Pink Cupcakes, Rainbows and King Snakes

I didn’t think it would start so soon. But, then again, the girl is exceptionally smart and does everything sooner than I expected.

She’s lying.

Well, sort of.

It’s more of a misrepresentation of reality. A happy blur between the fantasies filled with rainbows, unicorns, and confections and the reality of life with two households and parents who’s marriage has ended and who love her and her baby brother more than ever.

It’s all relatively innocent and good natured.

“Mommy took me to a Hannah Montana concert and Hannah Montana gave me her guitar.”

“Daddy made pink cupcakes with me last weekend.”

“Mommy caught a kingsnake at her house last week.”

“Daddy bought me a new horse toy and it can run down the stairs without falling.”

Her dad and I are having a pretty good laugh about it all, but we both see what’s happening here. She wants to get us to compete for her love.

Sorry kiddo. I love you and your dad does, too. More than you’ll probably ever be able to comprehend. But we’re just not buying it. There will be phone calls to verify the more far-fetched data and you’re going to learn the difference between a story and a lie.

Don’t lose your sense of whimsy though, my little one. Fantasy is often what gets us through the hardest of times. It is is the silver hope that lines our grayest clouds. Imagination breeds advancement and enlightenment. When you look at the reality and see past it for the potential, you can achieve great things.

I can’t wait for you to get the whole writing thing down though, because you’re gonna make one hell of a storyteller.

Wordless Wednesday: Filed.

Google Life

God dammit.

This is annoying.

I have to find a piece of paper.

A very important piece of paper.

A piece of paper that I need to hand over today so I can start over, start fresh.

And.

I can’t find it.

I’ve turned my place upside down and inside out.

I’ve looked through my files, in drawers, on refrigerator clips, in the glove box of my car, and behind my furniture.

I’m an obsessive organizer and nothing drives me battier than losing stuff, especially when it’s important and time sensitive.

I’m hoping it’ll turn up in my office at work. That’s why I’m heading in at o-dark-thirty to turn that office upside down.

Wish me luck.

On the bright side, my home office area is spotless and I found two things that I was looking for last week. They were exactly where they should have been.

See? I don’t have an organization problem. I just need a better search engine.

Update: The paper wasn’t at work. Fortunately, I was able to get a replacement copy in time. Again, I have been saved by the graciousness of others. It must be a karma payback for all of that spare change I put in other people’s parking meters at the airport.

Numbered days

Dad at Christmas about seven years ago

Today my dad’s turning 79.

Frankly, anyone who knows him is shocked. Hell, he’s shocked.

You see, most of the males in his family passed in their 40’s and 50’s. For him, a mid-life crisis was akin to a bucket list.

Don’t get me wrong, he wasn’t jumping out of planes or curing cancer. His bucket was full of reckless consumption.

His idea of portion control was using a spoon to eat an entire pecan pie (from the tin, mind you) while sitting in his recliner.

For him, safety precautions were things like wrapping a dish towel around the gallon of ice cream so his lap wouldn’t get too cold.

My dad was to Pepsi as Homer Simpson was to Duff Beer.

Now he’s become a cautionary tale with severe heart disease, diabetes, and all of the complications that come along with these serious conditions.

Despite all of the pleas and nagging by his doctors and his family, he is hell bent to keep most of his habits. Moderation is not in his vocabulary.

His physical and mental decline have left him shut-in and unable to leave the house except for doctors appointments, medical tests and the occasional shopping trip. It’s hard for all of us to watch. I see him slip a little more week after week. For my siblings who only see him once or twice a year, if that, the decline is even more pronounced.

It breaks my heart. The father of my childhood is long gone.

That said, I love the man he is now, as he stumbles to the backyard to watch Boo’s latest swimming feats. As he questions how I can raise two children and work full time. As he tries to keep names and birthdays straight. As he asks for a pet that he can’t and won’t take care of.

He knew his days were numbered. He just thought the numbers were lower.

Dad in 2007

With all of my love, I wish him a happy birthday. Next year I hope that he, as he puts it, is still looking at the grass from the top-side.

Wordless Wednesday: Showgirls

Chugga Chugga Boom Boom

A few weeks ago, I had the opportunity to do something I’ve always wanted to do with my kids…

Put them on a real, honest to goodness train.

Boo and Doodle have been on their share of big city metro systems, but they had yet to have the real Thomas-esque experience.

Fortunately, I opted to skip this

and took them to this.

If you’ve never done it, the Nevada Southern Railway just outside of Boulder City is a great little day trip for Vegas kids. Depending on where you are in the valley, it takes about 30-60 minutes to drive down there. Be sure to check the departure times though, as they are scheduled every few hours. And don’t be late. When they say the train leaves on time, they mean it.

The restored cars are beautiful. We opted for the open-air car. By “open air” I mean fully roofed with glassless windows so big you could fit a train-robbers horse through them. So, if you have an adventurous climber, you may want to pack your kid leash or opt for a regular car with the cushy seats.

As you amble seven miles up the track, you listen to a brief recording of the story of the Boulder line. If you want better stories, start chatting with one of the volunteers in period costume. Many of them appear to be as old as the trains and are happy to share their wealth of knowledge.

Doodle loved it. He was like a dog in the car, feeling the wind sail through his mohawk, happily cuddling with me on the bench.

Boo, not being the train lover her little brother is, was greatly disappointed that the rails didn’t really lead anywhere (They come back the same way.) and was happy to point out the futility of our journey. Her favorite part was making some new friends from the Meetup group we were there with. She surprised me a bit, insisting that we be late for dinner so we could stay in the parking lot to watch the train leave again.

As the engineer pulled out, he couldn’t help but notice my little blondie passionately waving at him.

I guess she liked it after all.

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Looking for something to go on the 4th of July in Vegas? Be sure to check out this stuff. Caution: Some activities are more kid-friendly than others. Henderson fireworks will be great, but they may see a little too much at Ditch Friday at the Palms. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

A Gift for Dear Old Dad

June’s a tough month for me.

No, it’s not the Vegas heat. For as long as I’ve lived here, I’m used to the glorious feeling of knee sweat by now.

No, it’s not the constant battle against chlorine-green hair on my little blondie. I can hose her down no problem.

It’s that June is the month where I have to track down two gifts for my dad.

Father’s Day is this weekend and his birthday is later this month.

He, I kid you not, is the hardest person to buy for.

So, rather than ruin the surprise and tell you what I’m getting him (not that I’m worried — Dad doesn’t know what a blog is, so odds are that he’s not reading this one), I’ll give you a brief rundown on the things Dad’s NOT getting this year.

Brookstone’s Frog-O-Sphere
My daddy’s a good ol’ southern boy through and through. To him, frogs are a meal, not a pet. I’m not putting my kids through the trauma of watching grandpa dip Kermit in a nice remoulade.

Nose Hair Trimmer
Speaking of gross. I have a rule. Personal care devices are not gifts. I don’t care how close we are. I don’t care how much you may need it. Some stuff should never touch giftwrap.

Self Help Books
I have another rule. Self help books are just that SELF-Help. It’s like buying your loved one a gift certificate for a therapist.

A Ride Along in a Stock Car Race
Why pay $120 to put my dad in a car and scare the crap out of him? I can do that for free driving around Vegas. Hop in, Daddy-O. Time for a Costco Run!

Bucket O’ Junk Food
Dad’s had plenty of this crap already. He’s a diabetic with inoperable heart disease. Who needs Dr. Kevorkian? A whole new meaning of death by chocolate.

A Piece of the Red Planet
Don’t get me wrong, my dad loves his real estate, but Mars? Unless you can put a condo there it may as well be and Arkansas swamp. (Oh wait, that worked for some people).

Marshmallow Tree
Personally, I think this thing rocks. However we don’t leave Dad around an open flame. There’s just not enough liability insurance out there to make this one worth it.

Bobble Babes Can Cozy
Now, THIS one one has some promise. Dad finally gets some action AND his diet coke at the same time? I’m such a thoughtful daughter. Hmmmm. It could be the gift that keeps on giving.

I’ve got to finish shopping soon, so leave your gift suggestions in the comments. Help please, or dad gets the boobie chick.

Wordless Wednesday: Counting Down

Oops she did it again.

No. This isn’t a post about Britney.

It’s about Boo.

And yes, she did it again.

Same arm.

Different place (this time was the wrist).

The cast is shorter.

She can swim and bathe in it without the Glad Press-n-Seal water barrier.

It’ll be on for four weeks.

How does she do it? She trips on her feet. This time she even landed on the grass, apparently the wrong way.

I asked the doc if I could get a “buy two get one free” discount. He wasn’t gonna go or it.

$300 later (and that’s after insurance), we have this.

Look familiar?

Her dance recital is Saturday. Damn, we almost made it. The pink cast will be glorious under the spotlights. I can’t wait.

Photo Phinish Phriday VII

And the winner is…

In the midnight hour, I’ll cry more, more, more. With a rebel yell…more, more, more. MORE, MORE, MORE, MORE, MORE!

Congrats to LoriB for appealing to the child of the 80’s within me and seeing Doodle’s striking Billy Idol resemblance. Your gift card is ready for pickup whenever you want it.

Here’s this week’s offering.

Up for grabs is a souvenir from this week’s trip to NYC…a very appropriate CD entitled, “Tunes from the Top.” It’s 12 NYC tunes exclusively available from the gift shop here.

Get your entries in by noon on Thursday, June 18. This one’s easy folks. Give me your best shot.