I just can’t take it anymore. I want so much to write about things that are important to me, but I find more and more that people who specialize in those areas are covering the things I want to discuss better. I, therefore, will defer discussions on politics and government to those with the expertise. I defer to Glenn Beck, Sean Hannity and the like.
Ok, now you know that I am relatively conservative.
I support the war in Iraq. I am in favor of smaller government and I throw up a little every time I think about the possibility of Hillary Clinton in the White House. I don’t own a gun, but I will stand by your side and fight for your right to do so. I should say that the primary reason I don’t own a gun is because I can’t afford one, not because I don’t want to. I DO however own several rather nasty pieces of cutlery not intended for kitchen use.
Now that I have that all off of my chest, I hope that this terminal case of block will clear up and I will be able to put something really worth reading on this place for you all to enjoy.
I think that for the near future I am going to look to my children for inspiration. They just about make me laugh myself to death every day. I should share some of that. They also scare the hell out of me, and I have a feeling I am not the only parent in the world to feel this particular sensation.
My oldest son, for instance, has shown his father’s ability to act without thinking his actions through as well as he could have. I should preface this little tale by saying that the boy is growing faster than his coordination can adapt to. He tends to fall quite a lot. My wife calls it being gawky. That works for me.
This particular day he had fallen over and collided with things for most of the day giving himself a couple of really impressive goose-eggs on his boney little head. Me being older and more fragile would have taken that as a sign that perhaps I should park my considerable butt on the couch so as not to risk serious or permanent injury. I am not however 4 years old and immortal. He is.
Lawdog was over for a visit and I enlisted his help in unloading some stuff from the trunk of the car. We head outside and I hear this earth shaking WHUMP from behind LD and me issues forth with an, “Oh dayum.” That’s when the crying fires up from just inside the front door.
My boy had tried to time his exit from the house to be able to push the GLASS storm door open with his head…he missed…at a dead run. Once we got him calmed down, I took a few minutes to explain that trying to open a glass door with one’s head is a recipe for unpleasantness.
I like to think that he took that wisdom and applied it, but let’s be honest. He’s four. I do take some comfort in the knowledge that he already knows he can’t fly, but that, my friends is another story.