Real Chicken

My five year old daughter was sitting at the table, eating some chicken wings when it finally dawns on her:

"Daddy, do these chicken wings come from the kind of chickens that goes BOK! BOK! BOK!?

Hardly containing my laughter, I answer, "Yes, they are from those kinds of chickens".

"So these are really their bones?? Why do we eat the chickens, Daddy"?

Because we like the way they taste. Why else?

My daughter hardly eats meat as it is. Now that she knows that chicken really comes from-- well -- chicken . . . I think she's going to end up being a vegetarian.

Too Smart for Me

My son wanted to sign up and create his own login account on Cartoon Network.com. But, he needed an e-mail address to use during sign-up. So, he asked me for mine.

Son: Dad, what's your e-mail address?

Me: Why do you want to know?

Son: I wanna sign up so that I can log in and keep my profile on Cartoon Network games.

Me: Am I going to get any spam after you sign up?

I was expecting to stump him with my question.

But instead, my nine year old son responds with:

Nope. You won't get any spam. I read their Privacy Agreement.

Part of the Team

In my previous post, I talked about feeling "outnumbered" racially.

Well after some reflection, I feel that I should balance that post out with this one.

Though I do feel outnumbered quite often, I have moments where I feel warmly welcomed.

One neighbor brought us cookies when we moved in and gave us some firewood. That was very, very kind. They have always been very friendly towards us since we've moved into the neighborhood.

On the soccer field yesterday, my daughter played in her first scrimmage game. She got to play as much time as anybody else. She was treated just the same as any other child, in my view.

That's all I can ask for.

And when the game was over, the parents form two lines that face each other. We then reach out and touch our raised hands together. Then, our kids run between the two lines that we've made as though they are running through a tunnel.

They loved it!

And at that moment, I didn't feel outnumbered. I felt just as my daughter did. I felt like I was part of the team.

That was a great feeling.

And to top it off, our little girls won their scrimmage game 4-0.

Tacos

At bedtime, my wife told our five-year-old daughter to pick out a "good-night" shirt for bed.

She crawls off into her closet and emerges moments later with a shirt.

She proceeds to put in on, but then pauses.

A furrow forms in her brow and with much gesticulation she says, "Momma, this shirt smells like tacos!"

We haven't had any tacos that week.

As nasty as little kids can sometimes be, she was sophisticated enough to put that shirt into her hamper and pick out another.

Out of the Mouth of Babes

Kids really know how to cut you down.

I had lost some weight, but I still have a long way to go. I have a hefty gut and I really need to trim it down for my health. And well . . . I haven't been working out like I'm supposed to be lately.

Enter my five year old daughter, who lovingly pats me on my tummy and asks, "Daddy, are you having a baby?"

What can I say? That's what I get for getting off track and eating that hamburger tonight.

Humpville

So, my wife asks my mom if she'd keep our kids for a few hours so we can have some time together.

My mom quips, "So, where are you two going tonight . . . Humpville?"

Moms know how to make you cringe, huh?

Back to School -- Again.

School has already started for the little kiddies. But, only now have the implications dawned on me that my wife has decided to go back to school, too.

Among her first assignments, she has to write a short essay on the challenges of the adult college student.

I helped her proof the essay. While helping her, all the challenges she mentions have now become apparent in our personal lives:

Hefty student loans.

She's nervous as hell and constantly doubting herself.

No personal time for herself.

No time with family (meaning, me and the kids).

That last one translates into me having to handle the kids a whole lot more on my own. Cooking and cleaning is something I always try to help with, but now I will practically become a single dad for a few months while my wife studies for school.

The kids hate it when I cook. Hardly have I seen my kids scowl so hard. Especially my son.

Despite all of this, my wife's endeavors are completely worthwhile if she sees them through to completion. She's got what it takes.

Now, if she would only recognize that herself and embrace that, she'd realize that everything will be fine on her first day back to school.

Even if I do have to find something to cook tonight.

Uptight

Seems like everyone around me is really up tight and wound up.

My son gets very, very angry if I beat him in a game of chess. But then, he gets upset if he gets the sense that I let him win or went easy on him.

My daughter wants me to let her play chess, but she really just likes to randomly move pieces around. That nice. I think that's cool that she has a great interest in chess for her age-- except when I'm trying to play a real game against her brother.

And my dear wife . . . she worries about many things herself.

Everyone is complaining to me or whining about something. I just take it all in.

*Sigh*

If it wasn't so late already, I think I'd have myself a beer and go to bed. I think I'll skip the beer and just head on to bed since I've got work.

I wonder why everyone around me stays so uptight.

Cookie Cutter U.S.A

Now, I'm not well traveled. I've been a few places across the Southeast United States. I've been just barely out towards the Southwest and I've been up north a little around Chicago and Michigan. I've also had the pleasure of visiting our nation's Capitol for a week many, many years ago.

But other than that, I really haven't been anywhere.

So maybe my comments are a bit unfair and off base.

With the exception of Washington D.C., some parts of Chicago, and Louisville, KY, all of the parts of the United States that I've been to seem like they were produced out of a cookie cutter.

I've flown over to a different time zone, but I can't find anything different to eat than what I can find back at home. At least, not yet. And I haven't seen anything different or captivating so far when compared to the current city in which I live.

I'm sure something interesting is out there somewhere, but where is it???

In the training class I'm attending, our instructor is a native of Cuba. He came back from lunch and complained that the so called Cuban restaurant where he visited wasn't authentic enough.

I'm in Tampa, Florida as I write this. I wasn't too familiar with Tampa before I got here. But from what I've noticed in just staying here one day is that there ought to be some really good Cuban food around here somewhere. I mean . . . I've seen Spanish billboards here that have no English translation. If you don't speak Spanish, that advertisement just wasn't for you.

Not to say that everyone who is Hispanic in Tampa is from Cuba. But, I bet a lot of Cubans come here to Florida. So . . . there ought to be some Cuban food that a native Cuban would call "authentic".

If he is having trouble finding some authentic and unique, how can I find something new and different in a town that is just a mirror image of where I already live?

Maybe that isn't a fair question. Perhaps I've made a false correlation. But, I feel like all hope is lost when it comes to doing something that's unique in Tampa-- something that I can't do back home. Because so far, everywhere I've been in Tampa looks the same to me.

The sweltering heat is the same.

The afternoon thunderstorms are the same.

OK, no palm trees where I live. But, I see plenty of other trees back home.

"Variety is the spice of life", I hear. I think that saying has some merit.

Ah well . . . I can't complain too much. Our hotel is really, really nice and familiarity is also comforting. But still, I'd like to see something a little different from back home. Just a little.

And on a side note: although I miss my kids, I've got a really, really, really, really, really nice break from them. They stayed back home with other family members while my wife and I traveled together. And by the way, they are doing just fine.

They May Love to Fly, but I don't.

My job is sending me to a training class. I'm headed out of town.

My wife will tag along. The company is OK with this as long as I understand that I'm responsible for taking care of her expenses. The company will only take care of my plane ticket, hotel, and car rental.

The hotel will accommodate us both, but I have to take care of the my wife's air fare.

I'll be in a training class from 9 to 4:30. My wife will get a nice little vacation while I'm in class.

Family and good friends will watch our kids while we're gone for a week.

Cross your fingers; I'll be in the air early Sunday morning.

I've got blogs queued up on MDLS (my other blog). However, if this post on this blog ends up being my last, you'll know what happened.

But hey, let's try to be positive, huh?

You can probably tell that I don't like flying much. I like it, but then again I don't.

I love when the plane lifts off the ground. I stare down with wonder when looking out of the window.

But, I become very nervous when I wonder if our pilot is drunk, sleepy, angry, suicidal, or incompetent. I get worried wondering if the airline has cut corners on safety and my plane might burst into flames on the run way, or we go careening towards the ground because of some malfunction that was ignored to save some money.

I don't even think about terrorists. I just have to ignore that idea . . .

And that's when I realize that I don't like to fly in the long run. But, I can't let my fears show.

Even though my wife has flown a few times, she is a little scared, too. So, I gotta be strong for her.

Anyhow-- hopefully, I'll live to update this blog another day.

All in all, I think I will.

Arts & Crafts

My wife is quite creative. She is an artist and has command over the elements of design.

No, she did not help me with the look and feel of this blog.

Thus the shoddy look.

She helped me just a hair with MDLS. So, don't judge her abilities based on that blog, either.

Anyway . . . I digress.

She got the idea from a friend to take some heavy duty cardboard boxes and use them as toy chests. The kids can just dump their shi . . er, toys in the box after they play, therefore making clean up time less of a chore.

Well, my wife isn't going to just get cardboard boxes and throw them in their bedrooms like I would do.

She sat the kids down, made them plan out what they will draw on each panel of the box. She had them sketch it out on paper first. Then, she had them color their sketches.

Then she went and got supplies based on their ideas. She bought cut out rockets, robots, butterflies, glue, glitter, paint, sponge brushes, beads-- the works!

Then she had them painting their boxes, painting their cut-outs, and decorating the panels of their boxes.

She reminds me of an arts & crafts kindergarten teacher.

And the kids love it!

Yes, even my 8 year old know-it-all cynic.

And I love my wife for it, too.

And I can also tell that my wife wants to make her own box, too.