Monthly Archives: March 2012

So, I’m driving home today, and I turn onto the road we live on,

and I start breathing.

I always forget to breathe when I’m out in the world.  And I always remember on the road home.

I can see Sugarloaf Mountain in the distance to my North.

I can see my neighbor’s horse pasture to my south.

I can see my other neighbor’s winter wheat field to my West.

And my other neighbor’s woods.

And I FEEL the space.  And I mentally stretch.

And I am happier and relaxed because I know that in a skinny minute I’ll be

Home.

Oh, don’t get me wrong, it’s not the house that makes it that way.  It’s this:

My world.

This, my friends, is NOT a collapse rescue scenario.  It is not a rescue tech practical.  It is not a structural engineering drill.  It is not scaffolding, structure beams, or lincoln logs.

THIS is My Captain’s Structural Engineering background genius at work.

He’s building a retaining wall.  And when he builds a retaining wall, that puppy RETAINS better than Me after a dinner full off MSG during my menses.

(ew.)

Look at that picture above…he built an anchor for a retaining wall that already has supercalifragilistic supports.  My Captain takes no chances.

Why?

Well, let’s see, besides the obvious, which is that he makes ‘extreme perfectionism’ look sloppy, he also has had the misfortune to witness deaths caused by trench collapses.

And he’s not about to let ANYTHING like that happen to his loved ones.

Or us, for that matter.

(ba dum bum.)

So when this project is done, you can bet it will be the safest retaining wall EVER BUILT IN THE CREATION OF RETAINING WALLS.

So we’ve got that going for us.

This is our Moose’s Butt.

You’ll note he has a large crack.

I mean, you can see his crack goes from his bum, all the way to the top of his head.

You can see he hides it from the people on the road, but he’s mooning me and my family constantly.

Even from a distance.

The rest of him sure is cute, but let’s face it, the cute parts are facing other people.  The neighbors to the side get his cute little belly and silly posture:

Sadly, this is the part that reminds me of myself.

Except he is missing the varicose veins.

And the neighbors to the front get to look at this part of the cutie all the time:

Would you just look at that sweetie pie?  Look at his sweet smile!

and his totally loveable eyes!

But this,  this is what we get to look at all the time:

“Why?”, you ask?  “Why does he have such an enormous crack?”

(I often ask myself the same thing about my own…..But I digress.)

He has a large crack for the single purpose of swelling.

Weather changes, freezing, heat, humidity, etc make wood swell and retract and that can be damaging to wood.  Especially wood sculptures that your Beloved paid an arm and a leg for, to give you as an engagement present.  So it needs somewhere to go when it swells and retracts. It needs relief.

So the artist took a chain saw and put a crack up his, er, crack.

It’s a relief crack.

But now it makes me wonder if that is why we humans have cracks, too.  We have cracks in our hineys for…uh….relief.

Genius.

Stick with me, guys, I’ll solve all the riddles of the universe given enough time.

I am waiting for the day when my Varmint actually says “I hate my mother.”

It’s not a matter of ‘if’, it’s a matter of ‘when’.

How can I be sure?  ME AND MY BIG MOUTH.  I’ve lived with it my whole life and I have no delusions about it at all.

I can’t separate from this thing.  My pie hole.  My cake hole.  My big Yap.  It has to be big because its got to be able to fit not one, but two feet in it.  And it does.

Often.

Most people have a series of synapses that go from their brain to the nerves and muscles that work their vocal area.  Not me.  Sadly, I was born without those.  Deformed, without verbal filter.

In short:  I think it, I say it.  Nothing goes in between.

Often times it results in something funny.

Sometimes it results in me having to apologize.

Occasionally it results in something noteworthy.

Rarely it results in something esoteric.

I think one of the reasons I am more likeable in written medium that in real life is because there is this very cool little ‘edit’ function I can use post-publishing.   And there is the nifty little ‘delete’ button I use often.  As in very often.  As in All. The. Time.

I don’t have one on my mouth.  Lord knows I would live an easier life if I did have one.

I suppose the good thing about being born deformed, without a filter or any kind of verbal impulse control, is that people never have to wonder what I am thinking, if they should be so desperate enough for entertainment that they actually care what I’m thinking.   I am the quintessential WYSIWYG.  (What you see is what you get).  I’m simple that way.

I’ve lost a lot of friends that way.  I’ve made a lot, too.  At least until I lose them again…..

But back to my Varmint.  Imagine her life.  She lives with a ‘Blurter’.  She lives with the daily embarrassment of a mother who calls-em-like-she-sees-them.  A mother who has yet to learn the art of diplomacy.

Last night at her softball practice, I teased, cajoled, berated, and encouraged her from the sidelines all in the space of like, ten minutes.  At first she smiled, then she grimaced, then she simply turned away and ignored.  Sure, her team-mates got a kick out of it, and they probably also felt sorry for her.  But essentially, it didn’t take long for me to figure out that I was more of a hindrance to her than an asset.

At least I was sensitive enough to see that.

I guess I am going to have to start loving her from a greater distance, because I don’t want her to wish I wasn’t there at all.   Some people might think, “Here’s a concept, why don’t you just shut your big yap?”

Because I know my own limitations.

My yap is uncontrollable.  I’m not proud of it.  I take Frank-ness to a whole new level.

And I love my kid.