The Letter

First off, you gotta be able to understand some of the back story about life at my house on Wednesday mornings. You see, Bailey, my daughter lives with her mom but stays with us every Tuesday. Normally, she would ride the bus to school, but we live in town whereas they live out in teh county. There are no county busses so I have t take her to school. We usually run late but make it by the skin of our teeth just about every time. A typical Wednesday morning goes sort of like this:

Wake up at 6:15 am.
Hit the snooze once or twice.
Go get Carter, bring him to momma.
Go wake up Bailey.
Go pee.
Go wake up Bailey again.
Go pick out what I will wear to work.
Yell at Bailey.
Go drag bailey out of bed.
Help Bailey make her bed.
Go shave.
Go shower.
Check-in on Bailey
Iron.
Get dressed.
Check-in on Bailey again.
Make Bailey breakfast.
Yell at Bailey again.
Clean the cat box.
Get all the trash together for pick-up.
Help Bailey put her shoes on.
Get Bailey's lunch box ready.
Make some coffee.
Look furiously for a pop-tart for me.
Look furiously for my watch, wallet and hat.
Give momma, Carter and Peanut kisses.
Burst out the door.
Feed the dogs.
Drag the trash can over to the street.
Buckle Bailey in the truck.
Squeal furiously out of the driveway.
Drive 10 miles out to Bailey's school.
Backtrack 10 miles to get to the highway to get to work.

All while I'm doing this, I have to be super-quiet 'cuz Angie will yell at me if Carter wakes up after his lactation feeding. So on Wednesday's the mornings can become pretty hectic. You think? So on any normal Wednesday morning I yell at Bailey to hurry up and get her hair brushed, brush her teeth, eat breakfast, etc. at least 5 times. This morning, on my way down the hall, I passed Bailey's room and she was acting all weird and she ran out and tugged on my jacket pocket and I just dismissed it and said let's boogie! So here I am setting at work and I leave my jacket on because it is 10 degrees in my office and I reach into my pocket and there was a piece of paper in it. It was a letter from Bailey. (Aunt June - If you have a tough time reading it, you can click on it and it will get larger). It makes me feel bad that here I am yelling at her to get ready and she is sneaking around to make me a gift. Once again, I have the best family in the world!


Decifered: I love my Dad and he loves me too.

Giggle & Bits

Often times when 5:30 o'clock cometh and I pull into the driveway I am met at the door, coffee mug in hand, by Angie and Carter. Not for a, "Hey honey, we missed you." or even a hello hug and kiss. No. Not those types of things at all. Normally it is a "I need a break!" with a quick hand off of Carter to me like a baton in a relay race. I don't mind. Not one bit. but sometimes, just sometimes, I, er, have "things" as soon as I waltz thru the door. Now I won't get into the details, but Captain D's fish special for lunch puts certain things into motion by the afternoon. Doesn't matter. nope. Not to Angie. So I gracefully accept the little guy and do what's best for my future.

So there I am, glancing over at the latest issue of MacWorld Magazine thinking how nice it would be to read about the latest technologies and cool apps and software all the while Carter is starving for my atention while we "sit" and wait. I have eanred that once you have children all things you did before are now over. it's tough to even enjoy a good magazine while "sitting". When it is time to finally rise off the throne I had to lay the boy at my feet on the bath mat. He didn't fuss right at first but after a few seconds he mumbled somehting that sounded like "if you don't do something fast I will begin to scream." So there I am with a lengthy piece of toliet in my hand and I "swoosh: it over his face. You would have thought I tickled him. He laughed so hard and cawed and giggled so loud. He loved it! So like a good dad, I did it again. He laughed even harder! So I did it again. And again. We were having so much fun until he decided he would see what it tasted like. It would have been ok but toliet paper disolves so fast! Yup. Sorry mom. You'll prolly find some Charmin in his diaper tomorrow. But it was worth it!

Fry Daddy

So a couple nights ago Bailey and I performed our evening ritual consisting of me lifting her up and sitting her on the countertop so she can watch me cook or make coffee or get out dinner plates, etc. This time, I happen to be making some popcorn shrimp. I opened the box and tore open the clear plastic bag and just as I started to put a handful into the sizzling Crisco awaiting them in the FryDaddy, Bailey grabs the sleeve of my shirt, looks up at me and says, "Now be real careful Daddy, that's hot. If you think you're gonna get burned, let me do it 'cuz I'd rather it burn me than you."

I have the bestest, most greatest family in the world...

Carter's Six Months Photos

Ain't he just darlin'?

Wooooooooosssssh!

That is all.

Lies and Lying Liars

EDIT - the right answer is #4 - Scott wins!!

I found this cool game (once again thanks to Rubber Ducky as I have named her). Okay, okay, I know I didn't get "tagged" like you are "supposed" to, but I wanna play anyway, darnit!

Here's the game. Four of these statements are false, one is true. Can you spot the truth when confronted with lies? Leave me a note in my comments with your guess. I will post the truth sometime soon (I say soon 'cuz I don't really get many too many visitors and even less comments so I don't wanna give out the answers too quickly).

1. By the age of 11, I had written, hand-drawn, and published a small series of comic books called "The Constructs"

2. I was inducted into the Children's Fishing Hall of Fame with a 17-pound, 2-ounce Walleye my father actually caught for me at Devil's Lake.

3. My birthmark is quietly concealed on the upper portion of my left buttox cheek.

4. My first kiss was actually with two girls, at the same time, in the library of my elementary school.

5. I was born in a small community in Naples, Fl and imigrated to Western Kentucky when my father's position as City Councilman was ended by a threat of on his life by a Cuban drug dealer.

Have fun!

Don't pat yourself to hard...

You ever fell like you go unoticed at work? You know, like you've worked your friggin' tail off while everyone just screwed around all day listening to music and surfing the net. Okay, now I know I haven't been shoveling piles of dirt all day like the picture above suggests, but I kicked some butt yesterday. Want a rundown? Of course not! But I'll give one anyway.

Yesterday's Assignments
- Created a poster for a cool new Kellogg's boat simulator
- Created a poster for a cool new Berkley boat simulator
- Laid out & designed a magazine article on drop-shot rigs
- Laid out & designed a magazine article on conservation
- Laid out & designed a magazine article on halibut
- Laid out & designed a magazine article on depth finders
- Laid out & designed a magazine article on redfishing
- COB'ed (means cut an image from it's background - takes a lot of time) 50 people for our 5'x3' Championship banners
- Designed 2 different Chevrolet newspaper ads
- Designed 2 different sized newspaper ads for Mark Wills (some country music singer)

What a day, huh? So I tossed a subtle hint at my boss, that by noon, I will have finsihed up all my work for teh rest of the week. He gave me mad props, right? NOPE!! Not even close! He gave me the assignment of taking an xacto-knife and cutting out cd covers to go in cd cases... Thanks!

Before there was blog...

I guess sometimes I get really wrapped up in blogging things that happen recently and taking pics of Carter doing everything from eating his first meal to laughing or even sleeping. But there was a life before my blog. I've never forgotten it, but someone emailed me the other day and asked for pics of Bailey. They wanted to know if I ever took any of her anymore. Wow. That sort of stuck me in the chest. Of course we take pics of Bailey! Every time something of interest happens or doesn't happen. Am I leaving her out that much? I don't think I am. I hope I'm not. Maybe it's because she is only at our house 6 days a month. Maybe it's when Bailey eats a banana she doesn't destroy the entire kitchen (and if she did I would prolly be upset). Maybe it is just because she is growing up and the memorable milestones in her life are much further apart than Carter's. Whatever the reason, these are a few photos of Life, before the blog! Of course now, they are part of the blog...

---------------------
These were taken almost 3 years ago when Bailey was 4 years old. Doreen, Angie's mother, was supposed to be watching her while she was outside pulling weeds and landscaping. Ummm, yeah, thanks Nana Reen! Haha!



---------------------

Oh yeah, sometimes my cat Charlie gets left out so here he is doing what he does best!


---------------------

A day on the water! Daddy and Bailey's favorite time together (well, Daddy's at least...)



---------------------

Sometimes she gets bored and just plays in the lake with the dogs, *Sigh* which can really disrupt the biting fishes... Haha!


---------------------

Now that's a whopper! This got Bailey in a National outdoors magazine.


---------------------

Well, there you have it. A little history before "As Told By Me" existed. Enjoy!

Okay, Listen Up!

Drew, Scott... I really like you guys. You are my friends. Have been for some time now. But if you don't start updating your blogs more regularly, I'm gonna delete you from my "Accomplices" sidebar. AND that would totally suck because I only have 4 there and 2 of them are MY other blogs! Haha! I mean, don't you want the entire world peeping in on your personal life via my blog? Don't you want to tell the world how much you hate President Bush or how Jordan lost her license *giggle* or how many times Liam has rolled over or if Missy got a new job? C'mon guys - work with me here...

I'm a father... again!

This is my newly adopted pig, Ralph. I picked a pig 'cuz, well, he looked like he needed me to. I did a quick search of pig facts and found these:

- Famous pigs: Miss Piggy, Wilbur, Babe, Gordy, Piglet, Old Major, and Porky and Petunia Pig
- The longest birth for a sow was two days long.
- The most amount of piglets born in a single litter was 34.
- Pigs are generally smarter than dogs; they pick up tricks more quickly.
- Pigs always defecate away from their feeding area.
- Pigs communicate through grunts. Different grunts have different meanings.
- The largest pig was 2552 pounds and stood five feet nine inches.

Justin needs...

Ok, so I have finally realized that it is appropriate to go out in search of other blogs in the community and quit being such a selfish azz and see what others around are talking about. One fun little read I found over on From Under the Laundry Pile, via Goslyn's Blog was a nifty little Google game that can answer some of life's most intriguing questions, most importantly: What does Justin need?

This is fun - go to Google.com, type in "__________ (your name) needs" and see what kind of results you get. Some can be right funny! Here's mine:

- Justin needs you
- Justin needs to find a way to make sales grow
- Justin needs a sunrise...
- Justin needs a new heart, but time is short.
- Justin needs to learn this isn't 500 bc and you can't bang every girl that makes your slinky go, doing-doing!
- Justin needs sleepy
- Justin needs a new bear skin rug to go by the fire
- Justin needs to maximize right now.
- Justin needs a laboratory
- Justin needs to dance again.

Now wasn't that fun!

Ever eaten concrete before?

I bet you have and have just not been aware - until now. I gave Carter his first of many Cheetos last night. Between each bite he grunted and cawed for more whether he had some in his mouth or not and I fed him small chunks at a time. Just the say as every other time daddy feeds his boy, we make a mess. Not a small mess, but a MESS! Normally we just wet a paper towel or use a baby wipe and we clean up fast and quick. But last night, something went wrong, something tragic happened -I realized Carter had eaten orange concrete!

For those of you who are unaware, after a wet, sucked-on Cheeto dries to the face of a 7-month old, it turns into an extremely hard substance much like that of concrete. It reminds me of what plaster does when it dries. Instead of wiping his rosy red cheeks, this time I "peeled" and scratches off the excess chunks of food that didn't make it into Carter's mouth. It didn't really bother him... in fact, I am fairly certain he like the feeling and probably would have eaten the "left overs" if daddy would have let him. Just FYI.

The Smell

Sleepy and tired I backed my truck out of the garage and onto the street for a fun-filled adventurous day at work. While cranking my neck around to be certain no one was bellowing down our street, I saw, out of the corner of my eye, something brown and furry. It was a monkey! No, not a real monkey, but Carter's favorite stuffed animal monkey.

He was lying in the back seat floor all crumpled up and looking at me with the big, dark brown eyes. So as I was scooping him up to sit him upright, I suddenly remember just how soft he felt. I stared at him for what seemed like minutes with his little head all cocked to one side displaying a big ole monkey smile.

It was touching, really. I felt moved by memories of this animal being bought by Carter's big sister, Bailey, with her very own money (she thinks it was only a dollar - shhh) and how it sat in the rocking chair of his room for months until he was old enough to have something in his baby bed with him. I can see him now chewing on it's nose and holding it in his sleep with his tiny hands just gently, but firmly, holding the soft fur.

I put the stuff animal to my face to feel the softness once more and I noticed more than a physical feeling, I felt something more. A smell came from it. Now don't get me wrong, it was not a smell of baby powder or butternut lotion or lavender - it was puke. Yup, straight-up baby vomit. No matter. It could have been poo. But it wasn't the smell that was so wonderful, it was "knowing" the smell. I can recognize my own son's spit-up odor. It was great!

So I sat the monkey up in the front seat with me and we drove to work... together. He watched me drive and I looked at him often to see my son sitting there beside me. I miss you, Carter!

Where does it go?

So I was chillin' over at Goslyn's Blog looking around and she was doing some random thinking about Spring and such and then all of the sudden she locked into a conversation on "time" and how is passes so fast.

I agree. Not long ago I would have disagreed. But now, I agree. I feel like I am missing so much of Carter's life in the 9 hours I am away at work. What I wouldn't do for a camera to run all day so I could just pull it up everytime I get to missing him and watch him sleep or play or babble on with that sweet soft sort of moan sort of caw he does - it is super-cute, really. He does it when he is laying on daddy's chest just moments from dreamland.

It's funny now, ya know, I used to measure time in a different way before me boy came along. Maybe it was Friday to Friday or maybe it was the time between the new Adobe products were released but now time is just unstopable! It just won't quit! That is of course, unless I am at work and all I wanna do is go home and snuggle on the soft, cool leather couch with my wife and my boy and the clock is stuck at 1 p.m. C'mon already!!

It is amazing how fast they learn, too. I was explaining to a buddy the other day about how he now can grab up his "Finger Foods" (little star-shaped sweet potatoe-tasting crumbs that melt near instantly in your mouth) with little or no trouble in just three days. The first day he couldn't grab onto one and get it into his mouth out of a pile of 50 laying on his high chair. Day two was a little better but more ended up in the floor than anywhere else. Day three, well, he is picking them up, one at a time, and placing them into his mouth (along with his fist, of course) and chews 'em up with great ease. That's like saying three days ago there were no modes of transportaiotn and today here is a gas-powered car.

I love my boy. I miss him daily. I wish there was some way I could just capture his youth in a jar and look at it and never forget one single memory. Here's to wishful thinking!

I Scream! You Scream!

We all scream for ICE CREAM!! Who would have ever guessed Carter would love ice cream this much? Oh, wait... me! I could have guessed it. It is all his mommy ate while she was pregnant. Well, ice cream and Mexican, that is...

How many do you see?

I saw this really cool picture earlier and I just had to make a post about it. It is supposed to contain 74 different bands. How many can you name?

I have found about 50 so far.

EDIT:
Angie and I, together, have found about 70 band names. Some of them could be reaching (ie: the sky is very noticably pink so it is on our list as "Pink" and of course there is pavement everywhere so it is on our list as "Pavement" and there is some discretion whether teh monkey/gorilla toys are in fact "The Monkeys" od the "Gorillaz"). I haven't actually seen an official list of all the bands it is supposed to represent so if you see one, lemme know?

Blue Ribbons

While waiting in the gymnasium for Bailey's program, The Little Red Hen, we had the "pleasure" of sitting through a short award presentation for the science fair that was also going on at the same time. *sigh* The older I get, the more wiser I become. It is a sad occurrence, really. The longer you live, the more evil you become aware of. It just doesn't seem right, does it?

For those who like life the way it is, stop reading > right here < and click me for a funny joke. For I will probably curse and piss, most of those who read this, off and make others sad. It will offend teachers and those who love teachers. Forgive me in advance if you read it, but I did warn you, didn't I?

So there Angie and I sat with sore asses from the wooden bleachers digging into our bums as the principal grabs a microphone and announces they will be honoring some students for their science fair projects. What a great occasion for all the parents and friends in the crowd to watch their kids go up in front of a couple hundred people and get their ribbon. I must commend the school for giving everyone a ribbon. There was a point system: 100-80 = a blue ribbon. 79-60 = red ribbon and 59 or below a white ribbon. The story isn't so bad so far, eh? Here comes the part that makes me cringe.

As each name was called upon to go and accept the ribbons for all their hard work, a pattern was certainly developing. White ribbons were given to kids whom you could tell were under-privileged, to say the least. These kids were in shoes with that were falling apart, shirts that didn't fit or were full of holes and appearances that wore the description of poverty. The parents you saw clapping for these children sat in the same areas and were wearing clothes of uniform that read "County Garage" or were dirty with black hands and greasy jeans. And they were either earlier than everyone else or late coming in. Why? You know why...

Red ribbons were given out the most. They were given to the middle class-looking kids. Their parents looked "normal" for lack of a better word. They looked sort of like me. Clean. In jeans and a sweatshirt. Came in just a few minutes early to get a good seat. They clapped and smiled. Why? You know why...

The blue ribbons. Oh, yes, you have to be awfully special to get one of these. A first place ribbon. Now these were reserved for those children whose parents parked a Lexus or a Range Rover in the lot. These were students of parents who helped build the sets of programs and plays. These were given to the kids of parents' moms who didn't work much except to volunteer at the school. Why? You know why...

Were the blue ribbon projects that much better than the red and the white ribbon's scores or projects? These are 3rd graders for Christ sakes! You pick something from a list and make a poster board. Do you think it had anything to do with class? Of fucking course it does! My disclaimer: You would assume I am falling into the same categorizing as everyone else who judges those with money or those without. You're wrong. I am on the outside looking in, or at least, that is where I am trying to be. I didn't have a kid participating so I have a small advantage in judging. I don't think one person can argue with me (except Angie because she finds it humorous or something) about the fact that the more privileged you are, the better chance you have to succeed in life. BUT it is not the money that helps you succeed (directly). It is not that your parents have more time to help you with your homework so that you are smarter and learn more (directly). It is not the fact that your parents have college degrees and can help you do the tougher math problems (directly). No. I think it goes deeper that that. I think it starts in kindergarten and follows you all the way through school.

If you are a teacher, don't be offended, but I hate you - not all of you but most of you. Teachers. The epidome of evil. The very reason kids will succeed or fail in life. Wow! What kind of person can carry that weight on their shoulders? Maybe this is why most teachers suck. Maybe this is why most teachers deserve the have their jobs stripped and treated the way they treat our children. There are very few I can stomach and even fewer I can hold down vomit while we talk. They look for the bad in the "bad" ones and look for the good in the "good" ones. Period. Case in point: So if you read any of my other posts you will know I bought a new truck. One several, several years newer than my last one and much, much nicer. I drop Bailey off at school on Wednesday mornings in a line with 5 other vehicles at a time. The same attendees are out front each morning (two of them) opening or not opening doors - greeting or not greeting sleepy children and parents. Never did we get a door opening or a greeting from this "pseudo-teacher" (worse than a real teacher 'cuz she is merely a wanna-be) until the last couple of weeks when we have been in the new truck. Now the door opens for us and smiles are presented. Fuck you bitch! I hate you and hope someone runs over your foot. Keep your greetings and smiles to yourself. I don't want them!

It is my opinion that "they" set the paths for our youths. They = teachers. No matter the path parents set, teachers can trump everything if they wish and set children on a path to success or a path to failure. I was a taught in one of my Master-level courses at Murray State that an experiment was tested on elementary school children over a period of two years. The experiment went something like this: Teachers were told that certain students who were less privileged doing badly in school would be hitting a "learning growth spurt" this year and some teachers were told other students who were very privileged and had performed great in the past "have reached a learning capacity" for this grade. Do I need to tell you there is NO such thing as a "learning growth spurt"? Do I need to tell you what happened? Hell no! You know what happened! The "bad" students' grades climbed as much as 3 letter grades and the "good" students' grades dropped as much as 2 letter grades.

What can we do to overcome this trend that society has placed upon our youth. I know what you are going to say: Well I know plenty of deprived children who have overcome the woes of being placed in a sect and blossomed into a successful person. Well, plenty isn't good enough for me. Plenty means "not all". I want every child in the world to have the same chance at enduring greatness.

I'm tired of typing. Sorry I went off on a tangent... maybe I'll just delete this post.

Friends for Life!

Holy Hail!

Taking Life Easy

Happy 27th Baby!

Happy Birthday Sweetheart! Twenty-seven years ago, an Angel was born. Six years ago, she came to me. These have been the greatest years of my life. My daughter loves you like her own mommy. You have given me a wonderful son who I just don't know how I lived without. And, you are about to give us another miracle growing in your tummy as I type. I hope you have a great birthday and get everything you want.

Happy Birthday,
I love you!

PS: Don't spit on the cake...

One Mushed Banana...

So this is what happens when momma gives baby a banana mushed up on his high chair... Spectacular, eh?

It's Cheer Time!