Just Doing My Job...

Kenner made the mistake of watching a ‘scary video’ on YouTube while at a friend’s birthday party on Friday. As she puts it, ‘It creeped me out!’
As such, for the past couple of nights she has either first fallen asleep in our bed or has slept the night with Erin.
Last night she was still begging to sleep with Erin, but Erin wasn’t interested, so I tried to offer a remedy.
In my best counseling voice I said, ‘Hey Kenner, if you have scary thoughts, just sing a song.’
She was rather skeptical.
I continued, ‘For example, you could sing, ‘I Am a Child of God.’’
I then sang a couple bars:

‘I am a child of ghosts,
That come oozing out from your walls…’

Unfortunately she cut me off there (or maybe fortunately, as I would have had to come up with more lyrics!)

And she slept through the night just fine!

Prescient Procrastinators Shall Never Prosper....

As explained in my last post, my intent was to lay a baseball bat by my bed Thursday night.
However, there was no seminary on Friday, so I put it off.
Then I promptly forgot about it.
So what comes on this morning?
Neil 'I even make the Beatles sound good in comparison' Diamond!
Fortunately, Cindy promptly hopped up out of bed and turned the radio alarm off before I had to start feeling around for a book or something else of heft.

“Out, danged song! out, I say!”

I was enjoying a luxuriously deep sleep at 5 AM this morning, when Cindy’s alarm clock radio flipped on. The dulcet tones of John Denver filled the room.
I have helpfully provided a timeline of my thoughts as I had to listen to the lyrics (as marked by asterisks).

‘Sunshine.....on my shoulders*....makes me happy!..............
Sunshine....in my eyes....can make me cry**..............
Sunshine....on the water....looks so lovely...............
Sunshine....almost always***....makes me high...........****

if I had....a day*****..........that I could give you....******

*”Is this a nightmare? You’ve got to be joking! She’s gotta stop listening to that ‘oldies station.’”
**”Why isn’t she getting out of bed and turning that heckacious noise off?
***”Oh, the a—go—ny!!!! And why do I find it not at all surprising that he sings a high tenor (alto?).”
****”Yeah, ‘high’ is the right word. Likely stoned out of his mind when he wrote it!”
*****”Is she deaf? Is she dead? She’d better be!”
******”She’s finally getting up to turn it off! My sanity is saved!!! Note to self: Self, you’d better put a bat by the bed tomorrow in case Neil Diamond tries to wake you up!”

Two hours later, as I was walking out the door to work, I told Cindy, ‘You know, it’s all YOUR fault!’

She gave me a blank look and replied, ‘What is?’

I continued, ‘That I have that stupid John Denver song running through my head! Aaaargh!’

She chuckled, ‘I just loved it when I heard that this morning! And it was even more delicious because I knew that it would drive you crazy! That’s why I let it play for so long!’

Hmmm....Sounds like I need to get my 'Best of ZZ-Top' CD out and return the favor!

Daddo's Always Know the Best Soothing Words of Comfort

A couple days ago Ally had a loose chunk of a toenail that needed to be clipped off.
Cindy had tried to do it the night before, but Ally had steadfastly refused to provide access.
So the next morning I got a goor bearhug on Ally and gave her her favorite stuffed animal (a dog of all things!) and then Cindy grabbed the clippers to perform the toenailendectomy.
Ally starting crying frantically. Tears streamed down her face and her body was a frenzy of squirms.

Naturally, Cindy had yet to even touch her toenail.

I grabbed her tighter to immobilize her and cut off her view of the offending toenail, and Cindy clamped onto her foot and after enduring a couple more spastic squirms she was able to cut it off.

Ally continued to piteously cry after the fact, so I attempted to console her. Hearking back to a recent movie, I crooned, ‘Ally, do you think that the guy that had to cut his own arm off cried?’

I don’t know if it consoled her, but it did make Cindy break out into uncontrollable laughter.

Sniper Dude

Cameron just got back from his first time at Scout camp. He got 5 merit badges and quite the reputation.
As one of the leaders told Cindy today, 'You didn't tell me your son was a natural-born killer!'
After a couple years of shooting thousands of BBs and then .22 caliber pellets, shooting a .22 rifle for the Rifle Shooting merit badge was a piece of cake. I guess he passed the first level (3 out of 3 shots within the circumference of a quarter) with his first 3 shots.
He was the first to pass off that merit badge and also the first in Archery. (Not that he was bragging or anything!)
Then yesterday we went to a free beginning shooters' class at a nearby gun club, and he was one of only 4 out of our group of 30 to hit a clay bird with a 20-gauge shotgun (and the only one to fully disintegrate the bird).
Yes, he is quite insufferable!
I guess this is another one of those traits that skipped a generation! (Dad won numerous WA state muzzle-loader tourneys in the 70s....)

Able to shotput parents with a single bound!

The other night I was in bed and Erin kept pestering me with questions, etc., just to get on my nerves.
As I wasn't in a mode of dress that would be suitable to escort her out the door, I called out to Cindy to help her out the door.
After I did this Erin responded, 'Yeah, as if Mom could get me out! I could just pick her up and throw her out the window!'
We all chuckled at that, and then she blissfully (to me) went to bed.

Bliss

On Sunday we picked the first strawberries from the garden, and yesterday the first 8 raspberries were ripe and we also enjoyed our first freshly-picked garden salad.
Life is good.

Oh Deer!

As we were getting ready for church this morning Allyson came to me and said,

"I wish Makenna was named Clarise, and be a reindeer. Reindeer are nice."

um.....okay?

Enough about Cats Already!

Makenna is reading book twenty-elevenhundredth in this series about cats that live in clans in the wild. (The 'Warriors' Series.)

Personally, I don't like cats much. Actually I pretty much detest the needy little beggars.

Anyway, yesterday I offered to get some cracks out of Makenna's back, so she laid down on the floor on her stomach and I began working my way up her back to loosen her muscles. When I got to the prime pushing area (where I usually get about 20 cracks at once and her back sinks back down a good ½ inch), as usual I paused and waited for her to relax.

However, she kept tensing up, so finally I said, 'Kenner, you need to be limp--like a wet noodle.
She rejoindered, 'Do you mean "Like a mouse limp in a cat's jaws?"'

'Uh, well....hmmm....I guess....yes. Something like that.'

She was giggling so much that I finally gave up.

At least those books have got her hooked on reading.....at last!

Tickled?

Cindy called me up, and I must say she sounded right tickled with herself.

'Guess what happened?' she said.

'Hmm....Did you hurt your back?' (No, I'm not a very good guesser.)

'Uhh, no. But I just removed a tick from Makenna's head by myself!
And I didn't even call you and tell you to get home right away and take care of it!'

I was also pleased as punch!

One less manly task that I have to do every time. That shortens the list to killing spiders, gardening, mowing, greasing door hinges, changing the oil in the vehicles, and popping blisters!

(Thank goodness tapeworms aren't a problem!)

Perceptive Little Cuss

A few days ago Ally wasn't feeling so hot, so as she laid on our bed I laid down next to her and began tickling her back.

Within 5 seconds she commented, 'You cut your fingernails!'

Yes, I had cut them that morning. I marveled at her perceptiveness--and her memory of how my fingernails had felt the previous night at bedtime!

She snuggled even closer, and then out of the blue snuggled even closer and said, 'Let me smell your armpit!'

I marveled at her total lack of common sense and her plumb foolishness.

She survived.

She even mentioned that it smelled like one of her friends.

Another thing to put on my to-do list: Avoid meeting her friends.

She's right again.....of course!

I love free water for the lawn and garden as much as the next skinflint, but as another big rainstorm approaches (which will likely put us over 9" of rain for the month), I have to agree with Cindy's statement yesterday.

"When you're driving down the highway and see ducks swimming in farmers' fields, I think I can say that I have had enough rain for awhile."

A blast from the past--

Many years ago there was an 'Erma Bombeck' writing contest. Yes, I lost. As did many others, I'm sure. Anyway, I just came across it, so I'm posting it here without comment....
Except to comment that this was written for a general audience....
...And it was written many years ago....
...And any similarity between anyone living or dead is purely coincidental, otherwise I would likely already be dead....
...And yes, I used too many big words....
...And yes, my favorite phrase relates to chess, though it doesn't apply in my case. Maybe I should copyright it?...

But I digress....

Today’s modern men have learned with near-precocious alacrity the utility of the phrase ‘Yes, Dear’ to majestically display our seemingly tender acquiescence to those terribly pressing issues plaguing our dearests that, frankly, don’t mean diddly to us. Magnanimously we agree with her on her selection of the dinner vegetable, the shoes that best match her latest outfit, and the fragrance of the shampoo.
But there are certain times when we men use ‘Yes, Dear’ to convey a nuance teeming with angst.
For example, recently my dearest wife was on the phone giving advice to a newly-engaged friend about wedding ring selection. I overheard her remark, “I see he hasn’t learned how to say ‘Yes, Dear’ yet. But he will!” I chimed in, “Yes, he will. But in a ring-purchasing scenario, though he may say ‘Yes, Dear,’ he is really thinking ‘HOLY CRAP!’”
Yes, this subtle nuance often goes unnoticed when we men reply to certain queries from our dearests. Specifically, it is those queries that will involve a man’s time, effort, and/or money. It is never vocalized (except by those lacking any sort of judgment, tact, or self- preservation instinct), but it can be detected by just the slightest hesitation that precedes the obligatory ‘Yes, dear.’
Such nuance-rich responses would follow seemingly innocuous suggestions such as ‘Let’s repaint a room!’ ‘Let’s drop by the fabric store!” or “Let’s rearrange the furniture!”
Yet, speaking of hidden nuances, a man is still a mere novice when compared to his dearest, who has never met a nuance she didn’t like. This is because she has learned that nuances-both those she gives and those she receives (and promptly ignores)--are win-win for her. Mated man is thus in continual checkmate.
So let’s consider the above three suggestions as a quick primer in this female deceit…I mean, nuance. When painting, the word ‘Let’s’ would usually be considered fully inclusive in nature, but in this particular instance would mean ‘I’ll pick out the paint color and you paint.’ Likewise, ‘dropping by’ the fabric store will swallow an entire Saturday afternoon. (And as we all know, for most man each minute in a fabric store feels like a year. In prison. At hard labor.) As for rearranging furniture, the man may be excused for mistakenly thinking that his dearest already has a final plan in her mind, but after moving the upright grand to the 3rd and then 4th location, he will realize that the final arrangement will only be attained at the exact moment he physically collapses--the final arrangement for that day, anyway.
“…What was that, sweetie? Get off the computer and help you spade up and plant the garden?
“…Yes, dear.”

The end of times must be near? It's getting all apocalypsy on me!

It only took a year or two for the mayonnaise. But in the end she stopped buying that garbage otherwise known as Miracle Whip.

It only took about 5 years for the peanut butter ice cream. But recently she put a big dollop of plain PB in her bowl of ice cream.

And tonight.....tonight.....(sorry, I'm getting all teary-eyed)....she picked up an 'Supreme' (Everything) pizza at Sam's Club.

The reason? 'I saw it and it just looked soooo good!'

Tonight is the first night I have eaten a true pizza (in my humble opinion) in our 15 years of married bliss.

Yes, it was delicious! Even the onions and peppers that others picked off of theirs.

Now all that's left is sushi.....but I'm jest fine if she leaves it all for me....and now Cameron!

Small Talk

About a week ago Cindy called me at work to tell me something or other of importance.
After that she began talking about something that she had heard about or seen. She went into great detail.
I began multitasking, typing away on a translation.

Shortly thereafter she stopped in mid-sentence, paused slightly, and then commented, 'I don't know why I am talking to you like this--like I would talk to a girlfriend--thinking that you even really care.'

Without missing a typing beat, I adroitly replied, 'Did you say something?'

No, I actually replied something along the lines of 'Oh, I don't mind listening.' but I was probably lacking the requisite ring of sincerity. (She's already wearing the other ring of sincerity!)

That ended that conversation, and it may be that we both ended it a little wiser.

Then again, as Cindy is already wise, maybe she just had someone else calling in on the other line!

All is safely gathered in.....

Cindy was asked to teach the sisters at a stake RS activity how to can chicken by doing a hands-on class, which she (with some assistance from me) did 6 times in a 3-hour period in order to show everyone how easy it really is.

We would like to express our warm thanks to all the sisters in the stake who helped us can 20 quarts and 27 pints of chicken for our food supply (and the use of Sis. Brown's ouble-layer pressure canner at the church). Mmmm Mmmm good!

So instead of spending 2 or 3 days to do 80 pounds of chicken we only had to spend 16 hours* that day to get it all canned.

(This of course does not include the trip to Sam's the day before to buy the chicken, a trip to Walmart to buy the lids, washing all the jars, preparing handouts, bringing a good portion of the kitchen up to the church, cutting up 12 pounds of chicken the night before, cleaning up afterwards, etc.) =)

The deed is done....

After a couple weeks of looking over the lay of the land, the 'Hill Cumorah' dirt mound behind our house now sports a narrow trail that takes you along the steep side all the way to the top. I saw that there were some wild blackberries growing on the hillside too, so I also cut out a dead-end trail to them.

If I get really ambitious I may even put in a small terrace for even more garden space!

Oh yeah--as of last night the spinach, leaf lettuce, sweet onion bulbs, and garlic (yeah, it's best if planted in the fall, but at $1.50 at Walmart, what's to lose?) is in the ground.

Spring is Around the Corner

Today after the stake Daddy-Daughter Activity (where I learned afresh that I have no aptitude for line dancing, be it the jitterbug or Michael Jackson moves) I went home and got to work.

1. Made a new 12' x 2' raised bed for some blackberry (thornless no less! Thanks Sis!) and raspberry plants (thanks again Myla!) that we transplanted to our garden plot last fall. I'll be digging the grass out and filling it in with dirt at a later date!
2. Removed a lot of old dry reedy stalks from 'Hill Cumorah' behind our house and dumped them behind said hill. I am studying the feasibility of rototilling out a trail to the top....or at least making a small terrace in a somewhat flat section.
3. Rototilled the entire garden--we are planning to plant some spinach later this week.
4. Applied lime pellets to the yard (thanks again Myla!)

I noticed that some of the strawberry transplants from my sister are sporting leaves, and that the foolhardy ('No Cameron, you can't shoot it!') rooster pheasant that comes through our yard most every evening stopped to peck around in the freshly-tilled dirt.

Anyway, is there a better way to spend a beautiful sunny (if windy) Saturday?

Addendum: Tonight I looked in the mirror, and saw that I had gotten some sun on my forehead. I mentioned it to Cindy and she chimed in, 'Yeah, and it even penetrated through your hair!'(evil smirk)

Thank you Andrew.....

Andrew "Klavan On the Culture" that is....

It is now 11:52 PM, and still no sign of the shopper!

However, I have kept myself entertained immensely on YouTube and Pajamas Media with the 'Klavan On the Culture' snippets.

If you are a conservative, enjoy! (Try his 'Young Person's Guide to the Constitution; or the Obama Beach Blanket Recovery; if you are interested in public unions, he has a new one out about that too!)
If you're not, don't bother!

I wonder if Dairy Queen still sells Blizzards at this time of night.....That would be one theory for the late night out....

Yes, I would be in bed already if I didn't think she needed help carrying things in. =)

Great News!

Cindy's back is feeling a LOT better!

This announcement was arrived at by inductive reasoning.

She left for the 'Nickel Auction' at 6:50 PM.

It is now 11:10 PM, and still no hide nor hair.

Ergo, her back must be feeling fine!

(I hope she bought something good to read for me!)

Lullaby Schullaby

I was guarding the henhouse tonight, and the kids were somewhat rowdy.

Since they couldn't decide on a movie to watch from our somewhat extensive collection, I found one of my favorites from my personal stash: "Master and Commander." (Having read Horatio Hornblower novels since the 7th grade, how could I NOT like it?!)

And Clearplay was in the vanguard, cutting out the language, etc., like a virtual Nelson.(Though Erin emitted a lot of EWWWWs when the 11-year old midshipman got his arm amputated....)

Anyway, it was a big hit, in my opinion, anyway.

Ally soon fell asleep in my arms, and then Cameron and Erin fell asleep on the couch and floor, respectively.

Kenner (who had poo-poo-ed my movie selection) came down about 50 minutes in, and she was soon yawning too.

20 minutes later I woke them up, turned the movie off, and hustled them to bed.

Well done, Jack Aubrey. Well done!

Inane Comment of the Day

Cameron looking out at the coating of new-fallen snow:

"That's how it should look outside!"

Ally to the Rescue

Scene:
A weekday morning 2 days ago.
Two upper elementary-age children are sitting at the bar. (In the kitchen, of course...)
They are intently watching TV as they eat.
The bartender (i.e., waitress, i.e., servant, i.e., janitor, i.e., mommy) is suffering from a very sore back and is trying to serve both of these demanding customers.
The bartender is also gingerly trying to lean over and unload the dishwasher between her periods of direct servitude.

Allyson enters the room.
She views the scene.
She walks over to the bartender, looks up, and says, 'Mommy, I can get the ones on the bottom rack for you!'

The two customers are oblivious, continuing to drool onto their food as they watch TV.

It's kinda like that old Meatloaf song....as it might be sung by Ally....

They want you (they want you)
They need you (they need you)
But there ain't no way they're ever gonna help you
Now don't be sad (Don't---be---sad)
'Cause one out of four ain't bad
Now don't----be----sad
'Cause one out of four ain't bad

Curse You Ally for Taking the Road Less Traveled!

Yesterday Cindy was still down with her back problems, and Ally was being a big help.

Ally saw the half-eaten container of 'Samoa's' Girl Scout cookies on Cindy's nightstand (see the previous post), and asked if she could try one.

She did, and, most sadly, she LIKED it. A LOT!

She snuggled up to Cindy on the bed, and sweetly asked, 'Can I just have one more?'

Soon she was munching on a second one.

She again snuggled up to Cindy on the bed, and sweetly asked, 'Can I just have the rest of them?'

Why can't she be stubborn in her likes and dislikes like the other kids!

Oh, the trials we parents bear!

Note: The answer to the second question from this cookie-grubbing pest was 'No.'

Curse You, Foul Conscience!

Yesterday evening I waltzed* into a standing-room only bedroom . Cameron and Kenner were lying on the floor drawing pictures, and Ally and Cindy were lying on the bed watching TV (Cindy has been having some back woes...).
In my hand I had brought something to cheer Cindy up. Kenner looked up and saw that it was a pack of cookies.

'OOOH,' she said, 'What do you have there, my dearest, favoritest Daddy?'

That caused Cameron and Ally to go on point.

'Oh,' I casually replied, 'Just some Girl Scout cookies that....' [insert insanely evil chortle here] '....are chock-full of COCONUT! Oh yeah, baby! COCONUT SAMOA's!'

(Our kids HATE coconut. Teeheehee.....harharhar.....)

Ever-thinking Cameron asked, 'Did you buy any other kinds? You're supposed to buy good ones, like the peanut butter ones.'

'Bah humbug!' I kindly replied, 'Why would I buy something that kids would eat?!'
'
Looking down upon my progeny with a sense of self-satisfaction, I handed one to Cindy and then popped a delicious coconut-caramel-chocolate cookie into my mouth. [Insert 'yummy' noises here.]

Fast-forward to today.....I walk into the break room and work, and there are 2 boxes of GS cookies still left.

I bought a box.

A box of stupid chocolate-covered peanut butter Tagalong patties.

Stupid conscience!

Of course, it is a long drive home....If I averaged even one per minute, I could easily finish off the entire box....

PS: Cindy assuaged our childrens' trauma by digging up one of her chocolate stashes, this particular one consisting of Christmas-themed Nestle Crunch bars, which just happened to be in her nightstand, so she didn't even have to get off the bed.
Funny that. I didn't know about them either. Nor was I offered one. I'll have to ponder the significance of that.

*Figuratively waltzing, of course--and in retrospect I sincerely apologize for any mental pictures that this ill-chosen verb may have evoked.

Tuesday Night Smackdown

As Erin and I returned home from her JH/HS Winter Sports Recognition event, Erin started what I guess could have been a conversation....

'I don't have any social skills. I don't know how to talk to anyone.'

She then continued, 'I must've gotten that from you.'

(Yeah, it's probably true....I'd rather communicate with a keyboard than a conversation....)

You don't wanna meet this chorister in a dark alley

As part of Family Home Evening tonight Makenna taught us how to lead music for the different time signatures. She had even made a little book that showed how to do all the different times.

She had me showcase my skill at 6/8, which I did with gusto (yeah, I spent 4 years in band, so I know this stuff like....well....like the back of my hand).
Cindy delicately commented about my stunning wrist action. I can't remember exactly what she said, but it involved a word like 'festiveness' or something similar.

Then we all worked with Erin to teach her 3/4 time. Cindy took the lead, and after a couple practice waves, she began chanting the following as she exaggerated her motions on the 3-step pattern:
"KARATE CHOP! BACKHAND! FACE-SLAP!...
...Repeat!...
KARATE CHOP! BACKHAND! FACE-SLAP!"

Then, like any good mother, she tried to apply this lesson to something more applicable to our everyday lives, and so, with even more gusto, she continued with the same basic motions, chanting:
"CAMERON, ERIN, CAMERON!
CAMERON, ERIN, CAMERON."

Hmmm....maybe we could suggest this for a future version of WII FIT....Power Choristering!

Not so sucky after all?

As Cindy and Ally got into the van to drive to preschool, Ally was all prepared with her trusty 'silky.' (One of a number of silky items around the house that she holds and caresses with her left hand as she sucks on the fore- and middle-fingers on her right hand.)

Driving the short distance, they both enjoyed listening to a Taylor Swift CD.

As Ally was getting out of the van, it dawned on her...
'Ohhhhh! I forgot to suck my fingers!'
Cindy replied, 'You don't need to suck your fingers Ally.'
Ally responded, 'But I always do!'

And to think that I thought that Taylor Swift only distracted teenage boys!

to add insult to injury....literally ;(

Saturday evening Cameron ordered a gun with his hard earned and very well saved money. He said Thursday, the day it was expected to be delivered, was going to be the "best day of my life". Not anymore.....

The company just called to let us know they sold out. It is a refurbished gun and they told us they have more of the new ones in stock but it is a $70 price difference. Sorry buddy.....you are going to have to wait. One the bright side, at least you won't have to try and hold that gun with a sore arm and pierced fingers.

Gloom, Despair, and Agony on Me.....

Cameron has had a rough couple days.
On Friday he was sick on a day that school was again cancelled due to snow.
On Saturday he was diagnosed with strep and he started taking antibiotics
On Sunday he was fiddling down in the man-cave and somehow lost control of an 1/8th-inch-thick length of wire, and it went right through the upper joint of his left index finger, deftly scratching the neighboring finger to the right and burying the end of the wire into the fleshy pad below his thumb.
(And to make matters worse, he didn't even take the time to snap a photo before he pulled it out of his finger!)
He got to spend a couple hours in Urgent Care and a prescription for stronger antibiotics.
On Monday (today) he went to his pediatric doctor, where he got a tetanus booster that has made his whole arm hurt and a prescription for even STRONGER antibiotics. (He was also advised to wear safety glasses when playing with wire.)
But hey, it got him out of school.....and he celebrated by falling asleep on the couch at 2 PM.
Yep, that boy is plumb wore out! (Not that we're complaining, of course.....)

Posted without comment (nor coaching....)

Double Entendre

Sorry to return to bathroom anecdotes, but the other day while Ally was 'seeing a man about a dog,' Cindy commented to her, 'Boy, it seems like every time you go to the bathroom you have to poop! Why do you poop every time you go to the bathroom?'

She replied briefly (sans briefs), 'It's because I'm just a regular girl!'

A clever caveat ....

Tonight I did a kind deed for Ally--I untied a bathrobe sash from around her cute little neck.
When I finished she started walking away, so I called out,
"Aren't you going to give me a hug?"
She thought for a second, then replied 'Okay...' then she added the caveat, 'But don't touch my butt!'



Don't ask me!
I don't have a clue.
But she'd better remember to say that to all the boys until she's married!

OK, I Admit It....I Just Love Saying 'BLUR-CONFUSION'

Cameron's alias on YouTube is 'BlurConfusion' (don't ask me how he came up with this!) and he uses it in the videos he posts. When I serve as Trusty Patsy the cameraman I also love to use (abuse?) it.

Perhaps his best video is the sniper post one (with a smirky cameo by David P.) Take a gander if you're bored--or just want to be entertained by exuberant youthfulness!

Anyway, here are 2 snippets I shot of his exciting activities in the ice storm yesterday:

Images from Yesterday's Icy Wonderland

Cameron decided to go out with some neighbor kids to go sledding in the frozen rain.



The kid ain't got a lick of sense!
He proved true my warning to him as he left. I sang out, 'You've gotta be crazy!'
When he got back he said, 'THAT WAS THE FUNNEST SLEDDING I HAVE EVER DONE IN MY LIFE!!!'
Daddy 1, Crazy Boy 0.

Last night at 10 PM I snapped the following of our Linden Pear tree:



By morning the wind was gusting, and fortunately it knocked all the ice off of the trees.

Ice Storm Day 2

7:15 AM--Our Neighborhood Skating Rink



Our county is under a Level 3 Snow (Ice??) Emergency, which means that if you ain't an ambulance or a squad car, you'd better not be out on the roads.

School is closed, and even my work is closed today!

Prometheus Bound

Cameron and I went to a Gun and Knife Show at Hara Arena on Saturday (he's looking for a replacement air gun--the other one had a faulty safety, so we returned it). We struck out, but he did get 50 feet of 'ParaCord,'
What is ParaCord? Why, it is just the Holy Grail for an 11-year old boy who surfs YouTube a lot. It is thin but very strong rope.
Naturally, the first thing he did when he got home was take a video of this thin cord holding all his weight--it is now on YouTube. (Search for 'BlurConfusion,' his online alias.)
He also recently read a Houdini biography, which further expanded the usage of ropes in his fertile mind.
This was apparent yesterday, when he had his sisters hogtie him with his ParaCord so he could perform an escape.



He was hogtied nicely, but got out in about 30 seconds.

Then I hogtied him.



68 seconds later he was out.
He had balled his fists to expand his wrists and thereby gain more wiggle room (and besides, ParaCord is very thin, and I didn't want to have it digging into his delicate skin).

And what's on for tonight's entertainment?He wants me to hogtie him, then roll him up in a blanket and then tie the blanket up.

Prometheus (from Wiki): A Titan, he was a champion of mankind, known for his wily intelligence, who stole fire from Zeus and gave it to mortals. Zeus then punished him for his crime by having him bound to a rock while a great eagle ate his liver every day only to have it grow back to be eaten again the next day.

Love at Home

On Saturday Cindy and I went out to do some shopping, and the kids--recalling to my mind hungry baby birds chirp-chirp-chirping with their upward-reaching beaks gaping wide waiting for their mommy to leave a tasty worm (assuming, of course, that the mommy-bird has successfully ran Cameron's air gun gauntlet)--sang out that they wanted us to bring them back a treat.
Cindy said, 'We will buy a treat, but IF--I repeat--IF when we get home we hear that there has been fighting or hitting or other problems, you will get NOTHING. And I mean NOTHING!'

Cameron digested this, then offered this hypothetical: 'So, you're saying that as long as no one tells you anything, we get a treat?'

On that optimistic note, we left the house.

We returned to find the smiling visages of Erin and Cameron, ice cream bowls and spoons in hand.
We later found the 2 younger girls bound and gagged in a remote corner of the basement.

Okay, so that last bit was a lie. (Though, sadly, not beyond the realm of possibility.)

There were no problems (that we know of at this point), and everyone got ice cream.

Yes, miracles sometimes do happen, even at the Floyd house.

Vocabularily Challenged or Not Deceived by Appearances--You Decide!

Today Cindy was driving to Sam's Club with Ally, and they passed a business with a big frozen pond located next to the road.

Cindy called it to Ally's attention by saying, 'Look at that Ally!'
Ally excitedly responded, 'Look at all that water!'
Cindy gently corrected, 'That's not water--it's frozen!'
Ally rejoindered, 'No it's not! It's ICE!'

Questions:
1. Was Ally mistakenly thinking that the word 'frozen' was a noun?
2. Or was she letting her Mom know that the chemical composition of water is the same regardless of its liquid or solid state?
3. Or was she surreptitiously trying to remind her mom that she needed to express herself more clearly and precisely?
4. Or was she just being a smart-aleck?
5. Or was she just completely oblivious?

*correction from Cindy- Ally told me excitedly to look at the water. I said, "Wow! It's frozen." She said, "NO it's NOT! Its ice!"

Still a nice post Dear!

That is just gross!

Before bedtime tonight I was giving Erin and Kenner a 'face tickle.'

Background: This is a Floyd family tradition, of sorts. I believe it originated as a way to quiet whichever of me or my 7 siblings that were acting up in sacrament meeting. It consists of having the tickle-ee laying their head face-up on your lap and then taking a finger and lightly dragging it around their face--around eyeballs, lips, the chin, the nose, etc. It can sometimes have an almost hypnotic effect on kids.

Anyway, tonight I was having to do both of their faces at the same time, and as I rounded Erin's pug nose I lightly (and quickly!) plugged a nostril.

She dropped out of her dream state long enough to quip, 'Keep your finger out of there! That there's MY gold to pick!'

Straps, Smacks, and Racks

A number of months ago, Cindy put up a homemade shelf in Cameron's room. The intent was to give him a place to put more of his stuff so that his floor would stay clear. (As Cameron would say, 'That idea was an epic fail!' but her heart was in the right place.

This past week Cameron paid for a new gun (a handsome .22 air rifle (though with no compass in the stock...)) and so I took advantage of his shelf to fashion some stylish slings for it, using an old belt and some 80-lb test string, as can be seen below:

Once Cindy espied it, I ascertained that she was less than enthused about my handsome gun-sling (patent pending). (I was somewhat amused by her rendition of 'Crazy Coyote Yipping at the Wall'--I think it's a yoga exercise??) But as soon as she could vocalize her comments (this occurred soon after her 'Horse Hyperventilating as it Stamps Out a Fire' yoga routine....), it was clear that she wasn't shooting blanks.

I scampered out of range, reminding her as I zigged and zagged that I had just screwed a TINY hook into her shelf and that I thought the belt and hunter orange string looked rather rakish, not to mention no-cost!

She wasn't amused.

Being the considerate husband, I put the task of figuring out something better on my to-do list. I figured I would get it done about the same time Cindy got the remaining 3 shelves done (they've been gathering dust in the basement since October or so....)

That was Thursday.

Well, today I decided to see what the Internet had to offer in terms of gun displays, and 6-odd hours later, I came up with this:

Here it is from a different angle.

Best thing about it? It didn't cost a cent! I had a piece of scrap that I was able to cut up to just the right sizes!

Sadly, I had all the tools I needed too, so I didn't get to go to Menard's and pick up something handy!

Shootin' from the hip.....

Cindy posted this on Facebook yesterday:

Things you never want to hear your husband say to your 11 year old son..."Do you want me to do the first one, just in case it blows up?"

She forgot to mention Cameron's reply: An enthusiastic 'Yes!!'

This was the conversation we had after we upgraded the ignition system on his potato gun--we now use a fire starter flame instead of a puny spark.

Here is the video....



Yes, I did hit the deer.....(you can hear the 'thwwaappp'-like echo after the initial shot.

Like a surgeon??

On a recent Sunday afternoon Erin joined Cindy and I in the living room, and she sat down and started teasing us--about how we are so jealous of her amazingly good looks, etc. (The self-esteem-building power of a hair straightener is something to behold!)

She went on for a couple minutes (or so it seemed), and I finally acknowledged her existence and responded in monotone, 'Yeah. That's right Erin. Boy am I jealous of you. You hit the nail right on the head.'

She grinned and retorted 'That's right, Dad! You know it! You are soooo jealous! And hey, you are only one surgery away from being JUST LIKE ME!'

Cindy and I almost choked to death--we couldn't stop laughing!

Where does she come up with this stuff?? (Or more accurately, where does she HEAR about this kind of stuff!?)

I'm starting to see why the young women at church think she is such a hoot!

What Better Way to Spend a Snow Day?

Here he is with his trusty 'Spudnik'... or would it be 'Spudinator' or 'Spuddermeister Meisterspudder' or 'Spudulicious' or 'Taternator'? I think the jury is still out....



And here is his first YouTube contribution as a YouTube user. (Notice his 'YouTube Explanatory Voice.' Yes, it has been a busy day for him!



It fired, and according to Cameron it would've taken the nose off of the deer--if it still had a nose....or a head....

Here is a video of the entire process (after ramming a potato down the barrel)....



Now, this can be dangerous, so don't try it at home!

Further proof that Daddo is an enabler.....

Cameron has been obsessing about potato cannons and in one short week he has learned enough on the subject to become an expert.

Case in point: "When I am older and have some money I am going to make a potato gun that uses a Tazer as the ignition source in the combustion chamber. As for propellants, we can start with hairspray, then use car starter fluid, and then try Brut deodorant."

Case in point two: On Saturday we went to a Dollar Tree and purchased 2 butane fire starters (to serve as a cheap ignition system), then dropped by Menard's and picked up the 4" and 2" PVC piping, connectors, and threaded endcaps. Cameron didn't even need a list. We just rummaged around through the bins until we found what he needed. He was rattling off information non-stop "We need 10 inches of 4" pipe for the combustion chamber, then a 4" female threaded connector for the endcap, and a 4"-to-2" connector and then 4 feet of 2" pipe.

An hour after we got home it was all glued together.

2 hours after that we gave it a try. We couldn't get it to work.

We talked with Cameron's married cousin Josh (who grew up reading the book 'Backyard Ballistics' and has made many potato potato cannons, including one fueled by propane, equipped with a pressure gauge, valves and a computer fan to evenly mix the air and propane in the combustion chamber, and ignited by a Tazer. We won't go into what types of pyro activities his dear wife has done during her eventful life....let's just say it included fireballs and visits by the local authorities) and he gave us some pointers, the most important one being to use less fuel than more.

Tonight we went to Kroger's and bought some nice big potatoes and then tried it again, using less starter fluid and protecting the 2 electrodes in the chamber from the spray.

On the 3rd click of the starter, the gun boomed and a potato just barely missed the deer (our archery practice deer--now headless) in the back of the yard.

Cameron was then pumped up on adrenaline, and so we tried it again.

After 2 tries it finally went off again.

I am sure that Cameron is asleep right now dreaming of even better ignition systems.

I wonder what he's going to name his artillery piece?

Big Bertha? Ol' Betsy? Phil?

But but but.......

Last night's dinner conversation:

Daddo (I think): "... All except Mommy, who...."

Ally: "What does 'except' mean?"

Daddo: "It means, all BUT Mommy gets to....."

Ally: "Butt Mommy! Butt Mommy!" [Insert chortles here....]