GRATEFUL

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.  I always wanted to fly on a medivac as a paramedic or a nurse but for 30 years I was told to wait.  Not by anyone particular other than God i suppose,  but either way I was in a waiting desert and just moved on.  I stopped applying and put it in the rear view as something I was never going to do.  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.  

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.  In fact that will never happen because frankly we forget to be grateful for where we are in the present.  We get bogged down with the future planning planning and planning without taking stock of the blessings we have now.  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.  Concentration on what you dont have, constantly comparing yourself to others erodes you current position in life.  For arguments sake lets say you achieve it all….best spouse, best car, best house, best kids, best ever life.  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.  The cycle continues leading to second and third marriages, neglected kids, poor home life, loss of friends, depression, anger on and on.  

Oh there are many books and therapist out there to tell you how to fix it all.  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.  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.  Be grateful in your current position.  Be grateful for what you have in front of you. Stop searching for better and settle for good enough.  God gives you what you need daily, his grace is sufficient if you just let it be.  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).  

Back to me.  30 years after deciding to move on God moved in.  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.  Years later out of the blue full time came at a most unexpected time.  12 years later I’m still at it.  My point is our timeline is not God’s.  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.  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. 

12 years with Dad

I'll go backwards.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Two holes for Dr. Seltzer

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.
4pm : 2 turds offered up to the porcelin god, poor showing overall.
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.
7pm: Nothing, drink another 16 oz, bloated feel like hurling, lime gatorade blows.
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.
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.
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.
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.
Back to bed, to tired to get up again so I resign myself to shitting the bed if necessary.
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.
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" .
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.
12:00 Off to StarBucks for a coffee, still ripping farts to my glee, Patty looks disgusted. 
1205: Fired a wet fart in my shorts
1210: Patty is still laughing

I hate Gatorade

I still hate Gatorade

Rerun

Well 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. 
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). 
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.
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.
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.
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. 
There you have it....update complete

2nd Generation of the Great Dane has begun. Top is Monte with Abby and Alex, now its Toby and Billy

The Boy the Dog and Potty training

Ok 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.

I don't know who wants their mama more but Billy is definately jealous of Toby.