Jerry Garcia Called. He Wants His Shirt Back.

This morning my kindergarten son left the house in camo shorts, camo underwear, camo pants and his favorite RAINBOW shirt (aka tie dye).

Apparently he’s planning on taking the summer off to travel with the Grateful Dead.



I blame myself.

It's quite possible, given all the old photo scanning I've been doing for my job at Facebook, that he ran across THIS on the floor of my office.




May God have mercy on his soul.

P.S. - I'm loving the 1970's era paneling that totally hides blends the door to the garage with the wall behind the TV. With all that sophisitcated decorating it's a wonder we ever found our way out of the house.

Like Getting Hit With A Tranquilizer Dart. Only Not As Funny.

I’m not usually one to watch the Oscars but since we managed to catch “Slumdog Millionaire” before they show it for free on Turner Classic Movies I felt compelled to show up on my couch last night to root for them.

Plus I was really, really hoping to hear Anil Kapoor say “Who wants to be a MILL-luh-NARE?” just ONE MORE TIME.

Now, watching the entire Oscars telecast is a little bit like deciding to read “War and Peace” from cover to cover. In one sitting. It’s a serious commitment of time that may, or may not, involve the use of sequins.

So I settled in on the couch around 6:30 to watch all the pre-Oscars coverage, Red Carpet and all. My first clue the evening was not going to end well was when the bedsores kicked in around 9:30. By then I’d already squirmed through Jennifer Aniston’s painful presentation with Brangelina in the front row and used the foil lid from a blueberry yogurt to give myself a fake gold front tooth just like Mickey Rourke’s.

I don’t think the look really works on either one of us.

About the time the yogurt foil zinged me when it hit a filling in one of my upper bipolar-cuspid-molars I realized there was NO WAY I was going to get a decent night’s sleep, given the hours and hours of inactivity I’d already invested in all the Oscars watching. So I did something that I almost never do given that I’m highly sensitive to anesthesia and turkey - they both make me dangerously sleepy – I took a Tylenol PM.

Just one.

Oh, Tylenol PM what have you done to me? It’s now been 19 hours since I put that pill in to my body and STILL all I want to do is put my hair in a ponytail and go back to bed.

So, if you happened to miss Joaquin Phoenix’s appearance on The David Letterman Show last week (or Ben Stiller's dead-on impression of him last night) because you, oh, HAVE A LIFE, you should watch this video BEFORE YOU INVITE ME TO DINNER AT YOUR HOUSE TONIGHT because it’s entirely possible that THIS is who will show up.



Okay, it would be like having dinner with Joaquin Phoenix except without the facial hair. Although I am sporting a couple of whiskers on my chin with some serious potential of developing into a full-on beard that would make ZZ Top proud.

And This Is Why Wednesday Is My Favorite Day

SMALL TOWN POLICE BLOTTER
VOLUME II

January 21

A woman called deputies after her son found a cross bow.

Oh you silly, silly woman. Because I’m thinking FINDERS KEEPERS and the possibility of buying as few kindergarten birthday party presents as possible. Is it just me or does this sound like an excellent opportunity for REGIFTING?


January 28

A woman reported seeing a man trying to break into her car, but the man, who had just purchased a new pair of sunglasses, told officers he was just looking in the car window to see his own reflection and how he looked in his new sunglasses.

I say ARREST HIM ANYWAY! Just so he has to explain this one OVER and OVER:

“Well, see I just got me some new shades and a moon pie down at the Circle K and I was walking along minding my own dadgum business when I’m all OOOOOOOH, HEY THERE GOOD LOOKIN’ and then I’m all OH DANG THAT’S ME IN THE CAR WINDOW and THEN BAM! I done got myself arrested. I’m so good lookin’ it’s a crime.”


February 10

5:16 pm, Main Street: A woman complained that someone siphoned gas out of her car while she was shopping.

Also known as I’M TOO EMBARRASSED TO ADMIT I RAN OUT OF GAS.

‘Cause really, at 5 o’clock in the afternoon on the busiest street in town some guy’s gonna sidle up to your car with a garden hose in his mouth and suck the gas right out of your car and NOBODY’S GONNA NOTICE?

The only way I’d be buying your story, lady, was if the next police report went something like this:

Caller reported a man with a garden hose in his mouth sucking the gas right out of a car on Main Street down in front of “Antiques and Pickles”. You know that store that sells antiques and pickles? I just love them pickles. Then he lit up a cigarette and blew himself to kingdom come.

Oh Goody, It's Almost Summer

99.9% of the year I could care less when SPORTS ILLUSTRATED arrives in our mailbox. But there’s ONE issue every year that is like SOLID GOLD to this cutting edge fashion goddess:

“THE SWIMSUIT EDITION”

Because, really, without “THE SWIMSUIT EDITION” I would be at a complete and total loss as to the latest styles I should be wearing around the water this summer. And now that we’ve moved to South Texas where summer lasts like 9 months, my swimsuit needs are, indeed, many.

THE POOL

For these days I chose PAGE 44, the bikini bottom paired with nothing but strands and strands of turquoise beads on top.

Kids, after all, love to strap on a mask and dive down after the wads of hair and band aids collecting around the pool drain. This year I’ll be able to keep the party going long after they get bored playing with someone else's hair and band aids by pegging them in the head with giant turquoise beads while they’re playing MARCO POLO with their eyes closed.

THE RIVER

As you know, days on the Guadalupe can be long and hot. Especially when, in the middle of a record-setting drought, you find yourself dragging your inner tube along a gravel road that used to be full of water. Apparently that’s where our summer river fun is headed so for these adventures I’ve selected the white bikini bottom paired with the sheer long sleeved white blouse on PAGE 36.

For extra sun protection on my arms and back, you know.

If the sun becomes unbearable I’ll always have a sensible sun shield for my face by wetting down my blouse with bottled water and tying it around my head like a turban. Plus, there are usually lots of families with young children on the river and I think modesty is in order with the long sleeves and all.

SCHLITTERBAHN, SEAWORLD & SIX FLAGS

Finding the perfect swimsuit for this hat trick of water parks was tough. Living in close proximity to all three parks means we’ll be spending plenty of time in highly concentrated urine water and, as you know, uric acid will fade colors and dissolve the fanny parts on a swimsuit in no time. So the key for this selection was DURABILITY.

That’s why I selected PAGE 56. This beaded and jeweled bikini bottom looks like it could withstand a nuclear attack … or least a couple of 12 pound swim diapers floating loose in the Lone Star Lagoon.

But don’t underestimate the power of the red coral necklace for a top. I have two words for you: CROWD CONTROL.

Remember in the movie CASTAWAY when Tom Hanks gashed his leg open on the coral reef and then he had to knock out his own tooth with an ice skate?

Well, you can see from the central theme of this movie (“CORAL HURTS”) where a swimsuit top of such material might come in handy when you are, ohhhhhh, standing in a very, very long line waiting to ride the Dragon Blaster Uphill Water Coaster.

All I’m sayin’ is that I’m not above cutting my way to the front of the line THE HARD WAY.

THE BEACH

You know, many are feeling the economic pinch these days so when a swimsuit can pull double duty … well, I just feel good about doing my part with fiscal responsibility. That’s why PAGE 42’s loosely woven macramé top seemed like such a logical choice for me, the sunbathing sports fisherwoman.

Modest coverage PLUS a handy fish net to ensure my catch of the day makes it safely in to the boat and on to our dinner table.

LAS VEGAS

While we have no immediate plans to visit Vegas this summer I do believe in planning ahead, just in case. Thankfully we’ve already got a deck of unopened SOUTHWEST AIRLINES playing cards ready to throw in to a suitcase with only a moment’s notice and according to PAGE 144, that’s ALL I WILL NEED to hit the Vegas pools in high fashion. A deck of cards.

BRANSON FAMILY REUNION

While this one piece gold number with the boy legs and giant chest-sized keyhole cutout on PAGE 128 is WAY TOO OLD LADY for my taste, I suspect it’s just the right speed for the Jackson Family Reunion in Branson this summer. After all, I wouldn’t want to risk getting kicked out of Silver Dollar City what with all the banjos, funnel cakes and Hillbilly comedy.

In closing, I do have a big shout out to LITTLE MISS "PAGE 96-97"…

Listen here, where I come from we just call that UNATTRACTIVE PLUMBER’S CRACK and if you showed up around here wearing THAT we would probably laugh behind your back and then take a picture of you to share with the internet at a later date. Like the guy who fixed our sprinkler system back in 1994 while we were building our deck.




And that stuff’s just ridiculous.

Did the Pilgrims Celebrate Valentine's Day?

Dear John,

Saturday was Valentine’s Day and I’m thinking about our new neighbors, the polygamist evacuees from El Dorado who have settled in on the ranch next door. You know the ones who just put up the new high tech security gate right next to Deanna’s house?

Actually, if it weren’t for Deanna and her house painters – who started asking what was up next door with all the KIDS RUNNING AROUND IN PILGRIM SUITS – it might have been months before we realized they were even living over there.

The polygamists got me thinking about what my life might look today had I not married you and married, instead, someone else amongst the throngs who threw themselves down on their knees over the years asking for my hand.

Like “Bob” from Ohio.

I met “Bob” right after I moved to Cincinnati. That was a good move for me because now I am really, really good at spelling Cincinnati and because of Graeter’s Ice Cream and OH ARE YOU KIDDING ME?

Sorry, I just googled “Graeter’s Ice Cream” only to discover they sell Black Raspberry Chip in TWO states now. Ohio AND Colorado. Up until now I’ve never regretted our move to Texas.

Anyway, “Bob” transferred to Cincinnati from Salt Lake City about the same time I transferred from Dallas. We worked together and struck up a friendship that then kind of morphed in to a burgeoning romantic thing. It never got much past the burgeoning romantic thing phase, though, after “Bob’s” dad came to visit.

I showered. I made a lasagna. I thought it went well.

At least I did until two weeks later when “Bob Sr.” left the comfy confines of Utah once again and returned to Cincinnati. This time with an 18 year old girl in tow.

BOB, MEET YOUR FUTURE WIFE, GEORGIA DAWN.

Yep, I got ARRANGED MARRIAGED right out of that relationship. Which is probably a good thing otherwise I might have wound up looking like this and living on that ranch over there with my 8 other sister wives.



So, in spite of our rocky start back in grade school, John ... AND DON’T EVEN TRY DENYING THAT TRAUMATIC BEGINNING TO OUR RELATIONSHIP WHEN YOU AND YOUR FRIENDS THREW ROCKS AT JANICE AND NANCY AND ME IN THE WOODS WHEN WE WERE JUST THIRD GRADERS.

See? Your 5th grade picture just screams out I LOVE THROWING ROCKS AT LITTLE GIRLS. ESPECIALLY ONES I WILL GROW UP AND MARRY.



In spite of that, you grew up into a pretty great guy who never, ever expects me to wear PILGRIM DRESSES.* And for that, and many, many other things too numerous to mention here, THANK YOU.

*Well, never except on Thanksgiving. But, then, who doesn’t dress up for Thanksgiving?

I Love You.

www.ForAllTheWaysYouCare.com

WARNING: FOR MATURE AUDIENCES ONLY

Tomorrow is Valentine's Day and love is in the air. If I had a sense of smell I'm sure I'd be able to smell it, but I don't.

So I'll just sit here and imagine that love smells like a box of twinkies.

OR DEAD COWS.

I learned that recently from a local furniture store.

See? The sign says so:

















Now, I'm 44 years old and I've NEVER been wooed with a cowhide.

I think I feel jipped.

Sure John's brought me flowers (preferably tulips) and cards and jewelry and champagne but not once has he unfurled and snapped open a nice black and white holstein rug as a token of his undying love and affection. Not even on our honeymoon.

How is it possible that before now I never knew COWHIDES SPELL ROMANCE?

So, if this little tidbit in any way enhances your Valentine's Day experience, please remember to thank me later.

With a COWHIDE of course.

Does My Yard Smell Like "Asparagus"?

so this is a conversation about bodily functions.

if the word “pee” offends you, stop reading right now.

you see, when we moved to the texas hill country, the operative term there being “country”, we moved in to a whole new world when it comes to sewage disposal.

we’d always lived on a city sewer system.

flush it and it goes bye bye, without another thought as to what happens from that point forward.

but out here in the country, we bought ourselves a house with a SEPTIC SYSTEM.

which means that after you flush it, it’s still yours to keep.

now, we have an aerobic septic system, which basically turns our sewage into gray water that is then shot out of sprinkler heads and irrigates our backyard.

the way-far-back part of our backyard.

not the swimming in the pool, playing ball, grilling or drinking margaritas part of the backyard.

but the wild and wooly back acre.

which is cool as some summers it gets rather dry down here and i love the fact that we’re actually using our, um, "resources" to keep our yard alive.

it’s very “green” as opposed to using potable drinking water to irrigate a yard.

plus, i like to believe that human urine is a natural snake repellent thereby keeping them far, far away from my backyard.

so my “city” brother from dallas was down to visit a couple of weeks ago and we were explaining the aerobic sprinklers in the backyard.

steven then looked at me and declared “congratulations, you're officially a redneck”.

and then we got on a roll and this is what we concluded:

“If you can fertilize your own yard by pee-ing in the shower, you just might be a redneck.”

so yesterday we had a break in the torrential rains we’ve been experiencing as the result of some tropical depression down in the gulf of mexico.

i was out in the way-far-back part of our backyard watching the water rush through.

we could have kayaked from the front of our property to the back property line.

behind us is “elmer’s place”. rumor has it he’s a crotchety old man who doesn’t like anyone encroaching on his ranch.

which, of course, just makes it all the more tempting to hop the fence and check it out.

15 feet behind our property line, on elmer’s place, this torrent of water disappears over a small ridge into what sounds like a waterfall.

i like waterfalls.

i wanted to see elmer’s waterfall created by the river in my yard.

so as i’m navigating the high spots in the yard, hopping on rocks and logs and working my way back to the fence, the aerobic sprinklers go off.

now, that's something that usually only happens in the middle of the night.

"they" tell me the water coming out is like 98% pure.

but what about the other 2%?

what exactly is that made up of?

‘cause if it’s still got remnants of the asparagus we ate a couple of days ago i certainly don’t want to be hosed down with THAT.

my neighbors happened to be watching as i dodged sprinklers and gullies of waist deep water in my attempt to get back to dry land without getting peed on by my own backyard.

i wasn't successful. so remember, always, always be grateful when you don't smell like asparagus.

A Change of Scenery

wow, there's nothing like a change of scenery to bring life in to perspective.

as many of you know, 3 weeks ago we packed up our life and moved to the Texas Hill Country. just 'cause we wanted to.

moving is hard work. even with a great support network of a top-notch moving company, efficient service people and family it's still a lot of work to settle in to a new "normal" 1,000 miles from where "normal" was a month ago.

there's so much to be grateful for ... but the most profound experience i've had, to date, in the Texas Hill Country - other than way more armadillo encounters in my backyard than i choose to recount - is the fresh perspective life i've chosen to embrace.

i believe it's because, in many ways, me and my family are WAY outside our comfort zone.

everything is new.

like the cicadas (i.e. locusts) nearly deafening whir at night. i grew up with a locusts so, to me, it's a familiar, almost welcome sound. my kids, however, have experienced nothing more than a bug-less Colorado upbringing.

WHAT'S THAT NOISE? CUZ I DON'T LIKE IT,

and late last evening we were standing in the far-reaches of our backyard, which abutts a working ranch. riley was asking me what lives back there and i was telling her i hoped it was coyotes, which are an armadilloes only natural predator, when a deer went racing past with two coyotes in hot pursuit.

cool.

we were rooting for the deer, by the way, as a hungry coyote is, hopefully, an armadillo-eating coyote.

to put it in john's words, "armadilloes creep me out".

aunt bea says "hey" and, in case you're wondering, armadilloes taste yucky.

Backseat Rules

On Sunday we spent 14 hours in the car with our 10 year old and our 3 year old driving back home to Colorado from the Texas Hill Country. The trip is about a thousand miles and normally takes a good 15 hours but thanks to the “Honda with an attitude” that passed us right in front of the Braums Dairy right outside Dumas, Texas (lovely, just lovely) we drove, um, a “little” over the speed limit through New Mexico. The elevated rate of travel plus the “potty-stops-only-when-you’re-in-pain” rule got us here a full hour faster. Yeah.

Somewhere around Eden, Texas (home of “Venison World” where you can purchase deer meat “homegrown in the Garden of Eden” ... wink wink) those of us who rule from the front seat instituted a new rule for those individuals residing in the back seat.

IF IT ISN’T NECESSARY TO SAY IT, IT’S NECESSARY NOT TO SAY IT

This rule was implemented as Wyatt became enraged at Riley, who dared to LOOK OUT HIS WINDOW.

Riley then retaliated with the “big-giant-bug-eye” move that nearly drove Wyatt wild as he fought to reach her from the constraints of his carseat.

Thankfully they were strapped in to their separate corners.

As you can imagine, there were lots of unnecessary words flying around the backseat ... for about a minute ... before the above referenced rule was instated with authority.

IF IT ISN’T NECESSARY TO SAY IT. IT’S NECESSARY NOT TO SAY IT.

The rest of the trip was butter. Even the chain-smoking gas station attendant meandering through the gas pumps in Raton, New Mexico barely got our pulse up. The kids held hands and sang “kum bay yah” the entire trip ... okay, maybe not, but they DID share some beef jerky.

Anyway, Great Rule.

I plan on breaking it a lot on this blog.