Busy bee!

If I had not corrected my spelling the title of this post would have been busty bee, which is not at all what I am planning to talk about. Besides, bees are not mammals and that would just be silly. I have been a busy bee this summer, hovering clumsily just above the ground.

I don't think we will be submitting any heart warming stories to the Friend from Joshua B., age 4, in Alberta, Canada anytime soon. He asked if Jesus' middle name was jack ass, because that's what Jesus calls people. I told him that all I knew from the scary people I have heard cussing at rodeos is that Jesus has a middle initial of "H". We tried to assure him that Jesus would never call anyone a jack ass. I had a hard time balancing shock and horror while trying not to pee my pants laughing.

We now have to monitor Josh on the computer. He likes to play free online games and has tried with no success to try and log in to games of a rather bawdy nature advertised by scantily clad medieval wenches. It is a good thing he can't read or spell yet. I also caught him staring at a picture of the Kardasian sisters on one of Kathy's People magazines. OH DEAR! I thought I wouldn't have to contend with this kind of issue until he was much older.

Despite his early onset of love for the female form, he is such a great little boy and I am proud to be his dad.

Scott is now in school at the College of William and Mary in Williamsburg, Virginia. He started his classes this week and is loving them. I am sure he will thrive. It has been an emotional week since he left. I have had some really nice spiritual experiences this last week regarding him, me and our relationship as father and son. I feel like I have done and am doing a good job at being his dad. It has been strange having him gone and I have had to contend with feelings of insecurity that I did not expect. My fear was now that he was no longer living here with us that my role as his dad was somewhat threatened and in some way redundant. I have never tried to replace his father, but I feel a love for him as strongly as I do for my children born to me.

Scott was the first child I ever babysat. He may have fallen down the stairs when I watched him that day. It was only a few steps until his leg got caught in the banister. I can still picture him the first time I ever saw him. He came around the corner in Kathy's little apartment looking at me with his big brown eyes framed by his blonde bowl cut hair. I still remember how his chubby little feet looked in his sandals.

He would say "Ooomph!", which was an all purpose word that described whatever he pointed at. My job was to figure out what he wanted.

I remember the day I was sitting on the couch and he climbed up beside me and handed me a book to read. I hadn't yet learned the art of alliteration and story telling, so the story took a bit of a somber and grey tone thanks to my monotone reading. I have got alot better with that, and it is because I had him to read to. He would call me Yay Yay, then Jay Jay once he got a little older.

I remember sitting in the tub with him after Kathy and I were married. We were playing with some foam soap and made huge santa beards. He did look good with a moustache, even if he was just three. I would lay with him to get him to sleep and he would hold onto my thumb and rub my thumbnail with his thumb and fall asleep. Josh has done the same thing since he was really little. That is one thing that has bonded my little boys together in my heart.

It took a while to figure out how to be a dad. I was overly hard on him those first couple of years, which I feel bad about. It was and has been a difficult process to learn where I fit in. What was absolutely huge was the day he started calling me dad. He had been to see his cousins in Utah and just started doing it when he got back home. I remember how good it felt to hear him say that, and it still does to this day.

Now I sit here and wonder if I have done enough for him. I sit and wait to hear what he is doing. I get tears in my eyes because I miss him, but I am so proud of where he is and am so happy for him. I believe in tender mercies. I believe that one blessing was when Josh was born, and with having my boys look so much like their mother, is that I got to see what Scott would have looked like during the first two and a half years of his life that I missed.

After Scott left for school, I was comforted by the spirit and it was was confirmed to me that I have done a good job in being a dad to him. That knowledge is precious to me.

I need to go to bed, otherwise I can look forward to a migraine tomorrow.

Weekend Update

It's been a busy week leading up to Scott's graduation. It was last night and was really great to see and be a part of.

Scott's girlfriend Kelsey has been here for a few days with him and is a really nice girl. Scott's dad Byron and step mom Inger were here, as well as Kathy's dad, my parents and siblings from both sides. I think we represented and supported him quite well, and although we weren't the loudest cheering section, we were there.

I was honestly amazed by him. He looked very distinguished in his cap and gown, with the added bling bling of the valedictorian sash. If he was nervous when he spoke, I couldn't tell, because he spoke with conviction and what I can safely describe as power. It is so strange to see him looking all grown up when I remember him as the little two year old with the bowl cut that he was when I first met him. I do feel very lucky to be a part of his life and I am glad that he calls me Dad.

I am having a difficult time with the fact that he will be leaving for Virginia in a couple of months. The time will fly, as summer always does, so I hope we have some time to spend together before he goes. I really enjoy listening to his music with him and seeing what bands he has found. That boy will excel in his life and I am excited to see where his journey takes him. I have watched him grow and mature a great deal in a short time. The only thing I have to do to see that is look at pictures and it is surreal how drastically he has changed physically over the past few years.

His intellectual maturity is quite something. As he grows, he sees his parents differently. I hope that he doesn't consider me a doofus, but that is my own insecurity talking. I know I have faults and I am trying to be accountable for them.

Seeing him with Kelsey is really cute. I can tell they adore each other and it is really fun to watch them together. I have kept my mouth shut, for the most part, while she has been here and haven't said anything stupid.

One side note that I need to mention before I go is that public displays of affection should NEVER take place, ANYWHERE! I have seen them at church, at school, and the most obvious was last night at Scott's graduation. A very muscular fellow was sitting in the bleachers and was joined by his very pregnant, tanned, rail thin wife. She sat on the seat below him and leaned against him, which in itself shouldn't be construed as an inappropriate PDA. What was disturbing was seeing him repeatedly cup her breasts with his hands. She in turn massaged his hands while he was assisting her brassiere, so to speak. I will end the description there, but wonder if the the conception of the pregnancy occured at another public event somewhere, like a parent teacher interview or church pot luck supper.

Affection in a marriage is good, but not in front of others....

Father's Day

I know that I am a good dad. That may seem a bit arrogant, but I really think that this is true. I love my kids, I have a great time being with them. We watched Paul Blart, Mall Cop this afternoon, as that is one thing the family got me for father's day.

I know that I have taught them things by my example. Some good, and some not so good. The case in point for the latter happened while we were watching the movie. Josh was drinking an A&W root beer from a can. When it was empty, he chucked it over his shoulder and behind the couch. He punctuated his accomplishment with a rich, throaty burp.

THAT is my son!

I failed the "concerned parent" reaction after it happened, as I was laughing so hard that I started choking. I am in trouble for that, but I am what I am. Who figured I could work in an obscure "Popeye" reference.

I may not be what some would consider a perfect father, but I am a REAL dad. Warts and all. Well, skin tags mostly, but warts in a more figurative sense.

Scott, Katie and I played Bananagrams today. Scott started by saying that he has never lost a round of Bananagrams. Well, he did lose, TO ME! TWICE! He disputes it, which I expected, due to a controversial word I used. No profanity, just Rainier. It is a proper name, which excludes it from being used, but I fight dirty. If I can't cut you open with a multi-syllabic, I'll reach into my vast vocabulary and get you where it hurts. Here's a quick flurry! A, an, the, this, that, these, those, each, every, several, some, my, your, his, her, its, our, their....AND ALL NUMBERS!

Life isn't a fair fight, and that is what I am trying to teach my kids. I actually don't teach that, but it seems to fit with this post. I just know they like to spend time with me and I am trying not to mess them up too bad. I love my kids and they love me. That is good enough for me!

I have the flu. That's all the detail needed for that...

Jason

In home day surgery

I am not one to usually get too political, but I do really see the merits of a universal health care system like we have in Canada. I know how expensive procedures can get otherwise. Perhaps that is the reason I was able to find an article entitled "removing skin tags at home" while surfing the net. There is also an astounding picture library of all kinds, shapes and colors of skin tags, moles, rashes, hammertoes, bunions and my personal favorite, dandruff.

It has been an added blessing in my life to be the host of several skin tags, moles and other skin anomalies. I would be the "it" guy at a dermatologist convention. I suppose that has added to my extreme discomfort of taking my shirt off in front of people. In appropriate settings, I should say, like at the swimming pool.

Anyway, I do have the option of performing my skin tag removal at home, operating under the safety net that " if the stalk of the skin tag is too thick, you shouldn't cut it yourself". Those are words worth living by. It truly has become a real touch stone for me in the minutes I've lived since reading that. As long as I sterilize a sharp pair of scissors with alcohol, some of the newer skin tags will snip off with little to no pain. Why haven't I started yet?

If that doesn't work, any over the counter wart remover should work after applying it regularly for a few weeks. That seems like a long time, but I guess there will be a real sense of accomplishment when the treated tag finally falls off. I also learned I could tie them off with dental floss, which may result in discomfort when the tag is deprived of its supply of blood. That also would take a while before they fall off too, which would probably make me even more sensitive to tight, awkward hugs. Saying, "Excuse me, hugging me that tightly may jostle and untie some of my skin tag tourniquets" would probably guarantee that I would never have to worry about being hugged again.

For those hard to reach areas, it would be awkward to find a willing assistant. Asking would be the hard part. If telling them that they look like someone you can trust doesn't work, I don't know where to go from there. Perhaps asking if they care enough about you to help you be beautiful everywhere would be the sensitive way to go.

The more I delve into this, the more I know that this falls with in the realm of things you should ALWAYS see your doctor about. For those as vain as me who want that perfect beach body, having ragged scars from home surgery would make for a bummer of a day in the sun.

Anyway, home surgery should never be a money saving option for anyone. EVER!

Ewwwwww!

We are more than halfway through tearing all the basement carpet out. It has turned out to be a more complete time capsule of pet accidents and "what the h$#%! is that?" stains than I had anticipated. We found some funkified 70's carpet in the hallway under the old berber we are tearing out. All we would need to complete the 70's experience for the basement hallway are some macrame plant holders and maybe a velvet painting. Elvis would be nice, or perhaps a scantily clad woman riding a unicorn. I would also need the hair helmet I had when I was a kid in the 70's.

I did have an impressive thatch of hair when I was young. Old women in church would run their fingers through it quite regularly. Perhaps that contributed to the personal space issues I have. It could also have contributed to my baldness, although no one ever tore out a handfull of hair for a souvenier. I am o.k. not having hair and am fine not trying desperately to get it back. I do wonder what possesses some men to purchase a toupee. I think it would be less subtle to wear an "I'm Bald!" sign on a balsa wood frame on your head than to wear a rug.

Whenever I see someone who has one, the toupee seems to consume my thoughts. All features of the person wearing it seem to disappear. I am drawn to touch it or even lift a corner to see how it is attached. The crowning acheivement would be to turn it completely around while still on the head to see if it still offered the same coverage in both directions. I watched a lot of 3 Stooges films when I was young where the toupee would be constantly lifted in mock amazement, or shot off completely. I have always wanted to see if I completely baffled a toupee wearer if it would raise off his head.

I would like to wear one to church one week to see how people react to it. I think a nice blonde one accented by a burnt orange colored spray tan would be SO hot!

I am not sure what that has to do with the stained carpet, but I do find it equally revolting. I could make a nice toupee out of the shag we are putting down. The green fibres interspersed with the brown shag would really bring out the color of my eyes. The only thing that could bring more distinction is if my exzema flare up around my nose. Talk about a classy gentleman!

Good night...

Jason

Leaning tower of power

It's been a while since I've been able to post anything. I guess that means I've been busy.

I got to play with some heavy equipment in the yard recently. I borrowed a John Deere 544 loader from one of our neighbors. I used it to move a heavy wooden play set into the back yard for the kids. I also moved a whole bunch of wood chips in the yard and moved a dirt pile in the back yard. Moving the dirt pile was done mostly because I could. I haven't changed much since I was 8 years old. I still like playing with in the dirt, it's just that the Tonka toys are a lot bigger. I got to show off my heavy equipment operating skills, and everyone knows the ladies love that. My wife loves it because I got the play set moved and I didn't drop it on her. I've got game.

The wheels are turning for this years list of renovations. We're getting a new garage door Friday morning and getting the basement measured for carpet tomorrow. I will miss seeing the stain in the corner where Bootsie, our deceased mentally challenged cat, pooped on the floor. We scrubbed that spot like crazy, but our dim bulb kitty must have eaten a Sharpie or something permanent. Boots was a good cat, but he didn't care to groom himself that often...or ever.
Kathy once denied to a neighbor that he was our cat, as he looked particularly haggard after one of his feline benders. I am afraid of what other memories will come cascading out of the old carpet along with the dirt when I have to remove it.

I am making huge progress with the '67 short box. The truck is still in Helena, but I acquired a 225 slant six that is currently getting rebuilt. It has a custom ground cam, 10 to 1 compression ratio and is a perky little motor. It has a four barrel manifold with a new Holley carb and a really cool six into one header with a cut out plate to bypass the exhaust. I also got a 904 transmission to go with it that has a stage 2 shift kit. There are more parts for it and all of them are in great shape. I have access to a fuel tank, brake parts and seat from a big mid 70's New Yorker. I have most everything I need to get the truck running once it gets here.

I need to go cuddle Josh, so this blog can wait...

Fun at church

I should preface this by saying that I'm not sure if everyone "gets" my sense of humor. I am sure those that know me well enough understand how my mind works. When I get bored in public settings it doesn't take long before my mind starts to wander, and I start creating "what would happen if" scenarios. It always involves me humiliating myself or saying something devastatingly stupid to see how people would react to it.
I am always asking Kathy different "What would happen if?" questions when we are at church, shopping or anywhere else for that matter. Most stay safely in the hypothetical realm, but a few have crossed over. Those are the most fun.
I haven't tried many of the things I've thought to do at church. Often times during testimony meeting there is a lull between those who choose to get up. I wonder how it would spruce up the meeting if I were to get up from my seat and hop like a frog either up to the stand or out into the foyer. It certainly would invite discussion. My other thought was to skip merrily up to the front, while clapping my hands between my legs between each skip.
I enjoy singing in the choir. With my calling I am usually unable to attend choir practice which renders me unable to participate in the choir numbers. One Sunday Kathy asked me if I was going to sing in the choir. Instead of simply saying "no", I told her "not yet". I then told her that I would be rising from my seat during the song and strutting to join the choir in full and glorious song.
That would not be the first time in my life that I've disrupted the choir. When I was about 10 or 11, Dad, my brother Jeff and I were in the Leavitt ward choir. Jeff and Dad were there because they wanted to be, I was there because I needed the opportunity to mature and give of myself. That was right in the hey day of SCTV. For those that aren't familiar with SCTV, it was a Canadian sketch comedy show that is similar, and far superior, to Saturday Night Live or Mad TV. Needless to say, we watched it religiously. One character was a mentally unstable lounge singer named Lola Heatherton. One of her catch phrases was " I love you all, and I want to BEAR YOUR CHILDREN!"
I won't name the saintly choir director I offended, but she would always end each choir practice by thanking everyone for coming. As she was wrapping up her testimony one afternoon after choir practice, she closed by saying "I love you all!". I leaned over to my brother Jeff and whispered " and I want to BEAR YOUR CHILDREN!". We were both snickering uncontrollably during the closing prayer, which began immediately after I blurted that out.
It was a silent ride home. I had humiliated my father in front of the entire choir. He never said anything, but I could see that his neck and face were an uncomfortable shade of red as we rode home in the van. The years have taken my recollection of what he said or did to us, or me, more specifically. The next week in choir practice I had to get up and apologize to the choir for disrupting the meeting.
I am the executive secretary in our ward and have a bad habit of telling people that there is a $50 charge for interviews with the bishop that are payable directly to me. Most people laugh, but a few have looked at me a little funny. I have told a few kids awaiting baptism interviews about the gruelling interview process and doctrinal interrogation they were about to endure. If that one doesn't work, I have asked a couple of kids if they new of the baptism "rinse cycle". Messing with the minds of 8 year olds is fun, but something I need to stop doing. I do assure them that I am just joking, but I am not sure if they get it.
Anyway, I should go attend to my young son I have been ignoring, while on the computer...