lars O. Pretentia III, the great 16th century poet who once said, 'Life is like an onion. You peel it, you cry.' For it is in these darkest, deepest moments of our uncertain lives that we seek comfort and soothing through the lonely but beautifully chaotic flight of the butterfly, who flutters about with nary a care of being squished or having wings pulled off by 4th graders, yet through its calm and effortless being, reassures us of our own existence and our own mortality and how satisfying it is not to be an insect...blah, blah, blah, blah, BLAH....” I want a card that pretty much just says, “Sorry.” I remember when my mom died 4 ½ years ago, I sure didn't have the energy to read a sympathy novel. Short is good. I finally found one with less than ten words, so I bought it. Funeral's today. My wife's going, but I don't think I will. There's going to be a TON of people there. They had to move it to a much larger church already. I didn't know this girl and it's been years since I've seen her mom. Very sad, but you have to wonder how often this happens and it doesn't make the papers because the kid wasn't considered pretty and popular enough by today's misguided standards. Ugh! I hate being a downer! Tomorrow I'll be happier – it's supposed to be 50 degrees and sunny. A perfect recipe for a better day. But susanL  wisely recommended last week that I not be afraid to purge icky brain matter during this tour of duty at WDC, lest it become a pale yellow slimy ooze that works its way out of random openings of the body. Okay, Susan didn't say anything about the slimy ooze, but I'm sure that's what she meant.  |
| An observation I observed. I wonder if this is universal or just in my home. When the cupboards and fridge start getting a little bare and my wife goes shopping alone, the family will starve, but will at least die with clean, moisturized skin and luminous hair. The floors, sinks and toilets will all be spotless. The furniture will be shiny and lemony. Clothes will be brighter and smelling of spring. The cat will be fed, but not us. We will die. When I go to the store alone, I spend all of my time and money in the food aisles. I come home with large quantities of food-like items that will keep the family alive for another week. No soap, no conditioners – just life-giving food. We may smell, but we'll be happy and well-fed. I often ask my wife how it's possible for her to go on a food-run and spend $100, but come home with no food. “What do you mean?” she'll respond. “I got some bananas and an onion.” Speaking of which, our personal household record is four generations of bananas residing on our kitchen table in various states of decay. The next time we get that many different families of bananas together again, I'm taking a picture and posting it. It's pretty cool. So, I guess my wife and I balance each other out. She can take care of keeping us clean and I'll be responsible for keeping us alive. In other news, someone once said that it's fun to stay at the YMCA. Well, for the first time I can say that it's kind of true. My wife's friend, Amber, an employee at the Y (that's short for YMCA. Insiders' lingo), called a few weeks ago to inform us that our family would be receiving a free one-year membership! I guess they give 20 free memberships a year to families in the community, and I'm assuming Amber must have visited our home one day after my wife went shopping and thought we were poor and recommended us. I'm impressed with the Y. Much better than the tiny gym I was a member of a few years back where all I ever did was try to run on the treadmill during the winter months. They have all kinds of cool stuff, including air hockey and foosball, but their weight room is pretty darn intimidating. There are many different frightening machines that look like Transformers and for now I'm too afraid to try them for fear a seasoned member will come up and say, “Uh, your butt goes there, not your face.” “Not if you want to maximize your workout,” I'll confidently say as I send up a quick prayer that the previous user wiped well the last time they were in the restroom. It is a big weight room, though. Way too much to learn! When I first walked in and saw everyone working out on these strange machines, I felt like the Grinch down in Whoville. “They'll shriek squeaks and squeals, racing 'round on their wheels. They'll dance with jingtinglers tied onto their heels. They'll blow their floofloovers. They'll bang their tartookas. They'll blow their whohoopers. They'll bang their gardookas. They'll spin their trumtookas. They'll slam their slooslunkas. They'll beat their blumbloopas. They'll wham their whowonkas! And all the noise, noise, noise, noise, NOISE!!!” I tried one self-explanatory weight machine (at least I'm hoping it was self-explanatory) and left to find other YMCA fun. They do have an indoor running track. This is good since I tend to fall off treadmills. However, it's so small it takes about 82,000 laps to run a mile. Watching people run on it is a little like watching a dog chase its own tail. But, hey, IT'S FREE! Guess what I had for breakfast. Yep, a banana! Guess who went shopping last! In fairness to my wife, it was a really good banana. No age spots. |
| A boring little true story. Have you ever seen the movie '50 First Dates' starring Drew Barrymore and Adam Sandler? In the movie, Barrymore's character suffers some strange kind of amnesia and each new day is do-over. She doesn't remember a thing from the day before and, of course, Sandler keeps trying over and over to win her affections. I have my own real-life version of this film, minus the romance. On one of my hikes up Mt. Sentinel just east of town one winter day about three years back, I followed a man roughly my age all the way to the summit. He was a couple hundred feet above me when I started and was a strong hiker. I couldn't catch him. Up on top, he introduced himself to me as Ben, and we wound up chatting for about fifteen minutes, then hiked back down together. I discovered that he and I had hiked many of the same mountains of western Montana over the years. It's always enjoyable to talk with someone who's climbed where I've climbed, and it was obvious Ben had. He described in detail certain mountain routes that I was familiar with and his descriptions could only have come from someone who had been there themself. Back down at the trailhead, we shook hands and said goodbye, but not before Ben informed me that he climbs Mt. Sentinel nearly every day. I told him I go up at least three times a week so I was sure I'd see him again soon. In the years since that first meeting, I have met Ben up on Sentinel again. And again and again and again. Meaning, he doesn't remember me and I have to re-introduce myself each time. I thought it was odd the second time we crossed paths and he didn't seem to recall our first meeting, but I considered the possibility of him simply being a little forgetful with names and details. However, as our meetings on Sentinel became more frequent – each one requiring a fresh round of introductions followed by the same exact hiking stories - I knew something wasn't quite right. During this time, I met another local hiker online and through our e-mail conversations, I learned that this new acquaintance knew of Ben from a local outdoor club. He told me that, yes, Ben had a memory problem. Eventually, I started to avoid Ben. I could recognize his long, deceivingly slow stride from a great distance and would alter my route slightly when I saw him up ahead, just so I wouldn't have to go through the whole routine again. I felt guilty doing that, because I knew Ben enjoyed our talks, even if he didn't remember me from before. But I selfishly started going my own way more and more. After seeing Ben on Sentinel nearly every time I went up those first few years after meeting, suddenly last year he was gone. I don't think I saw him once during my hikes the entire year. I started to fear the worst, wondering if something unexpected had befallen this kind and gentle man who never seemed to miss a day on the mountain. Last week, as Montana was in the midst of a wonderfully warm and sunny preview of Spring, I made the familiar trek up Sentinel's western slopes. About 500 feet from the summit, I gazed up and noticed the figure of a man making his way up the final stretch to the top. His long, slow stride brought a smile to my face and I quickened my pace the rest of the way. When I arrived on top, Ben was still there, but as soon as he saw me he walked right over and immediately started chatting in that low, gentle voice of his about the beautiful day we were having and of the muddy hike to the top. In my excitement I blurted out, “Hi, Ben. How have you been?” This brought a curious and confused stare to his face, as he fumbled with a reply while trying to figure out how I knew him. It quickly passed, however, and we started back down the mountain together, Ben telling me the same old hiking stories I'd heard a dozen times before. This time I was happy to hear them. Again. However, the next time I see Ben up on the trail I'll probably duck behind the nearest tree again, but it's good to know he's alive and well. |
| I tried some Alpo Prime Slices with Gravy yesterday. Beef flavor. ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Dog food just keeps looking better and better these days, and heaven knows we've given Fido enough of our own table food over the years, so it's only fair. So, when I was up at Dad's yesterday and he started dishing out his hound's dinner, I just had to try it. And trust me, it looked tastier in her bowl than it does on the can's label. I could almost envision a huge pot of Alpo Prime Slices simmering over my campfire on a future trip into the mountains, watering my mouth for the bargain price of only .69 cents a can. Ugh. HUGE mistake. HUGE! I don't know how dogs survive. Must be the table scraps. There will be no simmering pot of Alpo over my campfire, that's for sure. Then, when I checked online for a pic of Alpo, I found all kinds of crap! This particular Alpo recipe was actually recalled last year. Sheesh, thanks Dad for trying to poison your favorite son. I then came across a website devoted to a dog food conspiracy, something the presidential candidates seem to be brushing under the rug. According to the site, if you enter your dog's e-mail address and name they'll send you a solution to 'increase the lifespan of your dog up to 134%', which is 938% in dog years. Plus, you might save yourself 'up to $10,000', though they didn't explain how. That's $70,000 in dog dollars, so it might be worth it. 'Amazing secrets' will reveal how to keep your 'incredibly happy dog by your side for up to 8.3 years longer than statistically predicted!' That's 58.1 dog years, so that means he'll be by your side, but you most likely won't be by his anymore. So, take it from me – stick with what's in the fridge. Maybe some ketchup would've helped. Tomorrow I'll try Friskies, which could possibly make for a tasty pate on crackers. Anyway, right now I have this sudden urge to hug my wife's leg so I'm off. Happy Sunday! |
| First of all, thanks for the great welcome home the other day! I honestly never could have expected such a warm reception and it left me all misty with mucus flowing freely onto some of the important keys on my keyboard, like the 'B' and the 'M'. This will cause a delay in my love letters to Brittany Murphy, but it was worth it. Totally did not deserve it, but thank you all! And as if the day wasn't already swell enough, I came home Thursday night from the Griz basketball game over at the U to find an e-mail from humorpress.com telling me I'd won first place in their latest humor essay contest. $100! Cash! Real cold hard crinkly green locked-in-Paypal-and-I-have-no-idea-how-to-get-it-out CASH MONEY! I like money and use it all the time, even when I don't have any! First place also includes a 10-book publishing contract, appearances on Oprah, Ellen, and Trading Spaces (my other girlfriend, Paige!), syndication in every major newspaper in the world, plus the use of each of the 26 Deal Or No Deal models – one a week for half a year! Cool!!! Okay, everything after the $100 is a fig newton of my imagination. You know what this means, don't you? Today could suck! Really good days must be paid back in their entirety, and soon. Life's scales must be balanced NOW! Having two good days this close together only happens if you take drugs, but I escaped payment yesterday by remaining motionless in front of the computer all day and going unnoticed. But today I have to go to the bathroom. Life will indeed take notice and come calling, no doubt. Humorpress will probably call telling me they're really really sorry, but someone was temporarily stoned and they would like their $100 back and maybe another $100 just to be sure. For now, I stuck the essay in my port since it was pretty dark and empty in there. I'll leave you with this bit of inspiration to brighten your morning/afternoon. I'm a believer, but sometimes the bible makes me laugh. Check out this text from Ecclesiastes in one of my recent daily devotionals: “Enjoy life with your wife, whom you love, all the days of this meaningless life that God has given you under the sun— all your meaningless days. For this is your lot in life and in your toilsome labor under the sun.” Wow, if that doesn't pick you up and get you excited about facing the day, I don't know what will!  I'm off to Daddy's for the day so I'll catch up with some blogs later tonight. Enjoy your meaningless weekend! |
| Blog #2, Entry #1. Hello, Everyone. Anyone? Hello? Helloooooooooooooooo.....helloooooooooo.....hellooooooooo. (That was an echo in case you didn't get it.) Sheesh, it's STILL yellow here! Well, I must say I'm very excited and more than a little nervous to be returning to WDC after about a six-month hiatus. First of all, I want to apologize for jumping the WDC ship without a word last summer. I've made a lot of good friends here that I left hanging without a clue, but in my defense, the Krelborgs didn't give me time to pack more than a tootbrush and some clean undies before taking me aboard the mother ship, so goodbyes were out of the question. And you'd think they'd have high-speed intergalactic internet on board. You'd think wrong. So...not my fault. Okay, seriously, WDC drama mixed with real-life non-WDC drama caused me to chuck it all in a moment of weakness. It was kind of a difficult time, but I should have used an entry to say goodbye before my blogging death, for Pete's sake. I'm really sorry for that. I mean, I'll bet even Custer took a few minutes to text his wife and kids before galloping off to the Little Big Horn to battle the Nazis. I am bad. 'I am bad' = 'My bad' for those of you still hanging on to outdated grammatically-challenged pop culture slogans. I've kept up with some of you privately and others over at MySpace during the past half-year, but I've lost touch with others, so I'm looking forward to getting reacquainted. My work hours have changed so I won't have as much time as I did before, plus I have absolutely nothing in my port except this blog. That may or may not change. I miss blogging, okay? It makes me happy and improves my complexion. One of the problems I had last time was that I tried too hard to entertain all the time which often resulted in much suckage of writing. This time I want to be more casual - to write whatever's on my mind without thinking about it. Like, how the cat keeps using everything but the litter box for the litter box or how our roof leaks even when it's not raining or about last Sunday's phone call from Grandma and how interesting that was since Granny's been dead for three years. You know, like last time. Coming back the week of Presidents Day made perfect sense since Abe is on five dollar bills and I like those. In other big local news, I had to roll the window down in my car yesterday. No, not to release noxious bodily gases into the atmosphere where they belong, but because it was actually warm out. Yes, the sun has returned to Montana for the first time since 1952, bringing with it much rejoicing, shedding of clothing, and a general warming of loins throughout the region. Hippies were spotted frollicking. This concludes Entry #1 of Blog #2. Sheesh, that means I'm dead last on the most-viewed list! My goal is to be second to last by summer. Rookie! That's me. Now I need to learn how to use emoticons again. Rookie! |
 Log in to Leave Feedback |
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
