tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-47252835820969787132024-03-13T00:16:29.798-04:00Runnin on EmptyLife in generalRiderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05945462363624707216noreply@blogger.comBlogger14125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4725283582096978713.post-26321967409381374712021-10-13T08:35:00.001-04:002021-10-13T08:35:19.391-04:00<p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 31.4px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px 0px 3px;"><span class="s1" style="font-size: 31.43px; font-weight: bold;">GRATEFUL</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19.1px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 22.8px;"><span class="s2" style="font-size: 19.08px;"></span><br /></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19.1px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s2" style="font-size: 19.08px;">You have all heard the stories…I’ll never get a man/woman, I’ll never be rich, I’ll never be like them…fill in the blanks on what you will never be or never get. For me it was a job. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I always wanted to fly on a medivac as a paramedic or a nurse but for 30 years I was told to wait. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Not by anyone particular other than God i suppose, <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>but either way I was in a waiting desert and just moved on. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I stopped applying and put it in the rear view as something I was never going to do. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>But I digress as this isn’t about me but generally about all of us constantly chasing the more and more and more never enjoying where we are in the present. </span></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19.1px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s2" style="font-size: 19.08px;">We meet the person of our dreams and forget that moment and begin to search for ways to tweak it fix it “make it better” to fit it in the little box for the ultimate,a soul mate. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>In fact that will never happen because frankly we forget to be grateful for where we are in the present. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>We get bogged down with the future planning planning and planning without taking stock of the blessings we have now. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>You are constantly searching for the better friend/spouse/fill in the blank, you are eroding the present position you are in. Think about that for a minute…why cant i have a relationship like them, why cant i be successful like them, why cant i be organized or have great looks etc etc. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Concentration on what you dont have, constantly comparing yourself to others erodes you current position in life. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>For arguments sake lets say you achieve it all….best spouse, best car, best house, best kids, best ever life. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Soon while looking forward you decide there must be something better and your best life becomes second best to say a new friend, car, life etc and you begin searching while eroding your current position. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The cycle continues leading to second and third marriages, neglected kids, poor home life, loss of friends, depression, anger on and on. </span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19.1px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 22.8px;"><span class="s2" style="font-size: 19.08px;"></span><br /></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19.1px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s2" style="font-size: 19.08px;">Oh there are many books and therapist out there to tell you how to fix it all. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>7 steps to fix this or that or therapy for life, friends that tell you what you want to hear rather than being brutally honest at the risk of losing you as a friend because they don’t understand you. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>But the real answer is to stop looking, stop comparing, stop wanting to be someone else and be the person that God made you to be. Stop feeling like everything is an attack on you personally. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Be grateful in your current position. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Be grateful for what you have in front of you. Stop searching for better and settle for good enough. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>God gives you what you need daily, his grace is sufficient if you just let it be. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>If we live in the moment being grateful for what we have, without letting the demons driving us away from that taking over our daily thoughts (your house is a mess, the kids are lazy, my spouse is a jerk, my friends do things without me etc) and replace that with gratefulness (my spouse loves me, my kids are healthy and good, my friends are few but awesome). </span></p><p><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19.08px;">Back to me.</span><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19.08px;"> </span> <span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19.08px;">30 years after deciding to move on God moved in.</span><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19.08px;"> </span> <span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19.08px;">A job popped up out of the blue, I was moved to apply by my dearest friend, and after a few obstacles that I was sure was going to derail my attempt, a conversation with God that his will be done not mine, the per deim job on a flight team was offered and taken.</span><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19.08px;"> </span> <span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19.08px;">Years later out of the blue full time came at a most unexpected time.</span><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19.08px;"> </span> <span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19.08px;">12 years later I’m still at it.</span><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19.08px;"> </span> <span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19.08px;">My point is our timeline is not God’s.</span><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19.08px;"> </span> <span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19.08px;">When we wait on God it’s torture sometimes but suddenly in his time he moves you to where he wants you to be….in his time.</span><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19.08px;"> </span> <span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19.08px;">God made you for his purposes to be the best you can be in the present. The past is gone the future is already written by God, live in the moment and be grateful.</span> </p>Riderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05945462363624707216noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4725283582096978713.post-8033490110103928802021-08-08T17:23:00.000-04:002021-08-08T17:23:52.070-04:0012 years with Dad<div>
I'll go backwards.</div>
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We buried Dad in NJ, funeral at Danks, Uncle Kirby was close by me and Joe with his humor and wit trying to take the edge off the goings on, but what he didn't know was I really didn't get it. I remember going to the casket and looking at Dad, he looked plastic and waxy not at all real, I blew on his hair and it moved so I surmised that at least his hair was his. The burial and afterwards were a blur. I found comfort in my Mom, afterall I AM a Mommas boy:) and in my grandparents Aunts and Uncles. At the time it wasn't hard for me, I didn't have much of a relationship with Dad other than he was the one who dished out the dicipline.</div>
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March of 1973 I was 12, Dad died at the hospital in San Antonio, I got there after the fact I think. I don't remember crying much, I still don't, but I remember being relieved. As I said I didn't have much of a relationship with Dad,but I knew where the dicipline came from. Mom was strong, I can't imagine what she was thinking, now with me and my brother to provide for, many decisions to make fast, logistical nightmare but she pulled it off. Many people streamed in for condolences, including 2 teachers from school who I didn't like very much, and I remember thinking what hippocrits they were for showing up because I didn't think they really liked me much either.</div>
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We lived at 1798 Dayton Dr in the Baker Heights section of Abilene Tx, Dad bought me and Joe a BB gun and set up a shooting range in the garage. He taught us to shoot. I look back as that being one of the greatest days of my life with my Dad, just to have him hang out and have father son time with us. Soon I was shooting all the time at least until I shot the window out of the garage, game over. I had a sling shot as well and used to shoot that in the backyard with the smelly dog Pepper or Poochi whatever its name was, until I got the neighbors window, thought Dad would kill me, but he was really cool about that one, kind of left me off the hook. I remember the Dayton house being very busy, using old jelly jars as drinking cups, Dad cooking eggs for dinner(afterall he was a chef wasn't he?) Janes wedding, party central for the week, all the aunts and Uncles, certain ones eating old chicken bones, lots of Beer, a sort of a farewell for Jane and Dad. Of course there is the tub story, I was told to take a bath, didn't much want to, so I just dabbed a little and came out and Dad says, "Boy did you get a bath" I says "No hot water" He took me in the bathroom and held my hand under the hot, (No he didn't burn me or cause permanent damage, just making a point) All the people at the house got a good gaffaw out of that and it is still a story to be told many more times. Janes wedding was to be his last party, I remember the pain on his face walking down the aisle, I look back now on the courage it must have taken physically and mentally to make it, that memory alone makes me know that Dad was one tough cookie who really loved his kids and especially his oldest daughter who was usually at odds with him.</div>
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112 Kentucky, Dyess AFB TX was a nice area for my small brain. It was where Jane brought over Jesus Greg, and Kathi brought over Phillip Hitch (I'm going into deep recessed memories here so correct me if I mess something up but was he gay or what) and finally where Mark ask Dad for Janes hand. "You got something to say boy, say it here" me and Joe were standing there watching Mark squirm, Mom was horrified. "You gotta job"? "Yessir .....Pizza Inn manager" More giggling. So that episode showed me that Dad was a ballbuster. I would ask for money for whatever reason and Dad would empty his pockets of change and bills and say "Take what you want" but I was always afraid to take more than a quarter, but that showed me that Dad could be generous. </div>
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Falcon Courts North McGuire AFB NJ.....Don't remember the # (4048?) so help me out. Memories of the dining table only wanting to drink my milk, no food, wanting a mini bike for christmas (Santa ran out again!) Dad setting the house on fire after falling asleep smoking on the couch, thank God for the cat who woke up Mom and led her to safely extinguish the fire (what cat was that or did we have a cat?) All I remember is that nobody woke me up, (let the boy sleep thru the fire,, he'll be fine) Now I know why I went on to be a firefighter and smoked cigarettes. </div>
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Germany. I remember living in what in my minds eye was a compound of some sorts, having alot of really shitty cars and being afraid to walk to kindergarden by myself. I remember a christmas morning when me and joe got helicopter backpacks that were really noisy and Dad yelling to turn that shit off. I remember someone getting me and joe choclate bars that melted under the tree, I think it was Kathi, but my fondest memories of Germany was sitting in my sisters room listening to Janes Beatles 45rpm records (along with Elvis, Herman Hermits, Peter and Gordon, Jefferson Airplane, and of course the Fighting Soldiers Green Beret song which makes me ask why my peacnik sister had a war song in her arsenal.) and I think I learned to shoot the finger in Germany as well. I don't remember much of Dad or Mom though in those days as you can see.<br />
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Riderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05945462363624707216noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4725283582096978713.post-57715489254861715222013-03-06T12:51:00.000-05:002013-03-06T12:51:41.062-05:00Two holes for Dr. Seltzer<a href="http://www.blogger.com/" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a>Well the time has come for the dreaded colonoscopy with an endoscopy on the side. 52 years old and finally time to get knocked out and violated by a guy that looks like he is 12 ala Doogie Howser. Step 1 take 4 ducolax. Now ducolax is equivalent to placing a dynamite charge in your ass with a delayed fuse, that when lit will begin with some rumbling, tumbling, bumbling, and crumbling .....I just took the dynamite and will get back to you on ignition. The time is 2pm, I'm on the edge of my seat with anticipation.<br />
4pm : 2 turds offered up to the porcelin god, poor showing overall.<br />
6pm: Prep start, gatorade lime with a powder keg of Miralax, some sort of miricle substance that forces you to shit out things you ate when you were six that may still be stuck in a fold of your colon. Pound down 16 oz of that, not terrible, feeling good.<br />
7pm: Nothing, drink another 16 oz, bloated feel like hurling, lime gatorade blows.<br />
8pm: Explosion #1, loud and proud, with Alex outside the door telling me how gross I sound. Thank God for the IPAD, I have something to do while I purge my childhood penut butter sandwiches from the nether regions. Another 8 oz, lime gatorade officially tastes like shit.<br />
9pm: Oh help me Jesus, there is a direct connection between my mouth and my ass. I drink and it shoots out my ass, I have a leak. Im dying, Patty is laughing so I pay her back by leaving the bathroom door open. I standup just to sit down again, I cant walk 2 feet without nearly shitting my pants, another 8 oz, F**K this shit, lime gatorade is toxic waste, I throw out the last 8oz. If Dr, Seltzer cant see screw him, I have a water faucet in my ass and its stuck open.<br />
11pm: Tired my ass hurts my stomach is so bloated I feel like I could try out for the Biggest Loser. Gonna try and sleep without shitting myself.<br />
1am: Spring out of bed nearly did a sleep shart, my shit has no color except a tint of lime which suggests the gatorade is not even being digested just falling out my hole. <br />
Back to bed, to tired to get up again so I resign myself to shitting the bed if necessary.<br />
9am: Made it thru the night, sit down to check if there can possibly anymore crap cause I dont want to shart in the waiting room. I pretty sure Im empty because everytime I take a deep breath my ass whistles.<br />
1030: Into the room, more like a closet, with a stretcher that looks like it was stolen off the set of One Flew Over The Cookoos Nest. Me and the Nurse Anesthesis chit chat over death rates in rooms such as these and if he has killed anyone recently. Seriously he was great. Dr Doogie arrives we chat about the procedure, he will scope my esophagus prior to my ass otherwise I will have a gatorade shit taste forever. He jokes that he only drank a little wine with some xanax last night but stayed at a Holiday Inn Express so he is sure he can pull the procedure off. The last thing I remember is the words "see you soon" .<br />
1130: Woke up with a nurse staring at me and Patty sitting in a chair. The nurse encourages me to fart proudly to get rid of the gas, it was life changing let em rip without worrying who is gonna hear you. Doogie came in showed me some pics said my holes are fine see me in 3 years. <br />
12:00 Off to StarBucks for a coffee, still ripping farts to my glee, Patty looks disgusted. <br />
1205: Fired a wet fart in my shorts<br />
1210: Patty is still laughing<br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tuIpSo8qqns/UTeBie5aDXI/AAAAAAAABoU/rZvhoJy3QIQ/s1600/a+ducolax.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tuIpSo8qqns/UTeBie5aDXI/AAAAAAAABoU/rZvhoJy3QIQ/s320/a+ducolax.JPG" width="239" /></a>I hate Gatorade</div>
I still hate GatoradeRiderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05945462363624707216noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4725283582096978713.post-16456661025296218292013-01-02T20:12:00.001-05:002013-01-02T20:12:28.891-05:00RerunWell its been awhile so at my mothers urging to blog i suppose its time for an update. Abby is 16 and driving, not doing badly unless one desires to get somewhere quickly. The other day we were passed by a senior walking group and some dude in a wheelchair who kindly flipped us off and told us to move to the right. She is getting better at changing lanes, not just aimlessly drifting from side to side, leaving rows of cars behind her askew in the grass. Now a junior in highschool doing well, still playing softball, writing frightening (no disturbing) stories about shit I cant even imagine, but very talented just the same. Now I have an idea why Steven King's parents were medicated. <br />
Alex is 12 going on 30, the social butterfly who can fart like a sailor and lie about it with a straight face. She has at least 60 friends and invites them over 7 at atime for sleep overs. There are times when she isnt home for 3-4 days because she is at friends houses...hopefully bombing them with her scent. She is bright, doing very well in school, and excelling as a softball pitcher (45mph fastball, deadly changeup and drop). <br />
Becca is 10 and her favorite food is anything that isnt nailed down. I believe she is gonna be a foodie, eating champion, or a pastry chef (probably the latter). She will get up at the crack of dawn to make cupcakes for school, leaving the kitchen like a flour bomb exploded for Patty to clean up, and say "I forgot". Becca has also embarked on a softball career as a catcher and sports a pretty good arm when she isnt getting knocked over by Alex's fastball.<br />
Billy, yes the commando, still likes "forgetting" to put on his underwear, especially at night and still doesnt know what a "test fart" is as evidenced by the shit streaks in his underwear when he actually wears them. He is full of energy and a handful at school. I had the pleasure of meeting his first grade teacher, who looked weary, and she showed me his desk which was placed right in front of her desk. He misses recess alot due to having wars with his hands (Spiderman vs DocOc or something) rather than doing his work (I told Patty not to worry, the Nuns at Sared Heart used to smash me over the head with books and rulers for the same shit and i turned out ok). He has a great imagination and some of the greatest excuses ever....like...."Why were you bad in school William?" Dad it wasnt my fault, it was these jeans, they make me be bad. As for sports, so far he excells in web shooting, likes soccer but girls keep running past him and scoring, and his football career was shortened because he would just walk off the field randomly for a rest and water break. <br />
Patty is a saint, married to me for 20 years, taking care of them kids keeping a house and now taking care of a friends mom who is dare I say forgetful (no its not me). When Patty comes home she mutters alot, like "unbelievable" "I just dont get it" and "I give up you slobs" and her favorite "Calgon take me away and get me some wine". She is a great wife and mom and is busier than me and I have 3 jobs.<br />
Me...well its 3 jobs to keep it going and their are times I wanna jump off the fiscal cliff with all of the Senate and Congress tied to my leg. My wrinkles have wrinkles, things are hanging, (my balls get wet when I crap) my eye twitches and I have lumps. My doctor insists I get scoped "everywhere" so at the end of the month I get hosed up and down and hopefully they dont put it in my ass first. The kids ask me for homework help and I tell them I didnt learn that in school to ask their mother, i take naps, and my shampoo bottle has lasted me 6 months and its still a third of the way full, I dont need a comb. Overall, while feeling my age a little more every year as evidenced by loose skin, jowls, and age specific tests, I am blessed with 4 great kids, a wife who loves me, a mother who is still a loving mother who looks out for her 52 yo elastic son. <br />
There you have it....update completeRiderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05945462363624707216noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4725283582096978713.post-74030805566515313492008-12-20T23:25:00.000-05:002008-12-20T23:25:24.178-05:00<div style="MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; TEXT-ALIGN: center"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DR95MLWGF_0/SU3FMULzBlI/AAAAAAAAARM/3VUKLRu7sy8/s1600-h/aby+alex+monte2.jpg"><img alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DR95MLWGF_0/SU3FMULzBlI/AAAAAAAAARM/3VUKLRu7sy8/s320/aby+alex+monte2.jpg" border="0" /></a> </div><br /><div style="MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; TEXT-ALIGN: center"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DR95MLWGF_0/SU3FMnsLlHI/AAAAAAAAARU/xM1g7byjtJ8/s1600-h/abby+becca+monte1.jpg"><img alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DR95MLWGF_0/SU3FMnsLlHI/AAAAAAAAARU/xM1g7byjtJ8/s320/abby+becca+monte1.jpg" border="0" /></a> </div><br /><div style="MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; TEXT-ALIGN: center"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DR95MLWGF_0/SU3FM2Dpy8I/AAAAAAAAARc/bxcVZbSN9-A/s1600-h/PICT0005.jpg"><img alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DR95MLWGF_0/SU3FM2Dpy8I/AAAAAAAAARc/bxcVZbSN9-A/s320/PICT0005.jpg" border="0" /></a> </div><br /><div style="MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; TEXT-ALIGN: center"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DR95MLWGF_0/SU3FM-NJ1-I/AAAAAAAAARk/xMfFTT7Hfxk/s1600-h/PICT0004.JPG"><img alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DR95MLWGF_0/SU3FM-NJ1-I/AAAAAAAAARk/xMfFTT7Hfxk/s320/PICT0004.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br />2nd Generation of the Great Dane has begun. Top is Monte with Abby and Alex, now its Toby and Billy</div><div style='clear:both; text-align:CENTER'><a href='http://picasa.google.com/blogger/' target='ext'><img src='http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif' alt='Posted by Picasa' style='border: 0px none ; padding: 0px; background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial;' align='middle' border='0' /></a></div>Riderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05945462363624707216noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4725283582096978713.post-21231403175720071892008-12-17T15:47:00.002-05:002008-12-17T16:02:05.050-05:00The Boy the Dog and Potty trainingOk I am horrified that my son is not getting the whole potty training gig at all. So I told Patty just take the diaper off and let him go commando and see what that brings to the house where we already have a Great Dane Puppy who pisses lakes and shits houses on the floor when he doesn't make it to the door, so needless to say you don't want to visit the relative with the "smelly house". So Billy is thrilled to be free ballin in the house and he goes and sits down on the loo drops a few dribbles and yells "I did it" and off he goes again to play. A few more times of sitting down, a few more drops a few more hoorays things are looking good. The dog is getting it and we think the boy is finally on the fast track to dryness....and then....it happens...now mind you the dog is running to plead his case that it wasn't him who dropped trowl and peed on the wood floor, no it was that boy who is always pulling on my jowls, by the way let me out. Yes the boy peed on the wood floor, "I did it" was the call, how proud...thank God for pergo...a few more potty stops, one more on the ceramic tile in the kitchen, the dog ratting him out, and I'm feelin like he on the short bus to school if you get my drift. Sooooo the experiment for the day is over, the diaper back on and tomorrow is another day, gonna try cheerios in the toilet and let him try and hit them, I just hope he doesn't pee in his cereal bowl.Riderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05945462363624707216noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4725283582096978713.post-8702997376870889842008-11-11T22:08:00.001-05:002008-11-11T22:09:40.905-05:00<div style="MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; TEXT-ALIGN: center"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DR95MLWGF_0/SRpIwh9j8OI/AAAAAAAAANk/Q4EUk9BTA7A/s1600-h/PICT0002.JPG"><img alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DR95MLWGF_0/SRpIwh9j8OI/AAAAAAAAANk/Q4EUk9BTA7A/s320/PICT0002.JPG" border="0" /></a> </div><br />I don't know who wants their mama more but Billy is definately jealous of Toby. <div style="CLEAR: both; TEXT-ALIGN: center"><a href="http://picasa.google.com/blogger/" target="ext"><img style="BORDER-RIGHT: 0px; PADDING-RIGHT: 0px; BORDER-TOP: 0px; PADDING-LEFT: 0px; BACKGROUND: 0% 50%; PADDING-BOTTOM: 0px; BORDER-LEFT: 0px; PADDING-TOP: 0px; BORDER-BOTTOM: 0px; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial" alt="Posted by Picasa" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif" align="middle" border="0" /></a></div>Riderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05945462363624707216noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4725283582096978713.post-9958065514147824582008-11-09T12:35:00.000-05:002008-11-09T13:32:10.035-05:00Road TripRemember way back when traveling with mom and dad across the country in one of our many piece of shit vehicles, ie the VW Bus with the flying luggage, the reverse only mercedes, that jamming hot rambler (mom can correct me if I got any of them wrong, but I was little and we tend to block out horrifying experiences). And how can we forget the lines of common sense from dad, "the human body can go three days without food and water" "If you spill that in the car I'll chop off your head" (ok not exactly but close) "Just hold it" "I don't need directions" "Did he put the gas cap on" etc feel free to add your own.<br /><br /><br /><br />Well it has come full circle for me, I took the wife and kids to NC, 500 miles one way to pick up a great dane puppy in the van with one window that is now permanently up. And so it began, 40 miles into the trip, Becca has to go bad, hold it, I can't. Pee on one of the dog pads we bought. I can't. Watch the video, but I have to go bad. Stop #1, rest stop in........NJ. Everybody out and go, this is the LAST stop until we get there. But aren't we going to eat? No the human body can go three days without food, have a chip and some warm water. But its warm. Don't you know that cold water can freeze your blood and cause a heart attack (thanks Rob) I'm just looking out for you. Off we go, the GPS is set, we are flying now. Missed a turn, recalculate the GPS and we end up on 17. 17 is a long road, with lots of traffic lights and I'm pretty sure I saw people playing banjos and guitars on the side of the road. 150 miles in we stop, I gotta go, but I tell the kids we are switching drivers. The rest stop has stainless steel toilets, I'm thinking prison movie. A hasty escape, back on the road, are we there yet, Shutup, we have 6 more hours. The Cars movie is begining for the second time, KKKKKAAAACHOW. 300 miles in, crayon fights shes hoggin the crayons, not the Cars movie again, switch it to CHOMPS the robot dog, Billy crys himself to sleep. Driver switch after a stop at Subway and of course Mc D for Billy and Becca. Off we go, 20 more to go. Now the roads are very dark, and the banjos are getting louder. Finally see a sign for Jacksonville and make it to a Holiday Inn Express right down the street from the Piggly Wiggly. The place was full of marines, I forgot it was down the street from Camp Bean Leguine. Finally in bed, sleeping, until 3am a ruckus, f-words, laughing, doors slamming, must be those marines. Out of bed, a great breakfast, really a nice spread, to the desk to checkout, how was your stay, well it was great except for that 3am thing, well we are sorry sir, as she looks at my 4 tired kids and gives us half off the 90 dollar room. I love the Holiday Inn.<br /><br />2.5 miles to the breeder, just a regular house in the neighborhood, but....5 Danes and 9 puppies makes for a busy place, not smelly, clean and very nice folks who obviously love their dogs. Kathi would be in heaven.<br /><br /><br /><br />Took possession of Toby, 7 weeks old 11 lbs. Met his pop, Master T 160 lbs, and momma Pulska, who wasn't much interested in anyone especially Billy.<br /><br /><br /><br />500 miles to go home, now with a dog that everybody wants to hold, and the dog just wants to sleep. The dog did well, took a dump in every state on the way home. The ride home was a little worse than the ride up, the question of the day was "Are we in Delaware yet"? 10pm pulled in the driveway, piled into the house, and to bed. Now I have an idea of what dad went thru.Riderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05945462363624707216noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4725283582096978713.post-25637721632277520272008-11-01T08:20:00.000-04:002008-11-01T08:38:04.964-04:00Election DayWhile the world is excited about the historical election, a black prez or a female VP, I must admit I am a bit fearful. Not because Obama will win (yes he will, and by a landslide and no not by my vote...Ben Stein for POTUS) but because I get to work on election day in the city of Trenton. Oh there will be joyful noise in the city, the bars will be packed, gun play, a few fires, drive bys, walk bys, run bys, and thats when Obama wins. I'd hate to think what it would be like if he loses. I'm calling out.Riderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05945462363624707216noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4725283582096978713.post-65340993911147982762008-10-22T18:19:00.001-04:002008-10-22T18:39:51.039-04:00Frost on the Windshield RemixI'm always late to. No matter how many deals I make with myself I just can't drag my ass out of bed. I hate getting up at 5:15, I usually don't remember my ride to work (1 hour) and I roll in on the dot or at 2 after. Thank God it usually doesn't matter the way our unit is set up, but when I am early my co-workers usually put me to bed and take my temperature. Now its getting cold, so I REALLY hate getting out of bed, out of my warm clothes to shower and change, gosebumps as big as the Denali, my nips as big as flag poles and of course the complementary shrinkage of the nether region (God definately was not fair on that reaction, can I get an AMEN ). Now that all of you are trying to wipe that visual out of your head. Anyhow, to make things worse, the Van window did it again, down no up. A while back, it just decided to go up after the failed shore trip, me and Patty and the girls, not so much Billy, prayed for devine mechanical intervention and walah it went up. Praise the Lord! While at church last week, I put the window down to talk to someone and there she sat at the bottom of the window well. My tithe must have been short. Patty was laughing at me because I was leaning in with my head on the heat vent while driving cause it was getting cold. Now its really cold, so I'm not driving the Van until summer, unless God the mechanic come back to fix it.Riderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05945462363624707216noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4725283582096978713.post-80973992963285326892008-09-13T12:36:00.000-04:002008-09-20T20:41:19.709-04:00RulesAs parents we are obsessed with appearences by the orders we call out...clean your room, brush your teeth, brush your hair, Billy stop painting your face, fix that hole in the wall, get our brother off the roof, pick up the dog crap and get it off my shoe. I've heard it said that we spend less than 15 minutes a day (don't quote me on that but I know its a low number of minutes) actually talking to our kids and if you add in all the "Rules and orders" what is it that we actually say that is worthwhile. I come home from work, how was school, what did you learn, did you do your homework, get a bath, brush your hair, read for a 1/2 our and go to bed. I'm a fun dad. Don't eat dinner with them all week, I get home to late, give em the standard questions, pack them off to bed. So I've decided to make a concerted effort to change my delivery and time with the chilren.<br /><br /><br />From now on no more orders to get a bath or brush your hair, homework yes, but heck they can be the stinky Rices with the wild hair if they want to. They can dirty up their rooms, the yelling to clean it up doesn't work anyway, they can wear their dirty clothes all they want. They can leave the dirty dishes, eat half or none of their food and still have a snack, stay up late, and argue about who is sleeping with who. I mean really does it make a difference. I look at how we grew up and hell we all turned out ok. Mom was there that was all we needed. I don't remember keeping my room clean, doing particularly well in school, being a great athelete, but I was an ok kid who drank some, experimented with the chemical brain blunting agents (not LSD I think that was the oldest sister). I jumped off buildings, became a firefighter went into burning buildings, cussed some, was mean at times, busy, lazy, funny and stupid, thru all of that I don't remember Mom yelling rules much (but hell I lived with her for 30 years and she was more worried about finding a girl in my room not clothes on the floor) besides what good is it yelling at a 30 year old to clean his room. So I think I'll back off, hell Mom did ok with us.Riderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05945462363624707216noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4725283582096978713.post-7852812905427391752008-09-07T20:27:00.000-04:002008-09-07T20:59:17.481-04:00The ConventionNow that the RNC and the DNC have ended and everyone has gone home with sore hands and hoarse voices, I have decided that I want to give the next speech at one of the next conventions. It does not matter which one, in fact wouldn't it be great if you could just merge both conventions in to one big one, trash eachother, brawl, cheer, clap, punch, what a hooha that would be. But back to me speaking. Its got to be the easiest gig on the planet. I would walk out and get a cheer, I would say Thankyou, thankyou all for coming, viva la Republicans (or Dems whichever you prefer) and another cheer. I would like to thank my mother (Cheer and standing ovation and a few pats on the shoulder for her) and my wife (as above big cheer standing "O" touch touch etc.) my lovely children Abby, Alex, Becca, and Billy (cheer cheer standing "O" your so cute your not pregnant are you, no I'm only 12 whats pregnant etc..) Then I would ask for quiet, stand there for a minute, raise my hands and say "GOD BLESS AMERICA" (Pandamonium, cheer cheer cheer, standing "O", touch touch etc...) I would then endorse the candidate of the day, tell a few stories of how I shot and field dressed a salmon in the Denali with the said candidate and sipped tea in our pajamas while playing WAR together, looking at the globe and counting the 56 states. Then after those cheers died down, I would re thank everyone for having me speak, re GOD BLESS AMERICA and re endorse the said candidate (cheers pandamonium, touch, clap etc etc...) Then I would walk off and realize that I really didn't say anything and the cheers lasted longer than my speech. Sounds very familiar.Riderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05945462363624707216noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4725283582096978713.post-28892464161689455232008-09-06T10:40:00.000-04:002008-09-06T11:05:33.460-04:00Schools inOh it was a happy day for Patty. Friday, 0700 sprung out of bed for the first day of school. Free babysitting and they learn something to boot, what a bargain for parents. The kids ran out the door, Becca forgot her name tag, didn't know who she was for the rest of the day. I got home at my usual 8pm and asked the magical question....how was school???? Alex said it was a sad day, oh please explain, I thought maybe someone died, but no, she just had a substitute who was, as she put it, a bit nutty. Abby just shrugged, elected to not give any input until I went to bed, which she woke me and told me she got into excel math, algebra. Hope she doesn't need help as I am a bit dim when it comes to math. ( I think Mom made me fail the 5th grade for that) So Abby might not be my daughter, must have a Bonnie jean with the math skills. Becca, she found her name tag, loved school but she couldn't tell me why. Billy just runs around the house all day asking for donuts. And since it was friday there was no homework. Is that normal, I don't remember teachers giving me slack on the weekend, even though my dog always ate mine. Anyway I'm happy because Patty is happy and Abby made it past 5th grade in one try, which means she won't be one of the cool kids driving in the 9th grade. I'll keep you posted as crap happens, I wouldn't have it any other way.Riderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05945462363624707216noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4725283582096978713.post-49011663793783922512008-09-04T20:24:00.000-04:002008-09-04T20:53:58.638-04:00OCEAN CITYDecided to take the kids to OC last weekend, the last hooooooha before school starts, you know a cheap little jaunt to the shore. Packed the Van and off we went, 10 miles down the road "Are we there yet", "I'm tired", "I gotta pee", "Shes touching me"....Shut up shut up or I'll turn this car around, not another word or I'll crash the car. Finally after multiple threats, quiet. Pulled in to the toll booth, put down the window, payed the toll, .....the window won't go up. Cloudy out. Arrive at OC, 15 bucks to park, told the guy don't bother locking the van, you know...the window is still down with no sign of life. Walk to the boardwalk, passed the giant water slide, "can we go on that dad? Its only 25 bucks apiece and Billy is free!" Quick math, 125 bucks, respond to the negative, ocean free, cost 0. Reach the boardwalk, finally the beach, and....50,000 people had the same idea today, what fun fun fun for the family. Don't forget the beach tags, quick calculation, the OC made about 6 billion dollars on beach tags today. Found a postage stamp of sand to sit on, the kids were off and running on the 20 dollar Styrofoam wave board, which sunk when my fat ass layed on it. Hung out in the water, got ran over 9 or 10 times by people on real wave boards that did not sink, Billy and Becca stayed out of the water, to scary. Got out had sand stuck so far up my ass I was spittin pebbles, dried off, headed for the boardwalk for some food. 2 corndogs and a drink, 11 bucks, 1 gyro and a drink, 16 bucks, 1 piece of pizza and a drink 12 bucks, emptying your wallet for a hoot of a time ..priceless. Wallet lighter and off to the rides. 30 tickets, 2o bucks and each ride is 3 to 5 tickets, so each kid gets 6 rides, minus the ones that we have to accompany the child, (the merry go round, and thomas the train were exhilarating) 3 rides per kid.....not enough....got 30 more tickets. 6 or 7 more fights later, not enough prozac on the planet, off to the Van for the windy ride home. 125 bucks and 1/2 tank of gas later, we make it home, life is good, eternity is better. It could have been worse I guess, the next day syringes washed up on the beaches, I just can't get away from work.Riderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05945462363624707216noreply@blogger.com4