tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-82057491361374955142024-03-05T14:42:01.274-08:00Reinventing DadReinvent Dadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12357054681296228882noreply@blogger.comBlogger128125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8205749136137495514.post-50216625117515624812012-03-14T11:54:00.004-07:002012-03-14T12:13:22.504-07:00A Future Shocking!I woke up early this morning with a feeling of pending dread. No, not for the near future, but instead the seemingly-but-really-not-so-distant future....Spring 2022. In case your math ain't so good like my grammar, I'm projecting 10 years into the future.<div><br /></div><div>I'll assume that my wife & I are still healthy at 54, the Earth hasn't been struck by a meteor or the liberals haven't succeeded in drafting a "Brave New World." My oldest daughter will have (hopefully) graduated college and my triplets will be about to graduate high school. My Mom will be elderly and my wonderful poodle girl will not be so youthful if at all still alive. I will be 15 years removed from the mortgage biz and completely bored out of my <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">gourd</span>, kind of like today. </div><div><br /></div><div>Seriously, the United Negro College people had it right when they said "a mind is a terrible thing to waste." This applies to not only black youth, but old white guys too. What the heck am I doing? What the hell am I going to do? I am not as stupid and lazy as my current situation presents. I was good at what I did. I was a contributing member of the corporate world back in 2007. I am better than this. I will be better than this. I promise.</div><div><br /></div><div>To be continued.............please!</div><div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div></div>Reinvent Dadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12357054681296228882noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8205749136137495514.post-81093635894484185062010-05-19T10:51:00.000-07:002010-05-19T11:50:41.289-07:00Wordless Wednesday - Some resemblance?<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIoReZISi5HooGk_de7JKSOR0s9or6-zxEDe67rcLJzplna-vo8CDWCkmejST3Ji7i3NYxRObw_WMtLStaFXr7MS7nRfOqJHfGhAidx7XLbkz96xIGiWkcEOGfS9XQBRkrxquMMHAK1uUi/s1600/DSCN0010.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIoReZISi5HooGk_de7JKSOR0s9or6-zxEDe67rcLJzplna-vo8CDWCkmejST3Ji7i3NYxRObw_WMtLStaFXr7MS7nRfOqJHfGhAidx7XLbkz96xIGiWkcEOGfS9XQBRkrxquMMHAK1uUi/s320/DSCN0010.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5473042349040227266" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.channel4.com/entertainment/tv/media/L/lost/sayid.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 353px; height: 564px;" src="http://www.channel4.com/entertainment/tv/media/L/lost/sayid.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><div><div><br /></div></div>Reinvent Dadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12357054681296228882noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8205749136137495514.post-36333455978155813792010-05-17T13:25:00.000-07:002010-05-17T15:04:51.564-07:00What bugs me a whole hellava lot!Danger! Possible R.E. Dad rant coming.<div><br /></div><div>OK, I thought I was over giving a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">crapola</span> with regards to the beliefs and actions of acquaintances, neighbors, friends and even strangers. After all what individuals do with their own time and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">moola</span> shouldn't concern me. Not my biz. Shoulder shrug. Whatever man. Go ahead, water your <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">freakin</span>' lawn in the rain. See if I care?!</div><div><br /></div><div>I ain't perfect. Apparently, neither is my grammar. I've made lapses in judgement and done 'stuff' I would never tell your grandmothers (mine are both deceased), let alone my best friend. <b> </b>I believe it's in John 8 of the <b>Bible </b>that states "he who is without sin among you, let him toss the first stone.."</div><div><br /></div><div>I've sinned and if I were Catholic, I'd probably have done a few hundred "hail <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">marys</span>" in my lifetime. My moral compass doesn't always point me in the right direction, but I'm making an effort. Seriously...believe me!</div><div><br /></div><div>What's been bugging me a whole <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">hellava</span> lot lately? This whole B.S. about strategic foreclosures. You know when an individual <i>can </i>make his <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">freakin</span>' mortgage payment, but chooses not to. Just go belly up baby. Better yet dude or <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">dudette</span>, walk away you're just sticking it to the lender man who misled you in the first place. </div><div><br /></div><div>I understand underwater mortgages. Trust me. I understand unforeseen circumstances beyond one's control (e.g. death, divorce) might necessitate default. Believe me. </div><div><br /></div><div><a href="http://caps.fool.com/Blogs/ViewPost.aspx?bpid=381867&t=01000000000191692286">Has America Lost Its Moral Compass</a>? Honestly, I'd be embarrassed to tell someone that I intentionally defaulted on a loan that I could pay. I shook a hand. I signed a contract. No excuses. Rationalize it all you want. Seriously, I could rationalize that medicinal marijuana works well for helping my mood swings during <i>male </i><span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">PMS</span>. </div><div><br /></div><div>As Mom MD might say "really? really!"</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Reinvent Dadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12357054681296228882noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8205749136137495514.post-30493775394912874652010-05-14T12:20:00.001-07:002010-05-14T12:25:46.587-07:00Happy Birthday Beautiful Brenna!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6huSjPdsOJDX5iR7g1SQ020Xy_rbEM68uYcZgL7tv6w6AyK2qI-NpKT8DETHSOiDZFZcF2wOgK4QNoQ4zVv60fw8VJ-2VCsLOFNqWTgYuHV_QJZ4K4wGa_0E5w-yRAARI6ES9UBn8Ptki/s1600/IMG_2156.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6huSjPdsOJDX5iR7g1SQ020Xy_rbEM68uYcZgL7tv6w6AyK2qI-NpKT8DETHSOiDZFZcF2wOgK4QNoQ4zVv60fw8VJ-2VCsLOFNqWTgYuHV_QJZ4K4wGa_0E5w-yRAARI6ES9UBn8Ptki/s320/IMG_2156.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5471208774366912274" /></a><br />Mom MD mentioned that part of my <i>job</i> as an at-home Dad was to blog . So I'll attempt to keep it going. <div><br /></div><div>Today, however, I wanted to wish a Happy 12th Birthday to my wonderful bright and soon-to-be teenage daughter, Bren Bren. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Your family loves you lots...R.E. Dad.<div><br /></div><div>P.S. The treadmill is coming very soon!!!!!!!</div></div>Reinvent Dadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12357054681296228882noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8205749136137495514.post-51886585543074353472010-05-04T09:59:00.000-07:002010-05-04T10:57:33.028-07:00I'm still alive....I could say that my wife and I produced a baby during the vast nine months since my last post, but alas this is not the case.<br /><br /><br />Where have I gone? What am I doing? Why have I seemingly abandoned all that is the blogosphere?<br /><br /><br />Answers are simple, yet complicated. Simple as I'm still where I've always been, doing next to nothing productive or measurable in any quantitative way, but with two hands and eyes affixed to the latest all consuming social networking sites 24/7.<br /><br /><br />Complicated? Sure. Since I last worked for the man on August 23, 2007...my life has been a series of mid-life phases. Blogging from September 29, 2008 to October 4, 2009 arguably was one of those phases along with the Shall-I-Go-Right-Back-To Work Phase?, the Back Surgery and Rehab Phase, The Green Phase, The Ultra-Conservative Phase and The Facebook Phase. As a blogger, I've sought validation as a writer, a husband, a father and a human being.<br /><br /><br />After nearly three years, I'm no longer on the sidelines watching the game of corporate America unfold wishing to charge back onto the field at the first nod from my coach. I'm sitting on a bench far away from the action with my eyes looking up into the stands....<br /><br /><br />I'm not bitter. I'm not depressed. I'm not angry. I'm simply a stay-at-home parent who happens to be a man. I've volunteered in the classroom and for a few school events. Looking around the kids' school, I'm seeing many others like me (well most don't have a penis, but I can't hold that against them). They've accepted me. I'm not an outsider. I'm not a threat. I'm the dad.<br /><br /><br />More and more I hear "How fortunate are you to be able to be involved in your kids' lives?" So true. The triplets turn six in June. Brenna turns twelve in 10 days. Activities abound including T-Ball for Alec and Julia, dance for Vivian and Brenna, and piano for Brenna. Brenna recently finished her school play where she played "Mrs. Potts" in the Broadway Jr. version of "Beauty and the Beast."<br /><br /><br />Oh, and I guess that remark in the first paragraph isn't completely accurate. We <strong>do</strong> have a new baby. Her name is "Gigi" and she's a beautiful black standard poodle...doodle.Reinvent Dadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12357054681296228882noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8205749136137495514.post-39881294237953437632009-10-04T00:01:00.000-07:002009-10-04T00:01:00.635-07:00Yadda yadda<p align="center"></p><p align="left">So I've been on Facebook way too much recently attempting to craft cutesy retorts, post family pics from here to timbucktoo, and play junior detective and locate colleagues from six jobs ago. The social networking phenomenon continues. One can only wonder what life will be like ten years from now? Maybe we will be keeping tallying of new friends we meet outside the Internet as opposed to old friends we find on The Net. This would be significantly more challenging......... especially for R.E. Dad.</p><p align="left">OK, I'm wondering why on all these American reality talent shows is the British judge the <i>only</i> one who can be honest and tell it like it really is? Is this why we have TWO British judges on "America's Got Talent?" Can't Americans be critical of other Americans? To me this is a slap in the face of ALL Americans to have the Brits critique our national talent shows. The U.S. population is 5x that of the U.K. Would you find American judges on British, Chinese or Australian talent shows? Heck NO, mate.</p><p align="left">So did President Obama <i>really </i>believe that a last minute flight across the pond to plead his case for Chicago to host the 2016 Summer Olympics could sway the committee? I believe the Brazilian president had been campaigning, selling, pleading and begging the olympic committee to give Rio the nod for well over a year. Mr. President, please get back to more pressing issues like the economy or Iran.</p><p align="left">Baseball playoffs are coming this week! I absolutely love this time of year. The cool crisp autumn air combined with the win or go home intensity being played out in eight major league cities is something to behold. In baseball and unlike the NBA, any team including a Wild Card can run the table and grab the glory. Go Cardinals!</p><p align="left">Back to Facebook....has anyone ever been "de-friended?" I actually was and can't figure out why? I mean I have blocked a few people who wanted <i>me </i>to be <i>their </i>friend, but why why why did someone strike me off their list? Turns out after hours of analysis after realizing that my friend count had decreased, the person who de-friended me was someone I'd gone to high school with and knew for many years prior to this. Could it have been this blog, my political views, my cyber breath or was it an accident? I need to know. Yadda yadda. To be continued.....</p><div> </div>Reinvent Dadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12357054681296228882noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8205749136137495514.post-31318177398391339602009-10-02T13:41:00.001-07:002009-10-02T14:48:46.310-07:00Back from NYC, Letterman & stuff.I've been away so long that I almost forgot my password to re-enter the blogosphere. Fortunately after a few tries I got it right. So where have I been the past 3 weeks? Well, last week I was in New York City doing everything tourist. I had been to NYC a couple times, but never for more than a few days.<div><br /></div><div>We visited The MET, MoMA, The Guggenheim, and the American Museum of Natural History. Such incredible museums full of priceless collections! We were absolutely overwhelmed, but beyond thrilled and honored to have the opportunity to tour such American treasures. </div><div><br /></div><div>We attended the Broadway musicals 'Billy Elliot' and 'Chicago.' Both were brilliant. Live shows on Broadway with the best of the best acting, dancing, singing, directing, choreography, acoustics, etc. in an intimate setting have no comparison in the world of entertainment. It is truly the major leagues without cavernous stadiums, expensive cheap beer and blaring music.</div><div><br /></div><div>Speaking of MLB, we saw the Yanks vs. the BoSox at the new Yankee Stadium. Definitely, not the "House that Ruth Built".... but a beautiful sports stadium none-the-less. Unlike the new Cowboys Stadium the jumbo tron or whatever you call it wasn't located in the middle of the field, but was incredible to watch.</div><div><br /></div><div>So, now back home to my reality. Mom MD is back to work, the triplets are in Kindergarten, and Brenna is trucking through 6Th Grade. Unfortunately, the bratty girl from last year is in her class this year and is still up to her 'old tricks', but we're addressing the issue with her teacher and hopefully can get her to leave Bren alone once and for all!</div><div><br /></div><div>So what's <i>this</i> extortion attempt towards David Letterman? Even though I contend that this is the type of distraction that tends to turn Americans away from the really <i>important</i> issues of the day, I think it's fascinating. I can't believe that Letterman broached the whole enchilada in front of his studio audience, who by the way thought the story would be <i>funny!!! </i></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div>While in New York last week, Mom MD and I attended a Letterman taping. As a member of the audience you are instructed to laugh and applaud each and every joke (whether you understand what the heck was just said or not). Any other type of sound is frowned upon big time. After watching last night and knowing what I know about audience participation and expectations, the confession in which Letterman interjected humor felt beyond awkward and would have been very uncomfortable for the audience especially after they had been drawn in to laugh at everything Letterman says.......that's all I have to say 'bout that.</div><div><br /></div>Reinvent Dadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12357054681296228882noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8205749136137495514.post-18958259744585328352009-09-11T14:10:00.000-07:002009-09-11T18:15:41.609-07:009/11/01 Before and After<div>September 11, 2001 forever changed America. Even though dozens of acts of terrorism had been occurring over and over throughout the globe for many years, Americans collectively chose to keep our fat heads buried in the sand. Those same shining towers in Lower Manhattan were bombed in 1993. No big deal, right? After all, the north tower didn't collapse and fall into the south towers as planned and <i>only </i>six souls perished with <i>just </i>around 1000 injuries....<br /><div><br /></div><div>Give me a break. This along with scores of other events should have been our wake-up call. Instead, we chose to worry about the destruction of our computers at the dawn of Y2K and felt compelled to know how much action President Clinton really did get while working OT in the oval office? </div><br /><div>I probably was as guilty as anyone. Back in 2001, a much smaller R.E. Dad family lived in West Hartford, CT patiently waiting for Mom MD to complete her residency. If you aren't familiar with one of the most beautiful towns in these United States, West Hartford lies in the central section of Connecticut about 125 miles from Manhattan.</div><br /><div>That horrific day, I remember grabbing my daily cup of joe and salt bagel from Brueggers Bagels at the town centre, and driving a couple miles south on Main Street to reach my office in time for work at about 8:30. I still recall remarking to the lady who sat in the adjacent cubicle at how gorgeous it was that morning. A bright sunny sky combined with a cool breeze gave me the incredibly comforting feeling that it was simply a fantastic time to be alive. I remember logging into my computer, eating my breakfast, opening up my first file, and then...............</div><br /><div>A female co-worker runs by and says a plane has run into the World Trade Center. My first thought was that it must have been a small plane like the one that recently collided with a helicopter in NYC over the Hudson River. An accident, right? We quickly locate and turn on our training TV.</div><br /><div>Oh my God, live on a grainy old TV we see a commercial plane run smack into the other tower. No pilot error. This is an act of terrorism. Who and why? Pre-9/11, I honestly believed everyone on Earth loved the United States...the only remaining superpower. After all, we provide food, medicine and military support to anyone anytime with no questions asked..at least so I thought.</div><br /><div> </div><div>The days that immediately followed were gut wrenching....so much carnage. Friends and relatives frantically searched for their loved ones. Videotape of the plane flying into the tower, the gaping hole in the Pentagon, and the collapsing of the once mighty giants ran 24/7. We couldn't stop thinking of the terror that those innocent souls who were flying on the four hijacked planes must have felt. We felt sorrow, but our mourning turned to anger. We wanted revenge.</div><div><br /></div><div>We had been violently shoved off the top of the mountain. We weren't invincible. We couldn't just ignore the rest of the planet. This was the <em>new </em>reality. Fast forward to 9/11/09.</div><br /><div> </div><div>We as Americans can NOT return to Pre-9/11. Please do not let this happen. Too much has been sacrificed. Too many of our fellow citizens including New York's Bravest and Finest were lost that day. Our military continues to fight overseas in harms way for our freedom. Please remember this day and take nothing for granted. We are the best country in the world. Don't forget, don't ever forget! I promise I won't.<br /></div><br /><div></div></div>Reinvent Dadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12357054681296228882noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8205749136137495514.post-55832949312013477282009-09-10T14:01:00.001-07:002009-09-10T14:49:14.595-07:00Latest infoForgive me Father since it has been at least two weeks since my last post. A confession might be appropriate in this circumstance I suppose, <i>if </i>I was Catholic and <i>if </i>anyone truly cared. Well, I'm not Catholic, and based on my page imprints and significant increase in followers in the past few months (NOT!), I'm thinking the latter is a true statement as well.<div><br /></div><div>I just don't have a shtick that causes a stampede back to my blog hour after hour, day after day. To become a super blogger, you have to have some kind of hook. I'm not a fantastic writer. I don't tell funny jokes. I'm not interested in biking. I'm not female. I'm not an academic. I don't live anywhere special.</div><div><br /></div><div>Yes, I <i>do </i>have triplets and am an at-home dad, but with the proliferation of fertility drugs and the massive rise in unemployment especially among American men, this just isn't news anymore. I could dive into the debate as to whether Lady Gaga is really a man or perhaps even a hermaphrodite. Maybe I could open up a forum on universal healthcare, family budgeting or the problem with today's youth? Would you like to hear my opinions? It's like I know a little about a lot of topics, but not enough to stir a thoughtful debate.</div><div><br /></div><div>I could revisit the career that I gave up on way too early. One that I never took too seriously. One that I was pretty damn good at doing. One that is now a distant memory.....</div><div><br /></div><div>So this is where I am today. The kids have been in school almost three weeks. Mom MD and I are going to NYC for a week very soon, but I'm fearful of that H1N1 flu that seems to be heading in our direction. I'm tired of both the democrats and the republicans. </div><div><br /></div><div>Actually, life is pretty darn good. I can't complain or maybe I just did. Sorry, the next post will be more upbeat.<div><div><br /></div></div></div>Reinvent Dadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12357054681296228882noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8205749136137495514.post-28652613932732659332009-08-25T14:08:00.000-07:002009-08-25T22:32:21.599-07:00First Day of School and stuff<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrGUtVaPYIcGknsoSqJhrbfTlZdB2DIj9t_phpw6ZdQ34iXSxuB747io9h2n5Yy6EJfGy-gMLRkpIuaN67Jul1mCnJHZ5OZCXvB6sS64YGf_O-5xj_Ufndhfjd0Xan1d0RxWjQdo3y3-zE/s1600-h/IMG_1442.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5374015260541927890" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrGUtVaPYIcGknsoSqJhrbfTlZdB2DIj9t_phpw6ZdQ34iXSxuB747io9h2n5Yy6EJfGy-gMLRkpIuaN67Jul1mCnJHZ5OZCXvB6sS64YGf_O-5xj_Ufndhfjd0Xan1d0RxWjQdo3y3-zE/s320/IMG_1442.JPG" border="0" /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYr1SYvrhg1lr4lS2yRZY1gE8XEW84WRTpbKSqcc_8dnLI7_62GNz-Ct73CoXDYNrBnAZxFjgI6Ute7pWvu1edKoWIvbfgzGWg15EkluAHjN0cBJNGaNtt_ROqMV0fq8Pp8JjsZMmkrTcy/s1600-h/IMG_1460.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5374015653242139666" style="WIDTH: 314px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYr1SYvrhg1lr4lS2yRZY1gE8XEW84WRTpbKSqcc_8dnLI7_62GNz-Ct73CoXDYNrBnAZxFjgI6Ute7pWvu1edKoWIvbfgzGWg15EkluAHjN0cBJNGaNtt_ROqMV0fq8Pp8JjsZMmkrTcy/s320/IMG_1460.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div> </div><div>Oh boy, Mom MD was not all too happy about my previous post where I mentioned that smokers can be sexy. Bad R.E. Dad! In fact to all you kids who may stumble upon this blog, please recite this message 100x "According to the Surgeon General, smoking is bad, very very bad and I'm not going to even start 'cause cancer sticks contain yucky stuff that could make my lungs look like LA in the 70's and retard my brain making me less likely to attend a mid-level university, marry a supermodel, and have a rewarding career...besides a pack of smokes cost like $8 in NYC."</div><div><br /></div><div> </div><div>Oh, and I wanted to add one additional 'Honest Scrap' - I wish that I had the ability to project five seconds into the future because I'd love to know if the person that I'm considering holding a door for intends to say "Thank You." If not, I'd have no problem letting the door go slam bam into their face.</div><br /><div>So anyway, today was the triplets first day of Kindergarten, and the beginning of Bren's last year of elementary school. We took pictures and I've including a couple above. What was very cute was how the Kindergarten teachers came out and handed each parent a short note attached to a plastic baggie containing a tea bag and a cotton ball. The note read...</div><div><br /></div><div> </div><div><em>Dear Parent:</em></div><div> <em>Thank you for entrusting your child to us. We promise to do our best every day to be your child's companion in learning.</em></div><div><em> After you have wiped your tears, make yourself a nice warm cup of tea. Put your feet up and relax. Then hold the cotton ball in your hand. The softness will help you recall the gentle spirit of your child. We will work alongside you this year to help your child grow.</em></div><div><em></em> </div><div><br /></div><div>Very sweet gesture. No tears were shed by our family, however, until I brought the note home and my Mom (the retired K teacher) read it. Here's hoping that the kids have a fantastic school year. I'm looking so forward to hearing about their first day of 2009/2010.</div><div></div></div>Reinvent Dadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12357054681296228882noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8205749136137495514.post-60880832121626442712009-08-22T00:01:00.000-07:002009-08-22T00:01:00.847-07:00Honest Scrap!<a href="http://this-life-is-mine.blogspot.com/">Jess </a>tagged me like forever ago to complete the Honest Scrap which of course I neglected to do, and now I have to live with the fact that I totally missed the boat (i.e. the award ceremonies).<div><br /></div><div><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 194px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcTeBXDUwH5JZRV0LTYFn8z7CIrbUxcP8EEmf4J2V_zZnNcRvDe03Lhf-6oL0F-oQOaP4O-SfIQO1k8xs7DGH805CP34_UeRXbBRU4f75KrJCsoIVBK6EmZJ96Tj6aAo2SpkDMQhagQEWY/s400/Award.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5372090742871052194" /></div><div><br /></div><div>Let's take a stab at this....</div><div><br /></div><div>1. I've had more pedicures than I've golfed. Metrosexual debate aside...you tell me - which sounds more relaxing?</div><div><br /></div><div>2. I was known to sing "Big Balls" by AC/DC on occasion at our college parties.</div><div><br /></div><div>3. Half my brain believes a smoking woman is <i>super </i>sexy, the other half knows that it also causes cancer, emphysema, yellow teeth, wrinkles and bad breath.</div><div><br /></div><div>4. I'm convinced that more Netflix "Chick Flicks" ended up being scratched and unplayable then the typical testosterone enhanced drama. I can appreciate a woman who not only can hold her liquor, but a DVD as well.</div><div><br /></div><div>5. I still haven't been able to convince my Mom that I was a fat kid (as a significantly higher percentage of kids are fat these days, I was ahead of my time, I suppose).</div><div><br /></div><div>6. Diets are much less complicated than most people realize. You simply burn more calories than you consume.</div><div><br /></div><div>7. I'm definitely not for more governmental regulations, but I believe that lowering the drinking age to 16 and increasing driving age to 21 would significantly reduce auto accidents. Just beware of drunk teens on bikes.</div><div><br /></div><div>8. Sean Connery was my favorite James Bond. Although "The Spy Who Loved Me" with Roger Moore was my favorite James Bond movie.</div><div><br /></div><div>9. Speaking of a former bonds, Pierce Brosnan in "Mamma Mia" was by far the worst singer that I've ever seen in a movie.</div><div><br /></div><div>10. The only pet I've had in the past eight years is a hermit crab, but keep in mind I have triplets!</div><div><br /></div><div>This was kind of fun.......</div>Reinvent Dadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12357054681296228882noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8205749136137495514.post-74721207732704704482009-08-18T16:28:00.000-07:002009-08-18T17:15:09.153-07:00Random Tuesday Thoughts: Late on a Tuesday AfternoonTime for yet another installment of R.T.T., yeah <em>you know me! </em>(my apologies, old very inside joke). I'm a tad punchy today and I can't say why?<br /><br />Anyway, what's with the United States Postal Service? Back in the not-so-distant past in a previous career, I was the first to refute any claim that a lost or delayed letter was clearly a postal error. As my Mom might say "they're all messed up!" Why do I say this? Consider that both my Mom and I put a stop on delivery while on vacation a few weeks back. When we returned, <em>both</em> of us had other people's packages (O.P.P) and mail delivered to us. Wouldn't you be concerned that maybe, just maybe your<em> </em>mail could end up someone else's box? I am. This is beside the fact that for a few years I've received mail for my deceased father, and a Madeline with the same last name spelled differently who actually purchased my <em>Mom's </em>house nine years ago!<br /><br />Why do my neighbors break the CC&R's? Call me crazy, but some prospective buyers specifically search for homes in subdivisions where homeowners do not allow their friends and relatives to park their R.V.'s on the street in front of their homes. We were such buyers. We don't appreciate having boats, business trucks and tow trailers on the street or the driveways for that matter........it's against da rules. I do not have a problem with grown-up toys, but please go live on a street that people aren't concerned about it or move further out onto some acreage.<br /><br />I'll have to admit that Disneyland might be the "Happiest Place on Earth" after all. Seriously, when the family went a few weeks back, we had an absolute blast. The five-year olds walked the entire day and went on (almost) every ride we threw them on. No fear, no crying except after the Indiana Jones ride when Vivi said kind of a matter of factly "Daddy, that was scary...let's not go on that ride again." Lines were long, temps were high and the wallet took a major hit, but all in all, I'd say given the smiles and excitement totally worth it.<br /><br />I can't believe how quickly the summer has vanished. School begins for our sixth grader and three Kindergartners a week from today. This will be the only year that all our kids will be attending the same school. Like most parents, I've tried very hard to make this final summer week as boring as possible especially for Bren the sixth grader so she can get into that scholastic frame of mind. The triplets will actually be split up with Alec and Vivi going into one class and little miss go-getter JuJu going into the other. JuJu and Alec have no fear, but Vivi might need a slight push come the first day of school. To be continued.......<br /><br /><img alt="randomtuesday" src="http://i206.photobucket.com/albums/bb9/superkeely/randomtuesday.jpg" width="200" />Reinvent Dadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12357054681296228882noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8205749136137495514.post-36197553067646586612009-08-15T20:47:00.000-07:002009-08-15T22:18:24.930-07:00Pet Store Antics #1: I really don't hate birds.I mentioned in an previous post that I worked for a pet store for a couple years during college. Until the past year or so I had almost completely forgotten <s>painful hamster bites, overpriced mutts and the stench of aquarium water changes</s> those warm cuddly creatures. Recent family excursions to <s>the poor man's zoo</s> our local pet stores have stirred memories filled with long hours of <s>snagging five cent feeder fish with a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">freakin</span>' holey net</s>customer service with a perpetual smile.<div><br /></div><div>OK, the kids want a living breathing animal and I'm trying desperately to delay the inevitable as it's common knowledge around here that <s>R.E. Dad will feed, bathe, and pickup the shit</s> I will be the primary caregiver. Yeah, the hermit crab has it's limits....</div><div><br /></div><div>Enough about the present. Let's fall back into the late 80's before the big-box retailers had a strangle hold on America. I worked for a mom and pop company...we'll actually <i>no </i>mom just pop due to a recent divorce. This <s>fairly young hipster <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">dufus</span> with zero knowledge of pet care</s> budding entrepreneur actually owned two stores and I often found myself at the smaller store closer to campus. Now, there was a "GM" who was actually quite "<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">petwise</span>", but after the owner gave him a truck he seemed to spend most of his time driving to the big city to retrieve tropical fish and <s>marijuana</s> supplies. </div><div><br /></div><div>Almost overnight I became the <s>king of the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">dipshits</span></s> unofficial assistant manager who still made about a nickel about the minimum wage. Don't get me wrong, I was NO animal expert in any sense of the imagination. In fact, I pretty much deferred questions to my fellow oppressed pet store co-workers who each seemed to specialize in a certain type of animal. Let's talk about "Bird Girl."</div><div><br /></div><div>Bird Girl - She loved all types of birds. She hand fed birds. She trained birds. She called me at home from the store to tell me about depressed birds, lonely birds and birds under the weather. One summer evening she called to tell me about a very sick bird that had to be euthanized. I said <s>OK, I'll snap his little neck in the morning</s> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">okie</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">dokie</span>, tomorrow I'll shove him out the back door and hope he survives the mean streets of Chico. She said "Oh, no - you must come right now and take care of him the most humane way possible...he's in a great deal of pain."</div><div><br /></div><div>"Uh, come again...how do you waste a bird?" *<i>Disclaimer to all those who know this subject better than I.........this was what she told me to do......she was the bird expert, not me. Don't contact some bird rescue society, please*</i></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;">So how did I do it? Well, she said to place the bird in a plastic bag, walk out to my car, turn on the engine and place the bag over the tailpipe. So I did .... and it worked <s>bye bye <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">birdy</span></s>. Long before Jack Kevorkian became a household name, there existed a pet store employee who hoped he ended a bird's life the most humane way possible. At the very least, he earned the respect of "Bird Girl."</span></i></div><div><br /></div><div><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;">This was Pet Store Antics #1.............just one story of many.</span></i></div>Reinvent Dadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12357054681296228882noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8205749136137495514.post-5379580941923378732009-08-14T14:35:00.000-07:002009-08-14T18:07:03.329-07:00Dear So and So....Numero TresI know that you just couldn't wait any longer. It's time for another installment of "Dear So and So." Perhaps I'll start a mini "So and So" marathon.<div><br /></div><div><i>Dear Ju Ju,</i></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div><i>I know you believe that those red bumps on mommy's and daddy's faces are mosquito bites. Often times that is the case, but once in awhile our faces and those of teens and adults around the globe break out causing pangs of stress, anger, bitterness, and shame. When your first pimple arrives one day in the distant future understand that we've all been there. Dermatologists don't recommend that you "put the squeeze on the zit" so to speak. This may leave permanent scars on your face. </i></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div><i>My advice, don't listen to the doctors. The ONLY good thing about having a zit is running into the bathroom, peering into the mirror, zeroing in on the bugger and squeezing it into oblivion! Crap I probably said too much. You're only five. Hope I didn't traumatize you.</i></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div><i>Love,</i></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div><i>R.E. Dad</i></div><div><i>---------------</i></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div><i>Dear Honda Corporation,</i></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div><i>The sticker mentioned that my '09 Pilot would probably get 22 MPG's on the highway and 16 MPG's. I realize that this is JUST an estimate, but if I drive exclusively in the city I get about 12 MPG's. That isn't too good or even close to 16 MPG's. Back when I spoke with your salesman, he liked to discuss the engine's ability to switch to three cylinders to enhance fuel efficiency, etc. I just want you to know that I'm now feeling disappointed and a bit mislead.</i></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div><i>Perhaps you should mention that the 22/16 figure applies only when the vehicle is on cruise control and set at 50 miles per hour or coasting down a hill for the entire tank of gas. Maybe, you should add another category to highway/city.....the suburb which would include an even lower figure to account for frequent stops at school, gunning it around town to complete errands and idling in the drive thru.</i></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div><i>Just a suggestion,</i></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div><i>R.E. Dad</i></div><div><i>---------------</i></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div><i>Dear President Obama,</i></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div><i>You're not fooling anyone with your Universal Health care ideas. Why don't you fix social security, medicaid and medicare before even considering embarking on this endeavour?</i></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div><i>R.E. Dad</i></div>Reinvent Dadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12357054681296228882noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8205749136137495514.post-85987705286912499162009-08-10T11:12:00.000-07:002009-08-10T11:38:03.823-07:00Tripletisms 8/10/09I was just playing my new favorite game on Facebook. Nope, I'm not talking about Mafia Wars or Texas Hold 'Em. I'm referring to the "Friend Suggestion" area. After a while <em>those </em>'friend' suggestions really get out of hand, so I like to see how quickly I can "x" out of them before more 'suggestions' are made by FB. Think <a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0001332/">Robert Hays'</a> character in the 1980 movie "Airplane!" during that one scene at the airport where he ends up beating up flower children, Hare Krisnas, and anyone else who stood in his way. Why would I want to be a friend of a friend's sorority sister or a fan of the Boston Celtics?<br /><br />That's right. I was going to list a couple "tripletisms." by my soon-to-be Kindergartners...<br /><br />*Walking around Balboa Island last week (doggie poopy on the sidewalk)*<br /><br /><ul><li>Julia - "Ah, don't step in the dog poop!"</li><li>Alec - "Gross"</li><li>Vivi -"<em>Super </em>Gross"</li></ul><p>*Yesterday morning on the patio (I'm explaining to my Mom about Julia's Nightmare)</p><p> </p><ul><li>R.E. Dad - "She woke up crying and totally out of it"</li><li>Grandma J. - "Nightmare?"</li><li>R.E. Dad - "I'm thinking so, but she was totally delirious....she finally said "I shouldn't have poured all that water." "Whatever that means...????"</li><li>Alec - (in his deep voice with a slight lisp due to a chipped front tooth) "What's a nightmare?"</li><li>R.E. Dad - "It's a bad dream where you wake up scared and feel bad"</li><li>Alec "Oh yeah...I had one of those last night...I see a robot in the park and he shoots me dead"</li><li>R.E. Dad/Grandma J. - "OHHHH"</li><li>Alec - "That's <em>my </em>nightmare!"</li></ul><p>*This A.M. at Pre-school* (Vivi comes over to give me a hug good-bye)</p><p> </p><ul><li>Vivi - "Dad you smell like a fart!"</li><li>R.E. Dad - Vivi, I don't think I <em>ever </em>will smell good enough for you!!!</li><li>Vivi - "Uh huh"</li></ul><p>Gotta go and pick up Bren from the airport. She's returning from a week in Vegas Baby! (at her Grandma M's place)...</p>Reinvent Dadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12357054681296228882noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8205749136137495514.post-43470196039314414052009-08-07T12:57:00.000-07:002009-08-07T15:05:13.631-07:00Miscellaneous Bologna!How does this happen? My blog is currently the #1 hit on Google for the quote "I've been living a lie and it's time to come clean." I'm not making this up. For me, <a href="http://helpreinventme.blogspot.com/2009/04/ive-been-living-lie-and-its-time-to.html">the post</a> from which I made this lighthearted admission was meant to be comical, but for many individuals who search the Internet this quote represents a confession. These souls are dealing with emotional pain and turmoil and seek to finally alleviate their pain, suffering and guilt. As my Grandma Edna used to say "the truth will set you free..."<br /><br />In case you're wondering....this isn't a lead in to a R.E. Dad confession! <s>Heck no, any lapse in judgement leading to an incident of questionable morality or possible illegal activity will be taken to my grave, thank you!</s> I have nothing to say. I didn't bring this up to talk about myself anyway. Just an observation. OK?<br /><br />Speaking of quotes, I never realized how often Mom MD and I actually quoted lines from the late <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_Hughes_(director)">John Hughes'</a> movies. Recently, we were stuck on that scene from <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0088128/">"Sixteen Candles"</a> when the handsome Jake knocks on the Bakers' front door..........<br /><br /><ul><li><div align="left"><a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0913797/">Long Duk Dong</a>: [opens door] Oh, I'm so sorry. I thought you my new - new-style American girlfriend. </div></li><li><div align="left"><a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0001706/">Jake</a>: Forget it, man. Just get Samantha, all right? </div></li><li><div align="left"><a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0913797/">Long Duk Dong</a>: She not here. </div></li><li><div align="left"><a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0001706/">Jake</a>: Don't jerk me around, man. Where is she? </div></li><li><div align="left"><a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0913797/">Long Duk Dong</a>: She got married. </div></li><li><div align="left"><a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0001706/">Jake</a>: What? </div></li><li><div align="left"><a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0913797/">Long Duk Dong</a>: She at the church. She getting married to oily bohunk. </div></li><li><div align="left"><a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0001706/">Jake</a>: Married? </div></li><li><div align="left"><a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0913797/">Long Duk Dong</a>: Married. </div></li><li><div align="left"><a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0001706/">Jake</a>: Married? </div></li><li><div align="left"><a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0913797/">Long Duk Dong</a>: Yeah. Married [closes door] </div></li><li><div align="left"><a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0001706/">Jake</a>: [turns around, under breath to himself] Married? </div></li><li><div align="left"><a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0913797/">Long Duk Dong</a>: Married! Jeez!</div></li></ul><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">Love me the (character) <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZTchUep_bmg&feature=PlayList&p=A385B0512B8783D2&playnext=1&playnext_from=PL&index=3">Long Duk Dong</a>. He wouldn't be "PC" in 2009, but in 1984....it was ALL good and the Earth still rotated on its axis, the birds still sang at the break of dawn, and John Hughes was creating teen movies that defined my generation. Rest in Peace Mr. Hughes. Without your vision, the only teen movies we'd be remembering from the 80's would be those Porky's movies.........Yikes! </div><div align="justify"><br /></div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">Speaking of R.I.P, I wanted to give a shout out to my late Dad. Happy If-you-were-still-alive 75th Birthday! Brenna loves to practice on your Steinway! You'd be so proud of her like Mom MD, Grandma and I are.</div><div align="justify"><br /></div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">Have a fantastic weekend everyone..........</div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify"> </div><br /><div align="center"> </div>Reinvent Dadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12357054681296228882noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8205749136137495514.post-6615927289861855422009-08-05T09:53:00.000-07:002009-08-05T12:04:42.346-07:00Dear So and So....Numero Dos<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; ">"The reports of my death are greatly exaggerated." - Mark Twain </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>Oh, how I've missed the blogosphere the past couple weeks. No, I haven't died or <b>worse</b> found outside-the-house employment. The family recently returned from a week at the beach down in So. Cal. My Mom decided many moons ago that a vacation down on the tiny resort island named Balboa near Newport Beach would represent an excellent family escape from the ordinary. So she sprung for a place and the rest they say is history, but might I add our family's trip....was extraordinary! </i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>Now back to the "Dear So and So" created and inspired by <a href="http://3bedroombungalow.blogspot.com/">Kat</a> who has chosen Fridays as her day to correspond to the various "so and so's" in her neck of the woods across the pond.</i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>Dear owner of the Shell gas station in remote area off Interstate 5,</i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>We realize times are difficult and the other two gas stations at this exit have closed, but pony up the $1,500 to fix the compressor on the A/C. The young man Mom MD spoke with works 10+ hour days/6 days per week during the hottest times of the day. Customers come and go quickly and it isn't too much of an inconvenience to use the hand dryer instead of paper towels in the bathroom, but this guy is minding the store ALL day. Please give him a break not to mention a decent health care plan.</i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>R.E. Dad and Mom MD</i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>---------------</i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>Dear TSA at Orange County Airport,</i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>I know you were only doing your "duty", but you absolutely broke my five-year old son's heart when you confiscated his brand new snow globe after searching his tiny backpack. Alec probably spent twenty minutes looking for the perfect souvenir to bring home from Disneyland. Yes, I suppose the liquid volume was slightly above 3 oz, but I highly doubt a sealed globe with pirate treasure and floating gold flakes posed any threat to national security. Rules are rules I suppose, but I'm thankful I wasn't there or I'd probably be writing this from jail.</i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>R.E. Dad</i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>---------------</i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>Dear Three Sisters who bought Mom's house,</i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>My Mom might be one of a few surviving members from the generation that values honesty and integrity above all else....when issues were either black and white..... who understood the significance of eye contact, a verbal agreement and a firm handshake.....a generation that might include the oldest baby-boomers up to the youngest from the "greatest" generation. </i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>Even though you're old, I refuse to include you. You didn't treat my Mom the way she deserved or expected to be treated. In fact, she probably let her guard down BECAUSE she thought you three were just like her. Mom was mistaken.</i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>What am I talking about? Oh yeah, I'm referring to the $4000 credit she "gifted" you for the phantom repairs that weren't necessary. Remember how you said the roof needed replacing and the heating and air conditioning needed to be repaired? Wrong cupcakes! The roof dude actually said the roof had three plus years of life remaining and my Mom FIXED the A/C three days before she moved out despite you having a Home Warranty in place. Did your agent even mention this to you? Did she ask nicely if the $500 repair to the A/C could come off the $4000 "credit for nothing?"</i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>This was the same agent who FORGOT to check the requirement for Section 1 repairs and begged our agent to not tell you (to save face). Back to the $4K...turns out this money went directly to your contractor via escrow to help defray the cost to YOU for a new kitchen. By the way, thanks for rubbing that in my Mom's face as well. I have to say that it was very difficult for Mom to "sign and approve" a contractor's bid that had NOTHING to do any repairs knowing that her money went directly to your remodel.</i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>Hope you don't burn yourself on your new stove</i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>R.E. Dad</i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>---------------</i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>**For my readers.....sorry about the r & r, but my Mom wouldn't let me send a "real" letter to the sisters or their awful agent.**</i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i><img alt="Dear So and So..." src="http://i293.photobucket.com/albums/mm61/badassgeek/3BB/dearsoandso_button.jpg" /></i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i><br /></i></div>Reinvent Dadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12357054681296228882noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8205749136137495514.post-65579211981672695912009-07-24T15:55:00.001-07:002009-07-24T16:51:35.774-07:00For every positive event, there's an equally negative event......Honestly, I'm having one of those weeks where so many positive, uplifting, and gratifying events are followed <i>immediately </i>by equally negative events.... complete downers that quickly turn my smile into a frown. Knowing that life often seems like a random sequence of events, I'm guessing over the course of one's lifetime...the pluses and minuses balance each other out like debits and credits on an accurately completed accounting statement.<div><br /></div><div>What is so bizarre is how <i>short </i>lived my celebrations seem to be. Almost like "Yes I WON the lottery" to just a nanosecond later stepping off a cliff and plunging to my death on the jagged rocks below. OK, that's a bit extreme, but seriously....it has been a bizarre week of nice ups and quick downs.</div><div><br /></div><div>Today was the last straw. I was waiting to get a haircut at Supercuts (don't ask) when I read that my beloved Cardinals just traded for Matt Holliday, a three-time All Star who will hopefully take them over the hump and lead them back into the playoffs. Ecstasy for the sportsboy, right? Yes, but just a few minutes later I'm sitting getting my haircut, and for the first time in umpteen years, a stylist tells me that I have dandruff! NO freakin' way I say. More on this later.</div><div><br /></div><div>Now, earlier this week I was leaving Bren's and Vivi's eye doctor in midtown. I had just talked the parking attendant into reducing my parking fee from $2 to $1 because in all seriousness we were there from 2:42 to 3:44, and parking was $1/hour. I was like "it took me those two extra minutes <i>just</i> to find the exit out of this bloody lot." Completely satisfied and wondering whether to invest or save that extra dollar I turned from the lot onto the street and a crazy lady flagged me down.</div><div><br /></div><div>She had to be a 'tweaking' meth or some type of drug addict. After slamming on the brakes and reluctantly rolling down my window she asked me to either watch her kids or give her some money because her car was broken down and she needed to take the bus. She was probably 35, but looked 45, filthy as all heck and had a hospital bracelet which was crumpled, partly torn and dirty. I didn't see any kidlets nor did I see a broken down car. This was a tough decision, but without being witness to any event, after reading "Beautiful Boy" and with my two young girls in the car I decided that I had to leave. I said no, rolled up my window and hit the gas. Safety was the most important consideration in making my decision, but I still felt guilty.</div><div><br /></div><div>My final incident was a bit less serious, but more physically painful. Vivi asked if we could go to the pet store on our way home. I really really didn't want to go as I needed to come home and <s>do Facebook or blog</s> fold laundry. I'm like "how 'bout a piece of gum instead?" She said "yes." I said "YES!" Of course, while celebrating a victory over a five-year old I reached for the gum, and sliced my thumb on the side of the gum package........paper cut, paper cut!</div><div><br /></div><div>In conclusion, I'm NOT going to jump for joy for awhile. I won't even smile or present a hint of a smirk. No way. I'll put on my poker face until this positive vs. negative, plus vs. minus, or whatever you choose to call it goes away.....</div><div><br /></div><div>As for me, right now I'm going to hit the shower scrub my scalp and start using the expensive "product" that everyone else in this house uses...I'm going wean myself off the Kirkland brand for good!!!!</div>Reinvent Dadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12357054681296228882noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8205749136137495514.post-37543681059095088592009-07-23T06:54:00.001-07:002009-07-23T22:01:25.182-07:00Guess What I Am?<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#ff0000;">Let's play a quick game. I'll give you three words to describe a brand or name of something. You tell me what I'm talking about.</span> <div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#ff0000;"><br /></span></div><ol><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#ff0000;">Plastic</span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#ff0000;">Unscented</span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#ff0000;">Super</span></li></ol><div><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#ff0000;">HMMMMM</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#ff0000;">, tough one?</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#ff0000;"><br /></span></div><div><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#ff0000;">**Update: </span><span style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="FONT-STYLE: normal;font-size:11;" ><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#ff0000;">K and J, you are absolutely correct. Aunt </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#ff0000;">JB</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#ff0000;">, you were certainly on the right track. BC, you're silly 'cause silly p is not made out of plastic...at least it </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="FONT-STYLE: normal;font-size:11;" ><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#ff0000;">wouldn't make sense if it was?? </span></span></span></i></div><div> </div><div> </div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'Lucida Grande';font-size:11;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#ff0000;">Since I've become House </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#ff0000;">Beotch</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#ff0000;"> and have had to run 'that' errand on occasion I've never seemed to get it right....I've brought home cardboard when plastic was requested...scented when unscented was asked for....and finally regular instead of super. This is more difficult than finding irrigation system replacement parts at the Home Depot or a very specific rare ethnic ingredient at Safeway...</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'Lucida Grande', fantasy;font-size:100%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:11;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#ff0000;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'Lucida Grande', -webkit-fantasy;font-size:100%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:11;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#ff0000;">Alas, after her </span><s><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#ff0000;">slamming my head against the wall </span></s><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#ff0000;">helpful words of encouragement, I've finally found an E-A-S-Y way to remember...I just go by the </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#ff0000;">first </span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#ff0000;">letters of the three words listed above. They certainly point me in the right direction... I'll never forget again. Thanks for playing along.</span></span></span></div><div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#ff0000;"><br /></span></div><div><br /></div><div></div></div>Reinvent Dadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12357054681296228882noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8205749136137495514.post-64804488771087598212009-07-21T15:27:00.000-07:002009-07-21T23:09:50.468-07:00Let's mix it up a bit - a controversial topic.Debate over <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/California_Proposition_8_(2008)">California's Prop 8</a> which amended the California constitution to define marriage between a man and a woman continues to rage and thus polarize citizens of the "Golden State." The <a href="http://www.sacbee.com/topstories/story/2041961.html">Sacramento Bee had an article</a> this A.M. about a proposed bill that would recognize gay marriages from other states.<div><br /></div><div>As some of you know, I lean to the right both fiscally and socially. I don't believe one can be fiscally conservative, but socially moderate. I also realize that it isn't chic to champion conservatism, but I decided to comment anyway.........</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 22px; font-family:Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;font-size:15px;">"Doesn't tolerance and acceptance of gay marriage fall into the belief of Federalism? Beneath federal laws (enumerated powers) each state comprised of various groups of people has the authority to determine the will of the majority based on beliefs, values, etc. Therefore, if you're offended by smoking, don't live in North Carolina. If you hate paying more taxes live in Nevada, Florida, New Hampshire, etc. If you are repulsed by the death penalty, don't live in Texas. If you hate farmers don't live in North Dakota. If you love to drive fast live in Montana. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;font-size:130%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 22px;font-size:15px;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 22px; font-family:Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;font-size:15px;">My point? You have a choice to live in ANY state that you choose keeping in mind that every state is unique, has different customs, demographics, and laws. Just like I wouldn't go to Alaska and ask fisherman to stop fishing or move to Nevada and expect the gaming industry to end gaming...I wouldn't move from Massachussetts to California and expect Californians to change what the majority BELIEVES IN and that is marriage between a woman and a man."</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;font-size:130%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 22px;font-size:15px;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;font-size:130%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 22px;font-size:15px;"><br /></span></span><br /><s></s></div>Reinvent Dadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12357054681296228882noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8205749136137495514.post-61567860942208253312009-07-17T00:00:00.000-07:002009-07-23T22:44:49.868-07:00Give me the "Dumbing it Down" versionAre you ready for some yummy tuna casserole or as we tell the triplets....noodles with stuff in them?<br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="http://kitchenilliterate.files.wordpress.com/2007/01/tuna-casserole-take-two.jpg"><img style="WIDTH: 346px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 265px" alt="" src="http://kitchenilliterate.files.wordpress.com/2007/01/tuna-casserole-take-two.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />I recently found myself in the kitchen, alone and staring down at what I believed was the simplest cooking recipe known to any man, woman or preschooler for that matter. Oh no, actually I'm quite wrong about this. I became aware last evening that I'm too dumb to even decipher the easiest of the easy Internet <a href="http://www.cooks.com/rec/view/0,178,141187-243199,00.html">tuna recipes from Cooks.com.</a><br /><br /><br />Last night while I was in the process of boiling my elbow noodles for the above recipe (which by the way I've learned to "doctor up" with onions, cheese and a bad of potato chips), Mom MD walked by the stove, peered into the pot and asked how many cups of noodles I had used? My reply was "three, as that is how many it says on the recipe!" Here's how the<em> simple</em> recipe reads:<br /><br /><br /><br /><div align="center"><span style="color:#ff0000;">3 cups noodles, cooked</span></div><br /><div align="center"><span style="color:#ff0000;"></span></div><br /><div align="left"><span style="color:#ff0000;"></span></div><div align="left"><span style="color:#000000;">Mom MD's reply was "no, that's not right." I then said "Huh, what do you mean? Says right HERE, 3 cups noodles, cooked.....I put 3 cups of noodles in and I'm <em>cooking </em>them." She then said that this is not what it means and she can see why a man wouldn't understand this.....What <s>the freakin' hell</s> exactly am I missing here?</span></div><br /><div align="left"></div><div align="left">OK, I've <a href="http://cookingresources.suite101.com/article.cfm/new_cooking_trend">read articles</a> in recent years about the necessity by Betty Crocker and Co. to "dumb down" their cookbooks to reach new generations of culinary challenged individuals. Again, how am I getting this wrong? This was a<strong> SIX</strong> ingredient recipe from the Internet for pity sake. Mom MD then proceeded to explain what the directions <em>really meant.</em></div><br /><div align="left"><em></em></div><div align="left">The <em>cooked</em> noodles should equal 3 cups. So how in the heck am I supposed to know how many noodles to put in the pot in the first place? We all understand that raw noodles expand when cooked, so how many dry cups of noodles yields 3 cups of cooked noodles? IF I put in three cups to begin with then I'll be wasting plenty of noodles when it's time to combine the ingredients. Am I lame here or what? I'm starting to think so............</div><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: left" align="left"><br /></div><div align="left">Perhaps the answer to my puzzle is how the directions are worded? 3 cups of noodles, cooked....3 CUPS of noodles, cooked...3 cups of NOODLES, cooked..3 cups of noodles, COOKED.</div><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: left" align="left"><br /></div><div align="left">OK, I think I understand. The recipe wants 3 cups of cooked noodles. So why doesn't it say this in the first place? Why doesn't it tell me how many cups of raw noodles to put in to <em>yield </em>3 cups of cooked noodles?</div><br /><div align="left"></div><div align="left">The more I think about this...the more I think there is some kind of gender bias working against me. We men (especially those challenged in the kitchen) want to know how much to put in the pot in the <em>first place </em>to have enough noodles to complete the recipe. Is it 2 cups to make 3? How about 1.75 cups to make 3? We prefer exact numbers and appreciate precision. Just tell us. Forget the guessing and the eye balling. Just tell us (& me), please!</div><br /><div align="left"></div><div align="left">I suppose I can take comfort that I was <em>only </em>making a tuna casserole and not building a rocket or something..........</div><div align="center"><span style="color:#ff0000;"></span></div><br /><br /><div align="center"></div>Reinvent Dadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12357054681296228882noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8205749136137495514.post-59495815367511329262009-07-15T13:26:00.000-07:002009-07-15T14:35:58.546-07:00Silly Haiku Wednesdays<span class="Apple-style-span" style=" white-space: pre-wrap; font-family:'Lucida Grande';font-size:11px;"><a href="http://youknowthatblog.com/silly-haiku-wednesdays/"><img src="http://youknowthatblog.com/images/youknowthatblog-haiku.jpg" width="250" height="160" alt="Join the fun!" title="Join the fun!" /></a></span><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" white-space: pre-wrap;font-family:'Lucida Grande';font-size:11px;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" white-space: pre-wrap;font-family:'Lucida Grande';font-size:11px;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" white-space: pre-wrap; font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 0, 0); font-family:'Lucida Grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">Hot steamy Roseville</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0); font-style: italic; white-space: pre-wrap;font-family:'Lucida Grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">Maybe I will stay inside</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0); font-style: italic; white-space: pre-wrap;font-family:'Lucida Grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">Nah, </span><a href="http://www.golfland.com/roseville/index.asp"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">Sunsplash</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"> is close</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0); font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: 48px; font-style: italic; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;">Let's here it for <a href="http://youknowthatblog.com/">Jen</a> @ You Know that Blog who has more Haiku creations.<br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0); font-style: italic; white-space: pre-wrap;font-family:'Lucida Grande';font-size:18px;"><br /></span></div>Reinvent Dadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12357054681296228882noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8205749136137495514.post-25492338231607986172009-07-14T08:03:00.000-07:002009-07-14T23:12:37.927-07:00Summer of '89Summer has always served as my season for reflection. Perhaps this is because I often find myself living vicariously through my children while they swim, attend camps, play outdoor games, eat popsicles, and otherwise enjoy anything and everything that kidlets do during those steamy months.<br /><div><br /></div><div>As Mom MD and I discuss on a regular basis, kids' carefree summers from the 70's are worlds away from the carefully planned summers of today. OK, admittedly it <span class="Apple-style-span" style="FONT-STYLE: italic">was </span>a different world with no bike helmets, MP3 players or Wave boards, but it was our time, my time..a simpler time full or great memories.</div><br /><div>But I actually wanted to look back on ONE of my favorite summers as an <span class="Apple-style-span" style="FONT-STYLE: italic">adult.</span></div><br /><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="FONT-STYLE: italic">Summer of '89 - In Chico between my 3rd and 4th year of college.</span></div><br /><div></div><div>Talk about hot, steamy and still. Chico summers remind me of the Midwest without quite as many mosquitoes. College guys are notoriously cheap when it comes to modern comforts like central air conditioner. We preferred to spend our extra $6 on a twelve pack of Coors and why not, when you're buzzed who the heck cares about dripping with sweat? I mean we had an apartment pool, showers, fans, and of course the river.</div><br /><div></div><div>Tubing down the Sacramento River back in the day felt like heaven on Earth. Sun, women, beer, sun, and more sun, beer and women! OK, so the women didn't always want to go with us, many actually went to summer school or held down jobs, but the beer and sun <em>never </em>turned us down. After a few hours of drifting down the Sac with beers consumed, and bodies baked, we'd jump into the backs of the trucks, laying on the tubes to keep them from flying away. No cops within miles, fewer rules and no cell phones to disturb our buzz. </div><br /><div></div><div>If you're wondering I did hold down a part-time job working for a local pet store. I suppose you could have called me <s>the king of the dipshits</s> the unofficial assistant to the assistant manager. Tales, not "tails" from the pet store are reserved for a future day. Summer music rotated between Tom Petty's "Full Moon Fever" and The Cult's "Sonic Temple." All bars were within walking distance. I had a girlfriend. I had a roommate who worked for a liquor store. I had few responsibilities. It was our time, my time, a simpler time full of great memories. </div><div><br /></div><div> </div><div>Fast forward twenty years to reality, it's now <em>my </em>time to check the laundry. I will do about five loads today along with the grocery shopping, the soccer daddy duties, and the preparation of this evening's family supper. Maybe, though, I'll take a few extra minutes and head to the garage and reach way behind all the rubber target tubs to that Huggies size six box that contains most of my old CD's. Perhaps I can steal a few more moments with tracks from good old Summer of '89. </div><div><br /></div><div> </div><div>Tell me your best summer memory............<br /></div><div></div>Reinvent Dadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12357054681296228882noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8205749136137495514.post-53047841954120109732009-07-11T11:24:00.000-07:002009-07-11T23:26:15.810-07:00Random Tuesday thoughts on Saturday: Why not, it's almost Tuesday again!<div>Here we go again. Time for Random Tuesday Thoughts, this time on Saturday as I'm a day late and a dollar short. Check that, I'm four days late or three days early (take your pick) and god knows how many dollars short.<br /><div><br /></div><div>Well, <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">this</span> Thursday R.E. Dad shaved which has become an increasingly rare event since I left the labor force almost two years ago. Heck, who am I kidding? I <span class="Apple-style-span" style="FONT-STYLE: italic">hardly</span> ever shaved for the benefit of my fellow office mates either. Just ask them. After a few weeks, however, I just couldn't stand that tingly feeling of my whiskers swaying like prairie grass in a meadow (felt like dozens of bugs crawling on my mug).</div><br /><div>Funny, I used to think that when I shaved I looked <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">years </span>younger like I'd be carded trying to get into a rated "R" movie. But what about now? Not so much. I see the beginnings of a <a href="http://www.ehow.com/how_4802534_rid-of-turkey-neck.html">"Turkey Neck"</a>. I remember that my Mom used to give my Dad <s>shit</s> a hard time about the loose skin below his chin. I don't believe he liked the idea of having a <s>big ass</s> wattle either!</div><div><br /></div><div>Speaking of family...Mom MD and I have a couple of ongoing debates. I'm curious what you think. The first one is unwrapping presents on Christmas Eve or Christmas Day? The second has to do with kissing on the lips. Nope, I'm not talking about your spouse. I'm talking about kissing everyone else on the lips like your kids, your mom, your step dad and your grandma.</div><div><br /></div><div>Speaking of kids....a tripletism. The triplets have been taking swimming lessons through the city parks and recs the past couple weeks, but missed a couple days due to <s>a pooping brat</s> some kind of chemical imbalance at a local high school pool. The city added a make-up day to be held on Thursday at <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">another </span>high school. The night before the trips were to attend their make-up session, five-year old Alec asked me what the boys would be doing at tomorrow's swimming lesson. I said "I don't know what do you mean? Probably, the same thing as the girls....why?" He said "Well, the girls will be doing <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">make-up</span>!"</div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><br /></span></div><div>Yeah, different type of <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">make-up </span>Mr. Man. Again I don't make this stuff up. </div><div><br /></div><div>I wanted to go into some other stuff like what a difference between telling a new relationship with whom you will soon be cohabiting that you'll be moving in with extra baggage vs. additional luggage. This is a potential life altering event. How do people learning English as a second language survive?</div><div><br /></div><div>So much more, but gotta go for now.....hope everyone is enjoying their weekend...</div><div><br /></div></div>Reinvent Dadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12357054681296228882noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8205749136137495514.post-30216613766040433862009-07-09T12:42:00.000-07:002009-07-10T14:16:25.668-07:00HelloOk, so it's R.D's daughter again! Since I haven't been able to get into my own blog lately, I wanted to post something. Now, it's time for a R.D. pop quiz!! I will ask you a few multiple choice questions about my dad, and the person that gets the most right without looking at his bio or past posts will be recognized in a future blog. (don't tell my dad,he's sleeping) Anyone who wants to may participate, . Ready? Begin! <div><br /></div><div>1. How old is my dad?</div><div>A. 28</div><div>B. 34</div><div>C. 50</div><div>D. 41</div><div><br /></div><div>2. How many kids does he have (including me)?</div><div>A. six</div><div>B.none</div><div>C. three</div><div>D. four</div><div><br /></div><div>3. What is his favorite food?</div><div>A. blow pops</div><div>B. filet mignon</div><div>C. pizza</div><div>D. tuna casserole</div><div><br /></div><div>4. What is his favorite drink (you'll have to guess this one!)</div><div>A. Dr. Pepper</div><div>B. Diet Coke</div><div>C. Sierra Nevada Beer</div><div>D. Hi-C</div><div><br /></div><div>4. What does he refer to my mom as in his posts?</div><div>A. Big Mama</div><div>B. The Mum</div><div>C. Mom M.D.</div><div>D. Amy-Amy</div><div><br /></div><div>5. What is his favorite thing about my mom?</div><div>A. she is smart</div><div>B. she is beautiful</div><div>C. she is kind</div><div>D. she is wealthy </div><div>E. she doesn't like hannah montana</div><div><br /></div><div>**********you are not required to participate, only if you choose************</div><div> </div><div>**Update 7/10/09 - Answers now on comment section and please note that I was NOT taking a nap yesterday when she hijacked my computer, I was doing bills!</div>Reinvent Dadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12357054681296228882noreply@blogger.com6