Friday, August 04, 2006

The Dark Side

Crazy Train (of thought)

Go Rams! (Hi Alicia!)

The DOT has been working on the roads around here for quite a while, especially at an intersection bisected by railroad tracks. They started on opposite ends of the intersection and began working toward the middle. Day by day the asphalt crept closer and closer to joining at the tracks. They finally finished it a few days ago. Now there is a sign that warns us there’s a “Rough Crossing” ahead. That’s a gross understatement. The road is six inches higher on one side than the other. I wonder if the Project Manager used to work on the Big Dig.

Linley jumped in the car after cheerleading practice and announced she had learned a drill that made her feel like a Cheetah Girl. I spewed hot coffee – the Cheetah is a strip club in Atlanta. Apparently a Cheetah Girl is also a cartoon character, I came to find out after scalding myself. Whew!

It is hot, humid and balmy in Atlanta. I won’t say who, but last night after sitting on my porch one of my southern lady neighbors stood to go home and said, “Let me pull my dress out of my crack.”

If you can’t do two things at once, you probably shouldn’t drive and talk on the cell phone. And those turn lanes in the middle of the road – you’re supposed to get in it in advance of your turn so that you do not obstruct traffic following behind you. So who are these idiots that go half-way in the turn lane, leaving their rear end in the through lane, doing you guessed it, obstructing traffic. I think the driving test should include an IQ test.

Marital Bliss

My wife is so dang beautiful I sometimes feel either guilty she’s stuck with me or so proud I want to show her off. She’s sweet, attentive and a good soul, too. Her only shortcoming is her psycho-attachment to that little dog that annoys the beef stew out of me. Why am I so annoyed with Princess? Last night my daughter bought her a tutu. Jill has recruited my child to the dark side.

Kid-bytes

Ring – ring. I answer the phone. It’s Meagan.
“Dad, can I buy some new underwear?”
“What’s wrong with your old underwear?”
“They have balls all over ‘em.”
“Excuse me?”
“Little balled up stringy thingies all over them. And the waist bands are loose, too.”
“Do they still cover your butt?”
“Not really, they are also kinda thin.”
“Does anyone see you in your underwear?” She’d better get this one right.
“No.”
“Then I don’t see the need for new drawers.”
“I’m getting ready to start school.”
“So you show your butt at school?”
“Dad! Please?”
“How much?”
“Four pairs for $20.”
“Not that, how much of your butt do you show at school?”
“Can I get them?”
“So you want eight new underwears?”
“No, four pair.”
“Aren’t there two in a pair?”
“Hey, I never thought about that.”
“That’s why I have a PhD, baby.”

Book Report

Yesterday was a hard day for me for too many reasons, and at the end of it I was drained and wound up far too tight all at the same time. I sat down to try to gut through the task of writing this blog entry, but decided to check my email first. I’m so glad I did:

“I gave a copy of your book, Why a Daughter Needs a Dad, to my husband for Father's Day this year. It has turned out to be the best gift I've ever given anyone. Throughout the pages I carefully and lovingly attached pictures of him and our beautiful daughter. There are images of playful moments, pensive moments and a few poses in between. He loved it! But neither of us knew how prophetic this gift would be.

I am pregnant with our second child, and we so desperately hoped for a son. My husband is a guy's guy - college football hero, barbershop sage, etc. I am honored to be his wife and hoped that giving birth to a son would be a reflection of how much I admire and respect him. I wanted to contribute another fine, upstanding man to the world.

However, the Lord obviously knows that a son is not what our family needs. The baby playing hokey pokey with my ribcage right now is a daughter. I fought with my feelings of disappointment during the ultrasound session. When I searched my husband’s face, I couldn't read it, for the first time in the fourteen years that I have known him. He had retreated into himself in order to process the loss of the son we were not to have.

Weeks after that ultrasound session, I decided to look through your book. I am an incurable Daddy's Girl, by the way (and so was my dearly departed mom), and your book helps me through the ups and down of caring for my terminally ill father. Even when I am the ‘parent’ - begging him to eat or lecturing about taking vitamins, I still need him to be my Dad. There have been times when he has had to physically rely on me, but I've never stopped emotionally relying on that anchor that only a Dad can be. I know that I can fully love my husband because I have fully loved my father. Your book has helped me to remember that.

Your book also helps me to realize that having two daughters is a blessing. In a society of broken marriages and warped family values, my husband will have the opportunity to present to the world two fine young women who will make it an even better place because they will have grown up in our home, with a fine leader for a Dad. And a Mom who, because she has been a cherished daughter, will allow them to bask in all of the attention and private times that a daughter needs from her father.

My husband says he'll now need two copies - one for our first born, and another for her sister.”

I wrote this woman back. All I could say was thank you, thank you for lifting my spirits when I really needed it. The writer touches the reader, and the reader touches the writer. It’s a wonderful world, isn’t it?

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