Spending quality minutes with your children older than eighteen is an exercise in creativity. Take this morning for example. Getting up before they woke and started to scatter, allowed me to get the honey-do’s done. Well, it is probably more accurate to say that I needed clean underwear and clean sheets since my sweetheart gone almost all week, was due back from her writing conference later this morning. At least I wouldn’t have that added to my list of to-dos when the Missus got home. (And might earn some points for me.)
Matt and I had talked last week about changing the oil in the Honda, and this morning he approached with a window of opportunity for some bonding time. Of all the discussion and the lessons on the costs and benefits of clean oil, I’m sure the one take-away from this morning was how cool the hand-cleaner was in removing the dirty oil from our hands. There might have been another lesson on getting the oil filter off too. And until some other dad or garage mechanic shows him the oil wrench one uses to remove stubbornly-tight filters, my hammer and screwdriver lever action will be a sharp trick employed by creative ol’ dad.
blogging
The job’s not finished till the paperwork is done.
My mother had outpatient cataract surgery on Thursday. It’s amazing the possible upgrades, replacements, enhancements and other medical procedures which can be done these days – even into our old age. But, assuming that healthcare is going universal in the US sometime soon, I can only imagine the complexity of the bureaucracy which will be introduced. From the number and variety of questions that the eye clinic’s intake specialist pleasantly fired off at my mother, I would have thought it was her first visit to that clinic, that she had not paid sums in addition to her insurance, and that computers histories were not instantly available on each patient. If this encounter was any clue, we may hope for longer lifespans, if only to complete the forms and actually be treated by a doctor. Until such time as the system gets hopelessly bogged down, my mother will be able to read and understand, if not be as enthusiastic in filling out forms and questionaires – as long as the administrators realize that she may require their attention by critiquing and circling the questionaires omnipresent grammatical and spelling errors.
When a working dog works her master over
I’ve owned an Australian Shepard-mix, shelter dog for 13 of it’s nearly 14 years. I originally adopted Sydney as a companion for my Lab mix, Happy who died earlier this year. When I would take them to Dog Beach, to parks or to other open areas to run, Sydney would often apply her herding instinct to my calls to retrieve Happy off in the distance. Though she has had a sweet disposition throughout all her life, this has masked an annoying character: Sydney has been a constant “flight-risk”. Over the last ten years, my dogs caused me embarrassment and irritation in taking themselves for a walk. At least twice a year, from a loose fence plank, a poorly-shut gate, or a frequently-open front door (3 teenage boys grew up here during these ten years) one or more of our household has gone in a wandering-dog search – or met the neighbor coming to the door. These times, including two occasions when retrieved from the County Animal Shelter, Sydney and Happy – who always took his cue from her – cost me embarrassing encounters with my neighbors. A month ago, this dog got out, and during the night – started shaking and drooling uncontrollably. That episode cost me SIX HUNDRED DOLLARS and a day in the Veterinarian’s care – and little wear on the little beast. I just suffered another moment – as my neighbor informed me that Sydney was down the road again.
Now back at my feet asleep, I am considering what my pet’s contemplating for her next escape.
With Apologies to Morpheus and Neo
In the movie, “The Matrix”, the idea that we are all living in a dream world managed by computers, is of course, a good plot, but what if our reality – the universe if you will – actually IS a creation of an Almighty God? Fifty years of living, thirty or more as a working man, and ten since engagement and marriage, active belief is fundamental to my relationships. As far from a fervent, dedicated, and thoroughly indoctrinated biblical Christian as my own self-perception is, I still choose to believe that everything exists because of a loving Creator. While so much of the world is consumed by basic needs – power, recognition, gratification, hunger, comfort, I can enjoy going to a Christmas party that my wife held for her staff at a pizza place. Almost everyone came with family, were obviously enjoying themselves from the infants to the oldest adult,and the young waitress was genuinely touched when Sheri settled the bill and tip. It’s Christmas-time! When I think I could have taken the Blue Pill and remained aloof, frustrated but comfortable in my old cynical life, I see all that I would have missed.
Truths, Half-truths, and Sea Stories 