Saturday, August 30, 2008

Little Pieces of Us

The time is 1:17am on a Friday night. Scratch that, it would actually be Saturday morning. I cannot sleep. Ev is tucked away in her bed, exhausted from a full day of school and play. Fin is wedged in our bed like a heat-seeking missile curled up beside the fire of life as if the bitter cold of his own world pushed him to seek solace and comfort within the ceremonious womb of my (correction: OUR) space.

I have been watching them, Cindy and Fin, for about 30 min or what seems like a lifetime. Each breath cavorting into some fanciful snort of jubilant slumber. They are at peace. No worries, no deadlines, no drama. Serenity and peace.

Even as Fin jabs a nubby finger in his nose reaching for new heights while REMing and as Cindy responds to my goodnight kiss and subsequent night time chat while completely incoherent, I cannot still believe I am here. At this stage of my life. I am an adult. How did this happen? When did this happen? These are the pieces of my life.

As Fin stuffed an index finger up his nose, I chuckle and tell Cindy he must have inherited it from her...she gives me the lip curl and the obligatory mmm hmmm. He moves from the nasal cavity to the waist band of his tiny PJ bottoms digging deep for his regularly scheduled adjustment "ritual" (well boys find their tool eventually), gives it a good dig for aeration and settles back into a delicate caress of the pillow to fall deeper into sleep. Well I guess I know from where he inherited such a move. I laugh. At the same time I am still awestruck. They are mine. Little pieces of me. Little pieces of GF. Little pieces of us.

If you let your mind wander long enough, the thought of parenthood will become overwhelming...it is such a huge responsibility. There are no safety nets...you just wing it and hope for the best. No amount of preparation can make it perfect. The actor always flubs a line now and then. But reality tells your little pea brain to avoid over analyzing the situation. No need to stress. Instinct will guide your parental actions. I can only hope reality is right. In the mean time, I keep on keepin on...and relish in the moments when I can sit and watch, in silence, my life sleep beside me. At peace. Perfect.

Wednesday, August 27, 2008

Trouble Again: The Fallout

WHO KNEW THIS WOULD MORPH INTO A CHRONICLE?

Needless to say Cindy was less than pleased to see me home on Sunday afternoon looking like I had just tussled with a raptor. When I had to tell her I had lost my cell phone, my glasses, and nearly my ring (which btw was NOT a good idea...stupid in fact...why didn't I just keep my trap shut?) I felt the pursing lips and the red-headed steam culminate into a very DEEP cleansing breath as she bit her tongue as not to rant at the antics of her man/boy husband. I love you GF...it didn't work. The lecture was not quite as bad as I expected. Overshadowed mostly by my self-inflicted anger over losing my phone. The glasses can be replaced. Hell the phone can even be replaced. But the 400 numbers stored IN the phone cannot. They were gone. Washed away to cell hell by the rolling White River. Personal contacts, business contacts, important numbers...you name it, all gone. I was bitter.

I bought a used phone on Ebay for a hundred bucks that night and it was delivered mid-week while I was in San Antonio. Upon my return Friday afternoon I stopped into the Sprint store with my new used phone and had it activated. Why is the activation process such a production? Anyway, I was back in business. The power was finally back on after 5 long days of darkness and quiet.

Friday night, a storm was building to the west as the sun set. It was a spectacular site. The kids and I had been to swim and dine on fine fast Italian cuisine (read: pizza) at the neighbor's abode. When Cindy took them home for baths and bed, Truck and I decided to have a drink and watch the storm roll toward us.

I had a great idea...let's put our camp chairs IN the pool. Now we could be in the water AND sitting. What a beautiful plan, creative strategy. A sort of aquatic lounge if you will. The storm brewed, the sun disappeared, the lightning in the distance provided a solid pyrotechnic display. The water was warm and still and all was right with the world as we kicked back over a rum at our own swim-up bar, Lounge El Agua. We bantered on solving the world's problems as is typical of our conversations. If I closed my eyes, the camp chairs became soft and submersed bar stools perched next to a Jamaican pool bar. I'm thinking this would actually make a good Backyardigans episode. Once the thunder was audible, common sense took over and we quickly ended the pool bar dream for dry land.

It was probably time for me to head home (or past time as it often is) so I began gathering up my trinkets to make the trek 3 doors down. Keys, check, wallet, check, flops, shirt and towel, check check check, phone... phone... phone... OH...MY...STARS...please do not tell me I have lost my new used pho-...

Just then I spotted it. It was not lost.

It was sitting right where I had left it, like a lost puppy waiting at the doorstep, propped up nice and secure in the confines of a mesh cup holder. Which just so happened to be attached to the camp chair I had so foolishly placed in the pool. Lifeless and dripping, the tiny black electronic carcass was hoisted from the scene of its demise.

Oh it was certainly not lost...gone maybe, but not lost.

My anger was quickly overshadowed by the wrath I feared I would soon face. Oohh...something inside told me the pursing lips, red-headed steam, and deep cleansing breath may erupt with monumental force. It is safe to assume, at this stage of our chronicle, the perpetually chaotic man/boy spent the weekend on the couch, and admittedly, so deserved.

And now you know...the rest of the story. Good day.

Monday, August 25, 2008

Trouble Again: The Finally Final Finale'

WARNING: I TOLD YOU THIS WAS LONG...GRAB A DONUT AND SADDLE UP PACO...YUR IN FOR THE LONG HAUL...

The ring has been found! …ok flash back to the cabin roughly two hours ago. We loaded up what remained from a case of Coors Light in an old feed sack. I loaded it up, stocked it with ice, wrapped it in a towel, and super-strapped three bungee cords around it securing it to the rear rack of my wheeler. It was solid, that bitch was going nowhere and at the time I was quite proud of my hillbilly cooler. I should have known it wouldn’t last.

…so back to the celebration-o-the-ring…I reach into the mutilated feed sack, soaked with river water and melted ice. I reach and reach only to have my frigid hands go numb from the remaining ice. Through the river crossing and high-centered ring toss melee, the coveted silver bullets had vanished into the darkness one by one leaving behind a bungeed mess of coated paper pulp held loosely by the dangling towel. They were gone. We had nothing more to drink. Panic set in again, how would we survive? How can we live without liquids to sustain us? Never mind a river of fresh Ozark mountain water roils beneath us. I relent, mount the wheeler, and press onward.

We make it another 40 or 50 yards downriver when we land onto a crossing which is no longer rolling with the contour of the river bottom. In daylight and in sober mind, we would have known this to be a fairly deep hole, we were in neither. Truck goes first inching forward into the pool as water slowly rises up the front tires. It levels out for a few feet and with a sense of security in reaching the bottom he hammers on the gas.

Bloop…I see headlights under the water. This cannot be good. He gets off the bike and steps off in water over the waist. He shuffles side to side and yells back to me that it is far shallower just to the right of him; he doesn’t see a problem with me making it across. I backup, and accelerate forward to gain momentum…I can make it if I go fast enough. Bloop…headlights underwater. There is an eerie quiet, no engine noise, no talking, just the distant trickle of the river. It is a few minutes before either of us speaks. There are no words…we both bust out laughing. We joke, what else can happen to us tonight?

Should’ve kept our mouths shut…

With the submersible fiasco behind us, our bikes running again after dewatering, and the thirst for more beer driving our mindset, we finally decide it best to return to base. We are 5 miles from home. Never fear, Truck knows a shortcut. Instead of following our Hansel and Gretel path of silver beer cans back, let’s get out of the riverbed and go over the mountain. What a great idea I am thinking…we need a drink and some dry shorts. Wait, I need my glasses. Fortuitously I had stuffed my glasses and my cell phone in the dry box which is stock mounted at the rear of the bike. It has a rubber gasket ring which would infer it to be watertight (read: DRY box). I walk to the rear of the Yamaha…my stomach instantly drops to the river bottom. The door to the dry box, usually held closed by a small rubber strap, is wide open.

No glasses. No cell phone. Nothing but a wet yet clean orifice for holding such valuables. My day has officially turned to crap.

So with no glasses, the 5 mile journey over the mountain ahead, a lost cell phone, and no Coors Light as consolation for my misery we press on. It starts to rain. Buckets. I have ner a stitch of dry clothing. But I have my wedding ring by damn!

The forest trail we have chosen is littered with briars, big ass briars the size of my di...uh I mean...finger. Half way up the mountain, the water that has “mysteriously” been injected into my gas tank begins to show signs of its power over the internal combustion engine. Sputter, climb, sputter, climb…level out and it runs fine…pitch back uphill and it poops out. As we wind our way slowly up the mountain trail we stumble across a tree with about a two foot caliper that has fallen and made its final resting place in our path. Damn you giant elm, you had to get old and brittle and allow a little wind to derail your destiny as the tallest tree in the forest…and screw my night even more.

By this time, I’m in the zone…ain’t no rotten ass tree gonna get in my way of a cold beer and some dry shorts. I steer around, mowing down endless saplings in the process to find a place where I can muster the power to cross the downed log. The watery gas throws a final punch. The bike is KO’d. Eerie silence again as Truck pulls up behind me and shuts down to assess the situation. It was futile.

We agree to say TO HELL with it…let’s leave it hear and we’ll come back for it at daylight (translation: mid morning or whenever we wake up). So I mount the back of Michael’s bike to ride bitch. Something I am not proud of by the way. Are we there yet? Can we finally be home now?

Alas, the night had one more surprise for me…

As I am clinging to the rear rack for dear life…sidebar…dudes never hold onto each other when having to share an ATV, it is an unwritten rule…I can see a sharp curve ahead. Knowing how I would react on my own bike, I lean into the curve. This is textbook operating procedure while piloting an ATV…unless there are briars hanging within the darkness like apple wielding serpents teasing you with succulent temptations (insert your own fantasy here).

It came out of nowhere. Like a lion picking off the weak antelope from the herd, it sliced my right cheek (face cheek…jeez you guys and your dirty minds) across the rosy chub of a cheek bone all the way to my ear. Michael, of course, leaned away from the curve.

“Sorry dude, I didn’t see that comin’”…yeah thanks. It did sting a bit, but I really didn’t notice the full severity of the situation until back at base. It was probably a good thing.

FINALLY…I can see the generator-powered lights of the cabin filling the clearing upon which it sits with the angelic glow of safety and serenity…our nocturnal adventure has concluded. We have survived, albeit with a gash on my face, no glasses, no cell phone, and a dead quad laying helpless down the mountain somewhere. It was time for a frosty cold beverage. The gash did heal eventually although it probably should have had a few stitches…ah well…I now have a nice scar as a prop for recounting my tale to future generations of Eli’s (God help them).


So now you too can sense the kind of trouble into which I seem to find myself from time to time...perhaps next time I will heed the advice of the older and wiser. "Nothing good can come of this"...he was absolutely spot-on.

Loft Bed Mania

Well well well, check out the update on the loft bed I made for F's room! I decided pics were a necessity to highlight the blood, sweat, and tears which have made this little project possible. Pay special attention to the redneck paint booth I rigged up with weed-eater line and plastic. Also note the gratuitous photo depicting my source of artistic expression! It worked like a charm.

What began as a day long project, according to the plans I bought online it was 8-10 man hours of labor (I call BS), turned out to be three weeks. Last weekend we finally moved it inside but it became very apparent minor kid-friendly modifications were needed. I think Cindy has some pics of the final assembly on her blog, I thought you would rather see this little dream of a project (heavy sarcasm) through my eyes. So it is still a work in progress. It might have to be a Christmas present at this rate.






Currently I am trying to finish a ladder, some additional bed rails, and a new lighting concept as the ceiling fan is no longer an option. With the sleeping habits of a 3 yr old: stretching, kicking, spinning like a top, and an occasional bout of sleep walking...you get the picture. Cindy still thinks it is way too high, but I am adamantly opposed to cutting down the legs of this magnificent creation.

It would be like drawing a mustache on the Mona Lisa...inconceivable disgrace to the artist! Pheww...no way Jose! I will just fortify it so he can sleep in a cozy fortress of slumber...I'm sure the tranquil Zen of my artistic expression will allow him to awaken a fresh boy, perfectly behaved and inspired after his metamorphosis from within the wooden cocoon. Ok, ok, so a dad can dream...enough already, I'm ready for this project to be behind me. It has made my back hurt, my hands splintered, and my boobs droop...I need a vacation...but it sure looks cool!

Friday, August 15, 2008

Trouble Again (continuation)

I know you have been waiting...sitting on pins and needles...giddy with anticipation...I promise I have not forgotten. The story is SOOO long I still have not finished...just wanted to give you a teaser. Stay tuned for another episode of "The Plights of the Perpetually Chaotic ManBoy".

ROCK BAND...tiny addiction...

So I thought my Guitar Hero III for the Wii was the BEST rock out game ever...until this past weekend Truck and I started playing Rock Band on PS3...holy shnikes...karaoke is a piece of cake with a pitch indicator, I was so excited I almost wet my pants...although now that I think about it maybe it was the beer which almost made me wet my pants, either way, it almost happened. Excitement permeates the streets of Stoney Creek along with the muffled sound of our garage band...we call them the latexbandits...don't ask, it's another story. Bon Jovi covers will never be the same...if only they had some Firehouse or White Snake! We each have names, however I will keep those out of the blog. I don't want admiring fans, groupies, or band-aids rushing the garage door every time it opens. Have your people call my people and we'll party, that's how we roll. Rock On homeys...

Sunday, August 3, 2008

Technology No Longer Passing Me By...Word

Stop laughing at me, I know I should have started trolling the internet sooner than later, but I just realized the power and wealth of info on web 2.0 sites like Facebook and MySpace. These sites are like cyber crack...I was up until 3am the other night just looking at anyone and everyone I share a past with. Who knew? Well, besides 12 yr olds and pedophiles...at least that was my presumptive vision of such networking websites. I admit it though, it is actually quite cool. So now I too am finally fully immersed in the OO's...now that it's almost time for the 10's...oh well...my embrace of technology is now fully underway. My laptop is smoking...gotta find an extinguisher.