I should be sleeping...

There are times I wonder why I keep staying up at night when I really ought to be asleep. Take tonight--or right now--for example. It's the first night my wife and I have had an opportunity to watch a show. Last week was so full of stuff to do.

But the stuff was great. We put on a Shakespeare production with Jr. Hight and high school-aged kids. I'm supposed to be coming up with changes in our screenplay, but I haven't had the chance to dedicate enough quality time to that...yet. Of course, there's only tomorrow.

Which brings us to tomorrow. I need to be up in roughly seven hours so I can take the dog to the groomers at 6am then work from 6:15am (or so...) and work 10 straight hours. After that, I may be able to do a little writing.

I want to keep this blog going, make it a daily. So far; so good. And, goodnight.

I'm In The Nursery Now...

It began this morning as I prepared...an errant thought that quickly grew until it consumed me. I'm in the nursery now. I can't wear my normal church clothes, my suit that is only a few years old. No, I've got to put on clothes that may (and I stress, 'may') not survive. I dress accordingly.

The meetings start. I take the opportunity to take a nap in meeting number one--for strength and endurance, you understand. The sound of "Amen" disappears into the air, replaced by organ music and chatter as happy people leave the room to be edified and uplifted and, in a word, blessed.

My wife and I turn down a different hall, away from the others, separated from the security of numbers and we enter, the room...because I'm in the nursery now.

We enter and the scene of carnage inflicted upon inanimate objects and noise-producing toys defies description. Acts of violence not witnessed since our own children were that age rush back into our consciousness, a shudder rushes up my spine.

The battle ensues, with each soldier occupied in hand-to-hand-to-hand combat. Our side wins some, gains some ground only to lose it when a laundry basket full of D.I. toys is scattered and almost totally covers the nursery room floor. Finally our leader regroups and we throw something at them we know will help--crafts.

Time stands still as we throw first crafts, then snacks, then singing time, then a lesson at them--some relent, but others fight on, their fingers coated with a substance of questionable origin. They never back down; they never give up. I'm in the nursery now.

The adults counter with the one weapon left in the cupboard...bubbles. The children are powerless to the spherical orbs floating gently over their heads, surrounding their bodies, overwhelming their snack-fueled senses. They stare skyward and chase the oily globes as the descend. The army of "volunteers" have won...this week.

I leave the room after the last soldier has been retrieved and re-assigned to battle members of his/her own family. In seven days the battle begins again. In the coming days I'll need to train harder, work smarter, and prepare for the horrors that surely lie in store, because...well, I'm in the nursery now.

(artwork courtesy of churchbabies.blogspot.com)

The Play Is Over

A little background...

Several month ago I watched my son perform in his school play. They do Shakespeare every year and it's amazing to see these Jr. High School kids do Shakespeare. It's not professional, nor is it "polished" but it's amazing, none the less.

Since my wife has connections with the school, I asked if they would let me direct the next year's production. "Of course!" came the excited reply. And I signed up and we put on the play. Tonight we finished our run and I am tired.

We put on "Twelfth Night" set in Texas with minimal props and scenery. Based on even last night's rehearsal, it's a small (or not so small...) miracle that the shows--one matinee and one evening show--went so incredibly well. The kids were wonderful and did such a terrific job. I'm so proud of them.

I'd write more, but I'm very tired. I hope your Saturday was a gift. Take care.

Tom the Vibe

This is not a new picture, or the events that caused the damage to my car did not happen recently, however, since time is relevant, one must define recent to prove that statement either true or false. I guess what I'm trying to say (write) is that I banged up my little Pontiac Vibe about two months ago.

Many years ago I lived in Europe, Denmark to be more specific, and while there I drove one of two cars, a nice VW Jetta, and a nice-if-you-like-those-kind-of-things VW van. We called the van "Brown Bread" because it was brown and shaped like a loaf of bread.

Several years after driving Brown Bread, I married a girl who owned a brown car. Plymouth called the car's color "Champaign" (I guess brown is too common for a high-brown automobile manufacture like Plymouth...). I don't know when, but eventually we began calling my wife's car (and the only reliable car since I kept driving VW bugs after coming home from Europe) "Brown Bread."

We kept Brown Bread for several years and it turned out to be a wonderful car. As our family grew, a friend gave us his aging '85 GMC Suburban--given because it caught fire and my friend's spouse vowed never to drive it again. It never caught fire with us in it, but we replaced the starter motor twice before we traded it in on a minivan and the suburban ended up blowing up when the dealer drove the vehicle to the auto auction. During the short time we owned the suburban we called it "Birthday Blue" because it was blue and my friend gave it to us on my birthday (one again, the lack of creativity in creating nicknames for cars evident...).

So several cars later, I buy my Vibe--basically a Toyota Corolla made by Pontiac. We decided to call my car "Tom," a degree of creativity sneaking into the naming process. We like Tom. Tom works. Tom is good.

But on a dark and snowy night about two months ago Tom found himself unable to stop in time and the result can be seen in the above picture. We still call the car Tom, but perhaps a more suitable nickname for the car could be "The Deer Slayer."

Goodnight all.

If a blogger blogs on his blog and no one reads it, did it happen?

I'm a novice--no other way to say (write...) it. It's a strange thought thinking that no one will ever read this, other than my one follower (number of followers as of the date of this posting). I've written a daily journal since January 1985 and it's a pretty good bet most--if not all--of those journal entries will not be read by another human, not even the writer of all those pages...

Busy, busy day. Like most of you, I filled my day with activities--some for myself, but most for others. Tonight, my son received his Patriarchal Blessing...it's a Mormon thing, a faith our family embraces and I must say the experience was overwhelming, very, very cool! And my son was such a stud, so was the Patriarch--a former University of Utah (another faith our family embraces...) football player.

I'd like to see more visuals on my blog. I'll need to look into figuring out how to do that. My inspiration are a lot of the women's blogs out there...they're much more creative (sorry, guys). Maybe I could dig into my pile of adorable pictures of my kids as chubby cherubs and throw them up on the digital canvas. Yeah....just maybe.

Take care, all! Until next time...

Tonight I updated a resume, my resume. I've been fully employed for over 15 years, but I still update my resume and apply for jobs again and again. Am I unsatisfied? Frustrated? Bored? I suppose, but then again, aren't most of us?

I am (for the next three days...) directing high school and Jr. high school students as they put on Shakespeare's production of "Twelfth Night." We had a breakthrough this afternoon--we made it through the entire show. It was rough, but we made it through. We've got a lot of work to do, but I'm so impressed with the kids. They're great kids. My contributions to the overall production have been minimal at best. But they say they've had fun. Hopefully, they'll say the same thing after we're done. Wish us luck...

In other news, a childhood acquaintance passed away this week. I knew him and perhaps at one time in my live we considered each other friends. He was young (of course, young is relative...). I may not be "young" anymore and he was a year younger than me, but a man dying in his 40's is young. I hope his family is okay, his kids, his parents--both survived him. We live; we die; we remember.

Tomorrow brings works and rehearsal and a meeting with a film director and the photographer to discuss the latest on our "project." Will this film ever get made? We shall see...

Thought I'd include a short video of a nice sunset, a view I've been blessed to have this view most of my life. Enjoy.

A Picture Of My Dad

I fell asleep last night thinking of blogging, of all the great and wonderful things this amazing invention--the internet--can do. I awoke with the same intensity to create and share, but after 10 hours of work, the spark began to fade.

The kids are preparing to retire for the night. I've written in my journal and there's absolutely nothing on TV (unless, of course, you're a political-logue and can't get enough of the president's words and the words of others who so desperately want to share their invaluable insights to the benefit all of us) so I'm giving this blog another shot.

A little bit about the picture. My father (kneeling, far right) was part of a B-17 crew in WWII. Unfortunately, I never got the opportunity to ask him about what he did or the experiences he had. By the time I was interested in history and could somewhat appreciate what he had to say, he had passed away several years before. Such is the way of things sometimes...

I thought I'd share the picture with you because it means so much to me. And yes, it's just a picture of men that I believe are all gone, but for all it represents--not just to me, but to the generation that sacrificed so much. I hope you all have a wonderful evening. Goodnight.

And so, it begins...

So, somehow you've stumbled on this humble little site. A little about me. I'm a (hopefully...) middle-age father of four with a wife, a cat, a dog, a mortgage, two jobs, a minivan, and several writing projects suspended in the air hoping at least one allows me to provide for my family from the written word. Time will tell, of course. Time will tell...

The truth is, I wanted to start another blog for some time, even though I have a perfectly good blog collecting dust in cyberspace somewhere which reminds me of several pair of shoes and a couple of sweaters currently collecting dust in my closet. But you probably don't care about why I've begun this little literary adventure--you just want to read something funny, something that takes less than 10 seconds to scan and that will hopefully make your day just a little bit better.

I'll do what I can. That's my promise. I'd like to say this will be a daily pursuit, but I think we both know that's probably not true. To quote a great flick: "We are men of action; lies do not become us."

And if you're wondering why in the name of all that's holy is this blog titled as it is, all I can say is as a child my cousins called me that, a tradition continued by my sister-in-law (someone, by the way, I knew existed before my brother did while I lived 5000 miles away from her and he lived 15 miles from her, but that's another story...) to this day, much provides literally seconds of enjoyment to almost all who are lucky enough to hear her say those words, "Scotty Watty Doodle All The Day."

Let's hope we have a good time as we interact and explore and entertain an inform. We shall see...