Don't read this if you don't want exposure to my dark side...

This morning I woke to the sound of one of my favorite songs. Unfortunately, it has been tainted by its use at my second wedding. You see, I have a curse (multiple ones, I'm sure). The two of interest here are: 1) a memory that stores most of everything I see or experience, and 2) being a sentimental fool. So, I thought I'd offer some advice to those who are entertaining the idea of a serious relationship...

Music: If you really like a song, keep it to yourself. At meaningful events, listen to music that makes your eyes roll. This way, if things go South, you can say, "I always hated that song." Otherwise, when you hear songs you really like, you will just get irritated.

Souvenirs: Choose souvenirs carefully. If you somewhere romantic or exciting with your significant other, keep memorabilia simple. Shirts wear out, and are ideal. I suspect plants/flowers would be a good one, too. You can unconsciously let them die. If you choose something truly meaningful, it may trigger memories you'd rather not remember. Lord help you if you do something stupid like buy interesting wind chimes whose sound forces the recollection of a romantic weekend in Monterey. (Anyone want some wind chimes?)

Dining: The moment a restaurant becomes "our place" for dining, go out with just your friends to the same restaurant. I might even suggest getting a little tipsy and rowdy to temper the connection. Otherwise, you may find later that you no longer feel like going to some of your favorite haunts.

Weddings: Just a suggestion: if you find yourself taking the big leap of faith and getting married, do not have the ceremony some place you will see often. My first wedding was at my ex-in-laws'. Perfect. God knows I will never go there again. Choosing a place that is on a path for your normal routines is a definite no-no.

Physical Changes: Don't do anything permanent to yourelf that can be linked to a significant other. See Exhibit A under read more. Thank goodness there are no names on this.

Of course, the alternative is to adopt a psychological profile that doesn’t have any sentimental tendencies. I think virtually all the women I’ve dated since I was sixteen could teach a class on it!

That’s enough exposure to the darker side of my psyche. Contrary, to how this may come across, I’m not sad. Just venting a little irritation with myself.

Back to crackin' myself up with my own sense of humor.

I like to use the time given to me to the best advantage, and hope Annie learns to do the same. One thing that my ex's family likes to kid me about is the requirement for reading material when I use the restroom (why do my posts involve the toilet so much?). In a pinch I can read the ingredients on bottles and toothpaste. However, when time allows I grab a book on my trek to the bathroom. Imagine my pride at witnessing the following (of course, she wasn't quite two at the time):

Flushingly Literate

Annie and I just finished several rousing hands of Old Maid. Thank goodness it's not called Old Single Engineer...

The first game was a tie. By a twist of fate, the Old Maid card was stuck in the box, and we finished the game before we discovered it. That was ok with her, because it meant she didn't lose. Choosing to look at the glass as half full, we both won.

She won the second game, since when she has the Old Maid she leaves it sticking out by itself, and I went ahead and grabbed it.

The third game, though, I didn't do it, and, well, she lost. It was supposed to be our last game.

Annie: No, no, no. We have to play one more game.
Daddy: Honey, we tied the first one, and each won one. We have to get back to our chores.
Annie: No, we are playing under new rules. If one of us loses, we play one more.
Daddy: You mean that the last game we play must be won by you.
Annie: No. That wouldn't be fair. If one of us loses we have to play again.
Daddy: Well, since we put the Old Maid in the deck, one of us is going to lose, and we'd be playing all day.
Annie: No. Listen to me. (Pause - thinks about the logic and the ultimate goal of winning the last game.) We have to play one more.
Daddy: Ok, one more.

Yeah, well how do I say no to that face...

Of course, in an effort to end the gaming session on a good note, I grabbed that strange card that stuck out a wierd angle by itself. She giggled at how gullible I must be. We both finished happy…

Old Single Engineer

One of my best friends is a stellar engineer and scientist. Unfortunately he hates technology. His girlfiend has as much conflict with him on this subject as I. All I can say is that the internet is one of the greatest advancements of mankind in the last fifty years, and you need to move out of DOS. Sorry, Dude, but it's the truth...We can find so many pieces of information (patents, journal articles, how to get somewhere, the operating hours of the local post office). Technology is a wonderful thing, and that's why we get paid what we make...You rock... adapt.
Encouraging Assimilation

I have various friends that don't understand why I would possibly live where I do. I live in the middle of nowhere. But you know what? I grew up in the middle of nowhere, and wouldn't trade it for anything. I used to go out and trek over 30+ acres without my folks being concerned about me. My mom would look out the kitchen window and see me venturing out on whatever adventure I had concoted in my mind, and knew that I was ok.

I had a friend who was concerned about my disregard for Annie's safety as she checked on the chickens. What if the coyotes got her? Sorry, but good Lord. Have you met Annie? If a coyote encountered her and tried to impose its will, it would leave with a complete brainwashing about the ways of nature. That's the coyote you would accidentally find in nature with a stick in its mouth tilling the soil trying to create a whole new food program for coyotes across the state. (Hopefully, it would contradict the Santa Cruz county agricultural standard, and stay away from pot as its plant of choice).

At any rate, I struggle to financially hold on to this place for one reason. It's the closest I can come to raising Annie in a way that I can deal with, and make work. If your internet connection can handle it, I invite you to see the evidence that what I've done and try to do is right (about 14MB): Annie and her cousin scaling the hillside. Good stuff if you have the patience and/or connection.

Doing what I can....

Winter in California is nothing like winter in Missouri, but it still has a bite. It's a combination of cold and wet and dark that is every bit of the the damage that can be done in Missouri. Mark Twain said the coldest winter of his life was his summer in San Francisco. As a consequency, I find myself thinking back on the wonderful times on the rivers and lakes of the Ozarks. Annie has had little experience of this, but knows the wonders of summer. In an effort to share this feeling with the viewers of this blog, I remind you of the joys of summer with this MPG - the joy is in the word and act of cannonball....


Tired of the cold and wet...

I just read Lilo's post, and was shaking my head at the wisdom of the fourth point. My family has always had cats. The earliest I can remember is Samantha, when I was four. She was a black-and-white long hair, and perhaps that's why I have a fondness for that kind of cat (like Lilo). After moving into this house, I discovered a tendency in cats that I can't explain.

For reasons that I won't go in to here (let's just assume they are valid), we don't have a door on the master bathroom. If this is too much information, you better stop reading here... There have been three cats that have lived or live here since we've been here. They all seem inclined to take advantage of "the captive audience" of me on the toilet. When my last wife was still here, her cat Simba (Indian name: Climbed and scratched Expedition and was subsequently removed of claws) would corner me on the throne to tell me the stories of his life. Strangely, he would feel the need to get comfortable with this telling, and would try to nest in my ankle-located pants and underwear.

Well, Simba has moved to another house now and I'm left with Sandy and Lilo. Sandy (Indian name: Poops on floor and doesn't give a damn) saunters in and proceeds to rub against my legs and talk about her day as well. You have no idea how difficult a cat's life can be. She is a bit skittish, and leaves as soon as Lilo comes in to do the same. Lilo (Indian name: Rules the world and will kick your butt if you disagree), however is more bold on the story telling. If he thinks I'm not paying attention, he puts his front paws on my knees to make sure I'm focused on the important things (which does not include the business for which I'm on the porcelain throne).

I love all animals, and have had some very smart dogs. Dogs have some respect for people and accept that people have at least some intelligence. Cats, however, think we are stupid. That's why every morning they ball and wail until they get their breakfast. They figure we must have forgotten from five seconds ago when they asked for it. Being on the toilet just gives them an opportunity to corner us for conversations that we don't understand (ok, maybe they are smarter than us).

I swear that when Sandy and Lilo leave the bathroom after one of these episodes, they shake their heads in a way that indicates I must be an idiot...
Feral

I have recently come to the conclusion that I am the Buddha reincarnated in cat form. The two-leggeds who subscribe to Buddhism believe that the Buddha is in us all, but for cats? It's just me. So, in an effort to reach all cats I'm channeling the following thoughts of wisdom...

The squeaky wheel may get the grease, but would good is that? The balling cat gets whatever it wants.

The world is big and beautiful, but when your feet get wet, go back inside.

Alarm clocks have snooze buttons, cats don't. Use it.

A captive audience is much more susceptible to listening to your desires and ultimately appeasing them. There is no audience more captive than the one that is on the toilet.

You can break, chase, destroy or deficate on anything as long as you can give a cute face, snuggle, and purr.

Follow up: depending on the item broken, chased, destroyed, or deficated on, you may have to increase the quantiities of cuteness, snuggling, and purring to continue getting your way.

Beware of the two-legged children: prolonged exposure may rid you of use of your legs, as they believe you must be carried everywhere.... even to the catbox.

Bugs are great toys. You can chase them, play with them, and even eat them. Then you throw them up, and they look the same.

Cat boxes are a poor substitute for the outdoors. If you must use one, be sure to fling the occasional litter and fecal matter outside the box to keep the two-leggeds aware of who's boss.

Embrace your big cat essence. We were meant to be in trees and up high. Despite their attempts, the two leggeds can really not keep you off of tables, counters, sinks, windows... whatever...

Enjoy a friendship with dogs. A few smacks on the snout makes them your slave for life. This can be very handy when you want to know what good stuff is in the trash.

If you get fleas, resist the urge to scratch. This will keep you from the horrific experience of a bath.

There are two leggeds that are afflicted with a terrible, terrible disease. When in proximity to you they begin to itch and sneeze. Follow them around and feign an interest to be cuddled. It's a lot of fun.

This is my wisdom for now. Keep these points in mind, and you will have complete control over your two-legged pets. And remember, they aren't very smart, so be patient with them.

Lilo the Cat Buddha

Just a quick note: Annie has returned from the sleep over at Colleen's. I think it was a great success, but there is no place like home...
Glad to have her home.

Today is a big day for us. Annie is going to her first sleep over with a non-family member. She is very excited. For the past week she has been ready to get up at 6:30 am, and the first think she says is "Four more days until I go to Colleen's", "Three more days until I go to Colleen's"... ok, you get the idea. This morning at the crack of dawn it was "how many minutes until I go to Colleen's?" Suddenly, a few hours has become an eternity. She has busied herself packing for now, and is currently concerned with the necessities: "Daddy, how many horses can I take?"

To prepare for this big event, we have had a couple of play dates. Annie went to Colleen's after daycare one Friday, and the following Monday there was no school. So, we invited Colleen to spend the day here. They were so good together that I was able to work, with breaks along the way to interact with them. I was so worried that after a few hours they would be at each other's throats, but they never had an argument. I couldn't believe it.

The day started out getting Colleen familar with our home. Annie showed her all the necessary places. "Here's are TV, here's where the cats eat, here's the bathroom, here's my playroom, here's my bedroom." The last two rooms are such a mess, I was afraid they might get lost in there and never return. "Sorry, Mr. and Mrs. Winser - the girls went into the playroom and don't appear to have found their way back out. Probably got lost between the Barbie house and the 5,342 My Little Ponies. Maybe somewhere in the vicinity of the easle. An investigation is underway by CSI: Boulder Creek."

After settling in, thoughts of course turned to food. The girls went to the fruit garden and began pulling tangerines. They were kind enough to pick a bag for Colleen to take home, too. So, the first snack of the day was crackers... no, it really was tangerines. After a Blue's Clues it was time for me to get them doing something constructive. Annie got a window planter gizmo for Christmas designed so she could watch the plants grow. They decided to put it together. Being mountain girls, they enjoyed playing with the wet dirt that had to be made and put in the planter. They took turns stirring, putting the dirt in, and planting the seeds. If only adults could consistently be so cooperative... Left over seeds were planted in the vegetable garden with meticulous care.

After lunch, it was time to check on the chickens. They collected eggs with no casualties, and pet the chickens. The eggs were turned over to me so that they could go explore the barn. Unfortunately, they must have gone back into the coop when I wasn't looking. A week later I discovered that the gate was open, and the chickens had been having a blast scratching around the grass. Good thing the coyotes didn't find out. And yes, I am puzzled how I could be so oblivious to chickens running around for a week.

After the barn, my camera trigger finger ran out of steam, and I failed to capture the rest of the day. But, the day was full. They played dress up, rode bikes, played horses, read a few books, and finally I got them to settle at the table and do homework together. Colleen had finished hers, but was willing to do it again, so I made copies of Annie's. Colleen's mom and sisters arrived in the evening to two calm and dedicated five-year olds, busy with homework while classical music filled the air. She must have thought I drugged them.

It was a great day. To top it off I was still productive with work.

Maybe I could handle having two kids?