Health and Fitness Update...

Note:  This is just a small part of the big picture.....This post would get way too big and out of control if I tried to cover everything about my personal health and fitness goals.  That and I sat down in front of the computer with no clue what I was going to write about.  (Actually, a common occurrence. I usually have no idea what I'm going to write about when I sit at the keyboard...I just start with whatever pops into my head and go from there.)



The lazy runner...

As hard as I try to get into running I just can't seem to get into a rhythm.  Part of it is due to nagging injuries; last year being a sore left knee and my constantly tightening/cramping shins.

Per a friend's recommendation, I went to a store that specialized in running shoes, had my gait analyzed, and paid a pretty penny on a very nice pair of running shoes.  After taking a week off and going through a series of daily stretches I was able to get back on the road -- this time with much better results.  The knee was still sore, but not as bad, and my shins got through ok.

So what lesson was learned from this experience?

Not a damn thing.  This year dumb ass went out and picked up a pair of shoes, on sale, from another store and, (I'm guessing) as a result, ended up sitting out Tera's first 5K of the year with a shooting pain in the arch of my left foot.  (I was in Dave Ramsey mode when I bought the shoes.  I just couldn't help feeling guilty for wanting to purchase an expensive pair of shoes and went the cheap route....Yeah -- mistake)

I will not make that mistake again.  If I'm going to run I'm going to have to pony up the bucks for a really good pair of shoes.  In the meantime I have purchased a pair of insoles (not the cheap ones) to hopefully get me through the rest of the year.

This weeks 5K runs have been tolerable --- not great -- but tolerable. With a ten minute per mile average I won't be winning any races but it will be enough to keep up with Tera, which is all that really matters.

However, I have to admit that even though I have been running I just can't seem to get into it mentally.  Lately my train of thought has been that if there isn't either a ball or an axe wielding homicidal maniac involved then I really don't see the point in running.

But I'm sure my current state of mind is due to the frustration I'm feeling about missing out on Tera's run.  I'll get through this....I always do.

Scale?  What scale?

I have not weighed myself once since I left the work force almost a year and a half ago.  I have no idea what I weigh and I really don't care.

I had decided that I was going to experiment with gauging my health not in how much I weigh but how good I feel.  So far, all my clothes still fit,  I don't have a beer gut, and I don't feel any less energetic.  I will take that as a sign that I'm doing ok.  However.......

Calories?  What calories?
I'm not in near as good of shape as I could be.  When I decided to kick the scale to the side I also decided to quit counting calories and rely on my body to tell me when I needed to eat.

Unfortunately it hasn't been my body that has been telling me when to eat; it's been my eyes, my cravings, and my family that has been telling me.

Anyone who has ever tried to follow a strict diet knows that it can be extremely difficult to stay on task; nearly impossible without the support of family.

But I am not about to throw Karla and the kids under the bus for not eating well.  I'm placing that blame squarely on myself.  There are two reasons for this:

1.  I don't cook worth a crap.  I've had some minor success with fried rice, spaghetti, and just about anything that you can throw into a crock pot.  But I have also had quite a few abysmal failures.  When your nine year old daughter comes into the house and asks "What is that?  It smells like butt." on more than one occasion, you know that your cooking skills are lacking.

     When I became a stay at home dad I was supposed to take over all the cooking, but Karla has been making supper more frequently that I would like her too.

    I have to be honest.  If cooking were my main job I would have been fired a long time ago.

    But I'm not going to let this discourage me (much).  I will keep trying.

    I've cooked and I have watched Karla cook --- and I have no idea how she manages to make everything taste good.

When I cook I followed the directions in the book down to the letter (well, at least I try to). Every thing I need to accomplish my task is laid out ahead of time and when I finish, aside from a few dirty dishes, the kitchen looks no worse for wear.

When Karla cooks the cook book is nothing more than a loose guideline.  She dives right into the meal without going through the recipe checklist and, more then once, I have heard her say either A.  I'll be right back, I need to go to the store or B.  Well, let's just see what we have in the cupboard to use as a substitute.

I can't operate that way.  Such willy-nilly lack or organization would drive me up a wall.

Pots and pans bang as if she were occasionally throwing one against a wall.  Smoke rolls out of the kitchen and the windows are opened to vent just enough out so as to provide nearly adequate vision for the task at hand.

Dishes, silverware, and ingredients are strewn about the counter and the floor.  The dog hasn't left Karla's side, knowing all to well that something good will most likely hit the floor in the near future.

As she finishes her culinary masterpiece she begins to pile dishes up in the sink.  Nearly all the pots and pans have food burnt to the bottom of them.  I begin to cuss as I grab steel wool out from under the kitchen sink and, as I scrub, I begin to wonder if I will blow out an elbow before getting this f@($^&# pot clean.

I swear, by the time Karla gets done cooking it looks as if a horde of hyper active gremlins rolled through and destroyed the place.

And yet.....Her meals almost always tastes great.

So I guess the lesson learned here is that an ugly, awkward follow through garners exceptional results.

Yeah....Not going to happen.  I have to be orderly or I will go insane.


2.  I planted my first garden this year thinking that I would grow enough healthy food for us to limit our trips to the grocery store, thus reducing the temptation to purchase anything that comes out of a box or a can....

How'd that go, you ask?  Well, I prefer to look at my first attempt at gardening through rose colored glasses.  As opposed to a spectacular failure I prefer to see it as a non productive success.  Yes sir, I have to the blinders on....

I planted a bunch of herbs, forgot about them, and they shriveled up and died.  I intended to plant green beans as well but then ball season started and I never got around to it.

As far as the tomatoes go, I have no idea what happened.  They were watered everyday and yet I only manage to produce a small bag of the regular size tomatoes. I'm thinking the clay in my yard my having something to do with it, so I will have to do a better job of fertilizing/making use of my compost bin.

 The cherry tomatoes did great but they were eaten as soon as they got picked; I never had a chance to eat any of them.

Same goes for the strawberries.  Every morning Tera would go out and stand by the strawberry plants, picking and eating.  I never got to eat a strawberry either.

The peppers on the other hand did great.....but nobody wanted to eat them.  When Tera and I were picking out what to plant in our garden she swore up and down that Toby wanted ghost peppers to make salsa.  The plan was lots on tomatoes, lots of peppers (among other things), lots of salsa.

But when Toby found out what kind of peppers we got he said, "Oh God no.....Those things are too hot."

The peppers got picked.  Lots of pepper got picked.  But I have no idea what happened to them.

Okay....My first garden kind of sucked.  But I still consider it a success in that I at least tried.  I will be better prepared next spring.......I may even try to build a green house.  Given my history with tools and DIY projects, building my green house should be calamitous enough to provide good blog material.....(Always look for the silver lining..)



So, in summary, I think I can look back on my current health and fitness status and say, ok, I'm not in as good of shape as I would like to be and I'm not eating as healthy as I would like to be.

But, all in all, I can't complain.  I'm not on medication, I'm not over weight (unless you're looking at a BMI chart.....Don't even get me started on that piece of crap.), I feel good.  That's more than a lot of people my age can say.

Perhaps I've set my personal goals a little beyond my reach but, that's just fine with me.  It gives me something to shoot for.......

Keep pluggin' away....Keep pluggin away....

Sucker punch....

There comes a time in everyone's life when some jerk comes along and pegs your bullshit meter.  For Toby it came this week during a football game.

Toby has always been my laid back kid.  For years I have tried to get him amped up for football games by playing an array of intense, in your face, shatter your skull music.  Metallica, Disturbed, SOAD --- just about anything I could think of to get Toby into the rabid state I felt he needed to be in to play this game of legalized brutality.

......and it never worked.

Toby would switch over to Bob Marley and be bop around the house with the contented look of a Zen master.  All is right with the world, brother...

I just couldn't understand how a kid as laid back as Toby could possibly get anything out of football.  I've seen him make tackles and come up smiling.  I've seen him get trucked by a bruising fullback just to get up and jog back to the huddle as if nothing had ever happened.

"Don't worry.....about a thing.  Cause every little thing ---- gonna be alright."

Having never played football I had always been told that it's a game of controlled rage.  That you have to approach every game as if you are going into battle.

Toby acted as if he was going to the beach.

I asked him once what it is that he liked about football.

"Defense.  I like hitting people."

Really?  I was really confused now.  Is it possible to be a happy barbarian?  Can you really bludgeon someone with a smile on your face?

"Toby, I don't get it.  Don't you ever get fired up and angry?  Don't you just want to go out there and rip someone's head off?"

Toby shrugged nonchalantly and said, "Nah, that's just not who I am."

That was before this year......

This year, his freshman year in high school, I've notice some subtle, and not so subtle, changes in Toby.  The higher dose of testosterone surging through his body has brought along a growth spurt, pimples, and a wider range of emotions.  He can go from laughing to surly to laid back to pissed off -- sometimes all in one day.  It's not something I am accustomed to seeing.  I'm used to Toby being so quiet that I have to occasionally check on him just to see if he's alright.

But, despite this new range of emotions that his family members are trying to adjust to, Toby is still the mellowest one in our little group.  He's like a suddenly enlightened Spock, an emotionally constipated Vulcan who is now beginning to experience the wide range of feelings that an irrational human being can feel.

The first time I saw Toby get mad I thought, "Wait, who in the hell is this kid?"

The good thing is anger for Toby is very rare.  All in all, life is good in my fourteen year old son's world.

Then I went to watch him play and saw something out of him that I had never seen before....

I won't mention the school, but let's just say that I am not a big fan of them.  The three years that Toby's team has played them, two had been nothing but one long game of cheap shots.  The one game that wasn't was when we were the home team and it was actually a good game.

The two years we were the visitors we blew them out and by the halfway point of the second quarter things would start to get chippy.

Toby had never played against a dirty team before.  The first time he got blindsided after the whistle he mentioned it after the game but, in typical Toby fashion, he smiled and went on with his life.

This year was different.

I watched as Toby fire out of the slot and drove his hands into the cornerback's chest, driving him back about five yards.  The cornerback responded by grabbing Toby's face mask and throwing him to the ground.

Next play ---- Toby went after the corner again and this time the corner wasted no time in sticking his hand inside Toby's helmet, grabbing his mask, and throwing him to the ground again.

Toby went back to the huddle.

The third time it happened (all consecutively) Toby fired off the ground and got nose to nose with the kid.  The corner raised his hands as if to say "What?"

Toby came off the field and from the stands I could see how pissed he was.  He was very animated when he talked to his teammates about how this corner was playing him.  The happy-go-lucky kid had disappeared.

Toby went out the next series and lined up in the slot with his new friend lined up across from him.  As soon as the ball was snapped Toby fired off the line, went straight at the corner, and punched him in the groin.

Oh God.......

My first thought was, "Son, you are going to get your ass kicked out of this game."

But apparently the referee had left his glasses in the car.  He never flagged Toby -- just like he didn't flag the corner for throwing Toby down by his face mask.  And he didn't flag the corner after he blindsided Toby after the whistle blew.  It was almost as if these two kids didn't even exist.

Toby must have landed a good shot because the kid never bothered him after that -- although one of his teammates stomped on Toby's foot.  (I missed that one.  Toby told me about it after the game.)

The next day I talked to my brother, Tony, about it.

"Oh yeah," said Tony, "That kind shit happens all the time.  I always hated being in a pile because some jackass would either pinch your legs or grab your nuts.  There's a lot that goes on that the referee's don't see."

While such lowbrow tactics may be just part of the game for some,  I don't want my kid playing that way.  I would like to think that he's above such nonsense.

That being said, I get it -- there is only so much crap a person can endure before he feels that he needs to take matters into his own hands.

So I told Toby, "You did a good job blocking that kid.  You know how I know that?"

"No."

"Because you had him so riled up that he spent his time focused on you and not the ball.  You basically took him out of the game.  You did your job and you should be proud of that."

Then I encouraged him to not let people like that get the best of him.

"The referee wasn't calling it," said Toby, "I had to do something.  I wasn't about to let him do that to me the whole game."

Fair point.

I remember showing Toby youtube videos of Dick Butkus and told him that the growling maniac anchoring the middle of the Chicago defense was the very definition of a football player.  This is the kind of attitude and ferocity that you need to bring to each and every game.

But, after watching Toby fist a kid's testicles into his lungs, I'm not so sure anymore.  The round faced, happy child has given way to an enraged berserker.  This is just not the Toby that I'm used to seeing.

So maybe we can compromise.  Conan + Marley =  Carley?  Um.....No.  I'll work on that.

"Conan, what is best in life?"
"To crush your enemies, see them flee before you, and to hear the lamentation of the women. (addendum) --- And to do it with a smile on your face." :)
"Stir it up.....Little darlin' stir it up......."

This is Halloween...

Halloween...

I absolutely love Halloween.  I used to constantly (well, okay, I still do) daydream that I was someone else. 24/7, 365 days a year I was; from the time I could first remember up until, well, now, my mind has always had a tendency to wander.  I don't know how many times I have been engaged in conversation with someone and not been aware of it.  I could be staring right at the person and not have a clue that he or she is even talking to me.  In my warped mind, I was already somewhere else. In fact, I'm fairly certain that I have spent at least half of my life in a daydream --- and I never daydream of being something practical.

So, as a kid when Halloween rolled around, I knew that for at least one glorious night I was free to be whomever I wanted to be in public without anyone suspecting that I was off my meds.....Hell yeah, I'm all about that.  Has anyone seen my cape and tights?  Dammit......

Oh, and there's candy -- a nice bonus.  The only difference now is that I don't have to go door to door for it.  I buy it "for the trick or treaters" and then begin to piece away at it.  I may as well just have my own bag by the front door because if the kids are getting treats, then by golly, I am too.

Every Halloween ends with a slight gut ache......Ugh....

Of course as an adult I have managed to (somewhat) control my imagination....I have no choice, I am an adult which, I must say, has to be the stupidest thing that I have ever done.

So no more costumes for me......I don't want to be known as the neighborhood's weird, creepy guy.  I'll just have to settle for weird.  :)

Toby....
Anyway, it's bizarre when I think about my kids and how each one approaches Halloween.

Toby treated halloween as a golden opportunity to earn a profit; which means that he is just like his mother.  I'm not sure Toby ever really enjoyed dressing up; he just did it so he could get candy that he could sell to his classmates.

So picture this tiny, round face little boy dumping out all his booty on the living room floor.  If that were me I would have been separating all the candy out and then figuring out in what order I was going to eat everything.

Toby picked out all the gum and a few pieces of chocolate.  The rest he dumped into a bowl and taped a little sign on it that said ---- "10 cents"....

My little six year old egg head made a nice little profit.  His buddies would come over and buy up just about everything he had ---- but only after I bought all the Kit Kats and Snicker bars.  I'll be damned if I'm letting those fine pieces of chocolate leave the house.

As the years went by, Toby began to map out his territory.  He knew which houses he wanted to hit first and which ones (anywhere he got candy corn, I believe) were okay to pass on.  He had turned Halloween into a successful business; the only hiccup being that he found out that he could not sell his candy at school...Oops.

And it didn't escape me that the next year he went trick or treating he came back and marked up everything that I liked from .10 cents to .25 cents.  ----- That's highway robbery, you little shit......

But, my wallet (and my teeth) is safe this year.  Toby is a freshman this year and has given up trick or treating.  He mows lawns now to make his money.


Tera....
Now Tera, on the other hand, is just like me.  She loves dressing up and when she trick or treats she does it intending to keep every little piece of candy that she has received.

Karla watches Tera dump all of her goodies out onto the floor.  As Tera is separating she is eating.  Two pieces over here --- and one piece for me.  OM NOM NOM.....  Two pieces over here -- and one piece for me.  OM NOM NOM.....

After about the fifth candy wrapper hits the floor Karla steps in and announces that she is taking Tera's goodies and hiding them so that they can be rationed out.

Tera protests (and I would have too) but Karla is right.  If she doesn't hide the candy Tera will eat herself sick.

Karla:  "You can have two pieces of candy when you get home from school."

Tera:  "AAAWWW....."

Karla takes Tera's goodies and stashes them away --- without letting me know where she hid it, dammit......

Costumes...
I'm surprised Karla hasn't put a shock collar on Tera and I when we go to the Halloween store.  Of course I guess she doesn't need to since she has control of the checkbook.

Tera and I usually skip the cheapo costumes and go right for the expensive paraphernalia.  The costume has to look as authentic a possible in order for halloween to be fun -- and it makes it easier to get into character.  :)

Karla does not see the amusement in it at all.  It's not a Roth IRA or a flow chart showing our  bank accounts and the "wonderful" power of compound interest.  Miss Practicality has a hard time understanding why on earth Tera and I just have to have one hundred and fifty pieces of halloween lawn art.

Tera and I:  "It's a werewolf.  Isn't that cool?"

Karla:  "You know you could just make ghosts out of pillow cases and hang them from the trees, right?"

Tera and I:  "Really?  Oh boy......"

Karla: "Yes, really."

Killjoy.....

I think Karla either totally missed the sarcasm in our voice of just chose to ignore it.  (I'm guessing ignore)

We spent the following afternoon hanging pillow case ghosts on the tree limbs for Halloween........Crap.

I didn't even bother asking to go to the Halloween store this year.  A grown man child can only hear
"No" so many times.


This year Tera decided that she wanted to be Coraline for Halloween.  Coraline is a character in a Neil Gaiman book and Tim Burton movie.

In the book/movie Coraline has a doll made to her likeness that she carries about.

So Tera and I decided that, in order for the costume to be authentic, a Coraline doll was a much needed accessory.

I got online and found the exact doll that I was searching for --- and it could be mine for $200.

Ouch.  How can a ten inch doll cost so damn much?  Karla will never go for it.

A search for yellow Wellington boots found a pair for $50.  Ouch....again.

If this keeps up Karla is going to have Tera trick or treating dressed in a bed sheet and a paper bag.

(I did find it amusing that after my search I got on Facebook and suddenly saw ads for Wellington boots.  Hmm.)

I didn't even bother looking for the raincoat and blue wig.  I turned it over to Karla and prayed that we could find some kind of compromise.  It wasn't five minutes before Karla decided that she could make the Coraline doll herself........(Please be a close to the real thing as possible....It's just not the same if it's not authentic.)

Tera and I have a couple of weeks to wear Mom down.....Pray for us.




This year Toby has a football game on Halloween night so it will be Karla and Tera trick or treating; which will drive Tera crazy.

Tera:  "Hurry up!!!!"

So if you happen to be one of my local readers just remember that I like Kit Kats and Snickers bar.....Er, I mean, TERA likes Kit Kats and Snickers bars.......

Have a happy Halloween!!!!

I can't take you anywhere...

There are those times as a parent when you wonder just where in the hell you went wrong.  If I had a dollar for every time either Karla or myself told our hooligans "I thought I raised you better" I would be sitting on a beach right now enjoying my early retirement......

Well, ok, it's not that bad --- it just feels that way sometimes.

This week, for instance, I took Toby and Tera to the eye doctor for a routine checkup. Not big deal, right?  We'd be in and out in no time.

We approached the front desk where three women were there to greet us with a pleasant, business etiquette like smile.

"Can we help you?" the older lady asks.

"Yes, Tera and Toby have 1:40 and 2 o'clock appointments."

"Ok, do you have your medical card with you?" asks the younger lady.

"Yes" I say as I'm handed a form to sign.......and that's when the routine checkup morphed into every parents nightmare.

Number one son detonated one, maybe even two, methane grenades and quietly walked away to the back of the waiting room, leaving Tera, myself, and the receptionists encircled in a noxious cloud of death.  It was the perfect hit and run attack.  The execution was flawless; no one suspected a thing.  He must have trained for years to pull off this attack with such barbaric and heartless precision.

Had I control of all my faculties I would have simply taken the form to another part of the waiting room and escaped this horrible incident.  I may have even been fortunate enough to come away with only slightly burnt lungs.

But a well placed ninja fart can render the human brain almost useless as it shuts down all unnecessary activities (like walking) and goes into survival mode.

I glance at the older lady whose brain had also went into survival mode.  She stares wide eyed at the computer monitor sitting before her, desperate not to make eye contact, and acting as if there was something really interesting going on. I swear if she stared at the monitor any harder she could burn a hole through it.  Her breathing had become quick and shallow as she attempted to inhale as little of the putrid butt smoke as possible.  I would have not been surprised in the least if she were to pass out.

The corners of her mouth were curled down so bad that it almost looked as if she were the unfortunate recipient of a botched face lift......She continued to resist the urge to make any kind of eye contact with me whatsoever.  As far as she was concerned, I did not exist.

The younger lady then walk over to hand me my medical card; and her timing couldn't have been worse. She had arrived just as the death cloud was at the height of it's toxic splendor.  She stopped dead in her tracks and her eyes watered a little before glazing over into a zombie like stare.  Her mouth opened slightly as she slowly began to (incorrectly) comprehend that she had been poisoned by the man standing at the front desk.  It was simply awful.

I have no idea what happened to the third receptionist....I fear she may have disintegrated.

At this moment, when all the world seems to be spinning chaotically out of control, is where etiquette comes in to play its part.......

The first rule of farting in public is......don't fart in public.  Excuse yourself if you have to but do not, under any circumstances, do anything that will wrinkle a stranger's nose.

It was dark and over cast on this day....The wind was blowing at a high rate of speed.  Toby could have simply walked outside and released the beast to roam about freely in the open spaces of the outside world.  No one had to know a thing.

But my son is a teenage boy.....I don't think I need to say anymore.

Sooooo.....

Since Toby had forgotten about rule one, this golden nugget of valuable information, I was forced to go to rule number two when it comes to farting in public.....Act like it never happened.

I have no idea what the form I was handed said.  It could have been a paper giving the employees of this fine facility permission to draw and quarter me.

But at that moment I didn't care.  I just want to sign the paper and slink into the back of the waiting room so that I could smack the shit out of my son.

Continuing with rule number two I acted as if all was right with the world and started to sign the paper.

Tera, on the other hand, must not have been told about rule number two.

"WHOA!!!!!  DO YOU SMELL THAT?  WAS THAT YOU?  HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!

I lean over and whisper, "Tera, quit."

"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA......THAT'S TERRIBLE......HAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!"

Tera couldn't stop laughing and, moments later, Toby starts to chuckle.....

Man.....Is it just me or is it getting hot in here?

The receptionists were not impressed.  I finished signing the paper and walked away sincerely hoping that a safe would fall on me or that perhaps the starship Enterprise would just happen to fly over and beam me up and away from this rancid hell.

The rest of the appointment?  I have no idea........


Sigh......Where did I go wrong?

I suppose the silver lining to raising barbarians is that I have no shortage of blog material.

Now, if you would kindly excuse me, I desperately need to brush my teeth.....Blech.

Like looking in the mirror....

Tera has a temper.  She has always had a temper.

We are barely two months into the school year and Tera's temper has already gotten her into trouble -- twice.  The second time she got in trouble, the principal deemed her behavior as completely unacceptable.  Not really something you want to hear about your child.

As a parent I find this very disturbing.  No parent likes to be told that their child is a disruption.  I can't even begin to explain just how terribly disappointed I am and I have found myself at a point where I am questioning my parenting style.  What exactly am I doing wrong?  What teaching tool am I not using?  Why can't Tera control her temper?

The answer is because, quite simply ------- she's just like me.  Damn....When I look at Tera it's like looking in the mirror.

I was exactly the same way when I was her age; which makes it difficult for me to be mad at her.  I understand what it is she's going through and how easy it is to give into raw emotion. It's a habit that is not easy to break, but I know that she can get over this issue like I did.

I just hope (perhaps against all reason) that we can resolve this matter quickly.  What I wouldn't give for a big red happy button right now.

When I was a kid I used to fly off the handle a lot but, most of the time, I exploded at home, rarely at school. One of the first things that would happen whenever I got mad was that my brain would shut down.  Everything inside my head was cleared out except for that one thing that set me off.  From this point on I acted on raw emotion -- I let my anger take me wherever it wanted to go. There was no rational thought, no trouble shooting the problem.  Just simple, unchecked anger; and that is never a good thing.

Another thing that anger can do is suck all the ambition out of you.  I've seen it displayed a couple of times on the softball field.  Things get tough, something happens that didn't go the way Tera thought it should, and she gets angry.

But instead of lashing out she does the exact opposite.  The brain shuts down, and the body follows.  She gets quiet, the shoulders slump, the run turns into a walk or stomp, and plays that she normally makes turn into mistakes.

Yep.  I've done that too.  Sometimes it's just easier to give up than to fight through the problem.  Or at least that's the logic at the time.

This is something that I am working with Tera on right now.  Whenever she starts to act this way I remind her to "turn her brain on" and to "stay positive" and "work the problem".  Letting your brain go on auto pilot during times of adversity is the worst thing that you can do.  We must learn to get through this......



The main difference between Tera and I is that when I was a kid I was all too aware of my small stature.  I was the runt of the class; one of the smallest if not THE smallest kid every year.  I didn't hit five foot or a hundred pounds until my freshman year in high school.

So I knew that getting angry at school was not going to do me an ounce of good.  My fear of ending up a splat mark on the play ground, remnants of me traveling about on the bottoms of someone's shoes, did a wonderful job of keeping my temper in check.

The only time I ever lashed out was in the fifth grade.  I have no idea what I was thinking.  No, actually, I wasn't thinking.  You don't think when you are mad.

The kid I had been jawing back and forth with was a helluva lot bigger than I was.  The top of my head barely came up to his chest as we pushed each other back and forth.  (Well, he pushed me.  I couldn't get him to budge)

Finally, I couldn't take it any longer and I planted a fist into his gut.

Thank God the principal had been watching.  As soon as I landed that first punch, he flew out the door and broke things up.  I would not end up a splat mark on this day.

I lost all of my recesses for the entire week. Considering that I went to school back in the day of the paddle, I feel I got off lucky.  I definitely earned a good case of the red ass that day.



So.....what to do?

Knowing that we haven't made a strong enough impression with our current parenting tactics, Karla and I are attempting to think outside the box.

I have to admit that when Karla suggested meditation I had a hard time buying into it.

Outside the box, Tom, outside the box.

So I got on youtube and looked for some meditation videos.  What I found were a ton of videos with the words "Relaxation" and "Positive Energy" and "Channeling".

Yeah, I don't know about this.  It all sounds cheesy to me.

But.  I have to try.  Outside the box, Tom, outside the box.

So I just picked one and played it.  The video was nothing more than some strange, brightly colored, abstract picture.  Okay, whatever.

Then a woman's disembodied voice filled the room.  It was slow, soft, and, I don't know, kind of wispy and sexy.  I had to admit that it was very relaxing.  At that moment in time I thought that a nap was not a bad idea.

But when actually I started listening to what she was saying it just didn't work for me.  All I could think of was "Cheesy"......

"Breeath deeeply, reeelaaax you're mind -- and caaahhllmm you're body"

Wow.  Just how much pot did this woman have to smoke to sound like this?  All I could envision now was a baked woman with tousled hair and red eyes eating a bag of Cheetos in between airy phrases.

"Liiiive in haaarmony, wiiith your conscience."

Ugh.......I think I'm dying......

And what is it with people sitting crossed legged, with hands on knees, palms to the sky and eyes closed chanting "AAAaaaaahhhhhhhmmmmmm"?

How does "AAAaaaaahhhhhhhmmmmmm" relax anyone?

I just can't help it, whenever I see anyone doing this in public (it hasn't happened often, but I have seen it) I am overcome with this insane desire to land a flat palm upside their forehead.

SMACK!!!!!!

AAAaaaaahhhhhhhmmmmmm...........

Now, THAT, I would find relaxing.......



Then the mediation video went to hell when a vision of Bob Ross popped into my head.  If you don't know who Bob Ross is let me fill you in.  He was a painter who had an art show on a public broadcast station that I watched almost every Saturday morning.  In retrospect, I have no idea why.

A white guy sporting an Afro and speaking in the same airy voice that I was hearing now; he always talked about his paintings as if they were his way, and soon to be your way, of achieving nirvana.

"It's your painting, you can do whatever you want with it."

"There are no mistakes, only happy little accidents."

"It's all just a bunch of happy little trees."

Holy shit......STOP....JUST....STOP....

I turn off the video.  Ugh. This just isn't my thing.


Ok.....Karla is in charge of the meditation.

I believe what I will do is start sharing with Tera my angry moments as a kid.  Maybe that way Tera and I can reach some common ground and, from there, find a solution.

She's a great kid.  But, just like all kids, she's not perfect.  It's my job to make this imperfection work for her.

To learn how to controoooool and chaaaaaannel it.

Holy shit.....Did I really just say that?

AAAaaaaahhhhhhhmmmmmm..............