Kobayashi Maru

when an overweight stranger breaks into your house surreptitiously and eats your food and drinks your milk and leaves things under foliage for you and stuffs things into your socks.  YOU SIMPLY HAVE TO LOVE THIS TIME OF YEAR!!

MERRY CHRISTMAS!!!!

“The Winter Stalker” By Stephen Reedy & Alex Pardee from ZerofriendsFilms on Vimeo.

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[youtube]tK_jDA3qrUU[/youtube]

This little piece of PSA musical history is for everyone.  Cause evidently Valentines Day is for everybody.

FYI, I am not one to buy into commercially driven “holidays”, but I do special things for Ferf on Valentines Day every year cause why not.  Of course, I do things the other 364 days as well - which proves I am no romance rookie - but I do my own thing on Feb 14th that makes the Mallmark Mafia no revenue at all.  (one day I will wake up with a valentine’s horse head next to me in bed when those wiseguys catch up to me, but until then I shall mock them unmercifully and wave my private parts in their general direction.)

That being said, Ferf and I will be joined by Hamie and his South African Hottie for an stay at home double date.  Hamie and I will be preparin dinner from scratch and the ladies shall be ordering off the menu.  Of course it is a 3 course meal and they are allowed to order 3-4 items per course.  Unfotunately for them, the names of the items on the menu have absolutely nothing to do with the actual foodstuff, so they could end up ordering coffee, salad dressing and a pat of butter for the first course - but that, my dear friends, is the fun part.  Eventually they will get everything that we made, but only over the course of the dinner and in the order that they requested them from the menu.

Dinner will be good, hilarity will ensue and I will get laid.  Hamie, on the other hand…well, lets just leave it at “on the other hand” cause this is a family show…

Happy VD!!!  It’s for everybody!!!

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Well, here I am.  Another year later.  Another year older.  I’m romancing another beautiful dusk in the mountains on the porch of my family home in British Columbia.
Christmas is over, but we haven’t quite made it to the new year. Give me a couple of days…I’ll get there too.

This year we decided that we would just do Christmas as a small nuclear family.  (i.e. we did not have any money to fly down and do the holiday with the whole faim damnly like every other year.)  So the holiday was all about the Muppet.  She seemed okay with that.   She didn’t even notice a smaller than average haul of presents this year - of course, that could be because she was holding THE GREATEST PRESENT EVER.   We hunted a tree and killed it, chopped it down and brought it home and planted it in the living room and then decorated it while watching the snow fall through the front window drinking hot chocolate.

I know!  It’s like a freakin’ Hallmark made for TV movie isn’t it?  But it’s true.  All true.  The fire was roaring, the snow gently falling and Trans Siberian Orchestra playing on the CD player.

Who knew that the snow would keep falling for like a week and we’d be snowed in!!  That sucked a lot of joy out of the whole thing.  Christmas stir crazy was setting in.  I don’t think I have ever watched so many videos in my whole life.  The entire Barbie collection, every Dora video ever made, plus most every Disney movie.  Seriously, I was ready to dig through 30 inches of snow with my eye teeth.

Eventually we did indeed get out.  Though skating down the back alley with your car is not as exciting as it sounds.

And once I got out and got back to the office on Monday, Ferf calls me and asks if I would “pick her up a little something”.  Being it was right after Christmas, I was leery, but I figured, “hey, maybe I get lucky out of it”, so, I asked what she wanted.  And this is what she wanted:

Yes, that is what you think it is.  Unless you think it is the love child of Darth Vader and R2D2…

which is a semi-logical conclusion I grant you.  But sorry, that is not correct.

Those of you who guessed “a government subsidized 80 gallon composter” you win!!   That is exactly what it is.  Yep…I am now the horribly romantic guy who bought his wife a composter.  Seriously, she used to get all excited when I brought her roses.  Now she gets sexually aroused when I buy her a big plastic thing that turns organic material into psuedo-shit brown manure.  Oh yeah baby.  I should be on freakin Oprah with that story. I am that romantic.  Don’t hate me guys, just try to keep up.

So here I sit on New Year’s Eve Day having just watched the clock turn over to 2009.  Ferf is snoozing next to me having had the crap kicked out of her by this dang cold she’s been trying to fight for over a week, and while she has been losing the fight, it has given her opportunity to self-medicate.  I am considering the last couple of weeks, if not the last many months, but mostly just the holidays.  Holidays are like pre-arranged excuses for scheduled evaluations.  Time to think.  Time to dwell.  Time to supersaturate your system with sugar and then contemplate life as your body goes into diabetic shock and you hit the sugar downer.  Now wonder people kill themselves this time of year…

But fret not, I am not suicidal.  I’m not even into bruising myself on accident.  But I am semi-somber.  This has been a tough holiday season.  I lost 2 uncles to cancer this fall and was not able to attend either funeral.  Plus the whole Christmas away from family thing.  Kinda rough actually.  Believe it or not, I was actually asked what it would take to get me home for a funeral.  A cousin of mine asked my brother whose funeral I would come down for.  (I know.  I know.  He’s young, naieve and obviously still has the whole black/white view of the world about him.  Don’t be pissed at him on my account.  More pity that fact that he still thinks life is such a simplistic equation.)  Nonetheless, the question was posed to Marvin, who then passed the question onto me.  Seeing as how my favorite Uncle had passed away and I was unable to make it to Texas in the 48 hours between his death and the funeral, they were wondering who I would make it down for.  Indeed, there is morbidity to the question itself.  But once asked, does an inquiry not deserve some acknowledgment?

Ok, actually I think the question is invalid on many levels as it presupposes quite a bit of false assumptions (like that I was making a choice when in reality there was no choice to make or that the nature of it implies it to be a character issue on my part i.e. I would do more to make it down for some things than I would others - especially when the “things” we are talking about are the funerals of family members).  But all that aside, I think that funerals always cause us to question things.  And, it is easier to question others than to delve into questions about ourselves, our faith, or our worldview.  There was no reason to question too much with either Uncle James or Uncle Bobby.  Both had lived long fulfilling lives.  Both had seen their children grow up, their grandchildren born and a whack of great grandchildren born.  Both were well loved.  Both will spend eternity in Heaven.  Everything’s tied up in a nice neat bow.  And add to it, that they are both no longer suffering.  Hard to get into the “life’s not fair” discussion with these two deaths.  But death still makes us think.  Think about my dad dying so young.  My father-in-law and mother-in-law dying so young.  Think about spending time with people - did I spend enough time with them??  Could I have spent more?  Should I have spent more?  Done more?   Said more?  Am I doing enough with all the other people I love right now?  What if…

You see how this can tail spin you pretty quickly.  And while I am not spinning on my tail, I am up late all by myself writing to a great sea of readers that I believe exist (on days where I am really optimistic) about my internal musings.  Let’s not psychoanalyze me though.  I am healthy - you maybe not so much.  But me?  Mentally sound and well hung.  Let’s move on.

So do we ever spend “enough” time with those we love?  Do we ever really talk to them about our feelings for them, and even if so, is it enough?  Do we try to really understand those we love beyond past what we already know about them?  Believe me when I say all these questions are exacerbated when you live 3000 miles away from your family.  I often wonder what would be different if I had not gone all over the world and not lived in Canada, and instead just stayed put in Tejas.  Who would I be?  What would my family be like?  My belief system, my worldview, my understandings, my political leanings, my opinions, my career, my dreams and my hopes…how would they be different, and would I like them more or at all?  Does anyone there even know what an 80 gallon composter is!?

Here’s what I do know.  I miss my family.  All the time really, but it is usually more like a dull ache.  During certain times and season it grows to a knife honed edge like cut deep inside, but 90% of the time it’s just there in the background.  Life goes on and I am simply not there for a lot of it.  I miss a lot that happens down there.  Phone calls and emails and blog posts only get you so much when it comes to really staying abreast of the guts of people - who they are and who they are becoming. (except for this blog of course, you guys know me all but Biblically through this thing)  I know that it works both ways too, they miss all the same things with me and my family here.

Mimi and Papa (my folks) I love more than words.  I am who I am largely because of them.  Mom has a hard time with this because she can’t believe that she had anything to do with me becoming someone who would live 3000 mile away, but it’s true.  She more than anyone always pushed me to believe in myself and that I could do anything and that I had to sail out of the safe harbours in order to explore and discover life (ok, so she doesn’t really talk like a Hallmark card, but she did give me literally hundreds of those cards with those exact sentiments, if not words, during high school and college).  She gave me the courage to step outside the Red River/Rio Grande box and push the limits, even if she wishes that I hadn’t listened quite so well now.  I love that she made me believe in the more out there.  That she convinced me to never be afraid and if I was, then to face that fear.  Mom engraved those things in my soul, while also making sure that I never forgot how important family is.  I am the husband and father I am today because of all the things she took the time to talk to me about growing up.  Going through her own hell of divorce she used each opportunity to teach me how to keep from ending up on that same road.  I am confident in my marriage because of her.  (the fact that I married an uber-hot lawyer who works as a Passion Coach helps too mind you, but that is because Mom always told me to marry the best - and I did.  In fact, she specifically told me that I should marry Ferf…even when we had broken up…and I was dating someone else…as I left to go on a date with someone else…even then she would tell me that I ought to be marrying Ferf.)  I truly love my momma.

Marvin is the big brother that everybody wants, but I got.   Don’t get me wrong.  He can be a turd (as big brothers are wont to do), he can be annoying as hell (as big brothers are wont to do), he can piss me off faster and hotter than just about anybody else on the planet (as big brothers are wont to do).  Mind you, all his shortcomings aren’t really his fault…he’s a big brother.  Little brothers have no inherent faults. But he is my brother and I would unhesitatingly die for him.  He pushed me to be smarter, faster, stronger, tougher, even when he wasn’t intentionally pushing me.  He spent his life setting the bars for me - even if he had no idea that he was.  Sometimes I got over the bar and often I didn’t measure up to it, but either way the measuring stick for success to me was Marvin.  Ok, maybe not with GPA, but hey, at your 20 year reunion when guys are doing the whole “glory days” thing you will for sure hear them talk about the game or the play that everyone still remembers.  I am not expecting anyone to come up to me and say, “dude!  Remember when you aced Mr. Miller’s science test!?  That was so awesome!”  Turns out that no one really cares what your GPA was…whatever, I’m not bitter.  When I look at Marvin now, I see that he is still having the same impact on people’s lives today.  He continues to set the bar for people and lives to inspire people to be better than they think they are.  I admire his consistency.  He was noticed that Ferf and I weren’t, as he put it, “root growin’ folk.”  But he is that tree planted firmly by streams of water.  His roots go way deep.  Deeper than I think mine ever could.  He is the stable force for the family.  There are parts of that that I don’t envy him for.  He has become the “family pastor” and if somebody dies, he does the funeral…it’s almost an expectation now.  He doesn’t get to grieve like a son or nephew or cousin or grandson.  He’s the pastor who does the funeral.   I hate that for him.  I don’t even mention to family that I am ordained, cause I don’t want that mantle…but I hate that he has to carry it.  Bittersweet is too nice a sentiment for it.  (by the way…I am hereby stating that he will not do my funeral.  I want someone else.  At my funeral he is a brother.  He can check his credentials at the door.  He can either sit out in the audience like everyone else, or tend the bar, but not doing the funeral.  What? You’re not having an open bar at your funeral?)  It’s funny in a way.  There is probably no one that I wished knew me more than him.  He used to know me better than anyone.  But, as mentioned before, time and distance have a way of loosening that knot.  He and I are a lot alike which is why we probably get so ticked at each other on those things that we disagree on.  Ferf was recently reading a book wherein the author was talking about expectations.  I think that I probably owe Marvin an apology for having unrealistic expectations of him.  I want, and/or expect him to know me like he used to.  To be able to read my mind and just “get me”, but that’s somewhat ridiculous.  He might have similar expectations of me - who knows.  But I think I have had them of him and it is just not right of me to do so.  So, should you ever get around to reading this Marvin, I am sorry for that.  I am not fully sure how to stop, but I at least got to step 1 or 2 here, so that’s a good start.  I think I want to get to know my brother again.  Know who he really is.  Not who he shows people he is, and not who I remember him to be and not who I suppose he is based on historical knowledge and my own finely honed skills of people reading.  Nope.  None of that.  Just who he is.  Not even who I expect him to be.  Just who he is.  You’re a good man Marvin.  I know that to be true.  In a lot of ways, you are still the standard by which I judge a bunch of stuff in my own life - good and bad.  But I realize that neither is really fair to you.  We’re not kids anymore trying to one up each other.  We just are who we are.  Similar in a lot of ways and very different in a lot of ways.  I’d like to really know and understand all those ways - without judgment.

2009 could be a very interesting year.  Lord knows 2008 had its share of ups and downs.  But as the year ends, I think deeply about friends and family and loved ones (not really sure how you could be a loved one and neither friend nor family, but that is how people say it).  Mimi and Papa, Marvin and Twig, ColbyT and Mojo, Krissy and ‘drien - I love you all deeply.   Sissy and Boo, ScottyBear and Yoda, Seester, JonoO and the little red haired girl and Topher - I love you all deeply too.  Everyone else don’t get your panties in a knot just cause I didn’t call you out by name.  Either I am too lazy to type you all, too tired to think through every single one of you, or you don’t make the love list.  If you fall into category A or B then know you are loved deeply by me and I will try to tell you personally this year.  Those in category C, well, you know…try harder.  Or buy me coffee.  Either way really.

Happy New Year!

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SO I was listening to Dr. Dave Currie the other day talk about Christmas.  It was not your normal Christmas sermon, homily or summation.  It was more like deep thoughts on Christmas.  He suggested 10 gifts that are not normal nor really expected.  So I share them with you and maybe even add some extra thoughts…

1. Gift of Affirmation - write a letter to a person telling them how much they have meant to you.  This gift is particularly important if there is reason to believe that the person you are writing to is going to be celebrating their last Christmas.  Dave had spoken to 2 people this week who thought that this could be their parent’s last Christmas.  I suggest that you not wait that long to do this.  Whoever has really made an impact in your life, that is who you should be doing this for.  Believe me that it will mean more to them than anything you could possibly buy them.  It doesn’t have to follow any particular format.  Just tell them that you love them, and WHY.  The more specific you can get, the more impactful the gift will be.
2. Gift of Encouragement - send a little card to someone just to encourage them.  This is not the same as the longer and more thought-intensive gift of affirmation.  This is simply a little card to say, “Hey, I’m thinking about you and I like you.”  It’s like a quick note on a Facebook wall, but because it is hand written and snail mailed, it means more.
3. Gift of Your Presence - drop in on someone.  Again, this gift is particularly important if the person is a shut-in.  Someone who cannot get out and see you.  The elderly and the infirm are the very best recipients of this gift, but other potential people are those you haven’t seen in a long time, old friends that you have lost touch with, or family members.  Down South, we like to call this “goin’ a visitin’”.  Don’t even call ahead.  Just show up.  Bring them a coffee, or bring nothing but your own smiling face and some free time to focus on them.
4. Gift of a Phone Call - this is for those who are not close enough to go visit.  Reconnect, reminisce about days gone by and just appreciate them for their friendship.  This is extremely easy to do, but somehow we all neglect it.
5. Gift of an Invitation - add a place setting at your Christmas dinner table and invite someone who is away from their family.  Everyone knows someone who is not able to get home this year - especially with the economy being what it is.
6. Gift of Forgiveness - within your own family especially, identify a hurting relationship and seek to reconcile with that person.  Possibly the hardest of the gift suggestions.  In fact, most people would rather spend money on a gift…
7. Gift of Blessing - write a card or note to members of your immediate family to share why you love them.  Call it a Blessing and then bless them with your words, emotions and heartfelt thoughts.  Personally, I think you should do this verbally IN ADDITION TO writing it down.  The written piece can serve as a reminder, but nothing is more personal that standing in front of someone, putting your hands on their shoulders, looking into their eyes and speaking love and blessing directly into their soul.
8. Gift of Gratitude - email someone who has been important in a specific area of your life - a mentor - and thank them for the part they played in your learning.  For some of you, this will require some thought as to who is a mentor in your life (or who has been in the past).  But once you figure that out, then you can do this with some ease.
9. Gift of Cash - random act of kindness to someone who is tight financially and could use the help.  Put some money (how much is really unimportant) in an envelope and put it somewhere they will find it (preferably where no one else will find it first).  No note, no nothing.  Just a gift of that which they need.  And believe me that no matter how strapped you are right now, there is someone you know who is worse off.  That is the unfortunate truth in this world.
10. Gift to God - spend 2 uninterrupted hours alone with God to thank Him for your life and everything in it.  Yes, I know 2 hours is a long time.  Yes, I know that 2 uninterrupted hours is even more difficult.  I don’t care.  The suggestion stands.  Just say yes and do it, or say no and don’t.  I’m not the one you’re giving it to (or not giving it to).

So there are some serious gift ideas.  They don’t cost much, if anything, at all except some thought on your part.  That is what makes them so special.  That is why they are more important that something you can buy.  And why I’ll be expecting lots of these from all of you.  I’m kidding….as far as you know.  But in case you are concerned that I am not, then I will accept any and all of these. Except the last one.  Even I am uncomfortable being confused with God.

Merry Christmas!!

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Now seems like a good time to break into song…

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I love musical interludes…

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So for Christmas we bought the Muppet a puppy.  Yep.  That one magical gift that every kid wants to get for Christmas the Muppet got.  Of course she got it a bit early cause seriously, how do you hide something that poops?

Besides he is so freaking cute that one would never want to hide him.  Cute is relative I know, but he does look like somebody bred Chubacca and an ewok.

I think they just bred wookies down to ewoks and then down to shih tzus.  We thought of many names - some of which are stories in themselves - and finally settled on Ruxpin.  Yes, like Teddy Ruxpin from the 1980’s.  I am not really sure why.  Maybe because Chewbacca didn’t really roll off the tongue.  Anyway, the Muppet is in hog heaven. She is rolling on the floor with him, taking him for walks, and coming really close to strangling him whenever she gives him “hugs”.

Tonight as we were tucking the Muppet into bed, she started talking about Ruxpin.  And that lead her to talk about God making him.  And God making all the animals.  At this point she paused, ever so briefly, and said, “That’s a big job.  Bet it took him a while.”  Yes, she is starting to have an appreciation for the scope of God’s job.  Possibly because she is considering taking over one day,  maybe she just wants to understand her competition, or maybe she just likes what He does.  Whatever the reason, she seemed genuinely impressed with His creation duties tonight.

I should note that Ruxpin is a breeder.  His little thang is intact and will, one day, be put to good use.  The lady we bought him from is very interested in using him in her breeding program.  The economics of this is reall fascinating.  We paid her for the puppy (a seriously reduced rate mind you - who pays full price these days!)  And in a year or so when he gets the proverbial juices flowing, she will pay us to have him give her lady dogs a good rogering. Now in some neighborhoods this would make me a pimp.  But in animal husbandry, it seems to be socialy acceptable and encouraged.  So, being the buinessman I am, I agreed to her terms.  Since I knew we would be whoring our dog out on regularly scheduled occasions, I suggeted we name him East Hastings but alas, I was voted down.  Fairly unceremoniously I might add.

So we are now the proud owners of a pure chocolate brown chinese imperial shih tzu.  Go us.

Also, he will be available for studding.  Or casual “dating” if your dog is lonely and homely, or too focused on career and education to deal with relationships (and is willing to pay for a good time on a purley physical level).  Ruxpin does not judge.  Ruxpin is a SCM (single chocolate male) who has had all his shots and is well versed in what makes bitches happy.  He is bright and well educated and sexy enough to brag to your friends about.  He is a true Rennaisance dog who has mastered poetry and plays the harmonica with a sensual and god like skill.  He can also tell you how sexy your eyes look in 7 different canine dialects.  His hourly rate is for friendship only and anything of a sexual nature is completely consensual and is separate from any monetary exchange - in all legally binding ways.

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Ok, I am back and relatively composed after reliving the Muppet story from day one on the trip to Texas. Thank you to all of you who sent your own personal stories of similar things happening with your children. Oh alright so maybe no one actually has ever had such an experience such as that, but if any of you had, I am sure that you would have told me your stories so that I wouldn’t feel so totally alone on this.

Anyway, that was not the only thing that happened on this trip. In fact, I need to introduce you all to a new character in the ongoing saga that is my life – or at least the parts that I (a) choose to share with you and (b) embellish to the point of being blog-worthy. Ferf’s paternal grandmother – Mawmaw – played a role in this trip. She is the matriarch of the clan and is 90+ years old. She is a really sweet lady. I want to say that upfront. She really is. In fact, I should start this by saying in true southern fashion, “God bless her, she is a really sweet lady.” But she was one of the funnier folks in the house this year.

She dropped some pretty good lines on her grandkids this trip. She gave Merf some lovin’ by talking about her to her cousin Topher while she was standing right there.

Allow me to explain. Mawmaw had been chatting with Merf and said cousin for a bit in the kitchen after ScottyBear and Yoda’s wedding. It was a lovely scene right out of a hallmark, made for TV movie. A grandmother and 2 of her grandchildren celebrating the wedding of another grandchild, with the whole family having come together from all around the continent, just two days before Christmas. There should have been music playing in the background. Seriously, something classical-ish with piano and maybe even well played harps – nothing over the top mind you, but emotionally stirring for sure. And then just at the pivotal moment when the show would have cut to commercial because it couldn’t get any sweeter without causing the already volatile suicide rate during the holiday to spike, real life kicks in. Mawmaw, takes a moment to look at Merf like only a grandmother can. The look of someone who sees some of them self in the child of their own child, then turns to Topher and says, “Well, she’s pretty to look at, but she ain’t worth a dime.” AND CUT TO COMMERCIAL.

That was a Christmas moment to remember for sure, but Merf was not the only grandchild that she verbally loved on this holiday season. She shoveled some on Topher’s older brother Jono too. Jono is a great guy. He’s one of those freakishly smart guys…you know the type, they graduate from college and build new types of naval vessels for the US Navy and the navies of other governments (mostly friendly to the US government) all before he turns 14. Okay, so maybe he’s a little older than that, but NO ONE should be able to do that before they are like 50 or something, and he’s barely 30. I don’t even think he shaves yet. ANYWAY…he’s hanging out with his little brother and their grandmother, doing the whole holiday focused, intergenerational familial thing. The conversation is superficial but warm with humor and good natured ribbing salting the dialogue. Mawmaw is there looking back and forth at the two boys, but mostly not following the quick witted banter (or possibly even hearing half of it). She has a wry little smile on her face and her hands in her lap. From every outwardly angle, she is the picture of grand-maternal love and affirmation. And then, with no real segue, she busts out with a stereotypical inquiry that one comes to expect from one’s elderly family members. (You know how antediluvian nonagenarians can be with streaming non-sequiturs, and if you don’t, then consider that anyone who can use “antediluvian” and “nonagenarians” simultaneously in the same sentence is worth giving the benefit of the doubt to.) So she says to Jono, and really you need to do this in your best elderly voice, “Guess what I just bought!?”

Jono: I don’t know Mawmaw, what did you buy?”

Mawmaw: I’ll give you a hint, it stats with V B…

At this point, Jono and Topher exchanged looks with each other in a conspiratorial way that brothers do when they are not sure how to deal with the fact that their grandmother gave them a “clue” that made absolutely no sense. After all, if you look in the dictionary under the V’s – there is no word that starts with VB, and chances are that Mawmaw had not recently bought a personal copy of visual basic. But, Jono, being the kind, gentle guy he is, tried to pander to Mawmaw’s desire to have a conversation with her grankids. So he haltingly said to Mawmaw: I don’t think anything starts with VB, Mawmaw…

Mawmaw snapped her head up and looked hard at Jono and said: Vertical Blinds dummy! Use your brain college boy! V-B = vertical blinds. I gave you two letters dummy. Sheesh.

And she walked away. Jono sat there in stunned awful silence, while Topher peed his pants as he rolled on the floor laughing hysterically.

And, appropriately, for most of Christmas we continually referred to each other as “college boy” or “dummy” or extorting others to “use their brain”. It was a very warm and fuzzy time for us all.

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Christmas in TEXAS!!!! It’s everything that you might expect! The weather was as warm as the people and the food was amazing.

Many of you are aware that we (Ferf, the Muppet and I) had decided that this year we were staying put in K-town for Christmas. The Muppet is 3 and old enough to really start “getting” Christmas, so it seemed appropriate to start our own family traditions this year. BUT…Uncle ScottyBear and his woman Yoda (you remember her from last year right? Did you do the ear thing?) decided to celebrate their nuptials on the 23rd of December in Texas. (If I say “selfish bastards” what I really mean is “amazing people for wanting us to be at their wedding” - you know, in case they read this…)

SO we packed up 4 suitcases of the Muppet’s stuff and an overnight back for the 2 adults and traipsed down to the motherland of Tejas. We spent some time with my family and then settled in for 3 days of hell wedding preparations at the in-laws place.

Before I regale you with stories of my family or Ferf’s family, I have to tell you a little something about the Muppet. So, she is 3 now. She is a beautiful little girl,and I am learning to be a “girl daddy” a little better every day. Girls are different in more ways than just the internal plumbing. So, I do my best to understand the female psyche and speak in ways that she both understands and appreciates. Thusly, I have taken to getting her to do things by “singing” my requests rather than simply stating them. This is not to say that I have a singing voice of any kind, because I do not. One of the things my father left me when he died was his inability to carry a tune in the proverbial bucket. But I am not talking about belting out the hallelujah chorus in 3 part harmony here. We are talking more like a sing-songy voice. Anyway, either you are picking up what I am putting down or not - either way, I must move on for the good of everyone else.

So, one morning Ferf asks me if I would get the Muppet dressed. This seemed like a reasonable request. She is my daughter and I do know how to dress - if not someone else, at least myself, at lest when Ferf lays out my clothes. SO, since Ferf had indeed laid out the Muppet’s clothing, I said sure. Then I set off to get the Muppet to think this was as good an idea as we her parents did. I found out that her priorities are not the same as ours. Our ways are higher than her ways and our thoughts are higher than her thoughts…I felt like a deity for a moment when I said it that way. But that moment passed and I was quickly back to chasing the Muppet around the in-laws house and trying to coerce her into removing her pajamas and putting on the clothes that Mom had indicated where scheduled for that day.

Eventually I went into the bedroom and just quietly started calling her name and asking where she was into the air. This piqued her interest and she eventually tottled down the hall and poked her head into the bedroom and said, “here I am daddy!” I smiled the hugest smile and told her that this made my day as she was my favorite Muppet in the whole world and it made my heart happy to see her. This got me a big smile and hug - and I thought to myself, “I so have this kid. I am a psychological GIANT!” Then I “sang” to her, “let’s take off our pajamas”. No, sing. You have to sing it or you will totally miss the impact of this story, and we both know that you are here for impact. So let’s try again…”let’s take off our pajamas”. (much better that time. see how much more meaningful it is when you let go of your pride and just enter into the story as a participant instead of some digital voyeur after the fact?)

And on a side note, I do not know why children respond better when you say things in the plural as opposed to the singular. If I had said, take off your pajamas instead of let’s take off our pajamas, it would not have worked. It wasn’t like I was wearing pajamas. And we don’t really have some kind of joint ownership of the pajamas - they are solely hers, but for whatever reason children like it when “we” do things even if they are the only ones actually doing it. So “we” took off “our” pajamas. And then she was standing then naked as a jaybird. So I sang the next line of the ongoing song that I was writing as we went along. The first line was the aforementioned “let’s take off our pajamas.” SING IT DAMN YOU! Ok. And the next line was, “Let’s put on our panties.” Again, I did not put on panties. I do not wear panties. I do not own panties. I was doing this as a father trying to reach out to his daughter in meaningful ways. So, I sang the line, “Let’s put on our panties…” To which my daughter responded by singing back to me in the exact same tone and rhythm, “so no one can see my vagina!!!” Yeah, you don’t have to sing that part.

I sort of ducked my head and thought, “singing time is officially over.” We got dressed the rest of the way in a more utilitarian mode. The Muppet asked if I wanted to keep singing and I told her that it was obvious that Mommy had been teaching her the words to that particular song, so maybe she should go sing it with Mommy, in front of Mommy’s 91 year old grandmother in the living room. And I sent her out to play with the family, while I stayed in the bedroom curled up in the fetal position ina transitional state somewhere between laughing hysterically and crying…

And that was the first day of the trip. I got more, as the title implies, but after that story, I still need a moment to myself….come back later and I’ll be alright.

By the way, Happy New Year.

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So let me start by wishing everyone a happy Thanksgiving. American Thanksgiving that is. The day that gluttony is overlooked and football is the TV de jour (after the Macy’s Day Parade of course). It was by all accounts, a pretty good Thanksgiving this year. The food was good (I assume). The family was all together (well, I couldn’t make the trek to TX, but everyone else in my bloodline did). AND the Cowboys won. Convincingly. 10-1 for the first time in their illustrious history. Not altogether a shabby day. Plus, everyone south of the 49th parallel had the day off too.

But not everyone found as many reasons to be all celebratory and thankful today. Ferf and Merf and ScottyBear were all dealing with the odd fact that this year Thanksgiving fell on the anniversary of their mom’s death. She died of cancer on this date back in 1991. 16 years ago today. That is a rough reality. They were all mostly children, with Ferf being the oldest and away at law school at 17. ScottyBear and Merf were in high school and elementary school respectively.

As anyone who has gone through the devastating loss of a close loved one (especially a parent, spouse or sibling) knows, grief is a unique beast that comes and goes almost cyclically over the course of time. But anniversaries are always hard. Even if you don’t realize the anniversary is coming up - and this will happen too - your mind and body never forgets. Inexplicable sadness and depression can sneak up on you when everything is seemingly going great and only when you stop and look at a calendar do you realize that the anniversary is coming up quickly. Our subconscious is always keeping track of such things - like a little bastard with a photographic memory that always won the spelling contests in middle school and knew the frickin answers whenever the teacher asked a question. You know the one, they sat near the front of the class like some kind of keener and silently willed the teacher to ask a question, any question really, because they knew all the answers. They went home and read the dang encyclopedia at night. (for those of you too young to know what an encyclopedia is…well, it’s like the great grandparent of wikipedia, but nowhere near as cool) Anyways, I think you are picking up what I’m putting down with this metaphor. Subconscious memories are a biatch.

So to have that memory come rearing its funk nasty head on Thanksgiving of all days, well that just sucks.  I mean, if it falls on any other major holiday you become, over time, kinda calloused about it.  It happens every year.  You know it does, and you adjust and deal with it.  But Thanksgiving is the one freaking “major holiday” that is all over the freaking calendarial map.  (yes, I said calendarial.  I turned a noun into an adjuective by adding -ial and in doing so invented a word.  Feel free to use it.)  (and on another note.  How the hell do we know which holidays are “major”?  Who the crap decided that”  And what metric is being used to make said determination??  I don’t even know.  But it is quite common knowledge that Thanksgiving, Christmas and Easter are kind of the big three “major” holidays.  Valentines Day is up there, but it sucks for so many people (as I noted with much wit last year right here on the Maru in a classic post that I suggest you go back and read again for the first time).  St. Patrick’s Day is an excuse to say “kiss me I’m Irish” and drink green beer on purpose.  4th of July is obviously HUGE in the States, but still not really “major”.  Presidents’ Day is barely a blip on the radar - it’s more like a planned teachable moment for middle school social studies classes.  Halloween is a sugar fest that provides reason for older kids to act all a fool and cause mischief.  Then we digress into things like “secretary’s day” and “take you kid to work day” and any number of other lesser holidays.  But the BIG THREE are pretty constant.  It’s like ranks of mythological deities.  Major gods and lessor gods.  Which is also kind of stupid.  If you were going to go all mythological, why the hell would you bother to worship a “lessor god”?  If you had to choose between Thor (who is no doubt totally cool) and say Zeus, who doesn’t pick the cool guy’s dad.  That’s how we treat holidays.  Well, sure I could do something special for Labour Day - but I’m saving up for Christmas!  Labour Day is like a red headed stepchild in the holiday family.  Stick with the blood relatives in the holiday family.)

Wow, I really digressed there…but I feel better about it, how about you?  So anyway, before I so rudely interrupted myself, we were talking about Thanksgiving being all over the calendarial map.  And therefore if you have any difficult date that nips at your unconscious mind that falls in the latter half of November then you run the risk of it falling on Thanksgiving one sucky year, and that, my loyal reader(s) is what happened to my ever lovin’ wife’s family this year.  Kinda shitty I must say.  Now I never met the matriarch of her clan.  In fact it was her death that brought Ferf back to the States and let her meet me and put us on our current path of marital bliss, but I often wish I could have talked with her just once.  I think she and I would have gotten along famously.  (and not just because I am so damn lovable.)  I think many of the things that I love so dearly about Ferf came from her mom.  I just think that way.  So losing her and then having that remembrance happen on the day that we all set aside to be thankful is somewhat difficult.  In fact, Ferfy is lying on our marriage bed right now, three sheets to the proverbial wind having enjoyed a wonderful bottle of wine from Blasted Church vintage 2003 feeling much better than she did before we corked that Blasted Church.  (I love using the term “blasted church” in a way that has nothing to do with religion, and yet sounds like I am taking church in vain, even though i am not.  It makes me smile inside, just a little)

But, in true Ferf fashion, she taught me once again a huge life lesson from this thing (not the drunk from a bottle of wine with a crazy straw that she stole from my daughter part).  Yesterday, a lady she works with lost her husband in a drowning accident while they were on Vacation in Mexico.  They have two young children, and in fact the youngest is not even a year old.  I cannot imagine the devastation.   But Ferf immediately wrote her a letter that I am going to quote now.  The wisdom she put on paper is beyond anything I could ever hope to do, but the amazing thing is that she put it in an envelope and put it in a file to mail to the lady in 3-6 months (she sent a short card of sympathy now).  But she knows that what she is saying will take time to even hear, but it is truth in the raw.

She wrote:
   

…I reach out to you today out of my knowledge of grief rather than my knowledge of your specific circumstances.

I now understand that grief is not linear, but it is cyclical. The shock, horror, anger, loneliness, and deep sorrow comes and goes throughout life. I still feel abandoned when I cannot pick up the phone and ask my mother for parenting tips, I still expect my parents to be sitting at the Christmas dinner table, and I still experience sorrow when I reach a milestone in life that they can not physically rejoice with me.

And yet, grief can be an amazing gift as well. Our wisdom is mined in the dark places in life, and you now have an intimate understanding of a side of life that we, as a culture, prefer to avoid. Certainly, you will understand the pain of another widow, but you will also understand the pain of everyone who loses that which is closest to their heart. And this knowledge will be an amazing gift that you can bequeath to these people.

But I know this to be true too – you will be happy again. There will be a time when you can experience joy to heights which you have never felt before because of the very pain that you feel right now. The intensity of this grief will lessen over time, and you will be able to smile and laugh and live without a constant ache.

I realize that you have an outpouring of support right now – it might even be a bit overwhelming. But if you ever need someone to scream at 6 months, a year, two years, five years down the road, please know that I will always be available.

And that dear people is why my wife is so much better at life than I am.  She gets it in ways that those of us who weren’t orphaned in childhood probably never will.  I love her for that, and yet do not envy her.  But I am thankful for her.  And even selfishly thankful that she does understand.  That is why Thanksgiving this year is a mixed day.

Luckily, tomorrow is just Friday.  And November 23rd doesn’t hurt so bad.

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So tonight is the modern celebrating of all hallows eve. I am in the frickin Vancouver Airport (which if you have to be in an airport is not the worst in the world to be in I admit), but the Muppet is trick or treating all over the neighborhood and I am missing it and this makes me sad and somewhat pissed off that I am missing a major event in her life. YEAH I KNOW that halloween is hardly a major event in a little girls life, but it’s my kid and my whining session and Ferf is stealing all the good candy that is rightfully mine as the head of the household - SO BACK UP OFF ME ON THIS ONE!!!!

I’m sorry for that. That was out of line - completely justified with probably even more righteous indignation that I showed here quite honestly, in fact my restraint should be commended in many ways - but still somewhat unnecessary for my more consistent passengers on the Maru to have to put up with.

So the Muppet being female and 3 years old dressed up like you would expect her to. No, not a princess you stereotyping freak. Like a cowgirl on a pony. She’s my kid after all.

Influence:

Dad - 2 Mom - 0

The outfit looked a lot like this, except she is obviously way more cute (and by that I mean cuter) than the little girl in this photo - but it’s an ad and the little girl was probably forced to do it by her parents who are living vicariously through her and she will end up bulimic and in some form of drug and alcohol rehab before she’s 20 wondering how she ended up like Brittany Spears when she was just trying to please an over-indulgent father and over-bearing mom. And the Muppet will have her first PhD done by the same time and look cuter in her childhood pictures, while also actually having a childhood.

Anyway, here’s the photo of the costume. Pay no attention to the boy in the same costume. He will deal with similar problems as the girl while adding gender identity issues to the mix as well.

So as you can see, the outfit is cool. These children need your prayers. But the costume rocks - and we picked it up in Superstore like a month ago dirt cheap. Go me.

So the whole Halloween thing aside - well, not aside yet. I have some issues with Halloween. Not the standard religious right legalism issues wherein we try to ignore the night because acknowledging it somehow makes us condone witchcraft and satan worship and means that somewhere in our black heart stained by original sin. I’m over that. No my issue is more centered around the fact that once a year we unleash an army of panhandlers into residential neighborhoods and think this is a great thing. How is it that we despise it (yes, i am over generalizing and including you in my over generalization, work with me, I am making a point) when people come up to us asking for food, money, etc ANY OTHER DAY OF THE YEAR even when, for the most part, they are dressed differently too, and yet on this one night we not only think it is cool, but we openly encourage it. Dress up and ask me for food - I really dig it one night a year!!!! Maybe it’s just that I work with the homeless everyday. Maybe it’s the bitterness I hear spewed from people regarding panhandling in our jewel of a downtown everyday that has caused me to consider this. I am not sure, but I am positive of one thing. Halloween is the one time of the year that we tell our children that it is okay to not only approach and speak to strangers, but to actually “take candy from a stranger”. That has got to confuse the heck out of children if they stop and think about it. Of course, they are on such a huge sugar buzz that they have only fuzzy memories of things surrounding the night the next morning anyways and so that leaves me to have to handle all this deep thinking for them - and you as well. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I don’t mind. After all I am sitting in a freaking airport with a 3 hour layover with nothing else to do and the kind folks here in the airport are broadcasting open wifi so I can’t really complain too much. One day we will find out that all this wireless networking stuff causes all kinds of cancers, but I don’t care about that today. Today I only care that it gives me the ability to talk with you on Halloween from Vancouver. And I only care about the fact that the Muppet is dressed up in a crazy cool costume and she’s 3 and old enough to really “get it” this year and I’m not there for that. And I care that Ferf is going to steal all the really good candy that I am by right entitled to steal from my daughter after she goes to sleep tonight! These are the things that I care about tonight. And it’s possible that they are not listed in order of importance. I’m not sayin’…I’m just sayin’.

For those deeply concerned about me, I suggest gifts of sweet tarts.

They might help. The more the better. I’m just sayin’.

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