Tuesday, April 11, 2006

Sh it Happens

Crazy Train (of thought)

If you have to use lots of punctuation marks and smiley faces in your email to point out you are being clever, you probably aren’t.

When in Key West, expect to see two sure things: hundreds of Hemingway look-alikes and way too many people who shouldn’t be naked in public.

Why do the girls always want Prada or Dolce and Gabbana? What happened to Levis and Converse? And when did Izod become Lacoste and triple in price?

It’s a reality – if you demand respect, you ain’t gonna get it.

Something Linley and I saw yesterday on a faulty flashing DOT sign positioned just before some roadwork, “Caution, Traffic Shi ts Ahead.”

Marital Bliss

On the last night of our vacation I found a note on the nightstand next to my side of the bed. It was from Jill, written on the inn’s note paper, thanking me for taking her back to the place where we were married, the Gastonian Inn, the most romantic B&B on the east coast. I looked up and she was coming out of the bathroom draped in a robe, carrying two glasses of champagne. I won’t go into detail about what happened next. Let it be enough to say that even now, fifteen-months later, we’re still on our honeymoon.


Evidence the girls are back home: dirty dishes in the sink, lights on in empty rooms, music turned up too loud, candy wrappers left on end tables, potato chip crumbs between the sofa cushions, no hot water, peanut butter smeared on the kitchen counter, constant interruptions, shoes in the foyer, no cash in my wallet, “Dad” repeatedly called out over the intercom, and my proud heart filled with joy. Oh yes, and there are the good night kisses, too.

Today’s Rant

If a bunch of certifiable deadbeat dads got together to demonstrate against paying child support, or parole jumpers staged a convention to educate on evading police, or known felons with outstanding warrants marched on the capital, I’m pretty sure law enforcement would show up and round up. So why, I ask, isn’t the INS at the illegal alien rallies with a deportation bus?

Book Report

During our vacation Jill and I were sitting in the parlor of a B&B in Savannah, having a glass of wine and chatting about the book signing I was to do the next morning at the local Barnes and Noble. Someone was listening in and eventually joined our conversation. “Oh my God,” she said, “you wrote ‘Why a Son Needs a Mom?” Yes, I answered. She then told us of her son, a troubled young man who had left home and gotten into more trouble, but who was now back home and getting his life in order. “I gave him your book and he came home. You helped put our family back together,” she said. We both started crying and she walked over and hugged me. It made my day.

1 comment:

Caitlyn said...

i think i could have gone on with my life not knowing what u and jill do in your free time. i love u eug but i think ill pass up that information next time.
and i have been wondering why the famous caitlyn hasn't been put in any of these blogs lately. it upsets me.