"The List is Long and Distinguished." Goose, Top Gun

After writing my last post, I feel compelled to write a complete list of all the friends who got me through an incredibly chaotic chapter of my life. Anyone who knows me, knows that I have a nickname for anybody who has a positive impact on my life.

Thank you, to everyone. You know who you are.

The Godfather
Farnsworth
Ookie
Sea Bass
Indy
Big B
MMJD
Homie
Dr. Allen
Glorious
aLEEEEEEsa
Hot Rod
Warren G
Fernando
Del
O'Malley
Ingot
Boggs
Donna
JJ
Spanky
McGillicuddy

The person who got me through the absolute worst time...

Punky

And the person who had the biggest part in guiding me back to myself...

McGee.

Some of the most memorable things said to me by these people:

"You're an honorable man."

"Promise me that when I walk by your desk in the morning, you'll be sitting there."

"Whether you ask him to or not, the Lord will watch over you."

"Here's a card with what to do if you ever lose it and get pulled over drunk."

"You need to be careful. People attach to you, and sometimes end up getting hurt. Without you even knowing it."

"At the lowest point in my life, I asked God for help. That night, my house was broken into. And then my life got better." (I did a similar thing; and that night my car was broken into. And then things got better.)

And probably the most important of all...

"Every person you date, every decision you make, every thing you do... needs to be based on one thing. What's best for your kids."

I think I'm actually going to be okay. It's a good feeling to finally have. :)

Miss Them When They're Big

I always tell my kids that I'll "miss them when they're big." I'll miss them when they're too big to hold. Too big to need instructions. Too big to sleep with me. Too big to jump in the shower with me. Too big to need my help with every little thing.

Too big to think their Daddy is flawless.

I'm likely closing on my new house tomorrow, after spending a year making the best life I possibly could for my kids in my parents' basement. It's one of many long-overdue last steps in a year-long saga, that will most likely be the worst period of my entire life. If not for my parents, family, loyal old friends, and caring new friends, it would have been much worse.

If not for the unconditional love of my children, I possibly would not have survived.

They are alive because of me. And now, I feel I'm alive because of them. I look forward to them continuing to lead me down an unknown path.

Ode to Senorita Makita

"Hey man, what are you doing for lunch tomorrow?" Coming from my hippy/granola/cubicle neighbor buddy O'Malley, that usually involves a trip to the organic pet food store. Or a burrito from Taco Bell. Not this time.

"Why do you ask?", I asked.

"Dude! Senorita Makita is going to be at Spokane Power Tool tomorrow. Let's go check it out!"

Senorita Makita? It sounded too goofy to be true. So, I promptly googled "Senorita Makita"... and there she was. In all her tool-belt strapping glory. And in all fairness, there was a Miss Makita as well. Good to know Makita is an equal-opportunity employer.

I don't normally get excited about such things. But, it was funny seeing O'Malley so excited about it. I said "Yeah, for sure! I'm in!" The fact that they were serving free lunch helped.

The next day around noon, we jumped in his Subaru Outback and headed downtown. As soon as we approached Spokane Power Tool, I knew that Senorita Makita must be a big deal. There were hundreds of contractors, laborers, and... uh.... even a couple of "public agency" vehicles parked there. After we parked and got in line, there were... uh... TWO... office guys. Us. Regardless, we were welcomed into the mix.

For a half hour, we stood in line amidst guys looking at tools. Guys talking cool. Guys looking cool. After all, a half hour is not much time to prepare yourself for something as mind-blowing as Senorita Makita. After much patience and self restraint, there she was. I expected her to be posing gorgeously, with high heels and cameras flashing. Instead, she was positioned under an EZ-Up canopy, sitting at a table. She frantically signed posters of herself.

O'Malley was quite smitten. "What's your name?", he asked. It never occured to me that Senorita Makita may not be her given name. O'Malley is one smooth character, I'll give him that. She told us her name. I don't remember what it was. I was too busy thinking about what it would be like to be the focus of attention among hundreds of people... and knowing that every one of them wants to have sex with you. Weird.

Next stop: the food tent, where we had our choice of a BBQ chicken sandwich, a burger, or a giant sausage. I opted for the BBQ chicken, because it seemed a little anti-climactic to "hang" with Senorita Makita... just to be handed a giant sausage.

We got our lunch. O'Malley got his autographed poster. The trip was a success.

So, here's to you, Senorita Makita. May you find happiness among power tools, sharpie pens, and horny men.

LKMY JNK?

Does this mean what I think it says? I'd say North Dakota is pretty loose with the personalized license plates.


I'm sure the intent is not what I'm thinking it is, but I think it's funny regardless.

Brand of Brothers

We'd been sitting around a campfire, talking about it for years.

"We should have a ceremony, where we brand each other!" someone once joked. Over time, the idea was expanded upon... including chants, mantras, and certain... uh... "revealings".

Alcohol has a way of making grown men do strange things. One is drinking Maker's Mark whiskey. Another is drinking Arrogant Bastard Ale. Some are drinking Keystone Light, while others are drinking Pepsi. But, on this particular night, the consumption of spirits was drowned out by an outpouring of loyalty and manliness.

I've been going on yearly camping trips with the same group of guys for around 5 years now. We go up the St. Joe, almost to the Montana border. It's strictly for men only. I guess that's how I know I'm with an older group; I'm still at the age where I'd love to bring a female companion. Apparently, after you reach the ripe age of 50+ something, you take every opportunity to get away from women. So you can do strange things and not get yelled at, I'm guessing.

It's called the "herd" trip. A herd of men, who have all worked together at one time, converge in the wild. And become wild.

During the last trip, while sitting around the fire, one particular member of the herd had a presentation to make. He actually made an honorary branding iron in the shape of elk hooves, complete with a wooden case and a bite stick.

Everyone laughed. "Haha, what a funny idea!" everyone thought.

"I'll do it," I quickly said.

People got a little nervous. I don't think anybody considered that somebody would actually do it. After a moment of silence, C.C. (unofficial dominant male of the herd) proudly proclaimed "Well, I'm going first!"

Amidst stares of disbelief, and with help from the burner of a camp stove, he did. And he said it wasn't that bad. D.W. was next. I was third, and also the last. Surprisingly, it really didn't hurt. It was worse for the brand administrator, who had to watch the receiver's skin crackle and smoke.

Nobody thought any less of those who opted out. I mean c'mon, we were intentionally burning each other. I think being part of the experience was enough for them.

So, now we're a Brand of Brothers. But, after a bit of campfire mischief, I think we realized that we already were. :)

Unfortunately, I flinched a bit when getting mine, so I think it might end up looking like a butt. Although, we were glad the brand's maker didn't put his initials on it: B.J. That wouldn't have been overly manly.

Sometimes...

You just have to do your best with the options you're given.


And some things aren't meant for the trash bin, no matter how hard you push.

Reminds me of a couch I once bought for my bedroom at my parents' house. We couldn't get it through the door, so I cut it in half with a chainsaw. Once we got it in, I nailed it back together with some scrap wood and sewed the fabric with fishing line. It was a very punk rock thing to do. Structurally; it never quite worked, there was always a sag right where your butt went. Funny thing is, when I had buddies stay the night... they swore it was incredibly comfortable - for that reason. :)

Just So You Know...

When I go camping, there's a few things that you will DEFINITELY not see happening with my kids:

1. They will not pee on the picnic table in your campsite.
2. They will not take a dump in front of your tent.
3. I won't stand on the perimeter, giggling at how cute it is that they're fighting in your campsite.
4. I won't chain them outside at 4 in the morning, and let them scream at the top of their lungs.
5. They won't come nose into your food while you're eating dinner.
6. They won't run rampant through your campsite.

Now, if you all could do the same thing with your DOGS, that would be swell. ;)