Wednesday, July 27, 2011
I met Daisy when she was playing soccer at the University of Oregon. And I owe her a great deal of thanks for introducing me to the world of soccer........................women. Women who play soccer are awesome. They are confident and tough but with a soft tender underbelly of feminine charm. Look at Hope Solo for instance. A look of competitive concentration with a pink dazzle of, "Hey! I care about breast cancer too." Or maybe it helps her eyes pop or something. Whatever the case is, a woman who can drop kick a soccer ball 50 yards gives me shivers. And guess what? Soccer is like water polo on grass. Those piston legs are sprinting across the whole field. Which means their legs can crush almond shells.
Daisy was born to play soccer and had devoted so much time and effort into the game that it made my head spin. To become a Division I athlete is incredibly difficult. And to stay a Division I athlete is just as hard. I was invited over to Daisy's house (parents) and was introduced to her father who refused to shake my hand. I walked around the house and saw picture after picture of Daisy on different teams who traveled around the United States. Later I was to find the large amount of trophies and medals in a back closet. I thought to myself, "I'm some sort of sorry ass punk who is waltzing into this poor girl's life and going to detract her from her true love. I can't take her time and energy away from all that she has worked so hard for. Maybe her dad sees me as a distraction."
Later we took a drive. I stopped the car and said, "Listen, you have too much going on and I am going to just be a distraction."
"Are you breaking up with me?"
"I'm just saying that maybe we should slow down so you can concentrate on what is important."
"So your saying we should date other people?"
"Well, no because you need that time to play soccer. Y'know like getting your game face on and all of that stuff."
"Well I think I should have the right to date."
"Sure. But I'm living an hour away so it takes time and....."
"So I should date someone here in Eugene."
"So who should I date?"
"Me! Me! I want you to date me."
"It's settled then. I'm hungry so where do you want to eat?"
"Um....I don't know. Maybe Burger King."
"Nah. Something else."
And that's how Daisy and I got together. Not only could she play college soccer while taking time to date me. She could play soccer and take the time to be a wife. After her sophomore year we got married, she transferred to a college in Colorado and was able to graduate with only a thousand dollars in debt with academic and athletic scholarships.
So while I joke with her about being in love with Hope Solo. The only soccer girl I have ever found to have the whole package is Daisy. Manipulative mind games and all.
Sunday, July 10, 2011
I love camping as much as the next guy. But only if the next guy hates camping. I shouldn't say I hate camping because I have some wonderful memories growing up in which I am in a tent reading a book, roasting marshmallows over an open fire, and swimming in a freezing lake. But as an adult it is a lot different. Especially when you have children.
When you are camping with children you make decisions to play games such as "Let's Go Swimming". Let's go swimming starts with finding swimsuits, goggles, blow up toys, sunblock, hats, and life preservers. The fun is really in finding all of these items in a variety of different bags that are located in a variety of different places around camp. The first team (parents) starts by asking each other a lot of questions as to where these items are based on what each parent deems to be the most important on the list. For instance, if one parent tries to find the sunblock in the car and is unable to find it she may ask of her partner, "Do you know where the sunblock is?" If her partner does not know he may say, "No, but do you know where their goggles are?" This conversation is called, "Talking Past Each Other" and is an easy mistake to make. If the parents don't catch it right away they could end up in what is called, "An Argument" and could take up valuable swim time.
But you see, the other team (children) are not actually winning when this happens. So the children intervene by letting the parent team know how badly they would like to go swimming and how all of their cousins are actually swimming at that very moment. They say these helpful comments as motivational tools to get the parent team to hurry up. In the end it is all worth it because the half hour to get ready results in a half hour of fun in the river. But what is great about this game is it lasts for as long as you are out in the woods. So after the half hour of swim time there is another half hour hour of clean up. And after the half hour of clean up there is an hour of food preparation. Again, the children team use motivational tactics that worked so well during swim preparation. Nothing says, "you guys are doing such a good job" as, "I'm sooooooo hungry". They also think of game maneuvers to throw the parent team off such as, "I don't want to eat that." Before you know it's the bedtime game. You might notice this 2 day adventure is more of a journey than a destination.
I'll be honest, while camping is tiresome it is also an amazing memory to create for the boys. I mentioned how much fun my childhood camping trips were. There are no worries when you are a kid running around in the woods. It is like the parents are the orchestrators of a beautiful ballad that keeps everything running as smooth as possible. And with all of hassle of being a camping parent now, there is nothing like the end of the day campfire with the stars shining bright. So goodbye beautiful campsite. I know you miss us already so we will come back soon.
Thursday, July 7, 2011
I was dancing with the lady in red last weekend at a wedding we attended. I have to admit, she looked more scrumptious than the cake. Then Daisy interrupted and made me dance with her. I was bummed. Actually it was Daisy that took center stage. The bride was quite annoyed.
We left at 3 and traveled up into the mountains where the wedding took place. It was beautiful. The ceremony was set by a lake with a backdrop of tall fir trees. The ceremony included everything you could imagine. Poetry readings, prayers, blessings, everyone touching the rings, memorized wedding vows, sand, and stories. We ate, we toasted, we drank, we ate cake, and danced. We got home at 11 so it was an 8 hour celebration from start to finish. If you consider we celebrated during our drive up there.
Daisy left our home a couple of days before the wedding in order to be part of the preparation, bachelorette party, and rehearsal dinner. I thought it was great because I could have time to do things around the house. That was fun until I found myself a day and a half later streaming, "Hot Tub Time Machine" thorugh Netflix. I realized Daisy's company wasn't so bad after all. Had I been taking her for granted? Never! Could I be becoming dependent upon her for happiness?!? Holy crap, her evil manipulative plan has begun to take effect. I'll just head to Eugene and act casual like I didn't care about her. Then she would know she doesn't have power over me.
The problem was that I did care. I showed up and was very happy to see her and the boys. Life is better with them. So what does this have to do with the wedding? Well Daisy is dancing around the room socializing and making people laugh. She really was the lady in red with everyone wanting to chat it up with her. There I was in the corner, beer in hand, and alone with my thoughts. Does this woman really need me as much as I need her? I could keel over dead and she wouldn't even know it for at least a couple of hours. And then, if there were enough guys still there, she could charm her way into a ride home. By the time the drive is over she would have found a new father/income for the boys.
We finally depart after the bride and groom ran past our tunnel of sparklers. The next night I was feeling sorry for myself and needed encouragement. So I did what any man who needed ego stroking would do. I took off my shirt and flexed. "Daisy look!"
She looked up. "That's very nice dear." As she turned back to her book.
I unflexed and finally took a breath. Then I went to bed. Daisy crawled up next to me. This may be too graphic so if you have any young children please stop reading out loud and take them into the next room. You may even need to have someone else filter the information. I spooned her. Then she said , "You know you are my anchor right?"
"What do you mean?"
"When I was walking around the room at the wedding it was so nice to look around and find you. I knew that I could always go and be with you if I ever felt insecure."
And then, there will now be an even more graphic scene, we spooned longer. It's nice to feel I have something to give the relationship.
Saturday, July 2, 2011
After a vasectomy you need to make a deposit of semen in order to see if you have unwanted swimmers. The man must ejaculate about 20 times before going in to make a deposit so as to "clean the pipes". The sperm that may be clinging to the edges for dear life. For Daisy and I it has taken about 3 years and half of those were on my own. Just kidding. Or am I?
Anyway, I went in the first time with my deposit in hand, gave it to the woman, and promptly scurried away. I'm not even sure if I told her who I was or what was in the bag. Perhaps she called the bomb squad. Evidently they took it anyway and ran the numbers. The results said 4 and I needed to be a zero. Needed to have another 20. I went in the 2nd time and became a little more loose about the situation. I needed a blood test anyway so I asked for the cup from the lab tech. However, I did say, "I'll just run home and be back." Like masturbating at home is a much more gentlemanly thing to do. I went into the bathroom and came back with deposit in hand. "You must live close by" he said with a smirk. My results said 2 so I was headed in the right direction.
I went in a couple of days ago for another blood and semen deposit and simply said, "I'll be right back." As he was taking the needle out of my arm he said, "We have changed policy and you will have to take another number in order to hand us the bag." Bummer. I had waited 25 minutes just to get a blood draw. Now I'm going to sit with semen in my lap reading Marie Claire for another 25? I don't think so. So as I head to the bathroom I grab a number. I was 3 away so I had to be fast. I'm not 17 yrs old anymore so erections don't come (no pun intended) as fast as they used to. But I made it back just as they called my number. Victory! I handed the bag over to a different guy who asks me to come around the corner. As if it was a drug deal and we had to be stealth about the exchange.
"Who ordered this?"
"I imagine it was the doctor who did the vasectomy."
"Do you know his name?"
"No. I only met him once" (inside head) And he didn't give me flowers.
"Where did you get the procedure done?"
"Some hospital in Portland." (inside head) Is he questioning if I actually had it done in the first place? Maybe I should tell him it was a back alley and seem utterly shocked when he says that behavior was not appropriate.
"Well we don't have an order in place."
"Uhhhh....." I didn't know what to say. (inside head) Does he think I'm lying?
"I'm going to have to call someone."
"Uhhhh....." (inside head) Call who? The police? Is this criminal to make a semen deposit if you don't have an order to do so?" Does he seriously think I'm doing this for fun?!?
"I have had this done twice already. I guess I have stubborn swimmers." No response. His back is to me, mumbling, and looks back. (inside head) Does he think I'm going to escape? Do I have reason to? Crap! They have my DNA. I'm stuck. Maybe I should call Daisy. He hangs up.
"That doctor no longer works for us." We stare at each other. (inside head) Was he a quack? Was he fired for not doing procedures well enough? Am I going to have to do this god awful surgery again?
"I'm going to call someone else." (inside head) Why can't this guy make the order? Why can't I? What if I just wanted a sperm count for no other reason than to see what it was? So what? If I was that crazy why would I have kept it in the brown paper bag? I would want to show it off for everyone to see. I would have said in a loud voice, "I would like to deposit my semen!" Made jokes about what it was like to masturbate in their bathroom down the hall and not have it be a big deal if they couldn't find an order because, for one, there isn't an order. And two, my jollies have already run their course. Unless part of my jollies include arguing about my semen deposit. But excitement doesn't come from shamefully sitting in the corner pretending to text people and that is exactly what I was doing. I wanted to ask if I could get my one free phone call and what the bail might be.
"We were able to get another order." He said. I walked toward the waiting room without saying anything. And I thought the worst part was the procedure itself.
Friday, July 1, 2011
I decide to take my boys on a picnic to a rather obscure park near the house where I grew up. It is a large place for them to run and a place that holds some good memories for me. They are genuinely interested in my stories (unlike Daisy) and will ask me questions. I know they will never find me more interesting, or funny, than they do now so I try to take full advantage of my opportunities while they last. Well, Fire assisted in making yet another memory for me except this time it will be as an adult. And I will make sure it becomes a memory for him so he can pass it down to his children.
We have been trying to potty train Fire for a while now. You think of a method and we have done it. Beast is really to blame for all the frustration because he was potty trained at 25 months and fully capable of holding urine during the night a month later. Three years later and he has never had an accident. He has a sphincter of iron and a bladder of steel. So Fire is three years old and starting to get it. He has also become quite manipulative in needing to go potty about 15 minutes after being laid down for the night. Pushing out a quarter of an inch turd and expecting a popcorn movie night. And you know what? We do it. We get Beast out of bed and stream a Phineas and Ferb show off of netflix.
So we are at the park and Fire states, "I have to poop" and gets down from the bench. He looks at me like, "Where should I start walking?" as I look around and spot absolutely nothing. There used to a Honeybucket outhouse and a working water fountain but both have since been taken away. I didn't want him to go in his pants since that is no fun for anyone. Well, maybe Fire since he seems to think it is hilarious for us to give chase when we know he has crapped his underwear. He taunts us with, "I pooped my pants!" and then runs away laughing like a madman. So, needless to say, I did not want to miss this opportunity.
I remembered we had toilet tissues in the car for runny noses and went to grab it. Then, as if God had ordained it, there were doggie waste bags hanging out of a dispenser 20 yards a way. Do I sit him on a log or do I have him squat? How do I contain the toxic waste that is about to flow if it will actually flow at all. We ran to a corner of the park where there is an overflow of bushes. He squats while I hold his hands and pray. Two seconds later and he was done. And this was a man's size poop too. Not exactly solid so it would have been quite a cleanup. But we were not out of the woods just yet. I wiped him and pulled up his pants. And then all three of us stood there looking down at this creation Fire had made. Now here is where it gets interesting. We don't have dogs so I have never used a doggie waste bag before. The bag didn't have instructions and I didn't want to run back to the dispenser for fear the boys would get weird ideas in their heads about what to do with this......stuff.
"How could I not know" you say. Well, it was a fancy one so it had a black piece at the end for better grabbing and, in my flustered state, I assumed you used that to grab from the outside rather than inside. When you have two boys that have attention spans of gnats you don't always have time to think about your actions before you do them. Because any mistake on my part is still better than any good idea they may have. So I gingerly reach down and grab. At this point every move I make is important. Much like playing the board game "Operation" where the red light buzzes when you are a millimeter off target, I was avoiding poop on skin contact. And I was successful! This is where you burst into spontaneous applause. Poop in garbage and onto the playground.
But in my neurosis I couldn't shake the feeling that there was a small chance I wasn't successful. This is where hand sanitizer is a good idea. And washing my hands in the algae filled pond didn't seem like a good idea either. So I licked my hands. I'm kidding!
I have to see a client now. Ta ta.