My Medieval Adventures

We as a people often romanticize things. I'm sure you understand what I mean but allow me to elaborate for those who may need clarification.  When a couple is dating they will often only focus on the desirable qualities and traits of the object of their affection to the exclusion of the less than desirable qualities and traits.  It is one of the reasons we use the expression, "Love is Blind".  It is also the reason why couples have such a rude awakening once they're married and the veil has been lifted. Part of this is because we do our best to hide our quirky and eccentric habits in a desperate attempt to get someone to fall in love with us. But once married they began to notice the things that they so blissfully ignored heretofore: the way he picks his nose; the way she bites her nails; the way he cleans his ear out with his keys; the way her feet turn into slabs of ice once it's time to go to bed and how she insists that you are her personal warmer. It could be any number of habits.  The point is we choose to ignore or are unaware of them and are deliriously happy about it.

As I was saying, we can romanticize almost anything. We choose to only think of the wonderful qualities of it.  I, myself do this when thinking of the old west.  I probably would not have made a great cowboy.  However, I don't focus on that. I would love to have been a cowboy.  I love reading/watching westerns. When I read a good western I am often transported into the book seeing myself as one of the characters. The truth though, is I don't care for horses.  There's no way I could spend an entire day on one, let alone a lifetime.  Also those guys had to be filthy and stink to high heaven 353 days a year (I'm of course giving them credit for a monthly bath-which let's be honest probably wasn't a high priority).  Do you get the picture?  We romanticize things.

We have done this with the Medieval era as well.  We ignore the unpleasant things: the feudal system, rampant disease, poor sanitary conditions, bathrooms that were little more than a festering hole in the floor (sorry, I think I just threw up a little) and instead we focus on the pleasant things: fair maidens, chivalry, knights, honor.  As a matter of fact we have romanticized it so much that they have created an entire dinner theater around the very idea of the middle ages.  This is where I took my wife for her birthday last month.

We have gone here twice before. The first time was on our honeymoon some 12 years ago.  We went a couple of years later for her brother's birthday.  Upon our first visit, we were assigned the Black and White Knight as our Champion.  And champion he was.  We shouted and screamed our heads off and our voices hoarse every time he appeared in the arena.  He eventually became the winner of that night and a fun time was had by all.

At our second experience, we were assigned the green Knight.  None of us in our party were particularly enchanted with this less than noble looking knight.  I remember wondering if this was his first foray into the battle arena.  He didn't succeed in any of the skills challenges, and if I recall correctly was the very first knight to be run through with the sword.  This of course left us wholly unsatisfied with our experience and instead of cheering on a knight, we began promptly to call for the demise of the monarchy decrying it as archaic and fraught with chauvinism and nepotism.

But for my wife's birthday, we once again returned to the winner's circle.  Upon our arrival we were ushered into a room to have our royal photograph taken.  Here you stand in front of a backdrop with a picture of a castle and for extra money you can put on a costume that no less than a million people have worn while standing under hot lights waiting for "Jimmy" to quit messing around and stand still for the stupid picture.  We passed on the communal cootie clothes and just took our picture in our modern clothes.  It did destroy illusion of the medieval scenery but no more than exorbitant amount to borrow dirty clothes would have ruined the evening.

After this we toured the stables.  That is to say we viewed the beautiful show horses in their tiny stalls enclosed by glass on one side and what seemed to be rotting wood on the others.  These stalls were so small I was fairly certain that which ever direction the horse went in, that was the direction he was forced to stay.  They were simply not big enough to allow a normal sized horse to turnaround. We read some interesting facts about the horses which I no longer recall (if you remember, I don't particularly care about these equine modes of transportation).

Shortly thereafter, we were escorted into the dining hall/horse arena.  We were seated at our table in the section of the Red and Yellow knight.  Our server began to bring us our drinks, ye-olde iced tea for me, while my lovely bride chose the King's Diet Pepsi.  As he was making his way to our seats, I flagged down the server and showed him that the knave in the dish room had failed to properly clean my flagon.  There was something growing inside of it and he apologized, genuflected and returned with a clean chalice for me to consume my grog. The meal was excellent. The ribs were especially delicious.  The chicken was a little dry but had excellent flavor.

Of course we consumed all of this whilst our respective knights were trying to collect rings with a lance or stab a hay target with a spear.  This was periodically broken up by several of the characters indistinctly uttered lines with a terrible English accent. Yet none of this dissuaded the enthusiasm of the group.  Those of us in the front row received flags decked in the color of our knight and emblazoned with the shows logo.  These were enjoyable and detrimental to the experience.  I say enjoyable because it was a souvenir and something I knew my boys would like.  I also say detrimental because the little boy next to me loved to wave his with great enthusiasm, however he did not take heed to the range in which he waved the aforementioned banner and repeatedly beat me about the face and neck with it.

Our group was by far the most vocal of all in attendance.  We struggled at first to find a way to say red and yellow in the cadence of a cheer but that didn't slow us down for long as someone quickly shortened it to "rellow" and thus was born a new color (heretofore known as orange) and a group of raving fans.  A special thanks must be sent to the marching band of Highland High School in Gilbert, AZ.  If not for the vociferous ravings of this group of teens our knight might not have prevailed.

Such as it is, we did reign victorious.  As we left the dark ages and all of it's lack of accoutrement's and headed back to the twenty-first century with it's smart phones and traffic, I breathed a small prayer of thanks, "Dear Lord, I am so grateful for my wife, the good time we had tonight and for indoor plumbing!"

My Not So Chosen Vocation.

When I was a kid I remember watching a specific TV commercial.  In the commercial a kid is running, drenched in sweat-it's obvious he's been running for a while.  A little kid provides a voice-over, "When I grow up I want to be a track star." Now ignoring the fact that no kid ever has dreamed about growing up to be a track star except once every four years (if I recall correctly, almost all High School track teams are filled out by any kid who manages not to throw up during the Presidential physical fitness test in elementary school); I would like to draw your attention to the next part of the commercial.  Just as you're almost convinced that this kid really does want to be a track star, he looks back over his shoulder to see a hand reaching for him from off screen.  This hand belongs to a policeman who is chasing down the sweaty kid.  As the scene unfolds an older voice replaces the young one and states matter-of-factly, "Nobody ever says 'I want to be a junkie when I grow up'!"

I remember thinking this commercial was hilarious for two reasons: 1.)After seeing it, whenever someone asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up the first thing that popped into my head was "a junkie" thus proving the disembodied voice on the TV wrong. I generally saved this for my inner monologue as it would have taken a bit of explaining to the person who had asked the question (and nothing that is funny in your head ends up as funny once you've explained it to someone). 2.) I always wondered why if the commercial was made in the halcyon days of 80's anti-drug PSA's (I here reference the now immortally famous, "this is your brain on drugs"-fried egg PSA) why was the policeman dressed like a 1950's prison guard from Alcatraz?  Every time I saw it I half expected the "screw" to be wielding a billy club.  The commercial goes on to show a girl dancing ("I want to be a ballerina when I grow up")-gotcha she's just spinning around in a drug induced stupor before collapsing to the ground.  It finishes with another young woman ("I want to be a Doctor...") screaming hysterically while beating on the lifeless chest of her friend who lays prone on the bathroom floor.  The point of the commercial (at least I think) is that life doesn't always go the way you planned it.

That being said, I find myself in a similar situation.  Not the "I ended up being a junkie" variety but certainly the "I had this going differently in my head" kind.  Now I never said, "I want to be a fry cook when I grow up." and yet I find myself sharing the same occupation as a certain animated sea sponge minus the nautical nonsense of course. Please don't think me ungrateful.  I love that I have a job and that I can provide for my family.  It is far more than I deserve and I am thankful, it's just not how I envisioned it.

Anyway, back to my point- I am now a fry cook (at least I was-I have since moved on to bigger and better things in the restaurant business.  I'm sure I will detail that in subsequent blogs, but for the sake of continuity I will refer to it in the present tense.)  I work for a reputable company in the fast food business.  I am unclear whether or not I can use their name without the expressed written consent of Major League Baseball, so I shall attribute to them a completely anonymous nom de plume.  I shall call them- Jeff in the Cube.

I was not strictly a fry cook-I was aspiring to manage my very own Jeff in the Cube restaurant.  As such it was necessary that I be cross trained at every station/job position in the restaurant.  I was a boss on the grill! I cooked everything to perfection in a very timely manner.  I was not as prolific at the fryer.  The main reason being Jeff in the Cube's fan favorite, 2 for .99 tacos.  They are delicious and even though you know you probably shouldn't eat them, you willingly take one step closer to heart failure with each bite.  The problem is they come out of the fryer and you must assemble them (add lettuce, cheese and sauce) as soon as possible. My fingerprints are now completely indiscernible thanks in large part to the fact that the tacos are the temperature of the sun.  You might as well shove your hand into the fryer. I could handle making one or two orders of tacos. What I loathed entirely was when people would come through the Drive-thru and order 30-40 tacos (just as a side note-if you're going to go to Jeff in the Cube and order more than say 8 tacos, please have the courtesy to park your car and go in to the restaurant as ridiculously large orders unnecessarily reek havoc on the speed of service).

There is one station at Jeff in the Cube at which I wasn't prolific-in fact I downright stunk when I started.  That position is the Drive-thru.  Let me explain: I am not what you would call a multi-tasker.  I can walk and chew gum at the same time, but I recently found out I cannot: take an order over the speaker, confirm an order and take money at the window, make drinks and shakes and smoothies, drop food in the fryer, portion and bag the food, all while saying a series of scripted replies/questions to engage the guest and ensure a return visit and all in less than four minutes.  It can be done- just not by me!

I did get better at it but never reached the level of expertise that apparently comes with being a teenage girl-who are oddly yet perfectly suited to this task.  I've seen them do all the tasks mentioned above while texting their friends and updating Twitter: "H8 having to xplain my job to my boss! He's so old! LOL #mybossisancient ;)"

I did have fun on DT though. (That's Jeff-speak for Drive-thru)  I would often, as the shift wore on, begin speaking with a Scottish accent.  I must say I do a pretty good Scottish brogue.  It may be an insult and a slap in the face to an actual Scotsman, but it is more than sufficient for the average American who just wants to hear you talk like "Shrek."  I also found that it made our typical customer (an exhausted worker who at the end of a long day would rather not cook and hates themselves just enough to choose greasy fast food over a healthier choice) just a little easier to deal with as everyone loves to listen to an accent. It was quite funny to watch people smile and fidget as they tried to decide whether or not it would be rude to ask me about my accent. In true American fashion almost everyone went with their curiosity over their desire to respect the differences of foreigners. People often asked me how long I'd been in America, and not wanting to lie, I would answer that, "I've been here since I was a wee bairin!"  This inevitably led to the follow-up question, "Where did you get your accent?"  Again, not wanting my pants to be on fire, I'd answer simply, "Braveheart."  This always got a hearty laugh and a "I guess you get that a lot."  I just smile and nod and occasionally yell "FREEDOM!" for them.

There were many weird and interesting experiences that I may blog at a later date but I do want to take just a moment to share with you a glimpse into the life of fast food employee.  As I was finishing a shift, desperately hoping that the next shift leader would arrive on time to relieve me (which they almost never did), a woman in a giant SUV pulled up to the speaker box and began placing a rather large order.  Her total was nearing $40.00 (a substantial amount for drive-thru-even at Jeff in the Cube's prices) and she said, "Shoot! I forgot, I have a bunch of coupons." I went ahead and proceeded with her order as she began to list a series of 8 coupons.  We generally don't take more than one coupon per order but since she was spending almost $40.00 I decided to waive that rule. After having entered them into the computer and adjusting the balance accordingly (her balance was now around $27.00) she exclaimed again, "Shoot! I forgot them! Listen, I left my coupons at home." I then began deleting the coupons from her order and as her total was once again on the rise she blurted out, "What are you deleting them for, you've got to work with me here!" I explained to her that I'm not allowed to give out discounts without the accompanying coupons (I really can't, it's tantamount to giving away free food which is tantamount to employee theft). She swore into the speaker box and yelled, "Well, I don't want to go home and get them. Why can't you just give me the discount. I'll bring them in tomorrow."  I explained again that when I closed my drawer out at the end of the night that I would have to pay for

As I mentioned earlier, I am no longer with Jeff in the Cube.  I am currently in training to run a family diner style restaurant I will hereafter refer to as "Benny's."  I can't wait to see what blog fodder develops here.  I have high hopes as the store I will be running is located in the same town that yielded the gem I've referred to as the musical Christmas pirate!  So excited!

How I Met My Lovely

It has been a long time since I've posted a blog.  To say that the time that has elapsed since my last post has been tumultuous is an understatement of elephantine proportions.  I will not here recount the events as most of you are familiar with them and this is a blog with the singular purpose of being funny and too be honest there was very little funny during that time.

Well, that is enough of that.

My real purpose in once again putting pen to paper (electronically speaking) is that I would like to tell you about this incredible woman I know.

It all started about 15 years ago (don't worry I won't bore you with all of the details).  I was in my dorm room with one of my roommates.  There was an enormous field just outside of my window where we would often play volleyball. It was affectionately dubbed "the bombsite" although exactly why I can't recall but I do know that there was a rather large tree in the center of it.  On this particular day there was a beautiful young lady resting in it's shade as she tried to studiously do some homework.  As college boys are want to do we noticed her and through the course of some sophomoric conversation my roommate bet me $5.00 to go and flirt with her for 10 minutes.  Those of you who know me know that I have never really been shy when it comes to talking to people I don't really know and that I was always extremely broke in college. This would prove to be the most profitable bet I've ever made.

Armed with my (not so) considerable charm I marched out into the bombsite and introduced myself.  Now it is important to note that we had met before-on two separate occasions.  The very first time was when we were both still in High School.  We had come to college days from different groups and were on the same team.  In the course of that week I did one of the most humiliating things and can assure you that the impression I left could only have been that I was a clown! On our second meeting I made the mistake of insulting a guy she liked.  So now not only am I a clown, I'm also a big fat jerk.

We did have a third meeting which almost put a nail in the coffin of our relationship before it even had a chance to live.  Due to an alphabetical arrangement in a class room that started from the back right section with the "A's" came to the front and proceeded down the left section finishing up with the "Z's" in the back, we ended up sitting in the same row across the aisle from each other.  The name of the class, as I recall, was Church History.  I remember that I really didn't care for the book that was to be our chief text and as such formed an unfavorable opinion about the professor before I had even met him.  I had heard things about him and was just leaning over to make comical but insulting comment about him to this young lady who sat next to me.  Now we all have that little voice inside that warns us when we're about to do something monstrously stupid, saying, "I think this is a bad idea!".  I too have this voice.  However, that little voice inside me is often drowned out by a much louder more obnoxious voice screaming, "LET THE EIGHT YEAR OLD DRIVE!". Thankfully, on this day I heeded that small voice and kept my snide comments to myself.  A stroke of genius as it turns out as I was just about to lean over and insult my future father-in-law to his only daughter.  WOW! I dodged a bullet there!

Anyway, I sat down under the tree next to her and began to shamelessly flirt with her (don't judge me, I needed that five bucks!).  If I may make a long story short (and I realize it's a little late for that already), we ended up spending the next several hours talking and laughing and having one of the most enjoyable nights of my life.

Fast forward 15 years and you find us here.  Three beautiful children and a happy life.  I have broken her heart on several occasions but she has always shown an infinite amount of grace and long suffering.  On occasion I write her poems.  When we first started getting serious about marriage I wrote her several poems on the theme that she was the greatest gift God has ever given me.  I spoke the truth then and do know as I confess that there is not another woman out there who could love me the way she does and only God could have orchestrated this knowing exactly who and what I needed.  She is My Lovely and will always be.  She is the most wonderful woman I know and I love her.

My Hiatus

Hello there,

I know it must seem like it's been forever since you've read one of my well-worded and humorous rants. I would like to apologize for the amount of time that has elapsed between this post and the last successful one. I say successful because, although I have not posted any thing since June, I have written three blogs that never made it to this site. One was written entirely in my head (honestly, beginning to end- the title even briefly appeared on the blog with no content. When I went to type it out, it just seemed like homework. It may yet appear someday if I ever feel like doing my homework again). Another story I had typed completely out and somehow, I have no idea to this day, its content was entirely deleted when I tried to post it. Poof, gone! So out of protest and no small amount of anger I refused to type it out again (which is a real shame because it was about my experience with a very polite, end of the world radical-once again, maybe someday it will see the light). The third one I started and got 75% finished with it when I re-read what I had written to that point and realized it seemed just a little too rant-y and angry. That's not what I'm about. It too may be published some day but I'm really not sure about this one because it had a great deal to do with Facebook's changes this past September and the subsequent reaction. Very topical, very dated.

When trying to think about what to write in this my first blog in almost 6 months, I knew right away the subject matter should be my absence from the blogging world. The thing I didn't know about was exactly how to spin it so as not to paint myself as a very lazy, unmotivated blogger (which is of course exactly what I am-shhh, don't tell anyone). I thought at first maybe I could convince you all that I had entered rehab of some kind. It hasn't seemed to hurt anyone's star power (not that I have any to speak of). But while it may not hurt your image as a Hollywood starlet, it would definitely affect my testimony as a Christian, so that was nixed very quickly.

The next idea that popped into my head was just to leave it shrouded in mystery. Just like the disappearance of Agatha Christie for eleven days in 1926, which to this day has never been fully explained, I would just wander back into the public (public here meaning world wide web) spotlight (spotlight here meaning the flickering ray of light that remains once you've turned off a halogen lamp), and give no explanation for my absence. The trouble is that nobody would in fact care and since I'm all about drawing attention to myself this simply would not do!

I also thought that I could just maybe ignore it. This is a tactic often employed in television when a person vital to the show decides to hold the production for ransom and not perform until their contractual demands have been met. (Will the real Aunt Viv please stand up?) What happens in these situations is usually that the star unless absolutely integral to the show is often replaced. And the rest of the crew carry on as if this new actor had been there all along. In fact it is often completely summed up in one shot with another character asking if they had done something with their hair or lost a few pounds so as to simultaneously address the obvious issue and poke fun at the person who left. Again, the problem lies with the fact that nobody would have noticed that I had taken an absence and again I wouldn't get the attention I desired.

The thought occurred to me to make up some fanciful story about how I had spent the better part of the last six months traveling around the universe and through time in a blue police box with a Time Lord. I'd tell you about all the times we saved entire cultures and species from annihilation. But the truth is I can't even speak Galifrayan (Gal-if-ray-un) and I'm pretty sure I'd have to pay some kind of royalty for reprinting the stories of Doctor Who (of which I have become a huge fan.) It's awesome! Check it out on Netflix. You kind of have to stomach the very early 90's music video cinematography of the first season. It improves drastically in the subsequent seasons, but the first is still integral to the whole story, so start there.)

No, I guess the best way to go is the truth. As my 8th grade history teacher said, "Honesty is not the best policy...it's the only policy." So here goes. The reason that I have not posted a blog in the past six months is because... Are you ready?...I...HAVE...A...LIFE!!! Do you think I have been sent here for the sole purpose of keeping you entertained? Seriously, get off my back already!!! It's not like you can't open up the comics and get your daily chuckle from Peanuts or Garfield. Must I go through life as your personal blogging monkey? If I feel like writing, I'll write! If I don't feel like writing then I won't! That's it. And I don't appreciate you trying to make me feel bad about not giving you anything witty or interesting to read the past six months...

Pauses...eats a Snickers... sorry, I get a little Diva-ish when I get hungry. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this and I promise it won't be 6 months before I post again. Which only gives me a 5 month window. I'd better get to work.

My Facebook Frustrations

Editors Note:  This blog was started in September so it's a little dated but it's my blog and I can do what ever I want so there!

Ridiculous!!!! That's what I have to say about Facebook's recent changes. Now please understand me, I'm not saying that Facebook is ridiculous. They are their own company that markets social services to millions of people world wide. I am one user- who am I to tell them how to program and distribute their own product?  No, the thing I think is so ridiculous is the reaction of the Facebook-ers. WOW! Resistent to change much?

The reason I am writing this here and not on Facebook is that this is my blog and I am allowed to post my opinion about any subject without fear of offending someone. That doesn't mean it is my goal to offend- quite the contrary, you'll find that most of the opinions posted here are done so with tongue firmly implanted in cheek. They are designed more to induce laughter than to trigger offense. If I were to post this on Facebook I would have to be a little more subtle, so as not to offend any of the people on whose comments I am further commenting. Again, I mean not to offend but to simply entertain. Here though, I have the freedom of being as blunt as I wish.

That being said, ENOUGH ALREADY !!! I am so sorry that your life has been thrown off kilter because one of your favorite products has reimagined their format. Did you get this upset when they tried to introduce "new" coke? Surely the days of "crystal" Pepsi were dark indeed but we didn't grab a pitch fork and torch and lay seige to any factories. No, we just dealt with it and moved on. That is the same spirit we now must adopt if we are going to survive the great Face-book lift of 2011.

I have to be honest, the changes don't really bother me at all. Much like none of the other changes have significantly affected or altered my life. All it is, really, is a major corporation seeking to make it's product better by their standards. How can you have the temerity to be up in arms about it? You may be wondering why they didn't consult you. I imagine that it's for the same reason Diet Coke doesn't call my wife anytime they roll out a change to their product or distribution. It's because they don't really care what you think. As long as people continue to use their product they are going to continue making changes.

Now, I understand there are concerns over privacy. If you are one of those who is worried about some random friend of a friend seeing that you've posted something on your common friend's wall then just stop posting. It's not like there is some guy waiting to see what you've posted. Waiting patiently to read the perfect comment that let's him know you are alone or that your home is vacant. I know this sort of thing does happen on occasion. But the truth is that if a friend of mine sees that you are going to Bolivia for a week you don't really have to worry about him breaking into your house.  I don't associate with such disreputable people.  If you're that concerned about your privacy you probably shouldn't be on a "social" media site in the first place. Just go back to boring the snot out of your friends and family by inviting them over and having an old fashioned slide show of your vacation or your kids graduation from the first semester of Kindergarten.

The truth of the matter is that in a few months time you won't even notice the changes that Facebook made.  You'll just go about your normal life without the heart pains that now grip your chest.  That is until Facebook once again changes its format a little to keep up with other social media sites.  At which point all of you will once again clamor for Mr. Zuckerberg to change it back to the way it was before, which may I remind you, is the very thing you so vitriolically oppose presently.

Time Passes....

I've decided to pick up this article once again because after having read it again, I no longer remember who it was specifically that set me off (truthfully it was probably no one particular person) and compelled me to decry the outrage at the Facebook changes.

I would also like to point out that all of the "Boycott Facebook until they change it back" and "Why, Mark Why?" pages have been removed and life has once again stabilized.  It is because we do what we always have done.  We get comfortable, someone comes and changes up the schedule and we complain and cry, "unfair" and demand restoration.  Then we get used to it and forget how it used to be and wonder how we ever got along without things the way they are now.

I beg your forgiveness for the dated nature of this post and the fact that it is largely irrelevant.  There are a few funny lines here so I thought I'd share it anyway.  I guess I could have just waited until the next time Facebook moves the profile picture from the top right to the bottom left and World War III breaks out.  But let's hope everyone reads this first and saner heads prevail.

My Sympathetic Pregnancy

I have a dream! Not the cool Martin Luther King Jr. type of dream that can be helpful and inspiring, but the annoying type of dream where your alarm clock goes off and instead of waking up it becomes part of the dream playing the role of a police siren or really annoying little boy. My dream is that I'm pregnant. I'm not telling you this so that you can analyze it and see that I have parental issues that I'm trying to resolve during my REM sleep. In my dream the baby is ready to be delivered and fortunately for me, I never actually deliver it, it just happens to show up. It's also never a baby. It's usually some object that I have been wanting (Just a few months ago the role of baby was played by iPhone 4). Thankfully, it's just a dream.

For my wife however, this is an absolute reality. Well, except for the iPhone part-we're expecting a baby boy- but I won't be absolutely heartbroken if we end up with an iPad 2. This is our third full pregnancy. Hopefully, this is our last. Don't get me wrong, I love Bryce and Henry, I love Charlie (that is what we are naming baby boy #3-- His full name will be either Zachary Charles or Reagan Charles--we're still hashing that one out) and I will love any more God chooses to give to us but let's just say that I'm not asking for anymore! I'm totally over the whole baby thing.

But I digress, this blog isn't about the baby, it's about the pregnancy. My wife is a trooper when it comes to pregnancy. She doesn't often complain and even when she does it is tinged with humor. She experiences back trouble from the onset. By the end of a long day her feet and ankles have merged into a tan shape that strongly resemble Uggs (even barefoot she has stylish footwear).

With Bryce, the experience was all new and even the uncomfortable things (i.e. back pain and Uggs) were exciting and anticipated with much eagerness. With Henry it was still pretty neat although the luster had worn off. With the third, it's just, "oh yeah, there's that happening again." I honestly don't know how people like the Duggars have so many kids. You would think that the excitement must eventually diminish (how many times can you watch the same magician pull a rabbit out of his hat before you get bored and demand a better trick).

Before you have kids, people are always asking you, "So when are you gonna start trying for a baby?" The day your first is born they ask, "So when are you gonna have another?" But after a couple of the little boogers they start to ask, "So how many are you gonna have?" It's here where it begins to get a little tricky. If they are a small family, they go on and on about how they wished they had a couple more kids (this is usually the case because one of two things (or both) is true-either they have long forgotten the difficulties of having a baby or their kids have grown to the point where they are gone and no longer around to help with the housework). If it is a big family, they are quick to praise the merit of multitudes of children and try to convince you that two or three are not enough. They usually cite the verse in Psalm 127, "Happy is the man that hath his quiver full..." I am quick to point out that God just said full and didn't stipulate what quantity was considered "full". My quiver happens to be much smaller than the Duggars' quiver (thankfully).

There is one wonderful thing I love about my wife being pregnant. It's what is commonly referred to as "Pregnancy Brain". I'm not really sure if that is in fact the common name but that's what I call the selective amnesia that develops with pregnancy. You see, my wife is one of those people who remembers things a specific way. If you try to convince her differently, you will find that she is immutable. Even if you have video evidence she is unwilling to acquiesce to your point of view. But not on "pregnancy brain!" On "pregnancy brain" her mental fortitude has been compromised and what makes it better (for me that is) she knows it! I only ever have the last word in the argument when my wife is under the influence of "pregnancy brain".

When she is affected by "pregnancy brain" I can convince her of almost anything. If I tried, I could probably convince her that it's still 2002 and George Bush is still President. All I would have to do is fabricate a few points to argue and remind her that she can't even think straight enough not to leave her Blackberry on the register counter at K-Mart (which I had to go and get for her). I might even be able to convince her that the Earth revolves around the moon which in turn revolves around a giant space whale named Franklin if I felt so inclined. All I have to do is argue earnestly and remind her about one of the plethora of things she's forgotten about during pregnancy, like washing an entire load of clothes without using any laundry soap.

I am convinced that "pregnancy brain" is just early onset "delivery amnesia", which blocks the neural pathways that remember the horror and war-like atmosphere of the delivery room. It's a good thing- without it Bryce would be an only child. His was a rather painful and arduous birth and not just for Nicole--she separated my shoulder while bringing Bryce into this world. But that is a different blog for a different day.

Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go convince her that she said she would mow the lawn this week. After all, she is the one who keeps calling our boys "Dusty," which is our dog's name for those of you keeping score at home.

My Summer Vacation

Do you remember the inevitable, "What I did on Summer Vacation..." reports? Every year summer vacation would end and we would return to the drudgery that was elementary school (remember it with the mind of a third grader - I would of course pay no small amount of money to pass my days in Mrs. Wheeler's class concentrating on my spelling and recess with only a small thought for the fractions that I would soon face the next year). Every year our teachers would assign this same report. Was it not enough that we had been ripped from the carefree days of summer? Was it not enough that we had exchanged long days of sun and play for short, cold days of lugubrious seat work? How much greater was the injustice of having to recount the wonderful days of summer while restricted to the prison that was my school desk?

While I know summer is yet to officially begin, I could bear it no longer and took my family on a much needed vacation. It is in the same spirit with which I recalled my youthful, summer days that I now relate to you, "What I did on Summer Vacation..."!

Last year was our tenth anniversary and we celebrated in grand style with a cruise to the Mexican riviera. But we figured that would be the last vacation we would take sans the boys. When my wife was a child, her family vacations were pretty traditional. They were what I call a "traveling vacation." They have no single destination but rather are made up of several destinations where you spend a day looking at some canyon or tourist trap, spend the night and move on the next day. I think this is a terrible vacation. Being the chief driver (see "only driver"), I would of course be the one missing out on a vacation. Driving, to me, is not a leisure activity. When I get behind the wheel I want to get to my destination as quickly as possible. I don't want to make a million stops or see the world's largest ball of barbed wire, unless of course that is our destination and we plan on staying there for a minimum of three days.

When it came time to pick our destination, my wife suggested Tahoe. I thought it was a good suggestion although I dreaded the long drive. When I reminded her of the length of the drive and the fact that she would be well into her third trimester, she immediately nixed that plan and began looking closer to home. So in an attempt to determine what we should do for this summer's vacation, we trolled the pages of Facebook, soliciting advice from our many, "married with children" friends. We determined that the bulk of the suggestions weren't worth the time it took to investigate them. They came from people to whom money was no object (I didn't even know we had those kinds of friends) or to whom thrift was the operative word even at the expense of safety and peace of mind. Through the mass of responses one shown through, bright and gleaming. Our good friend, Jonathan Reginald Brooks, (not too many people are aware of his true middle name) suggested that we look into the Marina Resort in Big Bear, CA. My wife jumped on the computer and within a few short hours we had a vacation booked and the anticipation began.

When the first day of vacation finally arrived it was perfect. We had no real time table (a theme that would recur throughout this wonderful week). We got up when we felt like it and began to pack. There was no rush, no plane to catch, just a 3:00 check-in time that was not hard and fast. Once we finished packing and loaded up the boys, we headed out to Big Bear Lake. The trip up was uneventful, save a few stops to head off car sickness (those mountain roads can wreak havoc on a two year old's stomach). We arrived at the resort and checked-in. The front desk tried to upgrade us to the cabin style rooms ( a mere $30.00 more a night) but when I found out the only difference other than the price was that the cabin style rooms simply had newer furniture but were identical in every other way, I quickly passed and signed off on the plain old standard room.

Our room was nice, if not spacious. Two queen beds and a cracker box for a bathroom. It was all done in a rustic, woodsy motif and would have made the folks from Deliverance feel right at home. There was a flat screen TV mounted to the wall which looked a little out of place, but with no easily accessible wi-fi, we gladly put up with it despite its shattering the ambiance. We had a sliding glass door (right next to the main entry door) that led to a small porch/patio with a table and chairs. This was quite lovely as it afforded us a beautiful spot to have lunch and view the lake which was literally just steps away.

Our first dining experience left something to be desired. We decided to sample the wares of a small Mexican food joint. As we entered we were both encouraged and disheartened. Encouraged at the sight of an entirely Hispanic work crew (this of course meant we were gonna have good Mexican food). Disheartened at the sight of the sign over the salsa bar sternly warning against wasting the salsa at the threat of having to pay for an otherwise free condiment (this of course meant a wait staff that was more concerned with their overhead than providing quality service). As anticipated, the food was pretty good, at least the Mexican food was. Our boys are somewhat finicky when it comes to eating and one ordered chicken nuggets (they were the Dino nuggets, which we serve them at home, dropped into a large vat of oil and crisped to a hard and dry, golden brown with just a hint of chimichanga).

I ordered the nachos (a dish that is very difficult to mess up ) and my wife ordered a two taco plate. When they brought us our food, they brought my wife a kid's quesadilla. When she told them that she had not ordered that, they gave a look of frustration and disbelief and took the plate away. Eventually, they brought her what she had ordered but without so much as an apology for its delay. We asked for some ranch dressing for the carrot sticks that had come with our kids' meals. What was brought to us resembled bleu cheese in both taste and texture. When we asked for ranch a second time (a request that obviously irritated the waiter) we were told that it was in fact ranch but that they made their own and thus the consistency was not up to Hidden Valley's standards. They then brought us a ranch and a bleu cheese so that we could see the difference for ourselves (it is important to note that a good waiter will just correct the issue without placing blame or assigning guilt and certainly would never deflect the error back to the guest). What we determined through visual and taste tests was that they used a ranch flavor package in a bleu cheese dressing. It was not overly appetizing and our finicky eaters would have none of it. When they brought us our ticket at the end of the meal we noticed that the children's drinks were twice what they were advertised in the menu. When we asked them about this they said that they had "changed that policy" and that the ticket had the proper price and gave the impression that we were to pay the full amount because we should have known what items on their menu were accurately priced and what items had undergone a "policy change". Eventually, they knocked the price off the tab and we payed and hurried out of there, never to return.

One of the highlights of our trip was the world famous Moonridge Zoo and Animal Park. To say that this is a low budget organization would be to say that the Donald Trump has a little money. The reptile and amphibian exhibit was a 10x10 room filled with terrariums. That being said it was not too shabby. They had some pretty neat animals (my favorite was the Bald Eagle) and the small size of the zoo lent itself to a more up close and personal viewing of the animals ( I was literally five feet from the aforementioned and majestic Bald Eagle). They had a few bears and some cool wolves. I would however, suggest not going on a Wednesday as that is a fast day which means they don't feed the animals, which also means the animals are less active. It was a quaint little zoo and best of all we traversed it in its entirety in less than 90 minutes.

Overall it was a quite enjoyable vacation. Mostly because we did nothing unless we wanted to. There was no schedule. We got up at our leisure, went out at our leisure and nodded off to sleep early every night. This is my ideal vacation. We did something whilst simultaneously doing nothing!

And that was my summer vacation!