Laugh or Cry

It's been said that you generally have two choices in difficult times: you can laugh or cry. Generally, I prefer laughter. Here's a few things kicking over the giggle box the last day or so. 

Back in high school and college, I ate a lot of Taco Bell. If ever there was a marketing partnership made for each other, it's Taco Bell and Scott.

So, yesterday, after we got the "bad news" from the hospice nurse, I took The Queen and M&M for a short walk to our favorite neighborhood coffee shop for a little out of the house treat time. M&M decided to bring her little remote control Jeep with us. When we arrived at the coffee shop, the opportunity to park it next to it's full sized counterpart was too much to pass up. 

Found on FaceBook in one of  the Monster Hunter International groups. The look on that Bucket o' Floof is just too funny. 

So, M&M's long suffering rabbit Taco has learned to use the cat door. This, of course, is a source of great  pleasure for M&M who loves her bunny. Apparently, today was dress up day for poor Taco. I heard shirts were involved but no photos of Taco in a T-shirt were recorded for posterity. Or so I am told. I think the unicorn headband is a nice touch, and the look on his face tells it all.

Miscellaneous, Randomness and Other Stuff

In no particular order, I thought I would open the tap a little bit and relieve some pressure in the blog material accumulator before things get too jumbled up.

In the Frankensteinian "Fire Bad!" category, Number One Follower had an unfortunate incident in his home shop a while back. To add insult to misfortune, it was were the bulk of his firearms and associated accessories were stored. Neither NOF nor his wife were home at the time. Fortunately, a neighbor called NOF and the fire department before things got too out of control. That also triggered calls from NOF to the FD that there was ammunition and such in the shop. I also got a call to come assist with removing items as necessary. The fire department investigator said the fire was accidental. Based on the area of origin, the most likely culprit is faulty/damaged wiring. The good news is that NOF has pretty good insurance and should come out of the deal in pretty good shape overall. 

Formerly a plastic shelving unit full of ammunition. 

Ruger Precision Rifle with heat damaged barrel

The Queen and I decided it was high time for some one on one quality time not too long ago. We love our daughter, M&M dearly and will and have taken her pretty much everywhere with us. So, it was not much of a surprise to either of us that it had been more than 7 years since the two of us had taken  solo getaway. Plans were hatched, and we hoped in The Queen's chariot for a long weekend jaunt down to Corpus Christi. I should make a brief side note here. Anytime The Queen is in the car, her eyes are invariably drawn to animals in distress. This trip was no different. I was in the passenger seat, head down, working (being able to work from literally anywhere there is a half way decent cellular data connection has huge advantages for me) when I hear a gasp from the driver's seat.

I asked what the function was, and The Queen informed me that she saw a cat in the center median of the highway. Said highway being 1-35 in Kyle, TX just south of Austin which is six lanes of NAFTA's main thoroughfare in the US. So, I told The Queen to flip a U-turn at the next exit and go back in search of the feline. The Queen was conflicted for a moment between her concern for the cat and her desire not to ruin our trip. I reminded her that, if we did not make efforts to resolve the mystery of said feline's fate, The Queen would spend the rest of the trip worrying about it.

After a failed first attempt to relocate the fur ball, we were able reacquire the ungrateful fur turd cat on The Queen's pet radar with the second north/south U-turn circuit. Not wanting to spook the cat into running into the highway and also being fairly certain that the center median was not wide enough for the chariot, I had The Queen Park in the outside shoulder. After assessing the chances of making it across and back more or less in one piece, I found a narrow window in traffic through which I could reasonably shamble across three lanes of interstate without getting flattened by a semi or causing a soccer mom to panic stop a mini van.

Then, I began the process of trying to convince Kitty McDeathwish that I was a really nice guy who was not with the government but "here to help.(TM)" After a couple of tentative crouching duck walks and sidling shuffles, I was able to get within sniffing distance of the cat. He/she/it? (we were never on first gender basis with each other) gave me a cursory sniff before allowing me to touch its head briefly before retreating back out of arms length. After several more tense moments of getting back into arm's length and watching traffic (you'd be surprised at how many people can't stay between the lines [I'm looking at you white Ford SUV...you're lucky I didn't slash your tires]), I spotted a window in the traffic that offered a reasonable chance of success, grabbed a double handful of fur, and commenced to hoofing it back across the highway. The cat was pissed off thoroughly unamused and expressed its displeasure by trying to eviscerate my arm. Fortunately,  my wind breaker took most of the  abuse. Once we reached the grassy shoulder, I engaged the catapult and released it in the tall grass of the shoulder fully realizing we weren't done with the rescue yet.

Your Truly, trying to garner the trust of a feral cat and questioning my life choices.

After assuring myself that I was not bleeding to death and retrieving a bottle of water and a wet wipe from the car to wash the cat spit off my arm and out of the puncture wounds, I returned to my efforts to complete the rescue of the bag full of razor blades just in time to receive the assistance of one of Kyle PD's finest. We had to herd the cat (literally) to a spot where we could grab it. I got a grip on it just before it tried to imitate a speed bump in the highway again. This time, the cat got up under the sleeve of my jacket and did it's level best to chew my arm off. I handed the ugly, pointy thing off to the officer who, wisely, was wearing mechanics gloves and a bullet proof vest. He escorted the cat across the service road into the woods on the other side where it was released into the relative safety of the country side.

No good deed goes unpunished.

After thanking the officer and stopping the bleeding (again), we made tracks to the nearest Starbucks for a more thorough clean up with hot water in the restroom. I'll be darned if those puncture wounds didn't bleed most of the rest of the day. They were pretty tender for the next several days too. As of this writing a couple of weeks post rescue, I still have one puncture that is still scabbed over and serving as a reminder to wear armor and bring tazers when dealing with stray cats.

M&M continues to grow like a weed. She just finished the second grade, she got a gold medal at her piano theory test, auditioned for the national piano guild and is generally continuing to be her amazing self.

Tinkle and Taco keeping a watchful eye on the pups. 

The puppies are also growing like weeds. They are inseparable. Literally. Take one away, and they both whine and cry like they've been beaten. This, of course, creates cute and humorous moments.

Dawww...the cute version of spooning

The funny version of  spooning

Oma's Alzheimer's continues its inevitable march down the drain. While generally happy when she is riding in the car or watching TV with Opa, she has developed a stubborn and belligerent streak when asked/told to do something she does not want to do...which is pretty much anything other than ride in a car or watch TV. She has also rediscovered cursing; and, while not ideal, we are thankful she latched on to "Sh*t!" instead of the universal adjective.

Lastly, we were sad to learn this past week of the passing of a long term church acquaintance of ours. I have known/been acquainted with this family for over 20 years now, and my wife has known them even longer. The family is no one special in terms of wealth or fame. They are just good people. When The Queen was going through her mystery illness and I was stuck commuting between Dallas and Houston because of work, I would call the husband semi-regularly just to have someone to talk to on the long drive. They had six kids who are all grown now.  We found out a while back that the wife had been diagnosed with cancer; and, more recently, we found out that she was bedridden and on hospice care. We took a "day off" from work to drive out to their place to visit (they live a couple hours east of us), catch up and generally give encouragement in whatever way we could.

During our visit, the wife said something that really struck me as profound. She was talking about how her bedridden state has left her totally at the mercy of others for her care most of which falls to her husband. The thing that struck me was when she said this was not what she had in mind when they said their marriage vows. She said this was not what she wanted for her husband to have to care for her and clean her and watch her in that state.

That got me to thinking. Most people say their marriage vows without ever really thinking about what they are promising or giving even a moment's thought about what the future may hold. I know I didn't really comprehend it at the time either. Everyone focuses on the "to have and to hold" and forgets about the "in sickness and in health" or "for richer or for poorer" parts of the vows. She told us that she had to learn the hard way what those vows really meant. The Queen and I understood what she meant.

She passed away peacefully surrounded by her family. I know her husband would trade anything to have her back with him and healthy, but they fulfilled their marriage vows in every sense of the word. That's increasingly rare these days. I count myself blessed to have my Queen by my side as we continue fulfilling our vows.

Ticks! Huge, Bloated, Milk Sucking Ticks!!

As of this morning, the ticks puppies are two weeks old. Their eyes are open now, and I'm pretty sure they've doubled in size already. Hard to tell without taking a measuring stick to their wiggly butts. They eat like there is no tomorrow. They go to the vet for the first time in about 3 weeks. Depending on how long Momma Lucy Laverne puts up with them, they should be adoptable in another 5 or  6 weeks. My Sister...the Devil is inclined to adopt Lucy Laverne pending introductions between LL and their current dog, a 14 year old lab named Chewy. He's a bit of a curmudgeon, but I think he'll take a shower, shave and hair cut when he sees Lucy Laverne in all her glory. So far, 3 or 4 people have expressed interest in adopting pups. If you are so inclined and you are reasonably close to the North Texas area, drop a comment. We'll make arrangements. 

Bashfule in dream land.

Bashful in his favorite position. 

Sleepy passed out on Snow White. 

The Holstein Twins, Grumpy and Dopey, Doc, Bashful and Sleepy.

Look at those teeny little pink paws!!

One of the Holstein Twins snoring through a tongue snorkel.

M&M with Bashful??

Such a cute face.

Sneezy and Doc snoozing.

M&M-isms

Here a while back, a little over two years ago to be more specific but no more precise, I wrote a quick post about some of M&M's cuter vocabulary choices. It had about the average number of page views but was an underloved and uncommented post. These things happen. I don't expect comments on every single post from every single reader. I do this for my own sanity. Your comments, while greatly appreciated and always well received, are a side benefit of my own self prescribed mental therapy.

So, of course, I have to add to it since M&M the Wonder Midget (a term of endearment she hates) continues to grow and develop which includes adding to her verbal repertoire.

First, a visual point of reference.

M&M is addicted to these things. Anytime we are on a road trip and stop at a gas station, truck stop or convenience store, large or small, she asks if they have any of these "sucky juicy things". She is, of course, enamored with the cartoon character tops. She has a pretty complete set of the Paw Patrol characters as well as a few others. Anytime we stop, she pipes up with "Can I go inside with Dad?" The Queen and I know what she's hinting at, but we don't care. It's cute. I will say, these buggers are pretty pricey for the amount of  juice you get out of them though.

The second M&Mism that I am recording for posterity is her new term of endearment for dear old dad (that'd be me). At random times, she will call for me by the name "Dadwah" (she says it pretty much like it's spelled..."dad wah" with the "wah" slightly drawn out for effect). Which, of course, endears me to her even more than normal.

One of these days, I'm getting a hat with that embroidered on it. Maybe a nice polo shirt with that embroidered over a pocket.

I just hope she keeps being cute and coming up with fun ways to look at the world. It's a lot more interesting that way.

Advice for M&M

1. "Murphy hates you. Personally." - LawDog 

See Murphy's Law. Most people don't know this, but there really was a Murphy. According to the generally accepted story, he was an engineer working on the program to develop the first jet aircraft ejection seats. While he never uttered the infamous and eponymous law in it's currently accepted form, he did say something that evoked the spirit of the law which was later paraphrased and attributed to him. 

2. Gravity sucks. Corollary - it's not just a good idea, it's a law.

3. Treat electricity with respect. See #1. Remind me one of these days to tell you the story of why I never trusted Granddaddy Aubrey. If anyone ever asks you to hold a spark plug wire, the answer is an emphatic "NO!!!" unless they agree that you will be holding it against their most sensitive anatomy.

4. Behind every warning label is an idiot with a lawyer. As the saying goes, I'm not advocating killing all the stupid people. I'm just saying let's remove all the warnings and let nature take its course. 

5. "Be nice until it's time to not be nice" Patrick Swayze as John Dalton in Roadhouse. The United States Marine Corps General John Mattis version is also instructive: "Be polite, be professional, but have a plan to kill everybody you meet."

6. There is no moral superiority in being a dead victim. God makes allowances for self defense, and turning the other cheek has nothing to do with meekly waiting for a bullet or a knife. If attacked, fight like you are the third monkey in line for the ark...and brother it's starting to rain. 

7. "It is easy to critique in leisure what a person had to do in haste." YouTuber/Firearms Trainer Paul Harrell

The longer version of this quote in the same video discussing the 1986 Miami FBI Shootout is: "It's very easy with the leisure of years to think about it what others did when they had seconds to decide on a course of action." Corollary: Hindsight is 20/20. Learn from the mistakes of other, and be thankful you didn't have to make that mistake yourself. However, don't fall into the trap of thinking you could/would have done better under the same circumstances. 

8. Napoleon Bonaparte's maxim, "Never interrupt your enemy when he is making a mistake". 

Some Much Cuteness

She's six and a half, and she's gotten so big. She's the average height of an 8 year old and she's almost too heavy for me to carry anymore. Despite that, I still can't help myself taking pictures of her when she's sleeping. This was not a posed photo either. This is the way she passed out stuffed animal and all.

And On The Seventh Day...

...She Rested.

And he, being a proud father, looked down upon her and smiled for she is everything good and right in the world.

The Everything Update

Dear Readers,

Much has transpired since last we spoke. Rather than try to string together time and sanity to do individual topic updates, I thought it would be more efficient to throw it all in a blender and see what oozes out of the mix.

WORK/BUSINESS

After an initial flurry of optimism generated by actual business coming in the door, my LLC has been conspicuously quiet for the last 3 months or so. Part of that is the seasonal nature of the business. Part is probably not enough solid business contacts to support a growing business. I’ve got a lot of people who say they want to send me business, but the grand total of those who have actually come through and sent me work can be counted on one hand.

So, in order to keep the family fed and the lights on, I took a temporary job about three months ago while continuing the “all options on the table” job search and business growth plan. The pay is not great, but it beats unemployment “benefits”. On the plus side, the company I am temping for has wanted to hire me since the third day I was in the office. Initially, I demurred since we were just getting to know each other, and I had other irons in the fire. Now, I’m just waiting for them to put a bona fide offer in writing. They didn’t choke when I threw out a salary requirements number. We shall see what, if anything, develops there. 

I fly out to FL in a few weeks for an in person interview with a company based there. I’d say it’s encouraging to have a company willing to pay for a flight, hotel and car rental to check my teeth, but I’ve been in that position before. There’s no guarantee that it will mean an offer. If there is an offer forthcoming, it will likely come down to the money (since a major relocation would be involved).

There are several other positions I am pursuing one of which is particularly interesting to me. It would be a work from home position which has a lot of appeal since we intend to homeschool the wonder midget.

Then there was the recruiter who called today about a position I interviewed for a few years ago that is open again. I suppose it’s too much to hope that that company will see the error of their ways and shower me in money.

I’m not giving up on the LLC. If the floodgates open on that front, I’ll be ecstatic. If not, I can’t afford to sit on my thumbs and not do anything.

M&M

M&M, the wonder midget and cutest not so little girl in the world, continues to grow, dazzle and amaze. She is on the downhill side of 5 and a half going on 25. She weighs in at a well-proportioned and lean 52 pounds and measures just a hair or two short of 4 feet tall. All we did was blink, and…BAM!!!...suddenly it’s getting difficult to hold her. I don’t turn down her frequent requests to be carried or held unless I absolutely have to since it won’t be long before it’s physically impossible for me to do so.

I predict she will be the first female drafted into the NBA (not WNBA) as a point guard where she will have a successful 10 year career before retiring to have kids and cure cancer or solve the world’s energy problems. When she is 50, she will be elected first empress of the world for life at which time she will ban all partisan politics and biased media reporting (transgressions of the imperial edict will be punishable by banishment to the surface of Mars where you can live out your partisan fantasies…if you can breathe).

Seriously though, her birthday falls in November which puts her in an awkward scholastic position. Were we to enroll her in public school, we would not be able to officially enroll her until fall of 2018. Then, it would be the choice of kindergarten or kindergarten. Since The Queen has been unofficially homeschooling her since she was old enough to speak coherently, M&M is already well passed pre-K and most kindergarten level school work. Heck, she already reads at a second grade level. So, the plan is to start homeschooling her this fall as an official first grader (I think) and adjust course work as necessary. We will take care of socialization through homeschool coops and play groups with kids of varying age groups. Once she is older, we will investigate having her attend extracurricular activities such as band and sports in the public school system depending on her interest.

Here lately, M&M has been demonstrating behavior well above her age level. She is a very serving and polite young lady who gets compliments everywhere she goes. When The Queen (or, more rarely, I) gets sick, she is right there to help take care of what needs to be done including fetching water, reading stories, hugs, etc. I’d take credit, but it’s all The Queen’s doing.

THE QUEEN

Poison ivy is a right evil bitch. It’s even worse when you are a highly sensitive red head that was unaware that the pesky vines you were pulling and cutting off the fence were, in fact, poison ivy. Two days and a couple of hot showers later, The Queen was covered head to toe in misery inducing rash. That was about 3 weeks ago. At its worst, the rash covered about 75 to 80 % of The Queen’s body. Her eyes almost swelled shut early on. Poor thing looked like she’d been beat up by Mike Tyson. Unfortunately, due to The Queen’s other health issues, she is unable to take the only known medical treatment which is either oral prednisone or intramuscular injection of same. We’ve tried pretty much everything that can be had over the counter. The rash has finally started receding. The worst areas remaining are her hands and forearms. I am hopeful that another week or two will see her right as rain.

In other news, we have a new mantra in the house: All Ivy is EVIL!

Avoidance and paying others to deal with any future ivy disposal needs will be the primary means of defense.

OTHER DRAMATIS PERSONAE UPDATES

OMA AND OPA

Here about two months ago, The Queen Mum (Oma) and her consort (Opa) relocated from the  outer realms to cohabitate with us here at Castle Erickson. The genesis of this move requires a little backstory.

Oma has been suffering with early onset Alzheimer’s for several years now. Her condition is not as bad as some we have known, but it does have its challenges. She recognizes us in the sense that she knows we belong there in the house, but she does not know our names or relation to her. We don’t think she remembers her own name, but it’s hard to tell sometimes. Her short term memory tops out at a couple of minutes. Overall, her health is excellent, and she is fully ambulatory and able to eat. She is, however, starting to lose her grasp on basic hygiene and other skills, and she has a bad habit of stashing food in odd places (only to be rediscovered once it is fully rotten). She is also exhibiting “Sundowner’s Syndrome” which means she gets very confused and active, almost manic, when the sun goes down. It’s apparently common with Alzheimer’s patients. Fortunately, so far, she has been a very gentle and benign patient with no major outbursts or aggressive tendencies. Hopefully that will continue. Given her overall health, we expect her to live another 20 years barring unforeseen illness.

Opa, Oma’s husband of 50+ years, had been caring for Oma on his own in addition to dealing with his own health issues for the last couple of years pretty much non-stop with the exception of our semi-regular weekend visits. Opa and Oma are within a few months of each other age wise; however, their physical conditions could not be more different. Opa’s warranty expired a long time ago, but his condition has been getting progressively worse in the last 5 years. Over the last 6 months or so, we had been noticing his energy levels declining to the point we were concerned. We are pretty sure he had a minor heart attack back in about March or so, but we could not convince him to see a doctor about it. So, that remains a guess. We finally prevailed upon him to come to our house “for a visit” with Oma to rest and let us give him a break from having to do it all for the both of them. So, in early June, they packed a week’s worth of clothes and came to our house.

As you would expect, a little love, genuine concern and regular meals goes a long way to keeping people happy, healthy and wise. Over the next couple of weeks, Opa’s desire to go home went from “maybe in a few days” to “maybe we’ll stay with you all a while longer” to “what do we need to do to move in?” We moved heaven and earth (in some cases, literally) and had their house cleaned out in short order (with lots of help from The Queen’s brother, sister-in-law, niece and nephews). There is a renter lined up to rent their house for the next 6 months following which the plan is to sell it. So, if you want a killer deal on a recently remodeled (professionally) manufactured home (double wide, 2 bed 2 bath) located in Granbury, TX, drop us a line. We’ll work out a deal. Land not included (since my brother in law owns the dirt).

MY SISTER…THE DEVIL

MS…TD is living somewhat of a parallel life to mine…albeit in mirror image. She, her esposo – The Jack of All Trades, and Niece I Do It, recently moved in with MS…TD’s father in law who is getting on up there in age as the saying goes. I, being the wonderful brother that I am, provided some assistance in the moving process. While it wasn’t the worst move I’ve ever been involved in, it was definitely in the running for a top 3 finish.

The winner and holder of the life time achievement award for bad moves was Number One Follower’s practice wife. There are two infamously memorable and epically bad moves with her fingerprints all over them. The first time was when we helped her move out of her apartment at midnight (which I found later was because she was skipping out on rent with no forwarding address)…the cockroaches were less than thrilled when we woke them up by lifting their couch (yes, THEIR couch…dozens of them). And let’s not mention the dryer lint caked on the laundry closet wall. I’m surprised the whole complex didn’t burn down. The second one will not be discussed…I’m pretty sure I came close to witnessing a murder that day (and I would have been only too glad to aid and abet the disposal of the body in the process).

But,  I digress.

In other news, MS…TD is now a genuine published author. If you are into sorta kinda romance/fantasy/smut novels, you can get your fill here , here and here. I am not currently an Amazon affiliate. So, I don’t make a dime off the referral, but MS…TD will be grateful for your support. I provided a decent amount of editing and beta reader input as well as some technical consulting on her debut novel. I was asked to beta read the second novel and got a chapter or two into it before I had other commitments get in the way. Not being a connoisseur of the genre, I can’t say if they are good, bad or ugly.

I will say that MS…TD utterly ignored my advice to change the name of her main character in her debut novel. Somewhere, I have a copy of the manuscript with the name changed to Horace. I like that only slightly better. Beau. She seriously named the lead male in a semi-romantic novel with fantasy elements…BEAU!!! Pardon me while I puke. In the most loving way possible for a human being to hurl, of course. Mephistopheles would have been better. Elmer Fudd would have been better. Sodom Wanna Gonorrhea would have been better. But, no…Beau it is. Shake my head.

MY FATHER

My father, who will henceforth be known as Reporter #6 (he had an actual, minor, credited role in Mississippi Burning), has also put his English degree to use and published a couple of novels. I’ve read a version of the first one. I have a pre-publication copy of the second one somewhere that I haven’t had a chance to read yet. Throw a few shekels at the old man if you’re of a mind to. He tells a decent story even if it’s hard to pin down a genre.

NIECE TWIG

Last fall, Twig decided to uproot and move to Georgia to continue her college education in nursing school. Apropos of nothing, her high school sweetheart, is also stationed at Fort Bragg as an Army Ranger in training. I suppose I will need to give him a blog name now that he is family.

Wait….what?

Yes, a regression is in order. Prior to Twig leaving on the midnight train to Georgia, our budding Army Ranger, henceforth to be known as Gearhead (for his true passion is cars), asked my brother in law, Jack of All Trades, for his blessing to take Twig’s hand in marriage. JOAT’s response was something along the lines of “not yet” which caused a bit of drama. Twig and Gearhead proceeded to make plans for a December wedding despite the drama. Unfortunately, the vagaries of Army life made definitive planning impossible at best. So, the young couple decided to “elope” and get married over Labor Day weekend. Their plan included a vaguely defined idea to hold a reception when time and schedules allowed. Now, for those of you who don’t remember your recent weather news, Labor Day Weekend and Georgia equals landfall for Tropical Storm Hermine. Twig and Gearhead were supposed to meet the chaplain at a Starbucks to get hitched. Well, the Starbucks closed so that the baristas could head for the hills. Not to be deterred, our young lovers got married in the cab of the chaplain’s pickup in the Starbucks parking lot while the storm raged around them.

They seem happy from what I’ve heard, and it’ll be a great story for the grandkids. Word is they plan to return to Texas when Gearhead departs the military sometime in 2019.

NIECE I DO IT

I Do It continues her edumication in the fine art of animation in which she hopes to make a career. She is a very talented artist, but I have no idea what the job prospects are for a college graduate with an art degree in animation.

THE MENAGERIE

Numbnutt, the ½ dog, and Taco, the wonder bunny, have been joined by Tinkle Splat The Wonder Cat (on the right) and Sunny (on the left whom I call Ginger Snap).

The Queen named the dog because, “He acts like a dork.” M&M named the rest of the menagerie. We weren’t entirely sure about Sunny’s gender when he first came here, but he seems to have overcome any lingering doubts about his gender by demonstrating said sexuality without concern for gender or species (much to Tinkle’s perpetual dismay).

Numbnutt is about to turn 12, and he’s slowing down a bit. We almost lost him last fall to an acute case of aggressive gastroenteritis. He recovered, but you can tell he is getting up there in age. He’s slowed down a bit, but he’s still a very loyal and sweet dog.

Taco is a recently widowered bunny after his paramour, Sky, departed for the great rabbit hole in the sky. So far, I have been successful in rejecting any attempts to play matchmaker for the poor, lonely and extremely virile bunny.

And that’s all the news that’s fit to print for now. Further updates as events warrant.

The Long Lost Adoption Day Photos

Once upon a time, in the fair city of Fort Worth, TX, a certain couple adopted a truly special child. The husband and newly minted father had made arrangements with his best friend who was into photography to take photos at a nearby park to commemorate the momentous occasion. Said photos were uploaded to website.

Now, the intrepid husband and father, being a liberal arts major and more or less non-technical had great difficulty getting said photos to download. Time and circumstance intervened; and, lo and behold, the photos didn't get downloaded, the website was taken down, and things were forgotten for a time.

Recently, our husband and father has been able to spend some time in reflective thought, and a vague memory of photos unobtained surfaced. Phone calls were made. Emails were sent, and...voila...photos are now in a certain father's possession. Much thanks to improvements in email efficiency and a friend who is both tech savvy and a data hoarder.

So, without further adieu, here are the best of the long lost adoption day photos from 2013.

This is my personal favorite. Love the lighting and the special ladies.

I can't recall for sure, but I think M&M borrowed the ball from a little boy at the park.

More Advice for M&M

1. “I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin, but by the content of their character.” Martin Luther King, Jr.

Sadly, after almost 50 years, the pendulum has swung to the other extreme in which all white people are presumed to be racist simply because they are white.

2. “Those convinced against their will are of the same opinion still.” Dale Carnegie

You never win an argument even if you are "right".

3. "The world is made for average sized people." - Daddy Hawk

Short people and tall people alike are forced to deal with a world that was not designed with them in mind. I have had three concussions that bear witness to this simple truth.

4. "Beware the man driving an old, beat up, pickup truck." - Daddy Hawk

Odds are close to even money that he's not afraid to put another dent in the truck if you drive like a jerk.

Corollary to 4. Right of way is something you yield, not something you take.

5. “No man’s life, liberty, or property are safe while the legislature is in session.” – Mark Twain

Wisdom From M&M

And now for something a little different. Not completely different, mind you. Like a penguin on your telly. That would be copyright infringement.

The Queen posted this on her Facebook page today quoting our lovely, now, 5 year old wunderkind, M&M:

"When people stop hugging, they stop loving."

I tell you what, that little girl has a lot of wisdom in her little brain. She gets it from her mom, The Queen.

I've always been a touchy, feely kind of guy (not in the pervy sense), and I never pass up a good hug. Once upon a time, I believe I had just turned 16, my dad was dropping me off at the house following some event. He stuck his hand out to me to shake my hand instead of reaching to give me a hug like he had done for the previous 16 years. I looked at him like he had just grown a second set of nostrils on an extra pair of noses. His reasoning: he thought I wouldn't want to hug him now that I was old enough to drive.

I proceeded to disabuse him of that notion.

I plan on hugging that little girl every chance I get for as long as she will allow it. Somehow, I don't think she will ever decide that she doesn't need a hug from the old man.

Advice for M&M

It’s been a while since I’ve posted any advice for my daughter. It’s not that I’ve run out of advice. It’s just that my time to record such thoughts (among other ideas) has been at a severe premium. So, without further ado my wonderful daughter, here is some much needed advice in a tumultuous, post-election (or apocalyptic depending on your perspective) world.

FYI, a lot of these were shamelessly stolen/modified from The Big Guy’s “Moving On” post at Listen to Uncle Jay.

1)      Yoga pants are the fabric equivalent of body paint. A modest, Christian woman (such as The Queen and I are attempting to raise you to be) would not wear them in public. If you choose to ignore this advice, do not be surprised when men stare at your body.

2)      Communicate concisely and clearly. Lead with the issue or question. THEN give details. That gives your audience a foundation upon which to listen and process the information you are giving them.

3)      If you’re done with something, put it away. That way, you know where to find it, and it’s out of the way.

4)      If something is broken, label it, fix it or toss it.

5)      Getting the job done is no excuse for not following the rules. Once upon a time, an AVP at a major insurance company told me “I don’t care if it’s right, I just want it done.” I told him I was not willing to do that as I would be the first person deposed when things went south and the sum total of my testimony would be: “Mr. AVP instructed me to do X despite my warnings that it violated basic ethical considerations.”

6)      Leave early for the airport. It’s better to cool your heels at the gate sipping a drink than be stuck in a traffic jam watching your plane take off.

7)      Take time to enjoy your surroundings when you travel for business. The Queen used to tell me how lucky I was to have a job that involved regular travel. I told her how lucky I felt to see the inside of a hotel room and a conference room in a variety of glamourous locales like Beaumont, TX, Willmar, MN or Davenport, IA. That’s not to say I haven’t traveled to interesting places for business and haven’t taken advantage of coming in early or staying late to see some of the sights, but it is not always possible with work and life commitments.

8)      Travel light and make your luggage stand out of the crowd. Once upon a time, The Queen and I were on a train bound for London, England when the conductor informed us we had less than 5 minutes to move ourselves and our luggage forward 6 train cars unless we wanted to be stuck in the part of the train that was NOT going to London. The Queen does not know how to pack light; and, on this particular trip, I had packed heavy as well. We had two heavy suitcases, a couple of smaller bags and an odd shaped box containing a beautiful porcelain doll that we had to lug up the narrow aisles of the train as quickly as possible. We made it…barely.

9)      You are not superwoman. Don’t be afraid to ask for help.

What's Important

In photos, not words.