Through the whole thing without laughing...congratulations, you're dead.
I'm not sure if you can read his shirt or not, but it says, "Stud Muffin."
4.28.2008
4.25.2008
Butterfly Kisses...
I think I was about 10. Maybe I was a little older. Maybe I was a little younger. But the margin for error on this one can't be more than a year. Definately right at the 4th or 5th grade mark.
First I noticed the other boys didn't do it. It had seemed so natural. Just the way the world was. But suddenly I realized this was something that, if left unattended, could cause me great shame in the near future.
The time was now. I knew I had to act, but finding the courage to do so meant hurting someone I loved. I remember trying to find an excuse that wouldn't be so obvious and painful. I thought about it until I came up with the perfect excuse.
The moustache.
OF COURSE! His moustache. That makes the perfect sense.
"Dad." I asked.
"Yes son?" He said.
"Do you think it'd be alright if maybe I stopped kissing you?" I continued, "I mean, not because I don't want to, but because your moustache just kinda rubs my face and it hurts. You think we could just, I don't know, hug from here on out?"
"Sure"
And thus ended an era in my life. I began to grow up.
I dropped my buddy off at the airport this afternoon and on my way back, I decided to grab some lunch. I was hoping to have all my work done so I could go home and eat, but I knew I had at least a couple more hours left of work to go, so I decided to stop at my favorite Chinease...err...Asian buffet.
I was enjoying chicken on a stick when I noticed some people walking in. It was some grandparents with their daughter, who, in turn, also had her daughter (the granddaughter) in tow. It soon became apparent that they were meeting the husband here, because the moment the little girl saw her dad, she let out a huge, "DADDY!!!" and ran to him.
He swallowed her up in a giant bear hug and gave her a big kiss.
I had to fight tears.
Wednesday night, we asked the ultrasound operator not to tell us right away the sex of our child. Instead, we had her type it off in the corner of the picture and then put the picture in an envelope. Afterwards, we went to dinner and opened up the surprise together.
I'd like to say that I was impartial. That I screamed and cried and gave the girl with the green eyes the biggest of big hugs. That I was mature enough to not show my disappointment in my sperm (by the way, I'm pretty sure that's the only time in my life I will ever write that sentence).
But I'm an immature little kid. My humor is stuck in the sixth grade, and sometimes I think my emotional maturity is too.
"I'm sorry honey," my wife consoles me with.
"About what? I'm super excited." I lie.
"Yeah right. I know how much you wanted a boy," she cross examines me with.
And she was right. I wanted a boy soooooooooo bad. I even had the name picked out. Jaxon Alexander Keck. It means "Jake's son, the defender of mankind." Seriously, who wouldn't want to be named the defender of mankind?
It wasn't to be. And I pouted. I just couldn't get over how badly I had wanted a boy. And now, Jaxon may never exist.
My wife says I am too emotional. I say she isn't emotional enough. But I would agree with her that I demontrate my emotions at a much higher rate than her. That may not be a very manly thing to admit, but the truth's the truth. I cry at movies more than her. I cry at weddings more than her. I cry hug more people than her. It's just the way I'm wired.
So when I saw that little girl, run into her daddy's arms, I fought tears. Why? Because I suddenly realized the fullness of the gift God is giving me.
If I were to have a son, someday, in the not so distant future, I would be dropping him off for school and we'd have a conversation that would go like this:
"Uh, dad?"
"Yes Jaxon?"
"Do you think, maybe, instead of giving me a kiss, we could just, you know, high five or something? Your mustache just kind of rubs my face."
"I don't have a mustache Jaxon."
"So high fiving works?"
And that will be it.
With my daughter, the kissing will never stop.
First I noticed the other boys didn't do it. It had seemed so natural. Just the way the world was. But suddenly I realized this was something that, if left unattended, could cause me great shame in the near future.
The time was now. I knew I had to act, but finding the courage to do so meant hurting someone I loved. I remember trying to find an excuse that wouldn't be so obvious and painful. I thought about it until I came up with the perfect excuse.
The moustache.
OF COURSE! His moustache. That makes the perfect sense.
"Dad." I asked.
"Yes son?" He said.
"Do you think it'd be alright if maybe I stopped kissing you?" I continued, "I mean, not because I don't want to, but because your moustache just kinda rubs my face and it hurts. You think we could just, I don't know, hug from here on out?"
"Sure"
And thus ended an era in my life. I began to grow up.
I dropped my buddy off at the airport this afternoon and on my way back, I decided to grab some lunch. I was hoping to have all my work done so I could go home and eat, but I knew I had at least a couple more hours left of work to go, so I decided to stop at my favorite Chinease...err...Asian buffet.
I was enjoying chicken on a stick when I noticed some people walking in. It was some grandparents with their daughter, who, in turn, also had her daughter (the granddaughter) in tow. It soon became apparent that they were meeting the husband here, because the moment the little girl saw her dad, she let out a huge, "DADDY!!!" and ran to him.
He swallowed her up in a giant bear hug and gave her a big kiss.
I had to fight tears.
Wednesday night, we asked the ultrasound operator not to tell us right away the sex of our child. Instead, we had her type it off in the corner of the picture and then put the picture in an envelope. Afterwards, we went to dinner and opened up the surprise together.
I'd like to say that I was impartial. That I screamed and cried and gave the girl with the green eyes the biggest of big hugs. That I was mature enough to not show my disappointment in my sperm (by the way, I'm pretty sure that's the only time in my life I will ever write that sentence).
But I'm an immature little kid. My humor is stuck in the sixth grade, and sometimes I think my emotional maturity is too.
"I'm sorry honey," my wife consoles me with.
"About what? I'm super excited." I lie.
"Yeah right. I know how much you wanted a boy," she cross examines me with.
And she was right. I wanted a boy soooooooooo bad. I even had the name picked out. Jaxon Alexander Keck. It means "Jake's son, the defender of mankind." Seriously, who wouldn't want to be named the defender of mankind?
It wasn't to be. And I pouted. I just couldn't get over how badly I had wanted a boy. And now, Jaxon may never exist.
My wife says I am too emotional. I say she isn't emotional enough. But I would agree with her that I demontrate my emotions at a much higher rate than her. That may not be a very manly thing to admit, but the truth's the truth. I cry at movies more than her. I cry at weddings more than her. I cry hug more people than her. It's just the way I'm wired.
So when I saw that little girl, run into her daddy's arms, I fought tears. Why? Because I suddenly realized the fullness of the gift God is giving me.
If I were to have a son, someday, in the not so distant future, I would be dropping him off for school and we'd have a conversation that would go like this:
"Uh, dad?"
"Yes Jaxon?"
"Do you think, maybe, instead of giving me a kiss, we could just, you know, high five or something? Your mustache just kind of rubs my face."
"I don't have a mustache Jaxon."
"So high fiving works?"
And that will be it.
With my daughter, the kissing will never stop.
4.24.2008
4.23.2008
Because It Reminds Me Of Poop...
I'm sitting in an extremely boring real estate continuing education classes. Today we are talking about ethics. The lady who is teaching the class sounds like she is from Alabama. The word "duty" keeps coming up. But the way she says it, it sounds like "dewdie" and makes me laugh.
I am six years old.
I am six years old.
4.21.2008
I Am A Ruined Man...
Have you ever been proud and ashamed at the same time? Last night I had one of those moments.
I used to play hockey (okay, "roller" hockey, but still. What can I say? I grew up in Indiana. We had more parking lots than frozen ponds.) on a pretty regular basis. Then, the team I played for decided to switch to Sunday nights and, at the time, my schedule couldn't accomodate that. But lately, I've been able to play ok an as-needed basis. Yesterday, I got the call from the dugout that my services would be needed. So, I strapped on my old gear and entered the rink of battle.
The game was tight. It was 3-3 late in the third. With about 2:30 left in the game, I pursued a puck deep in the corner. The opponent was bringing the puck out and as he got near me, he lost his balance. I don't say that tongue-in-cheek as in he "lost his balance" by me hitting him with my stick. I mean he was clumsy. Well, he fell right into my feet, which caused me to fall. As I fell on top of him, he proceeded to kick and punch at me. This isn't such an abnormality, even in roller hockey. Now, while this is annoying, being that it isn't abnormal, I tried my best just to get up and rejoin the action. When I stood up, my opponent decided he wanted to endanger my future children, by ramming his stick as hard as he could at them. Well, being that we don't know the sex of our child yet, and I don't know whether or not I have a male heir, this simply was unacceptable.
(The following is my recollection of the events. He may remember it differently)
I turned to him and said, "I'm sorry sir that you were unable to proceed unimpeeded down the rink, but I simply was trying to improve my teams situation in this gentlemenly game of puck and stick."
He said, "Screw you!" And punched me in the face.
I said, "Sir, if you want to go to fisticuffs, I've got your Jack Johnson and Tom O'Leary right here."
Then he kicked my dog off the overpass.
I said, "Now this is happening."
And that is (pretty accurately, I must say) how the fight began. I don't know if it was my feeble wrestling background or having just watched GSP destroy Matt Serra, but something instinctively kicked in and I took him down.
To Chinatown.
I'll have to be honest and say that I'm glad I "won". Maybe that's my pride talking. Whatever. If you're going to fight, fight to win right?
But I will say I'm ashamed of myself. Would it have cost me anything to just to walk away even AFTER he hit me? No, it wouldn't have.
But it wouldn't have made a very good story either.
I used to play hockey (okay, "roller" hockey, but still. What can I say? I grew up in Indiana. We had more parking lots than frozen ponds.) on a pretty regular basis. Then, the team I played for decided to switch to Sunday nights and, at the time, my schedule couldn't accomodate that. But lately, I've been able to play ok an as-needed basis. Yesterday, I got the call from the dugout that my services would be needed. So, I strapped on my old gear and entered the rink of battle.
The game was tight. It was 3-3 late in the third. With about 2:30 left in the game, I pursued a puck deep in the corner. The opponent was bringing the puck out and as he got near me, he lost his balance. I don't say that tongue-in-cheek as in he "lost his balance" by me hitting him with my stick. I mean he was clumsy. Well, he fell right into my feet, which caused me to fall. As I fell on top of him, he proceeded to kick and punch at me. This isn't such an abnormality, even in roller hockey. Now, while this is annoying, being that it isn't abnormal, I tried my best just to get up and rejoin the action. When I stood up, my opponent decided he wanted to endanger my future children, by ramming his stick as hard as he could at them. Well, being that we don't know the sex of our child yet, and I don't know whether or not I have a male heir, this simply was unacceptable.
(The following is my recollection of the events. He may remember it differently)
I turned to him and said, "I'm sorry sir that you were unable to proceed unimpeeded down the rink, but I simply was trying to improve my teams situation in this gentlemenly game of puck and stick."
He said, "Screw you!" And punched me in the face.
I said, "Sir, if you want to go to fisticuffs, I've got your Jack Johnson and Tom O'Leary right here."
Then he kicked my dog off the overpass.
I said, "Now this is happening."
And that is (pretty accurately, I must say) how the fight began. I don't know if it was my feeble wrestling background or having just watched GSP destroy Matt Serra, but something instinctively kicked in and I took him down.
To Chinatown.
I'll have to be honest and say that I'm glad I "won". Maybe that's my pride talking. Whatever. If you're going to fight, fight to win right?
But I will say I'm ashamed of myself. Would it have cost me anything to just to walk away even AFTER he hit me? No, it wouldn't have.
But it wouldn't have made a very good story either.
4.15.2008
Time's Almost Up...
In honor of today: A Chuck Norris Tax Joke.
When Chuck Norris sends in his taxes, he sends blank forms and includes only a picture of himself, crouched and ready to attack.
Chuck Norris has not had to pay taxes, ever.
When Chuck Norris sends in his taxes, he sends blank forms and includes only a picture of himself, crouched and ready to attack.
Chuck Norris has not had to pay taxes, ever.
4.14.2008
What To Do, What To Do...
Well, I'm sitting in a small office on the wrong side of a desk. It's roughly my third week on the job, but it really feels like my first day. Even though my licensing credentials are the same and only needed to switch brokers, when I was with Lennar, I didn't belong to the National Association of REALTORS. This is the association that lets you list and view homes on the MLS (Multiple Listing Service) which is how 99% of resale homes are sold in the valley. I couldn't join the association until my license came through to my new broker, so the last couple of weeks, I have mostly been bugging Mark and having him show me what to do.
Friday, my credentials finally came through and I was able to take care of all the necessary paperwork and fees ($1500!!!!!!!) to join the association. So, today kind of feels like my first day on the job. Especially since I am bored and are blogging.
Just like old times.
Friday, my credentials finally came through and I was able to take care of all the necessary paperwork and fees ($1500!!!!!!!) to join the association. So, today kind of feels like my first day on the job. Especially since I am bored and are blogging.
Just like old times.
4.11.2008
All That Is Right With The World...
Came accross this little gem today. Yes, I know it's wrong. But it's okay. I'm a democrat.
(I actually have no idea how that justification has to do with anything.)
(I actually have no idea how that justification has to do with anything.)
4.09.2008
Way Up High...
All three of my Dad's brothers (and various parts of their families) were in town last weekend. They came in late Saturday and just left this afternoon to go home. We had a great time. I didn't get ANY sleep Saturday night and went to bed Sunday night about 2 o'clock Monday morning. It's been a long time since I tried to keep that schedule. Needless to say, I am pooped. Hopefully, I can get back to posting regularly soon. I know you miss hearing how I spent my day, Mom.
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