The Marksman’s Tale

One kill.  That is the sniper’s creed.  Such a marksman neither of my children be.  How do I know this much to be the truth?  It is I who clean the toilets within our two prince court.  Like a fire hose without the fireman’s trained hand, I presume the scene to be something akin to the spray from an angry surf.  Only those of you that have raised young men will understand my pain.  Even though our toilets are foreign and don’t flush quite the same, the process is fairly simple, yet the urine still remains. ...

Christmas wishes for Pere Noel and Christmas Witches for Father Time.

This evening has us wrapping up our holidays here in France.  The end of this coming week will see us return to our homeland in search of familiar holiday cheer.  We began our weekend with a trip to the city to do a bit of shopping in the madhouse that is the centre ville this time of the year.  The streets were filled to the brim like Times Square on New Year’s Eve.  It was dizzying and an interesting time to push the limits of our recent big boy pledge.  Our youngest would handle this tour of duty on foot.  We...

Santa wears white gloves

It is that time of year when being a fat man with a flowing white beard becomes fashionable again.  You see them everywhere it seems.  Some are pretenders.  Weak spirits that don’t have the fortitude to really take on the persona.  They stuff their coats with pillows and affix doll hair to their face in an effort to pull one over on the kids.  There are an intrepid few out there that actually take this shit VERY seriously.  Those that truly live the life.  Those that follow a strict dietary regime of pot pies...

A Retirement Party for an Old Friend: Saying goodbye to our Coleman Lantern

I would like to begin today’s post by apologizing for my last.  It was posted in haste and the grammatical errors made it virtually unreadable.  I have fixed them now, and it should make a bit more sense.  Now, on with the show. . . There are but a few material possessions that stand the test of time.  Those that never cause you regret for the dollar spent.  The tricky part is knowing what they are.  The best are the easiest to spot.  They are those things that haven’t changed for as long as your memory serves.  They...

Letters from the Infirmary

Well, the stomach virus has given way to a secondary ailment that may be worse yet.  Just about the time I kicked the shits, the youngest came down with a raging cold that he felt he needed to share with his Daddy.  Convincing a four year old to cough into the crook of his arm is an uphill battle.  He is actually very good about covering his mouth when he coughs, yet he always waits until he is right in my face to forget his manners and eventually let loose of a vaporous spray of the plague that has once again crippled my immune...

Uphill both ways.

It never pays to be the nursemaid.  As typically happens with all parents of young and fairly ill children, the stress of constant care eventually depletes the immune system and you soon find yourself bedridden just about the time the kids have fully recovered and want to return to their life of play and leisure.  It would seem that this rather vile stomach ailment has a firm grip on my colon and hasn’t let go for the better part of two...