Our basement is flooded ( read: flooded again.). My carpet is bunched up with a carpet fan pumping air beneath it to dry it out. It took about a week to get the wet carpet smell out last time, a smell that I am not too terribly fond of, so I was a little frustrated to wake up this morning and get a whiff of it again. It's not nearly as traumatic as it was the first time, but it still sucks. Maybe the part that sucks the most is that this time it is kind of our fault. We had to buy an extension for the washer because of how far the drain sits away from where the machine is, and, during one of its cycles, the extension had fallen back behind the washer and crimped at the joint so that as water tried to flow through it, it backed up, and built pressure at the joint instead. POP. GUSH. You get the point.
The soccer season is almost over, only two weeks left. This will supply me with a much needed break. I need to mentally recoup so that I am fresh and can get after it in the fall. The boys' teams are doing well, both undefeated and in a position to take first place this weekend. The little girls team is coming along nicely. Last week they tied a team 6-6 who had previously beat them 6-1, so I am pretty happy about that. The big girls are a mess. I had a meeting with them and basically let them know that of the 16 girls we started with only 9 would be invited back. I've noticed that right around the age of 14, girls tend to confuse playing competitive soccer with doing the dishes or cleaning out the cat litter: something they just don't want to do some times. Unfortunately, this doesn't work where we want to play. If you're not in...you're out. No offense.
Took the family out the night before last to watch Wolverine and eat dinner. We so rarely get a chance to spend that kind of time together that it was fun to just go and hang out. The movie wasn't bad and dinner was pretty good (Mmmm, cheese fries ) but getting to spend time with my wife and kids was the best part for me.
Wolverine wasn't bad. I thought they rushed through it at times, jumping from Wolverine's childhood, to him battling in a variety of historic wars, to being recruited by Stryker, to leaving the Weapon X program in about twenty five minutes. I wish they had slowed it down a bit and let the audience savor the story. They took some liberties with the film, which was expected, making Wolverine and Sabertooth brothers, having Silver fox and Emma Frost sisters --- What?? One is as native american as you can get while the other is a pale and extremely nordic blond white girl ....Eh?? -- so as long as you could swallow that, it wasn't bad. If you didn't stay until after the very last credits to see how Deadpool turned out, you missed a pretty creepy scene.
Crap, time to get to work.
Out.
Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear Joooooddddddiiiiieeeee!!! Haaaaappppppyyyyyyyy Birthday to yoooooooouuuuuuuu!!!
Love you momma!
The tournament is set up so that each team plays 3 pool games and then, depending on how they are seeded, enter into the playoffs. The top two seeds from each pool play in the semi-finals, with the winners moving on to the finals and the losers playing in a consolation game. In our first two games the boys did very well, winning 4-0 and 7-2 on Saturday. We left day one feeling rather confident, but knew that the third game, the sunday game, would be the toughest. We played the Swarm, a team that we have always ended up playing in this tournament no matter what pool we are in, and the games are always close. 2-1 or 3-2 is the norm, with both teams going back and forth on who was the victor. But, as previously mentioned, this year we had a much deeper squad, and liked our chances.
Well, we lost. 2-1. It really wasn't that bad because of how we lost. One of their goals came on a corner where a strong gust of wind carried the ball into the goal, and two of our goals were called back because the A/R on our side didn't know how to manage the 'off side' call. So, while it was disappointing, it wasn't heartbreaking. We were the 2 seed instead of the 1 seed and still had a shot at the finals. No big deal.
Two tornado warnings and three severe thunderstorm warnings later, they canceled the tournament and teams would be placed according to final record. Because there were two pools, seeds 1 and 1 from both pools would be first and second place, and seed 2 from both pools would each get a 3rd place medal. Needless to say, I am pissed. The boys had a shot at winning the whole thing, and instead, because of weather, will get a third place medal. Very frustrating.
Same for the big boys. They won all there games, but because of the weather and the way the scoring is set up, they will get a second or third place medal.
Yuck. After all the waiting for the tournament to get here, and all the excitement at putting the new and improved U10 Cosmos on the field, we are beat not by an opposing team, but by Mother Nature.
We will be holding tryouts in Mid-summer to add more depth to the roster, maybe I can persuade Christ to throw on the yellow and blue so that next time this won't be an issue.
- Mood:
frustrated
We are moving. Finally, this dump that we have called home for the last 5 years is almost in the rear-view mirror. I am thrilled. 3 bedrooms, 1 1/2 bath with a finished basement, not to mention a connecting garage and a FRIDGE IN THE KITCHEN!! W00T!! (Talk about living outside the loop. How sad is it that I am excited about having to go to the kitchen to get a pop?) The backyard is huge, and just in case it's not big enough, there is a huge ditch to the side of the house that the kids can play in. There was a huge ditch out back of my house growing up -- when you live in 'Lake County', which is smack-dab in the center of America's penis (check a map, not kidding) there are ditches everywhere -- and I thought it was the coolest thing ever. My kids soon will too. I'm hyped. We sign the lease tomorrow and can start moving in when ever we are ready.
I don't really mind moving, but I mind packing and unpacking. I can move heavy stuff all day long, just don't ask me to load a million little nick-knacks into a Jack Daniels box. I hate it. And while I will accept the charity of all my helpful friends who will undoubtedly offer the service of their trucks, I am still going to rent the biggest fucking U-Haul I can so that I can get this done in the fewest trips. It's only about eight blocks away, so the transport won't be that bad.
I played my first indoor soccer game last Thursday and play my next one on Wednesday. My team is just a houseteam with no real organization, and we lost 9-3, but you can bet your sweet ass that I scored one. I told Babydoll that all I was looking for out there was chances to put the ball in the back of the net. Team player? HA! 31 fuckers. My team is my wife and kids, you goobers are just there to pass me the ball. ALL DAY BABY!!! ALL DAY!!!
Well, now that that's over, I'm gonna go eat Mac and Cheese mixed with Hot dogs. Yea boi!!
My 14 year old is not confined to the ideas of punishment, and thus never sees a reason to be responsible. She is a 14 year old, though treated like a 6 year old, and acts like a 10 year old. Yesterday, because she is a bully, she decided that the best way to keep her little brother from looking at her computer was to whip him with a barbie doll hard enough to leave a welt across his back. Now, this is how my daughter handles EVERYTHING....as long as whoever she deems as the newest antagonist in her life is smaller than she -- point in case: Tristan received a welt for looking at her computer, and yet her cousin, who she complained about repeatedly last night for treating her badly, received nothing of the sort. He is as big as she is, so she doesn't have the advantage she has with her little brother.
My punishment last night was simple. You whipped your brother with a barbie doll. Clean your room. Cut and dry. Pretty simple. The problem is that it isn't that simple. It can't be that simple. Not for her. Nope. Me and Mom disagree on how to handle it. Mom's solution is to bring her up here and show her the welt and explain that it is bad to do that to people and that it hurts (see: treated like a 6 year old) and my daughters response is to go downstairs and, instead of clean her room like she was told, sit on her bed and whip her own leg with the barbie doll to see how it feels (see: acts like a 10 year old.) More so, and here is the part that really pisses me off, the room isn't clean. Nope. Her punishment for lashing her little brother with a toy hard enough to leave a mark was for her to understand exactly what she did. Period. That's it. Let off the hook.
This morning mom told them at 11:00 to get ready to leave by noon. I walk in at 11:55 to find my 14 year old camped out in front of the TV with her PJs still on. I get irritated, at first with her, but then with myself. She was let off the hook the previous night because I didn't enforce the punishment if gave out. How can I blame her for not getting ready when, no matter what she does, she isn't held accountable. While I am constantly told that I don't understand how a 14 year old girl thinks/acts/feels, I do know that I was 14 once, and I didn't have parents who enforced any sort of rules. I didn't worry about the punishment because I didn't have any punishments to worry about, and it is my fear that this is what is going on in this house -- and I am to blame.
So, instead I am making an agreement with myself. I have decided that from now on when I hand out a punishment, it is going to be followed. When I give out a chore, a chore is going to be done. When I say clean the room, the room is going to get cleaned. I am done letting her off the hook and it is primarily because the hook doesn't even exist.
Well, yesterday was a first -- and by that, I mean a first day of college. I never really planned on taking any sort of college class, so it was interesting to say the least. I really thought that I was going to be at least a little nervous, but nope, nothing. Not even a slight jitter.
Babydoll is super excited, in fact she built me a first-day-of-school bag complete with pencils, pens, and two notebooks. When she got home from her classes all she wanted to do was hear about my day, which is awesome. I probably didn't convey this to her the way I should have, but it was nice to have someone in my corner and interested in what the experience was like. Love you.
Our first class was about Story/Plot/Theme/Conflict. It was very interesting and I got some awesome quotes regarding writing, though I thought the most interesting was "Times are hard; children aren't listening to their parents and everyone is writing a book." which was a statement made by Cicero, the Greek Philosopher, over 2000 years ago. The teacher is a little goofy, but very smart and pretty funny, so it should be a good time over the next 8 weeks. Next week we get into Characters, which should be interesting. I am excited to see what tools she has on expanding and deepening characters.
Week 3 is dialogue, which will also be fun. Babydoll often tells me that the strength of my book is dialogue, so finding out how to improve on this should, in theory, improve the book.
Over all it was a great motivator. I was worried that the course would be so basic that I would be bored or disinterested, but it doesn't look like that will be the case at all.
Off to get ready for work.
Oh, I found this pic of me and Babydoll coming home from Azzie's Weekend-after-new-year's-which-is-actual
( The Sim(on)s. )
Well, work has been hell. They are changing around my job requirements so that now I am required to make at least one field sale per week. The way that they want us to do this is, after we have treated a property, to look around and see if anyone is watching us and then go over and see if they are interested in the service. Even though our goals are production driven, my production goal has not gone down even though I am now required to step away from production to try and sell. Also, because of the wondrous economy we live in, our 2008 raises have been postponed for reevaluation in April of 09 to then be actually distributed (If need be) in July of 09. Great plan there. Not to mention that the percentage of production that I am paid commission on has also increased, while the number of cancels I can take in one month has lowered -- I am also paid commission on a customer retention bonus.
So basically I am not getting a raise for my gold-standard employment of 2008, though in 2009 in order to make as much money as I did last year, I am going to have to work much harder. Feels like I am going backwards.
Soccer season is almost here. For the spring we added Dari's team to the Cosmos fold and now sport four Club Teams. I am very excited to see how they do. Probably should have done it in the fall, but better late than never I guess. I am excited about the boys team as well. We've strengthened the core and have a pretty talented team, the fact that we have been put back down in B group only means that we will be able to rebuild their confidence before heading into A group in U11 next season.
Because work and Soccer have invaded my life again, writing is drifting toward the back burner. I am stuck on Chapter 26 with very little time to get through it. It's not that I don't want to write, I just can't seem to find the time.
We are lazily looking for a house. I keep telling Jodie that she needs to make calls and set up times for us to go out and look at some houses, and then don't do anything on my end to make sure it happens. Spring is just so friggin' hectic that getting anything done beyond the norm is virtually impossible.
That's about all that I have.
Oh, I found this adorable picture of my wife dressed like a teenager playing a Nintendo DS and thought I would share. Enjoy.
First. I wore a pair 36 pants today. Now, I comfortably fit a size 34 and can fit into a size 32. Why do I own 36s you ask? Me too. Anyway, so today I am wearing them....
....I am also wearing silk boxers.
Needless to say I was 'that' guy. You know 'that' guy, he's the guy who is constantly pulling up his pants with every step. The guy who looks like he doesn't know how to dress himself. You know, the 30 year old guy that looks like he is trying to be hip and cool and dress like a teenage gang-banger-wanna-be.
Yea. That was me.
Second. While waiting to get my kids out of school I watched as a 9 year old ran up to his dad and said. "Dad, did you get the Xbox fixed?"
The Dad-of-the-year's reply, to the 9 year old, who was the midst of a chaotic horde of children, went something along the lines of:
"Man, that fucking thing wouldn't come on and I was like 'fuck this shit' and went down and bought a fucking new one so you little fuckers have something to do. Now shut up and get yer sister."
Somebody kill me.
Off to soccer practice
Alright, one step closer. Next week is Washington, and then those a-holes from Big D-bag. We need the Bucs and/or Falcons to lose one of their last two games, and it doesn't look like it will be the Bucs. They play the Chargers and then the lowly Raiders. The Falcons play the Vikes this week and then the Rams, so who knows. All I know is that we need one of them to lose, and us to win our next two games.
McNabb has looked awesome over the last three games and Westbrook has been so good at doing what he does that everyone else on the field is getting open.
Let's all bow our heads now, and pray.
E
A
G
L
E
S
!!!
EAGLES!!
- Mood:
ecstatic
Earth, Wind, and Fire?
More like: Slow, Stuffed, and Inactive.
Eagles gotta win tonight.
1.) The Jedi are cooler than any concept on Star Trek. Period. Not only are they based on the Samurai, but they are just cooler. They are sci-fi warrior-priests. Nice.
2) Star Wars is not confined to the stereotypes of their races. In Star Trek, Romulans were evil and twisted politicians, Klingons were blood thirsty warriors, Feringes were smarmy thieves and hustlers, and Vulcans were logic-wielding pacifists. It didn't matter who the actual character was because you knew how they would act and/or respond based on their race. On the other hand, in Star Wars, not only was there a wormhead as Jabba's concierge, but there was a wormhead member of the Jedi Council. The race didn't define the character. (Of course, the only exception to this was the individual members of these races that joined StarFleet. Somehow, Starfleet was constantly able to find the lone member of their respective race that would make them seem different. Yea convenience.)
3) Fights are just cooler in Star Wars. From lightsaber duels to starship battles to imperial walkers on Hoth to speeder chases on the moon of Endor. There was NOTHING like this in Star Trek. Wow, so Worf got to stand behind a little table and punch a bunch of buttons so that the halo phaser around the saucer portion of the enterprise would fire. Big deal. Did you see the Trench Run????
4) The Millennium Falcon is just more interesting than the Enterprise. It just is.
5) Star Trek had the lead in the "Hottest piece of Space ass." category with Deanna Troi. That is, until, Natalie Portman signed on as Padme'. Not even close.
6) Senator Palpatine was a much wickeder villian than Q. Q would fuck with you, but the Emperor would fuck you up.
7) Weasley Crusher vs. Jar Jar Binks. Push. Both are fags. (Modern definition of the word, not the actual slang meaning.)
8) While the turn of Picard into Locutus was awesome, and my favorite SL in the entire series, it just can't compare to the fall of Anakin. Anakin's fall had a more powerful meaning; turning against everything he had ever known out of fear that Padme' would die. Becoming the devil to fight the devil. It was just much more intense overall. Also, when Anakin returns from the darkside it is because he watches his son venture to the darkness and then return by showing him mercy, which eliminated all the preconceived notions that once a darksider, always a darksider. Anakin returned to the good side out of sheer will. Picard did because they destroyed the Borg programming.
9) Why would you join Starfleet and become a mindless military drone when you could join the Rebellion and blow shit up like deflector shields??
10) Even though Data was all high tech and the default answer to every thing PIcard couldn't figure out, all it would take is ten minutes on Tatooine and the Jawa's wold have him turned into a very pale Bantha pooper scooper.
Sorry Star Trek, you lose.
Happy Thanksgiving.
I hope everybody eats until they throw-up, and then veg on the couch while watching the plethora of football games going on today.
Oh, btw, anyone know where I can get a cheap easel and a piece of particle board?
- Mood: mellow
7:00 am Saturday morning and I am up, yea!!! Why, you ask? Because Catlin and Tristan are about participate in the annual November run aptly named The Turkey Trot.
Should have some footage later to post when we get back from KC.
The boys had their second indoor practice last night. Wow, that team is just fast. Skylar has always been the burner on the team, and now, with the addition of Josh and Zane, he has players who can compliment his speed. We are still two weeks away from our first game and I am fairly confident in saying that we will be hard to beat just because of sheer speed. There wasn't a single ball last night during their scrimmage that was ever too far out of reach or too fast to catch.
Very excited.
Will post more later.
- Mood: excited
I think we just have to open our minds to new measures of discipline that will, hopefully, catch their attention and let them know that misbehaving will not be tolerated.
For instance.
- Mood: amused
What a way to start off the day. I go down stairs to wake up the girls and find that the cat has left me a little....present. Second night in a row.
How generous.
Luckily I was able to get it wrapped up without a single smear or "leavin' " only to toss it into the toilet, which them promptly clogged. Thanks for the bitch slap Murphy. The iron-will of the demon toilet, though, was no where near as tenacious as normal, and could not withstand the wrath of my plunger.
Victory is mine!
Well, now that I have started this off with a little tirade about my bathroom, let me move on to the real reason for this entry. My son turned ten a few hours ago. He has been alive for an entire decade, which is rather significant, in both his life and mine. A small reminder, Tristan is not..."mine". We do not share the same biology. Genetically, we are strangers. This is important to me, because the bond that we have has some how transcended the lack of identifying DNA that, to my understanding, is suppose to be present in a relationship that is as strong as ours.
He is ten. I am thirty. I have been around for his entire life, but more importantly, he has been around for a third of mine. While it has been my duty to raise him over these last ten years, and teach him how to "grow up", on the reverse end, he has taught me how to do the same. I was twenty when Tristan came into my life, not much more than a kid myself. It is easy as one emerges from his teenage tarriance to take on a "me against the world" mentality, but with the arrival of a child that sort of thinking goes out the window. It is no longer me against the world, but rather we against the world.
I was there for his first step. I was there for his first word. In fact, there isn't a first that Tristan has had that I haven't been right there for. I was there when he turned over a cleaned out butter bucket and wore it as a hat while running around the house in a diaper. I was there when he stood butt-naked on my coffee table and decided to express his frustration by raising his hands into the air and ....yep...PISSING like a wild sprinkler head. I was there on his first day of school, for his first play, for his first soccer game, for his first baseball game, for the first time he got scared, and for the first time he stood up for himself.
My son is ten today. And while over the next few weeks he will receive gifts to celebrate his birthday, I intend to make sure that he understands that he is the greatest gift of all.
Love you Tigger.
- Mood: thankful
In 10 days another year is in the books and I am officially on a two month vacation. Ah, the joys of working in a job that is seasonally based. 10 months on, 2 months off. That's what I'm talking about.
I so rarely use this thing - and yet pay for it ...la sigh - that I thought I would actually suck it up and just put something down. So, here it is. I realized that it has been 26 weeks since I last posted, but who is counting, right?
The last 8 weeks have been the hardest of my coaching career. We moved to a more competitive league where there are no "B" teams, everyone is elite, and while some of the girls told me they would be committed to becoming a more elite team, in the end, they failed. I don't blame them. They are 13-15 years old. This is the time in life where one thursday you want to become a pro athlete and on Friday you never want to see a ball again. The problem was that it was awkward and noticeable on the field. Disappointed doesn't even cover it.
Jodie busted the rubber cushion nose piece on her glasses last night so today after I got home from work I went and had them fixed and then drove out to her job to give them to her. That is when, with that gorgeous smile, she said to me. "Shit, I didn't bring my contact case." Oh well, at least she has them. Hopefully it offers a little bit less stress.
With the time off I have this winter I am planning on buckling down and actually trying to write something worthy of being printed. But....we'll see.
- Mood:
blah
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