She’s got Bette Davis eyes . . . and I have Telly Savalas Hair. The art of getting “olderish”

It’s hell getting old.  In fact, I refuse to admit it in the slightest.  Instead I have coined the phrase “olderish” as an apt description of my current condition.  Life is funny that way.  You spend your youth dreaming of the day you will be “old enough”.  Old enough to drive, old enough to vote, old enough to tell mom and dad to go to hell.  Our young lives are spent striving for these milestones of adulthood and our...

Joyeaux Anniversaire Part 3

Today we celebrate 4 crazy years of love and survival.  The whirl wind that we call our youngest son has officially turned one year older.  Based upon his outlook on life, I suspect he is attempting to live his life out in dog years, so perhaps it more apropos to place 28 candles on his cake this year.  Unlike the eldest boy (Even Steven), my youngest embodies both the Ying and the Yang.  Without dark you cannot appreciate the light, right?  It has been 4 years of trial and error and I dare say we still don’t have the formula...

The third little pig wore mukluks . . . paying homage to the Mayan Empire.

Well, in an effort to make this an accurate account of our daily life I decided it was time to rectify the calendar.  After a few hurried calculations,  it would appear that those times without internet connectivity skewed my dates a bit.  We now find ourselves on day 243 and a solid half of a month of activity seems to be MIA.  Truth be told, I feel it a fair accomplishment.  I wouldn’t have guessed at the start that this would have lasted for much longer than a week.  Further, the fact that there are a few that have...

A “potpourri” of musings

This post has been two days in the making and since nobody offered to handle the authoring for me, it shall be an eclectic mix of ramblings that will neither thrill the senses or rattle the nerves.  Forgive the hodgepodge of topics, but occasionally it doesn’t all go together as planned.  This place we live in is quite a two-wheeled culture indeed.  From bicycles to motor scooters, from motorcycles to mopeds, they can only be rivaled by those in the Far East who seem to use their two wheeled conveyances as anything from a family van...

Inspirational friendships and the conflicted life of a househusband

First for a bit of housekeeping.  I received a MadLibs email retort to one of my last posts from a friend and fellow writer and it got me thinking.  I have for some time now been threatening to make the wife author one of the posts as she is always fairly outspoken in her criticisms with regard to content.   Many of the comings and goings of our daily life don’t make the blog.  Often times she inquires as to why something that she felt was “blogworthy” didn’t make it to print.  The simple answer is that I write without...

The wife loves to snuggle like a fat kid loves cake.

I am doing everything within my power to refrain from a second post regarding the decline of our youth, so I will only include a vague reference to fat kids in the title of this entry.  Oh, what the hell, let’s go for it.  Why not, right?  I have offended those with ailing children, so why not piss off those that can’t seem to feed their children anything other than a steady diet of Mc Burgers and the Colonel’s finest.  The interesting thing is that I think many are of the opinion that my last post pertained only to my experience...

Peanuts, Tree nuts, Strawberries and Corn . . . calling bullshit on the boy in the bubble.

Ok, this one isn’t for the weak of heart, so if calling names and wounded puppies make you cry you might want to look away.  Remember, I lack an edit button and have been frankly irritated for most of the day, so hold on tight for my next emotional outburst. What the hell has happened to the children of the world?  Why suddenly is little Johnny so afflicted with allergies?  These days you can’t send your child to school with a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for fear its mere presence in the lunch room will afflict grievous bodily...

Green Grass and Purple Nail Polish: The Ballad of “Hand-Me-Down” Kid.

The proverbial foliage is always a bit greener on the other side of the fence.  That is a lesson not lost on my eldest son.  He has come to an age where the discrepancy in parenting between he and his brother can be a bit of a sticking point.  It is true, the expectations placed on the behavior and achievement of a 9 year old is a bit steeper than that which we place upon our youngest at the tender age of 4.  Being twice as old, he carries twice the burden.  Fair?  Perhaps not, but nobody said life was going to be...

I can’t get no . . . “job” satisfaction.

Life around the Butler estate gets a bit depressing when momma bear has a difficult day at the office.  It is after all, the reason we are here.  It becomes hard to take the tough times in stride when the underlying mission seems in jeopardy.  Truth is, I think the wife struggles the most out of us all with this new lifestyle.  The persistent homesickness is hard to keep below the surface when the daily grind becomes unbearable.  The thought creeps in and you can’t shake it from your head.  I gave up my life back home...

Returning a kindness and the unconditional love of a STUPID DOG.

My semi-aching back serves as testament to a hard day’s work in the company of friends.  A true friend is one that will be there for you on moving day.  We are fortunate to have made some very dear friends since we have been here and one family in particular has gone above and beyond the call of duty to help us when we need it most.  Day 218 would be a good chance to return the favor and assist them in the beginning phases of a monumental project.  They are renovating an apartment they have recently purchased in the center...