Whoa Nellie...

The wind was blowing with a good gale, and the air was cool to begin with. Which all added together made for a fairly cold day. The temperature hovered in the mid-thirties throughout the day Saturday. Saturday was one of those days where the stuff you have to do just doesn't seem to end.

My niece was having a birthday party in the morning. One just for the kids. I took Little Sister and dropped her off. I would have liked to stay, but had other things that required my attention. The party was rather unique, a candle making party held at a candle shop downtown. Then I had to run out to the east side of town to meet Sandy. Sandy has a daughter who used to be in girl scouts, but quit. She ended up though, with more than a few people who wanted girl scout cookies. So the 5/8 took her orders and Little Sister ended up selling some 250 boxes of cookies.

I met Sandy at the Sonic Drive-In on the east side of town. While I was waiting for her to show up, I idly wondered what the folks at the Sonic were thinking about the guy in the little red car who didn't order anything and didn't get out of his car. Then she pulled up in her big white Dodge Ram pickup and I got out and walked over to the truck. She handed me the envelope full of cash from the cookie sales. I thanked her, stuck in the inside pocket of my coat and returned to my car. After pulling out of the Sonic parking lot, I started wondering how long it was going to be before the fuzz pulled me over. I mean, how did that exchange really look? Some guy pulls up in a car, sits in the parking lot, then a truck pulls in. The guy gets out of his car, walks to the truck. The wind blowing the tails of his coat around his legs, takes an envelope full of money from the driver of the truck, gets back in his car and drives off. To me, that would look pretty suspicious. But I suppose the folks at the Sonic are either oblivious to their surroundings, or they see that kind of thing every day since the fuzz never did pull me over to see what the transaction was all about.

After the party, Little Sister's brownie troop were scheduled to meet at some stables south of town where the girls would get to ride horses and earn some horse badge thing. It was cold, and wet but thankfully the stables had an indoor arena so we didn't have to be outside. The lady running the show was nice enough, but she did have to go and talk about how much fun horse birthday parties are, and that she just happens to host them, right there at the stables. With that announcement she pretty much got on the dark side of every parent in attendance. I know for the last two days I've been hearing about how Little Sister just has to have a horse party or she will positively just die. *Sigh*

During our family movie (Mr. Magorium's Wonder Emporium - fab movie BTW) No. 1 Son called from Florida. He was all excited they had driven through Atlanta just after that massive tornado that tore up the city. He was telling me all about it when I heard some girl giggle in the background. Putting on my ultra-authoritative fatherly voice I asked "are you in a hotel room with a girl?" "No, dad, they just barged in...sorry dad, I gotta go" - click...buzzzz. Sounds like he's having fun anyway.

News from fly-over country

It has been a while since I have posted anything really, so I thought I'd try to get something up today. It is a slow day at the office. The day after a long weekend usually is. None of the management is in (natch) and there is not that much to do. So don't tell the little dictator in the corner that I'm using work time to hash out this post (it will be our little secret).



The past couple of weeks have been a flurry of activity. Softball games started for Little Sister's softball team. Number One Son graduated from the 8th grade. Thankfully, and with a little prodding from mom and dad, he decided to attend the 8th grade after graduation party. I wasn't worried knowing it would be a safe venue being in the Church basement.



Last school party, he took the camcorder and had a lot of fun video taping the event and people. He couldn't this time because I allowed him to take it on the last day of school, and it came back in operable. He claims he has no idea what happened, but there as a smallish broken piece of plastic that looks as if it came out of the inside of the camera. I had to practically pry the thing open to get the tape out. Inspection of the tape led me to the conclusion that the tape had gotten eaten by the machine (it was all crinkled and twisted). Which led me to the conclusion that the tape was stuck and it was yanked or otherwise forceably removed which, in turn, broke the little internal piece that landed so nicely in the camera bag.



So now we have no video camera. I don't know if it is repairable, or even where to go to get it repaired. I supposed I'll have to scour the Sony website to see where the nearest repair shop is, then weight whether it is worth getting fixed. At about $800 new three years ago, I have to think it will be worth getting repaired. But if the repair bill nears the $400 mark, I'll probably shuck it and save for a new one. Bummer because we had this great idea for the comming election cycle of doing "Darth Vader for President" spoof commericals and posting them to the YouTube. The kids gave me a Darth Vader voice changing mask for Christmas, and I thought I'd dress up in a suit with the mask it it would be really fun to make and edit them. But that is out the window now. So if anyone wants to do it, take the idea an run with it. I did check, and websites like Vader2008.com are available if anyone wants to know.



Number One Son was sorely afeared that I'd be angry, but I was more dissapointed than anything else. I knew in my heart of hearts, that if he kept using it without my supervision, it was going to break. I knew it because, like most things, he just doesn't have a sense of responsibility about it. At least that is what it seems. He doesn't even care much for his own stuff sometimes, so I was terribly dissapointed, but I wasn't all that angry. Sometimes, things happen that just aren't worth getting angry over. Now, if it had been my still camera, then I'd have gone through the roof! (but then, I would not have let him take the still camera anyway).



All this begs the question, why does the still camera mean more to me than the video camera? I spent about the same amount of money on them both. But I do use the still camera considerably more than I do the video camera. Which is kind of odd since I really enjoy editing and sprucing up the home movies on the computer. Probably because for photos, I don't need any other device to view them. Once printed, I can give them away and others can enjoy them without the use of a computer or a television or any other device.



Little Sister did splendidly in her first softball game (apperantly there were two other games that were played but somehow didn't make it onto our schedule). She is really a good hitter. She seems to know where the ball will be, and simply puts her bat in the path of the ball. She scored and her team won (we don't keep score...officially). I believe this week we are playing her cousin's team (or it may be next week). That is always fun. Should be a better outcome this year since most of her cousin's team moved up to slow-pitch softball this year and other than her cousin, the team is fairly new to the game.



Number Two Son was sick most of this week. Seems to have the stuff that Little Sister had two weeks ago, and I had last week. That is some killer cold. Not enough that it makes you want to go to the doctor, but right there on the cusp. Coughing, sore throat and just generally having zero energy. I was barely able to put the coffee cup to my lips and sip. It was terrible, I'm telling you.



But he managed to get over it by Monday, so he was able to spend the day with me and poppy while we put up security cameras in poppy's apartment building. Our goal was to get all three installed, we succeeded in installing just one. Boy that was a bugger. Now I know whey those professionals charge so much for installation.



Well, that's the news from fly-over country. I want to thank you all for visiting, and have a great week!



Technorati Tags: fly-over country, news, topeka, kansas

XXXs and OOOs

Little Sister is not big on displays of affection since about the time she was about two. Between two and maybe three and a half or four, it was like pulling teeth to get a hug from her. Oh, for her mother, the hugs and kisses were a plenty, but for anyone else, not so much. In the past four years or so, she has gotten much more liberal with her hugs. Giving hugs to dad, and the brothers and even her Nana and granddad.

I suppose it could be said she gets this part of her personality from me. Rumor has it when I was just a tyke, the only persons in the world who could pick me up were my mother and my gramma Helen. And the only reason gramma Helen could pick me up is because she didn't take jack from anybody, any time, anywhere. She was the kind of woman who could make an IRS agent call her "Ma'am", and follow orders as if he were some kindergartener lining up in the hallway. No, really - one time she caught some guy trying to break into her car, and she attacked him with her giant old lady purse, and this was when she was in her 70s! I'm not kidding, that was one tough old broad. She worked almost every day until she was finally hospitalized, too weak to do most anything, at the age of 97. But I digress. She, other than dear ole mom, were the only two people who could pick me up when I was a baby. At least, that is the rumors - I don't really remember my baby-hood all that well.

Kisses...kisses are another story. Since she was two, I have received two kisses from her. I don't know if she realizes how that feels to a father, to not get a kiss from his only daughter. It didn't seem to phase her in the least. After about a year in kiss exile, she finally let me kiss her goodnight on the head or cheek. I tricked her into it though. I would give her a kiss on the cheek, and she would wipe it off. I explained to her that she could not wipe off dad kisses, that by rubbing the spot she was only rubbing it in farther and that is what helps her to grow. So she quit trying to rub off my pecks.

Once, after she had fallen asleep on the couch and after I had dutifully carried her up and laid her in her bed and told her good night, she gave me a hug and a kiss on the cheek. I don't know if this really counts an official kiss because she was tired and mostly asleep and I cannot be certain she was aware of her actions. Several other times I caught her slipping up and almost, but not quite, kissing me good night.

Then last night, out of the blue, as she was giving me my customary good night hug, she tilted her head up, hesitated, and gave me a peck on the cheek. She looked me in the eyes as if seeking approval. It seemed as if she wanted to kiss me good night, but wasn't certain that it was an appropriate action. This struck me as somewhat strange. Maybe I read it all wrong, but that is the impression I received.

For the past six years, I had been pining for that stupid little display of affection. I had been lamenting that I did not receive kisses from my little girl. But last night I realized, it ain't all that. The kiss was nice, it made me feel good. But it didn't make me believe that she had any more affection for me than she did yesterday. It wasn't like it sealed any bond between us. It wasn't like, suddenly she liked me more, or cared about me more. It just was.

I realize now that the kiss I had been wanting was not all that important. Like when one wants something they cannot have, only to obtain it and find out it wasn't all that important after all. The kiss did not change any of my feelings for my daughter. It did not make me love her any more. Just as I realize that the kiss was not a result of her loving me any more now than before. I don't know why she gave me the kiss. I will probably never know. She is a very guarded little girl. She keeps things like that to herself. If I were to ask her, she would simply look at me and not say a word.

"You can just drop me off"

Little Sister is set to start her second year of softball out at Shawnee Lake. Her second softball season, but her last for coach-pitch T-ball. Next year she graduates to 'real' softball where the other team pitches.

She is a good hitter. Probably the best on her team. I'm not saying that because I am biased, it just happens that she hits really well, she always has. She has been having practices on Saturdays and Tuesdays in the school gym. I know, softball in a gym doesn't seem like it would make any sense at all, but they make it work I guess.

Her coach this year is a much more strict coach than last year's. Last year it was all about playing around and having fun. This year it is all about preparing the girls for the cut-throat world of real softball they will be experiencing next year. Some of the mothers were complaining early on about how strict the coach is. But they asked this guy to coach. I took her to a practice, and frankly he didn't seem that strict. Maybe he was only strict, I told the 5/8th, the first couple of practices to set into the girls' head who was indeed the boss of the team.

Last Tuesday, the 5/8th told me the coach would allow parents to stay and watch practice, but that he would rather they didn't. I was going to leave it up to Little Sister. I asked her if she wanted me to stay with her at practice or just drop her off. I was certain what the answer would be. She had never attended anything without either mom & dad or one of her brother's present. I didn't want to drop her off. I wanted to watch the practice. I wanted her to know that dad was right there...always.

When she went to Judo by herself one Saturday because the boys had a Boy Scout event to attend, she wanted me to stay with her there. I was sure as nails that she was going to want me to stay. But when I heard "you can just drop me off," my heart sank. She was too big now to have dad chaperon her around. She doesn't need dad in easy reach for everything anymore.

I begrudgingly dropped her off at the school gym. When I picked her up an hour later, she seemed different. Like something about her had changed. She was excited, more than usual, about nothing. I think it was because she proved to herself that she could make it through something like practice without having dad around for security.

I am certain I will be hearing a lot more "you can just drop me off" statements from her in my future. For Judo, for school events, for practices, movies, skating....

I suppose it is unavoidable. As she grows older she must grow more distant. That is the normal progress of things -but that doesn't mean I have to like it.





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