Dishwasher Art

Doing the dishes for me is like an art form. Maybe it’s my OCD, but I take great pride in loading the dishwasher in a way that not only utilizes the space but groups items by their function. I try to leave adequate gaps between each one to allow the water and soap to cover every surface to ensure optimal cleaning. I even spread the silverware out across all of the slots, so spoons and forks don’t stick together. It actually makes unloading it easier too, because each section goes to the same place in the kitchen.

My wife on the other hand has a completely different philosophy when it comes to dishes. Her philosophy is more of “shove that crap in there.” She loads it as she goes, so things are randomly placed in whatever hole she sees first. This includes stacking things on top of things and possibly stacking things on top of those. She believes in using vertical space as well as horizontal space. So, if the rack slides back in, then it’s okay! I know it’s not wrong, per se, it’s just different. But it still feels like a chaotic mess to me. Almost like a tornado went through the dishwasher.

The Cardinal: Mate

I was premature on the cardinal situation. The stupid bird came back today and once again slammed into the window. He then proceeded to sit on the window sill and bang his head repeatedly into the glass. When I approached the window, he flew out to the fence, and that’s when I saw the female cardinal sitting on the bird feeder.

So, the reason I hadn’t seen the stupid bird for a while was that he had somehow managed to find a girl. Based on what I know of the male, either he was the last available option or the other choices seemed less desirable…which is somehow hard to imagine. Maybe she likes males who brain themselves senseless, because then she can take advantage of them to get what she wants. Either way, he was back and fighting his imaginary enemy to impress her. I can’t imagine she’d be too impressed by this display of stupidity. Perhaps, she was already starting to regret her choices. I mean, are you sure THESE are the genes you want to be passing on to your offspring?! When you realize that cardinals mate for life, it makes it even more perplexing.

The mirrors in the tree obviously are having zero effect on this stupid bird. When I brought this up to my son, he said that it’s because they are spinning…which is probably true. At one point, I saw the cardinal sitting on the ground, watching the lights dance around him. He seemed less scared of them and more just intrigued. I’m so glad I could give him another reason to enjoy coming to my yard…sarcasm implied.

Dead Air

There was a commercial on the radio this morning that said, “Have you ever thought, ‘I could do your job’? Well, prove it! Every Thursday, you get to influence the playlist.” I thought to myself, “I could probably be a DJ. Now, would I want to do that? No. But I probably could.”

As I pondered this question, I realized that I have the gift of gab. For all of my claims and even penchant for introversion, I am still able to talk with the best of them. And I’m really good at filling the silence. I don’t have to have something specific to talk about, but I can usually come up with something to say if nobody else is speaking. I have lots of great stories, and I have a wickedly strange view of things around me. I mean I will often call my mom on my 40-minute drive to my son’s daycare, and I’ll probably talk for 35 minutes of the drive. I’d like to think that my mom is enjoying the conversation and being wildly entertained, but maybe she just puts the phone down and walks away!

Really my biggest issue with public speaking is standing up in front of people and seeing their reactions or getting their feedback. But that’s not a problem with radio, because you’re just talking to “dead air.” You’re sending your words off into the ether without any clue who is listening or if they’re listening. You’re talking to fill the silence.

And then it hit me. Being a DJ is a lot like talking to my mom on the phone. Your audience is unusually quiet, so you just have to fill the dead air on your own. In fact, you’re not even sure if they’re still tuned in. But you speak with the hope that they’re enjoying your words and being wildly entertained.

Homeless Cell Phone

Near the university where my son has his daycare, there is a constant presence of homeless people begging on the corners. There is one man that I see quite often, shuffling slowly along the side of the highway feeder road, a drugged out blankness on his face, adorned in grungy clothes, and smoking a cigarette. Today, when he turned around to shuffle back to his corner, I noticed a large black cell phone in his back pocket. I could tell it was one of the newer model iPhones, and so many questions popped into my head.

If you have no money, how can you afford to buy a phone that costs several hundred dollars? How is it that you have a newer model than I have? How do you pay the monthly bill? And if you’re homeless, where do they even send the monthly bill? If you have no power, how do you charge it? And maybe the most important question is…who are you calling?!

Bum Bubbles

I poured my milk this morning and there were two large bubbles floating next to each other. They were the exact same size, and it looked like two cheeks in a bum. So, I started today being mooned by my milk. Happy Valentine’s Day to me!

The Cardinal: Kamikaze

It’s been a few days now, and there has been no sign of the cardinal. I’m not sure if he has been attacking the mirrors, and I just haven’t seen it. Or if the twirling lights actually scared him away. Either way, I’m hoping this finally resolved the issue.

UPDATE: My spousal unit informed me that the cardinal did attack the window this afternoon. Apparently, he flew into it at full speed and knocked himself unconscious. He laid on the ground for several minutes before getting up and flying away. Maybe this was his last-ditch, Kamikaze flight before he acceded defeat.

The Cardinal: Mirrors

I did it. I hung up mirrors in the tree outside to entice the stupid cardinal to take out his misplaced aggression on them instead of the window. I’m not sure if it’ll work, but if nothing else, we have a beautiful light show now when the sun reflects off the twirling mirrors.

The Cardinal: Fighting Hour

We have this stupid cardinal that keeps attacking our back window. Every day, he flies up and starts attacking his reflection in the window. Apparently, he sees the “other bird” as a rival that needs to be driven from his territory. However, unlike other territorial birds, cardinals won’t stop when they find a mate. They just keep coming back to fight!

A lot of posts online said that you can cover the window, but apparently cardinals are so aggressive, that they’ll just go pick a fight with another window! And they’ll come back every day around the same time. I’m imagining him checking the watch on his wing.

Cardinal: “It’s 1:42 pm. Time to go give that other bird a beating!”

…flies to to the window…

Cardinal: “I see you didn’t learn your lesson from yesterday. You came back for another round of thunder and lightning,” showing the reflection his wings one by one.
Reflection [mirroring the cardinal]: “…”
Cardinal: “Are you mocking me?! Put your wing down! Put it down! Stop copying me, or I’m going to give you a beating your future offspring will feel. That’s it! Reap the whirlwind!”

…Cardinal pecks at the winds several times…

Cardinal: “Take that, you swine! There’s plenty more where that came from. I suggest you don’t show up again tomorrow.”

Some of the posts suggested hanging mirrors out in the yard, so the bird would fight out there instead of attacking your windows. I liked that idea, but I’m afraid he’s so stupid that he’d leave the mirrors alone and still come to the window. Or worse yet, he’d form a gang with the “other birds” to take down his rival by the house. The next thing you know, there’s a whole flock of cardinals wearing matching leather jackets with “C-Birds” on the back, holding tiny pistols sideways at the window all thug style.

My Christmas Love

I was watching “My Christmas Love” on Hallmark today; the premise of which is that a girl has a secret admirer, and she has to figure out which one of four men it is. Three of the men are clean-shaven, and one has beard scruff. I knew right off that the three clean-shaven guys didn’t stand a chance. The funny thing is that one of the clean-shaven guys was the main love interest in another Hallmark movie, and he had beard scruff in that movie.

For some reason, Hallmark believes that the epitome of sexiness for every woman is a man with beard scruff. Even for guys that really can’t grow it, or where it looks really bad. They still force the issue. I assume this is why Hallmark has never come calling me. I can’t grow beard scruff. I can either do clean-shaven or a semblance of a full beard. There is no in between. Well, the beard thing and the fact that I’m not over six feet tall. That’s really all that’s keeping me from being a Hallmark leading man.

Phytoplankton Dragons

To continue my theme from yesterday, I also see a dragon on my desktop background. It’s supposed to be a picture of a phytoplankton bloom as seen from space, but to me, it appears to be a dragon emerging from the blue mists. His wings are unfurled. His mouth is agape. And he’s ready to unleash havoc on the world. Clouds of smoke swirl in front of him, outlining his last fiery blast. You might be asking, “Where on earth did a dragon come from, I thought they were all gone?” Nobody truly knows if they’re all gone. They could be sleeping in eternal slumber, but maybe this one had his sleep disturbed. Perhaps this is the last of his kind. Maybe you’re asking, “Well, why is he burning everything?” Maybe it’s, as I mentioned, because his sleep was disturbed. Maybe he’s fighting the knight who’s vowed to finally rid the earth of the last dragon. Maybe he’s cold, and he’s trying to light his fireplace, but he doesn’t understand stacking the logs with proper airflow. Whatever the reason, he lights up my desktop every day with his fiery blue breath.

Flying Chickens

For some strange reason, every time I go into our guest bathroom, I see a flying chicken on the Kleenex box. I know it could just be the pattern in the marble, but that’s what it looks like to me. And now that I’ve seen it, I can’t unsee it. You might be asking, “Why a flying chicken and not just a chicken?” Well, because it appears to be coming into view from the left side, and the chicken is horizontal. I imagine it being shot out of a cannon and soaring across a blue, cloud-filled sky, looking at me with a pleading, “Help me!” look on its face as it helplessly passes by and out of view on the right side of the box. Now, you might be asking, “Why would a chicken be shot out of a cannon?” Which is a great question. Maybe he’s a crash-test chicken, testing the viability of being shot out of a cannon before a person attempts it. Maybe he’s being rescued from being falsely imprisoned in a castle, and the only way to get him over the walls was to shoot him over in a cannon. Maybe he’s a stunt chicken, and his publicist thought this was a good idea. Whatever the reason, he’s flying across my Kleenex box.

Ride or Die Jesus

The radio station had a fun call-in question today. Apparently, there is some video going viral of a woman reading something Jesus said from the Message version of the Bible. Her comment was “that’s my Jesus, He’s sassy!” This prompted the radio station to host a question, when you think of Jesus, what does Jesus look like to you?

Everyone called in with different answers that were relatable in their own right. But one woman’s answer was “that Jesus is my ride or die homie.” He’s loyal to a fault. He’s got your back no matter what. Even though He might not agree with your decisions, He’s still there with you. He’s like, “Yo, I don’t think this is a good idea, but let’s go.” He’s the truest of friends. He’ll call you out on your stuff, but He loves you in spite of it. And I thought, “that’s how I want to think of Jesus…as my ride or die Homie.”

Soccer Geese

We were on our way to a birthday party today when we passed by a soccer field covered in…geese. Maybe this wouldn’t have been so surprising, except the geese were having a game! It was a team of white geese versus Canadian geese playing for what I can only imagine was the North American soccer championship. My son and I were both disappointed that we couldn’t stop and watch it play out.

Killing in a Tree

I had a dream last night that I was playing one of those first person shooter video games with my brother. We were situated at some high vantage point methodically picking off bad guys from a distance. As I watched the bodies piling up, I started to sing this song:

“Two little snipers sitting in a tree
K-I-L-L-I-N-G
First comes aiming
Then comes shooting
Then comes a corpse and a whole lot of looting.”

My brother stopped pulling the trigger long enough to look over at me with a bewildered look in his eyes. Then, a smile spread slowly across his face, and he turned and started shooting again in rhythm to my song.

Herb's Herbs

I’m thinking of starting a business called Herb’s Herbs. I just love the English language, and I really feel like it would jack with people, since the “H” on the second Herb is silent. I feel like I’d constantly be correcting people. “I’m selling herbs, not people named Herb! I’m Herb…well, I’m not really Herb. I am the embodiment of the figurative Herb that runs this shop, but you get the point.”

UPDATE: Someone beat me to it. Apparently, there is an organic juice bar with this name already. Sigh…dreams thwarted…nooooooooo, damn you, Marty McFly!

I am death...destroyer of puzzles!

There is something oddly satisfying about destroying a puzzle. The feel of the pieces as they collapse and become unlocked, some hanging on together and others going solo. My spousal unit likes to do a puzzle once and then frame it, but I like doing them multiple times. So, it gives me great satisfaction to tear them apart, because I can already look forward to the next time this particular puzzle gets chosen from the closet again.

Offensive Bleeps

We were listening to the song “I Write Sins Not Tragedies” by Panic! At the Disco today in the car. I noticed that they bleeped out a single word in the chorus. It was subtle, but I still noticed. You might think it was the lone cuss word, “damn,” but you’d be wrong. They still played that word. No, it was the word “god.” And I intentionally didn’t capitalize it, because it’s not capitalized in the song.

But still the radio refuses to play that word, because it could offend some people. I find this sad and ludicrous. First of all, it’s actually part of the cuss word, not a reference to the Almighty. And second of all, that profanity isn’t offensive, but a reference to God is?! What a lost and broken world we live in.

Sweet Emotion

Is it just me or does Siri’s voice get sexier with every new release? I know she’s a computer, but dang! Apple is even making her more realistic, so now she has these subtle inflections in her voice like excitement or questioning. It’s cute and endearing.

As she read back my text message to me today, I was reminded of that Aerosmith video for Sweet Emotion, where the guy is talking to this girl on the phone, and he’s picturing her being sexy and hot. When in reality, she’s an old woman with curlers, smoking a cigarette and ironing. I started to wonder if Siri’s sexiness was all an illusion in my head.

Happiness for Beginners

I recently watched this movie called Happiness for Beginners. It’s about a recently divorced woman who signs up for a beginner’s hiking excursion to break out of her rut and figure out her life. In the movie, there is a character named Windy who is always cheerful and positive. At some point, the other characters ask her how she maintains such a good attitude all the time, and she replies, “Every day I think of three things I’m thankful for.”

At church, we’ve been doing a message series on gratefulness. As it’s evolved, it’s taken us on a journey from changing our mindset to being grateful and realize all the things we have to be grateful for to expressing that gratitude to God and others. I realized that even though I am very grateful to God and others, I tend to focus on the things they do wrong instead of what they do well…and for me. I wanted to take a page out of Windy’s book and spend time each day focusing on things I’m thankful for, because I think changing that mindset will fill up too much time to complain.

So, tonight at dinner, after we prayed, I asked my wife and son to indulge me. I shared three things about each of them that I’m grateful for. Then, I invited them to do the same about someone else. It was a little slow and awkward, as it has been with me, but they did it. It’s not an immediate switch, but it’s a start. I’ve asked that we do this every night together, so we’ll see what God does with this from here. I’m hoping, like with anything, that we’ll all get better with practice.

Smokers

Back in college, I went to Mississippi with JT for his sister’s 16th birthday. It was the first time I had met his family, and they were nice enough to let me stay with them. JT and his sister each had a dachshund for a pet, but AT’s was much nicer than JT’s. In fact, JT’s was downright mean and vengeful toward me.

His name was Smokey, Smokers to his friends, which I learned immediately didn’t apply to me. He took an instant dislike to me, which I can only guess was because he was jealous. He was used to having his master all to himself when JT would come home from college, but this time he had to share him…with me. So, I became the object of his hatred and wrath.

He growled and barked at me. And when that didn’t scare me off, he started running at me and biting my leg. Now it should be noted that I am a dog person by nature. And generally, I get along well with them. So, it was strange to me to have this dog go out of his way to make me feel unwelcome. It should also be noted that Smokey was bipolar. Whenever he and I found ourselves in a room alone together, he was perfectly content to lay down next to me and let me pet him. But as soon as someone came into the room, he’d jump up and start growling at me again. It was almost as if he felt like he needed to keep up the ruse for everyone.

JT’s mom was an absolute sweetheart, and she was nice enough to give up her bedroom for me. So, when we go there, JT and I took our suitcases into her room. JT threw his on the bed, and I set mine in the corner. When we came back later on to get them, we found out the true extent of Smokey’s ire. Having mistaken JT’s suitcase for mine, Smokey had peed on every inch of it, soaking every article of clothing. Mad that his dog was being so unfriendly, he gave Smokey a thorough tongue-lashing before heading out to wash everything he owned.

But that only made the situation worse. Smokey decided that I was the reason that his best friend had turned on him, and a few minutes later, I caught him sneaking back into the bedroom to finish what he had started. I chased him out and threw my suitcase into the closet. But every time I needed something out of it, I had to watch my back, because Smokey would have his head poked around the corner waiting for his opportunity to run in and do a drive by. I took to going inside the closet and shutting the door before I’d open my bag. I also slept with one eye open, because any time I’d start to nod off, I’d hear the sound of uncut nails on the hardwood floor outside in the hall. I was miserable and on edge by the time I finally left, so I guess in the end, Smokey had won. And needless to say, I never stayed with JT again.

Pantless Haircut

I was taking a nap today after lunch (Long story), and I had a strange dream. I dreamed I was driving to the barbershop at this place downtown. It was across the street from this vintage clothing shop that had mannequins in the front window dressed up like 80s actors that had passed away (Not important, just weird). When I pulled up in front of the barbershop, I realized that I wasn’t wearing pants.

My first thought was to stop some place and just buy a pair of pants, so I didn’t have to go all the way home. But then I realized that if I didn’t have pants, then I didn’t have a wallet to buy pants (It didn’t seem to bother me that I’d have to walk into a clothing store to buy pants while not wearing pants, but I didn’t want to walk into the barbershop without pants).

My second thought was to just go into the barbershop without pants and hope nobody noticed. But then I realized that if I didn’t have pants, then I didn’t have a wallet to pay for a haircut (It’s funny how I had to come to this same conclusion twice). So, I had no choice but to call my wife for help. Luckily, she had been following me to the barbershop for no particular reason (It’s funny to me that I forgot my pants, but still remembered my cell phone). My hope was that she could buy me some pants and front me for the haircut, so I didn’t have to go home. But she didn’t answer my call.

While I sat in the parking lot waiting for her to call me back, outside my car, a woman with a dog walked up to her car. When the woman opened her trunk to put her items inside, the dog started sneezing. We both told the dog bless you at the same time, and then laughed at the fact that we blessed a dog’s sneeze. It didn’t seem to bother her that I wasn’t wearing pants.

Hay Pillows

I was driving past the longhorn ranch near my house today, and one of the cows was resting her head on the top of the hay pile. I’m not sure if she was eating and then got tired, or if she went to the hay pile with the sole intention of resting her head on it. I’m sure those horns get heavy after a while, so it’s hard to blame her for wanting to give her neck muscles a rest. But it was still funny to see her neck stretched out, her head using the hay pile as a pillow.

Lara Lor-Van

I've been slogging my way through the DC Universe lately, and as I watched the Man of Steel, I realized something. At some point, Clark meets a holographic image of his birth father, Jor El. Jor El proceeds to tell Clark all about Krypton's history up to its last days. But he doesn't really tell him anything about his family. In fact, he doesn't even show him a picture of his birth mother, Lara Lor-Van. Clark knows what Jor El looks like, because he's looking at him, but Jor El didn't think to store a single image of Clark's mother?! I would think Clark would want to know what his birth mother looked like, but apparently Jor El didn't think that was important. In fact, it doesn't seem to bother Clark either. He goes back and tells his mother, Martha, about meeting his birth father, but doesn't mention his birth mother. And Martha never asks.

I started to think back about other Superman movies I had seen in the past, and I realized that none of them feature Clark's mother other than in flashbacks. Only ever Jor El. I find that incredibly odd. Didn't Clark ever wonder?

Co-Sleeping...ish

I read an article that said not to stay with your kid at night until he falls asleep. But it didn't said anything about the scenario where the parent falls asleep, only to wake up and have the kid be staring at you.

Mutton Chops

I was tired of all of the silver hair in my beard, so I decided to trim it out with the scissors this morning. By the time I was done, I was left with only a soul patch and mutton chops. I think I should have dyed it instead.

Mirrored Tears

Today, I splashed a little water on the mirror when I was drying my hands. I stood there and watched as the little trickle of water snaked its way down the smooth reflective surface. I suddenly had a feeling that the mirror was crying, and I reached out to wipe her tears away.

The Good Boy

I passed this good boy on the road today. He got shotgun, and grandma was stuffed in the backseat.

Family Toots

Ever since my spousal unit rolled out her new leek soup recipe, the flatulence level in our house has increased exponentially. It’s so bad, I'm thinking of having t-shirts made for all of us that say, "The Family That Toots Together Stays Together."

Old Mail

On my way to pick up my son from school today, I drove past this house set on a large piece of land. The house was set back to the rear of the property, leaving an expanse of a front yard that’s most likely bigger than my entire property. Being set so far back meant that there was a long winding driveway from the house to the mailbox by the street.

Coming down that driveway at a literal crawl was a small SUV. It stopped next to the mailbox, and an old woman got out of the passenger side. She was tiny bent with age with stringy white hair and a cane. She hobbled to the mailbox, looked inside to retrieve the contents, and then hobbled back to the car. In the driver’s seat, I saw a little old man skinny and frail, gripping the steering wheel and waiting for her. After his wife got back in the car, the little old man backed the SUV back up the winding driveway to the house.

It was adorable to see the old man driving his wife to the mailbox, so she didn’t have to walk all that way. And it was adorable to see this couple still doing things together after all these years. That’s what I want for myself.

The Forecast

Today, we started a two-day landscaping project on our front yard. The weather forecast is calling for a 40% chance of rain tomorrow. Now, normally I wouldn’t give that much thought. We seem to have a magical protective bubble around our area that prevents rain from reaching our grass, so a 40% forecast translates to a less than 1% reality. But given the fact that we actually DON’T want rain this time, I’d say the chance of actuality goes up to 122%. There’s also a 138% chance that it only rains on our house and skips everyone else’s.

UPDATE: It did in fact rain during our project, but at least it waited until the end of the day. And it was after they had put the new sod down, so a positive result after all.

The Blind Horse

On my way back from the barbershop today, I drove past a field with a single horse in it. He was standing near the fence and the resigned posture and drooping head made him look so sad. I thought I’d wave at him and try to cheer him up. As I drove by, my hand gesticulating at him through the car window, I realized that he had a bag over his head…probably to keep the flies away. So, I found myself waving at a blind horse. Essentially, I made his day and improved his mood, but he was completely unaware of it.

I'm a Scatman

This afternoon, I got in my car to go pick up my son from school. As I pulled out of my driveway, I felt something run up my leg and disappear inside my shorts. I immediately jerked the car to the curb, threw it in park, and frantically started brushing wildly up the inside of my pants. When that didn’t work, I threw open the door and jumped out of my car. I started doing a little dance in the street to dislodge whatever it was. Nothing came out, so I bent over, slid my entire arm up the leg of my shorts, and carefully felt every part of my leg and nether regions for anything that didn’t belong there. Other than a surprise (and not unwelcome) groping, my efforts produced nothing. So, I knelt down and examined the floorboard of my car. That’s when I saw the small gray spider about the size of a nickel make his way across the carpet. Shock quickly led to vengeance, and I hulk-smashed him into a gray splat. I continued on my way. My thoughts wandering back to my chance encounter with that arm up my pant leg and wondering what-if.

Commercial Failure

I just saw this commercial for genital yeast infections, and I couldn’t help but think that it would suck to be the spokesperson for that. I mean, sure, you’re getting exposure and getting your face on TV, but I would imagine that would also negatively impact your ability to get dates. You’re flirting with a guy across a crowded bar, he walks over, and then he recognizes you from the commercial and just keeps on walking. It reminded me of that "Friends" episode where Joey ends up on an STD poster.

Then again, I guess not all commercial exposure would be bad. Let’s say if you were the spokesperson for XXL Magnum condoms…

Drago Stress Test

My father went to get a stress test last week for his heart, and they told him that he’d have to get his heart rate up to 129 bpm. He started running on the treadmill, but his heart rate was too low. So, they increased the speed and incline. But it still wasn’t enough. So, they increased it some more. But it still didn’t work. At some point he looked like Ivan Drago from Rocky 4, running a sprint straight uphill. But it still didn’t get his heart rate fast enough. The doctor stopped the machine and told him to get off the treadmill. He told my father that there was nothing wrong with him if he could do that!

Running Backwards on a Treadmill

When we were younger, my father had a treadmill that basically sat unused in my parent’s bedroom. My brother decided that he’d give the treadmill some love. After a little while, he decided that the treadmill wasn’t challenging enough, so he tried to up the difficulty. So, he attempted to turn around and run backwards while it was in motion. He was promptly thrown off the treadmill and into the wall.

After he regained consciousness, he decided that the issue was trying to turn around. If he started off backwards, then he should be able to run. He was promptly thrown off the treadmill and into the wall.

After he once again regained consciousness, he decided to stop trying to run backwards. When my father asked him why he gave up, my brother replied, “I’m a quick learner, I don’t need to get thrown off a treadmill three times to stop trying to run backwards on it.”

Whodunnit?

Last night, the spousal unit and I were watching our favorite British detective show while we ate dinner. Just as they were about to do their big reveal of the murderer, I tried to breathe in a piece of chicken, and I started to choke. I was coughing and hacking as my lungs tried to expel the chicken and launch it across the room. I was making a loud and terrible racket, so much so that I understandably drew my spousal unit’s attention from the show. She quickly jumped up, ran to my side of the table, grabbed the TV remote from my hand, and turned up the volume. I guess saving my life from a deadly piece of chicken would have to wait until after she found out who did it.

Reprieve

It’s been incredibly hot in Texas this summer with temperatures regularly reaching over 105 degrees. I’ve started walking at 5:30 in the morning to try to avoid the worst of the heat, but it’s still over 80 degrees at that time. This morning it was so hot and humid that I saw a cicada lying on his back, slowly pulling himself across the concrete to the sprinklers going off in the yard across the street. But even worse was the other cicada holding onto his wing too drained to even make the attempt.

999 Piece Puzzle for Sale

My mom has been on a mission lately to put together all the puzzles in her closet. She said she’s trying to verify that none of the pieces are missing before she sells them or gives them away. So far, she’s been incredibly lucky and everything was accounted for…until this last puzzle. She got 999 pieces into it only to discover that the last piece was gone. She searched everywhere for in case she’d dropped it or the dog had decided to put it under the couch cushions to jack with her. After it didn’t turn up, she contemplated making a piece out of cardboard to fit the empty hole. When I asked her why, she said she needed closure. She couldn’t sleep knowing there was a puzzle out there with a missing piece. I told her to cross out the 1000 on the box and put 999 instead. Then, she could market it as a feature or a challenge, if you will.

Foot in Traffic

This afternoon, I was passed by a man in a pickup truck. He had his window down, and his shoeless foot was hanging out of the driver’s side window. He had blue and white superhero socks on, and his foot was bobbing with joy or perhaps to the beat of the music. For some reason this made me laugh. Maybe it was how whimsical it was. Maybe it was the carefree nature of the man…or maybe it was the nature of his foot only. Maybe the man had no control over any of that. Maybe his foot had a spirit all its own. It’s funny what will make you happy when you’re having a rough day.

Tree Encouragement

I was driving home this morning, and as I got near my house, I was rounding a curve in the road. All along the curve, there were small trees planted in the median in the middle of the road. As I passed them, I noticed that the trees were waving in the wind. It gave the impression that they were encouraging and cheering me on. I heard whispers of, “You’re doing great!” and “You’re almost there!” and “You can do it!”

It’s like when you hit the home stretch in a race, and you can see the finish line. You’re spent. You’re not sure where you’re going to find the energy to make it to the end. And then there are people lining the route cheering you on. You are filled with a burst of adrenaline, and you push through to the end. It was nice to know that even the trees were on my side this morning.

Temperamental GPS

I was talking to my mom today, and she said, “I was coming from some place and going somewhere.” And I told her, “I certainly hope so, why else would you be in the car?” She laughed and said, “That’s not the point of the story.” She continued that the GPS told her to take this road, but it was blocked by an accident. The police officer had her take a detour, but the GPS kept trying to make her make a u-turn and go back. For two miles, the GPS kept trying to make her turn around until she finally just turned it off. When she turned it back on, hoping that it would map out a new route, it immediately told her to take a u-turn!

This got us talking about how funny it is when people talk to their GPS, like it can hear them. I told her that I do that all the time, and my son always asks who I’m talking to.

This one time, the GPS told me to turn right at a stoplight, but I was stuck behind some cars. When it was finally my turn, there was quite a bit of traffic on the crossroad. The entire time, the GPS was continuously saying, “Turn right…turn right…turn right.”

I told her that I was trying to, but there were cars in front of me. When she persisted, I held the phone up to the window, so the GPS could see the car in front of me. When that didn’t deter her, I also showed her the cross traffic whizzing by. There was a pause, and I thought I’d finally managed to get through to her. Then, she said, “Turn right.”

Yard Sale

My spousal unit and I are planning to redesign our landscaping in the front yard. We’ve gone around and around with different designs and ideas to find not only the most pleasing and functional, but also the most cost affordable for us. So, today, I came up with another idea on how to save some money on the project. I saw a sign that said “Yard Sale,” and I thought, “What if we bought a used yard instead of new sod?” I mean if someone is willing to sell theirs, then it might be a way to cut costs!

Powerful

If you ever feel powerless to impact the world around you, just try getting on the express lane and go 50 mph.

Peeing (on) in the Dark

I called my brother for Father’s Day today, and I asked him how his morning was going so far. He said that his dogs had woken him up at 2:30 am, needing to go out. So, he found himself outside in the dark while his dogs ran around the yard with the sudden need to pee himself. He lives in the country with nobody anywhere close to him, so he decided he’d just pee outside too.

Now, he does have cameras set up around his property, but there’s one blind spot in the coverage. He said he’d tested it out and determined that he couldn’t be seen in this one location. This was the “pee spot.” He’d used it several times before, and the grass in this one spot was completely dead. Content he was safe from prying eyes, he let the pee fly. Unfortunately, while he was going, one of his dogs came up behind him and started peeing on the back of his leg. I guess he’d found his “pee spot” too! Needless to say, my brother was cussing under his breath as he trudged back inside to get cleaned up.

The Arbor Master

One summer, I got a job at the Houston Arboretum, helping to take care of the trails. It was by far the best job I’ve ever had. Although, my grandmother would be quick to point out that it wasn’t a job, because I didn’t get paid. So, I guess it was the best unpaid internship that I’ve ever had.

I was paired up with the park caretaker to do pretty much anything he asked. We hit it off right away. He worked me hard, and I was exhausted when my shift was finally over. But in return, he taught me about the trees and plants, and I absorbed it like a sponge. I loved learning, and I still remember most of what he taught me to this day, some 27 years later.

The only downside was the poison ivy that ran rampant throughout the place. And since our job was to clear brush, repair or make trails, and cultivate plant health; we were constantly in the thick of it. I didn’t actually know that I was highly allergic to poison ivy until I worked there. One brush with the plant’s oil, and I’d break out into severe blisters. But I didn’t let it stop me from going back, even though I contracted poison ivy three separate times that summer.

But it was all worth it. It was the best experience, and if I were to describe my ideal job at the time, that was it. A seemingly endless forest to hike and explore. No signs of the city anywhere. Just peace, nature, and God. I considered that as a viable career choice, but the pay, even for the caretaker, was atrocious. I guess people like enjoying nature, but they don’t want to pay someone to take care of it for them.

The Beautiful Smile

Today, while sitting at the stoplight on my way to get my son, I saw a homeless man standing on the side of the road. He was half-heartedly begging for money. At one point, he stood there in a daze, raggedy cardboard sign dangling by his side, staring at the ground. He had all the makings of someone on drugs, his eyes hooded and half-closed.

But then he looked up and saw a dog in the car stopped next to him, and he completely transformed. He started making kissy faces at the dog, completely unhindered by how ridiculous he looked. And then the dog did something playful and silly, and the man’s face broke into a huge toothless smile. I’ve never seen such a smile. It was, for lack of a better word, beautiful. It was so honest and genuine. He was so happy in that moment, and he looked a different man entirely.

I guess you can’t truly judge a book by its cover. Hidden underneath in its pages might be a beautiful smile just waiting to come out. And never underestimate the power of a dog to bring it out.

The Secret Lives of Letters

Can you imagine if the letters of the alphabet had personalities? And what’s more if they were forced to live in a house with each other like on one of those reality shows.

• “A” would be the muscle bound guy who always has his shirt off, sporting the great hair and the ‘it’s all about me attitude.’ Because it all starts with him, and honestly there’d be no alphabet without A.
• “B” would be the cute girl who is dating A.
• “C” would be third wheel who hates A because he’s secretly in love with B. He’s always trying to point out A’s flaws to B in an effort to prove that she could do better. “C! Right there! Did you C that?!”
• “K” would be the quiet, thoughtful one that listens to everything and processes. Most people forget he’s there, because he’s so silent.
• “M” would be the one that agrees with everyone. “Mmmm, hmmm.” “For god sake, M, stop agreeing with everyone and have an opinion of your own!”
• “Q” would be the homosexual one that wears an ascot with his pajamas. “There’s no reason you can’t look good just because you’re sleeping.”
• “X” would be the pale, almost translucent, Emo one with black hair and dark clothes.
• “Y” would be the impatient, sarcastic one that questions everything. “Y? Y would you do that?! It doesn’t even make sense!” He has an issue with M for not thinking for himself, and he has an issue with L for using the lowercase form and looking like I.
• “Z” would be the one that sleeps 16 hours a day.

$75 and a Concussion...and a Sunburn on My Feet

Our neighborhood was having a garage sale today, and my spousal unit wanted to participate. She’d never done one before, so she was very interested to see how it would go. We invited my mom up to help us, and we set about digging through boxes in the attic to find relics from the past that we could live without. My spousal unit also contributed about fifty blouses and handbags to the cause, which probably only amounted to about one percent of the overall total in her closet.

So, armed with two racks of clothes and handbags and three tables full of glasses, books, puzzles, and assorted knickknacks we prepared for the horde to descend upon us. It didn’t take long for the first person to arrive, ten minutes before the garage sale started. But it was quite a bit longer for the next person. After that, they came in sporadic bursts over the next few hours. Oddly enough, the knickknacks sold better than anything else.

My son was soon bored of sitting around and waiting, so I got him a little spade, and we started digging around in the flower bed. All of a sudden, a giant gust of wind blew across the driveway, caught the clothes rack overloaded with my spousal unit's blouses, and pulled it over directly on my head. The metal bar caught me right across the scalp and knocked me to the ground, covering my son and I both with clothes. It hurt, but I was able to shake it off and help get the displays back in order. We moved the clothes rack into the entrance of the garage to keep it from being caught by the wind again, and my son and I went back to digging in the dirt.

We had moved around to a different part of the flowerbed, when all of a sudden, another gust of wind blew across the driveway. This one caught the rack of purses and bags that my spousal unit had set up on the sidewalk, bringing it crashing down...right on my head...in the exact same spot. This time I was assisted by several shoppers, who were kind enough to dig me out of the pile of handbags on top of me and check to see if I was okay.

After that I was pretty much done with sitting in the flowerbed, so I moved inside to ice my head. I did trudge back outside later on to help wrap things up. All told we only made $75 for the event. Not a great haul, especially considering that my doctor bills will be more than that! And to top it all off, I discovered later on that I had gotten a sunburn on the tops of my feet in the shape of my flip-flops!

Poirot on Poirot

What would happen if a character from a book became aware that they were a character from a book?

I had a dream last night that that exact thing happened to one of my favorite mystery novel detectives, Hercule Poirot. Poirot found himself in a library of vintage books of various shapes and sizes. As he read the titles, he commented that he didn’t recognize any of them. That was when the other person in the room explained that these were all part of a never-before-seen collection of books that had been discovered in the author’s estate upon her death. Poirot asked what they were about, and the other person said, “You. All of them are about you.”

“Me?” Poirot gasped in surprise. “How can they be about me?”

“Because you’re a character from a book, something that someone thought up and brought to life on paper. There are other stories about you that many people have read.”

“Mon Dieu!” he exclaimed as the reality hit him. He stood staring at the spines of the book, his little grey cells working to process this information. He began to walk down the shelves, his gloved hand gliding gently along the titles. And then he began to cry. “I am not me. It is no longer my voice. It has been given to everyone to speak for me. And they thought so little of me that they didn’t even care to speak these stories for me.”

We all stood in silence, watching the great detective as he covered his face and sobbed uncontrollably. His entire life a lie.