Babies By Mail

My boss is currently living in another state from his wife just like I am. At lunch today he told us that he had some news to tell us. Of course we all immediately asked if his wife was pregnant. (This seems to be the most logical news that someone in their late-twenties could have, I guess.) Before he answered, I then asked, “And how did it happen, since you haven’t seen her in a couple of months now?”

Without missing a beat, he answered, “Fed Ex.” I laughed and said, “I can see you now telling your wife that they guaranteed the shipment by Tuesday, so be sure to check the mail. And then you are down here tracking it on the computer. ‘Lost? What do you mean it got lost? Where did it end up? It says somebody signed for it…who signed for it? I knew I should have sent it by certified mail.’”

The Unpredictable Weather

The weather is acting crazy again this week. What was just supposed to be a routine cold front has turned out to last for several weeks. It is Autumn now, so technically we should be having this sort of cool weather anyway, but after so many years of experiencing 85 degrees at Christmas time, the "true" weather feels like an oddity.

I am not complaining about the weather, truly. I am thoroughly enjoying it. The only complaint I would have is the great variance in the temperature between when I get up and when I get home in the afternoons. Only in Texas (as untraveled as I am, there might be other places as well...but work with me on this) can you get up in the morning to it being 50 degrees, having to turn the heater on, and then come home from work to it being 85 degrees, having to turn the air conditioner on. I go to work with a sweater and jacket on, and come home in the afternoon in only my under-drawers. Well, okay that might be exaggerating a little, but you get the point.

One of the great tourist draws of our state...the unpredictable weather! And we don't have it unpredictable from season to season, or even day to day. We have it unpredictable from hour to hour.

Driving Without Pants

Today I am going to explore that strange side of my personality again. That side that makes a normal person ask, "Why would you do that?" I am going to explore my strange fascination of going without pants on. That's right, no pants. I might still be, and probably am, wearing a shirt and most likely socks, but the pants have got to go.

I must admit that I am not actually pantless as often as I let on to be. For instance, when someone calls me on the phone and says they are coming over, my reply usually is, "Okay, I guess I should put some pants on then." It is not necessarily that I am standing there on the phone with no pants on. But I could be, so be prepared if you ever just pop in unannounced. (The trailer park manager found that one out the hard way!)

I have even gone so far as to drive around without pants on, just to see if anybody would notice. I know it is probably against the law (I mean if it is against the law to drive without shoes, I'm pretty sure it's against the law to drive without pants.), but it is also extremely exhilarating. The danger and excitement of getting caught. The completely innocent look you give people if you do get caught. You know the look, like driving without pants is the most normal thing anybody could do, and that you actually think it is strange that they aren't doing it.

I had a friend once that drove around topless. She said that she felt that driving without pants might draw too much attention, and she was too scared to try it.

Clean Cars and Bird Poo

We have fancy birds up here at work. They are so picky that they refuse to poop on the dirty cars. They will either fly around until they find a freshly cleaned one or hold it until it rains. It has gotten where people are refusing to clean their cars, because they don’t want to be a target. Of course you can’t control the rain, and the birds have a field day after a fresh storm. I think the worst is that I actually had a bird crap on the car while I was in it. Right there on the front windshield. At least they should have the decency to wait until I can’t see them. But that is the way of it. They have gotten so spoiled that they don’t care. We humans are beneath them…literally.

The Stale Crouton

How do you know if a crouton is stale? I mean technically it is hard, stale bread to begin with. So, how do you know when it gets stale? Does it start to get soft again? What is a true measure of its stalility? (Yes, that is a made-up word.)

My First Kiss

I have found that memories of my first kiss have faded from my mind, being replaced by memories of my wife's kisses. I can't recall how the kiss felt…was it soft or hard, moist or dry, warm or cool. How did A.P. smell at that moment? What did her breath taste like? I don’t remember what she was wearing or how her hair was done up. I remember it being a good kiss that I enjoyed, but none of the details.

I start to wonder if I would still think it was a good kiss now, or if it was only good because it was the best I had had up to that point. Maybe it is my mind telling me it was good so my memories are happy times. Then again, does it really matter if it was good or not, if I believe it to be so? Isn't my perception of it all that matters?

Well, I suppose there is really no need to dwell on it long in any case, since it was replaced by the lovely lips of my wife.

Sleeping in on the Weekends

My body tells me it’s time to get up on the weekends. I suddenly become consciously aware that life is going on around me. I start to detect light seeping through my eyelids. I hear sounds outside. I smell food being cooked. But if I’m not quite ready to get up, then I tell my body that I am not quite ready to get up, so go back to sleep. This of course irritates my body, so it goes on a mission to make me miserable until I finally give in and get up. It gives me the urge to pee and makes me hungry. These are the first attempts and are usually mild. It is uncomfortable, but I can usually deal with them. If I don’t give a satisfactory response to my body, then it pulls out the big guns. It proceeds to give me a headache or make my neck or back hurt. This, of course, is a lot harder to deal with. Because the longer I ignore it the worse the pain gets. I can just picture my body sitting there with its hand on a dial, slowly increasing the pain until I submit and do what it wants. It’s a game we play.

The People Watcher

My grandfather was a people watcher. He liked nothing more than to just sit on a bench somewhere and watch the people walking by. He was fascinated by how very different each one was from the next. Not just their clothes or hair styles, but their personalities and how they reacted to each other or the world around them. He told me it was interesting to him to just sit to the side and observe the world for a few minutes…being in it without being in it.

I never really understood his fascination when I was younger, because I was too eager to be in the world. I was too caught up in being apart of things to take the time to sit and watch it. Now that I am older, I understand him. I have become a people watcher, just like my grandfather.

Different Cultures

I went to lunch with my mother-in-law today and we got to talking about the differences between our families and the way we were brought up. She is from Greece, and I am from the United States. I don’t know if it is so much cultural differences or familial differences, but the way that she reacts toward her children is very different from the way that my parents reacted toward me.

She has an uncontrollable desire to give to her children. No matter how old they get or how well off, she still gives to them. Money, gifts, everything. She holds nothing back. She never wanted her children to want for anything if she could provide it. They had opportunities to go places and do things that I could never have dreamed of. They never struggled or suffered. Of course the downside to this is that her children never truly understood the value of anything or the satisfaction of working hard for something.

This is very different from my family which basically strived to make my brother and I independent. When we graduated college and got our first jobs, we immediately assumed all of our own bills. The financial support stopped for the most part and we were thrown out of the nest to earn our own keep. (Granted there was the occasional aid in times of great need.) I learned to value every dollar that I made, because I had worked so hard to get it. There were times that I struggled, but with the good Lord’s help I always had enough. I have the satisfaction now of knowing I dug myself out of the hole all on my own.

So, which way is the right way? Neither, I say. They both have their advantages and disadvantages. Even though I still find it hard to accept my mother-in-law’s generosity, because I am so used to working for things on my own, I have been blessed to experience both ways of thinking. I can only hope that one day with my own kids that I can be somewhere in the middle.

The Deer

I went hiking today with my mother-in-law, and as we were walking down the trail a deer ran across our path. To either side of the trail are very steep hills, but that deer simply ran down one hill and up the other with complete ease. Not only did she make it look easy, but she was so elegant and graceful about it.

I just don’t get it. There is no way I would look that graceful climbing that steep hill. Heck, I don’t look all that graceful walking on a completely flat surface. You have to stand in awe at creatures that not only do amazing things, but do them with style.

The Physical Therapist

I drove by a physical therapist’s office today, and there hanging in the front window was a small skeleton. What was unusual about this skeleton was that it only had one leg. Now I don’t know about you, but this doesn’t really instill a lot of confidence in me. What is a one-legged skeleton really saying about this particular physical therapist? We will work you until your leg falls off?

Who Wears the Pants?

Most couples decide right off the bat who wears the pants in the family. Some decide it’s the one who is more assertive and dominating; the one that makes most of the decisions. Some decide it’s the one that has the most important position in the family. Some decide it’s the one who does more for the family. In almost every relationship someone is designated as the pants wearer.

But my wife and I share this responsibility. We like to take an equal place of importance when it comes to making decisions and doing things for the family. We like to think that neither of us is wearing the pants, but that each of us is wearing a leg.

Of course she will tell you that her leg is bigger. But I will tell you that my leg has more pockets. So in the end I think it all comes out even.

A Study in Observation - Feeling Hungry

I feel a pain welling up inside my stomach. It starts small and slowly gets worse and worse. I feel my stomach knotting in an involuntary contraction as it builds to climax. My body spasms and I gasp, releasing the breath I didn’t even know I was holding, and the pain temporarily subsides. Then slowly it begins to build again. I feel almost hollow, as if there is a huge vacant hole right in the middle of my torso. My mouth dries out and the churning is making me sick. It isn’t long before my head starts to hurt as well, the pain of a headache emanating from the tense, contracted state of every muscle in my body. Suddenly the hollow sensation turns to a weighted heaviness, and I feel as if I have a brick in my stomach pulling my whole body down. Amazingly my body gets sluggish and weak, and I feel my shoulders start to slump. It gets harder and harder to lift my feet for every step and I find myself resorting to just dragging them along the floor. My mind turns inward, and I no longer notice the world that is passing me by. My one consuming thought is finding food as quickly as possible.

A Study in Observation - Dancing With You

I dance with you to a song that we can only hear in our heads. I wrap my arms around you, interlacing my fingers together. I draw you in and feel your body press against mine. I feel your warmth penetrate through the front of my shirt. The intoxicating aroma of you, a mingling of perfume, flowers, and sweat, swirls in circles around you and makes my knees weak. You lay your head against my chest and I feel my heart start pounding more violently. The seismic rhythms tear through my body like the vibrations of an earthquake. I am sure you can hear every beat, thump, thumping alongside your ear, betraying my innermost emotions. You squeeze me too, and I feel as if I can’t breath. I don’t know if it is so much your arms cutting off my air supply or just my breath catching in my throat at the thought of you being so close to me. I close my eyes and just rest my cheek on the top of your head. My senses are swirling, and I lose the ability to tell where I end and you begin. We are one body, if only for a moment. Almost in sync we start to sway together, like the grass in an unseen wind. Slowly our feet begin to move, left, right, left, right. We take small, shuffling steps, just barely dragging our feet over the top of the carpet. I can feel the fibers tickling my skin. Our bare toes sink into the plush, soft carpet with every step. We are surrounded by a ring of footprints, marking the path of our silent dance.

Memoirs from My College Days

I have recently come across some old letters that I wrote a friend while I was in college. I was so entertained by them that I thought I would share one here:

"Dear C.W.,

You are probably going to be receiving two letters at one time, so I apologize that I could not spread them out to give you more mail. I am but a lowly college student with a very depleted monetary stash and could not under such conditions afford to trade, the afore mentioned lack of dough, for a certain lickable piece of paper that in this day and age is used in the place of money, since money in the mail would be.....how should I say it.....jacked, to attachingly apply to the loving document contained within the paper box that was abused by strangers in blue, beat by a rubber mallet, and of which you probably tore open with not a thought or care for how the envelope feels just to satisfy the desire that peaked within your frail and delicate being.

In other words, I couldn’t afford the stamp.

By this date my e-mail is set up and working - I have already received several envelopeless letters from my parents. (Did you know that that is what the “e” in e-mail meant?)

Today we learned how to work in teams in my engineering class. I designated myself as the leader - being the most qualified and all - and told everyone else what to do. The other members of my team didn’t agree with my appointment, so I told them where to stick it and did the assignment the “right way” by myself. I really think that I got a lot out of the class, and I can’t wait until I go again.

Well, I must go to a meeting now. Until we meet again...

Your Friend,
El Jefe"

Insulation Protection

I.S. was telling me about this job that he had installing computer cable in residential homes. He said that crawling around in the fiberglass insulation was the worst part, because the small fibers would get embedded in his skin. A buddy of his told him that the best thing to wear to prevent that from happening was pantyhose. Apparently, the fiberglass would stick in the hose and then you could just peel it off at the end of the day.

He then went into a detailed description of how to properly wear pantyhose as insulation protection. He said that you cut holes into the toes of the pantyhose, so that you can stick your fingers through them. And then you just pull the pantyhose up your arms.

Not missing a beat, I asked him what you do with the crotch of the pantyhose? Do you cut a hole in it as well and just stick your head through it? He said he prefers the thigh highs, so he can just wear a garter belt around his neck and clip them. To each his own, I guess! (Is it sad that he actually had an answer to that question?)

The Dyslexia Clause

Recently I was playing the state lottery and found a most interesting and highly unfortunate loophole. Apparently, I found a very rare situation in which I actually had to pay the lottery the jackpot instead of them paying me. That was $100 I didn't have, let me tell you!

How did I find myself in this strange situation, you might ask? Well, somehow I managed to get all of the numbers reversed. So, the winning numbers were: 1 12 23 33 45 51. I had picked 10 21 32 33 54 15. This is affectionately known as the "Dyslexia Clause," and results in you having to pay them. (Between you and me, I adamantly fought with them about 1 -> 10 and 33 -> 33, but their lawyer assured me that technically it was, in fact, a reversal.) So, I had to ante up.

I didn't even know they checked for these things, but apparently there is a computer that scans all the sold tickets to find these situations as well as the winners. And sure enough, two days after the drawing I received a phone call informing me that I was being summoned. According to them I was the only person ever to fall into this situation, like that was supposed to be some sort of honor or something.

So, avoid this loophole at all costs! You have to get all six numbers backwards to be subject to the "Dyslexia Clause," so always make sure that one of your picks doesn't have a valid reversal.