Tag Archives: Lucky

She Who Must Be Discussed

Today is different.

Normally, near the middle of November, the nights would be getting darker earlier and there would be all-around less light to guide our way.

Today, though, there’s a bit of a hiccough in that whole less-light thing.

Mostly because of all the candles residing on the birthday cake belonging to my wife, known to me as She Who Must Be Steaming Mad Right About Now.

I really shouldn’t make old-age jokes about her. I really shouldn’t.

I think I can still outrun her, though. In a sprint. If it goes longer than a sprint, I’m a goner, as she’s definitely got the stamina to last longer in that sort of race. Still, when you’re running for your life, you never know what sort of reserves you (and by you I mean I) might find.

It’s tempting to note that she is, as of today, a year older than I am. After all, I don’t turn her age for another seven days, 168 hours, 10,080 hours, 604,800 seconds.

That’s a big number, 604,800.

Must be a loooonnnggg time. It’s okay, though, because I like older women.

But there’s more to She Who Must Be Itching To Get Her Hands Wrapped Around My Throat The Sooner The Better (For Her) than her  age.

In addition to being one of the premier obstetrician/gynecologists in the southeast, she’s also an amazing mother and wife. And I’m almost positive that she’s single-handedly been responsible for the upsurge in Nordstrom stock over the last couple of years.

Dressing well hasn’t always been a priority for her, but I well remember the first time I ever saw her decked out in an expensive, one-of-a-kind outfit.

I was standing at the end of an aisle, next to a very scary dude wearing an odd collar. An organ began playing and, with each note, managed to drag my heart rate higher. My best man, The Principal, stood next to me and had to remind me to breathe. I’d forgotten.

When she first walked out into view, I realized something else: I’d actually forgotten how beautiful she was. I hadn’t seen her in maybe 12 hours, but the last glimpse of her in no way prepared me for the vision that approached down the aisle. I thanked my lucky stars that I’d found her and she’d found me.*

This next bit isn’t really a tangent so stick with me. My Dad told me that he used to call his mom on his birthday to thank her for having him. I’m going to steal that idea. I think it’s about time to call my mother in-law and let her know how grateful I am that she had the foresight and vision to bear into this world someone wonderful who thought I was the same.

She’s not perfect, my wonderful She Who Must Sometimes Be Tolerated, But More Often Be Celebrated, but that’s part of the fun. Finding her jagged places and fitting into them with mine, sanding down the bits that don’t fit and glueing those that match.

So tonight I’m going to give thanks for her as I light a candle, and another candle, and another candle, and another candle. . . Well, you get the point.

Happy birthday, Sweetie. Let’s go have some fun.

 

*Although right  now, I get the feeling it would be a better idea if she weren’t able to find me. Maybe once she cools off a bit. After the heat from the candles dissipates.
Welp. That’s just going to make it longer.


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Zippy The Birthday Boy

It’s not always easy watching your little dudes grow up, but it can be rewarding.

Today, on this date 19 years ago, sometime in the early afternoon, Zippy the Monkey Boy came squirting out into the world. I mean that literally.

His mom was bearing down so hard, Zippy the Monkey Boy almost shot out past the doctor’s waiting hands. Fortunately, the doc had played softball for a long time and was a good fielding glove.

Not kidding in the least.

Still, his entry into the world was indicative of how Zippy the Monkey Boy would go through life. He wasn’t named Zippy the Monkey Boy when he first started staring owlishly at this new, bright and cold place in which he suddenly found himself.

We mostly called him Happy. Or Smiley. Or something along those lines, because that little dude was a marvelously well-behaved baby. For a while. We paid for the easy beginning later one, oh, yes we did. But the start was a smooth one.

Looking back, all I can do is wonder What in the hell were we thinking? Seriously, we looked at his older brother Sarcasmo, who at Zippy the Monkey Boy’s birth was 14 months old, and thought he would be mature enough to help us care for his baby brother. Zippy the Monkey Boy is a lucky little dude getting through that messily wrong assumption relatively unscathed.

He also had to put up with stuff his older brother didn’t. Sarcasmo got to sleep in a cradle borrowed from friends. Zippy the Monkey Boy? He got an egg crate folded up inside a sheet and placed in a clothes basket in which to sleep. It actually turned out great, because we could simply pick up the clothes basket and move it wherever we wanted the little Zip to go.

It was a great dirty clothes basket. In fact, we still have the thing out in our garage. We still have Zippy the Monkey Boy as well, but that’s not nearly as astonishing I don’t think.

For most of his life, Zippy the Monkey Boy has been a stubborn little dude. He’s finally beginning to turn that to the good, instead of using it for evil. It’s been a long, slow process, but the little dude has turned into a pretty amazing young man.

It’s not to say that he doesn’t suffer the occasional lapse, like for instance when he went off to a job interview wearing flip flops and fought valiantly to keep doing so because forcing him to wear actual shoes was, and I quote, “unfair.” Still, those instances are few and far between. And growing farther.

He’s become a young dude I like talking to. He has opinions that can differ significantly from my own and he’s not afraid to get into a spirited defense of those beliefs. And his arguments are more sophisticated than “because they’re cool.” He’s applying his analytical mind to things more significant than a logical reason why he should be allowed more cookies to eat before bedtime

It’s been an honor and a privilege watching as Zippy the Monkey Boy has grown into Zippy the College Boy. He’s given us trials and hugs, screaming fits and screaming laughter, anger and love.

Like everyone’s life, that of Zippy the College Boy has been a roller-coaster of a ride, filled with zigs and zags, ups and downs, but it’s been a ride I wouldn’t have missed for the world.

For a little dude who raced into the world, eager to experience whatever it had to offer, to a young man who believes that on-time happens to other people, he still has a ways to go. I can’t wait to watch his journey there.

Happy birthday, son. You’re deeply loved by more people than you’ll ever know.

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Sunday Serenade: Groovie Goolies

I’ve been thinking a lot about monsters lately.

Not sure exactly why, but I’ve been considering what it is that makes a monster. Certainly something outsized and significantly different from the normative human body type would be a good place to start. Think the giant kaiju from the just-released movie Pacific Rim. (I’ll be having a review of that one up soon.)

But the scariest monsters to me are the ones who look just like you and me. Well, probably more like me because I know you dudes are much better looking. There’s something inside these monsters that’s just . . . broken. And it’s that expression of the interior brokenness that makes a monster what it is.

So, yeah, a bit depressing to be considering on a wonderful summer day.

Which might explain why I went hunting for this little gem. If you don’t know who the Groovie Goolies are, consider yourself young. Or lucky. Whichever fits best.

I only hope watching this one video won’t be what shoves one of you over the edge into the land of broken things.

Enjoy. If that’s the right word.


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