Seabird
The azure sky melts through the foam
A gentle breeze from far-off home
The seabird sings her trilling verse
She alone can bear the curse
Forgotten lore and gentle needs
Soft turns my thoughts above the sea
What stories have her eyes beheld?
Of wayward sons, forgotten wealth?
She circles now atop the shore
Over cliff and onward more
She’s comes to me in dreams at night
A wayward angel, deft of flight
She sings to me of love unfeigned,
Of dreams unfurled, forgotten names
Left alone beside the town
Glancing now upon the ground
I wonder if she’d come to me
What else she knows, and else she’s seen?
Perhaps she wonders how it’d be
to walk a little while with me.
-Jonathan E. Kenworthy
Monday, December 27, 2010
Friday, December 24, 2010
Christmas
I've been thinking over the past week and a half or so about what to write about today. I think the Christmas season for me doesnt really officially start until after Stacey's birthday, the 19th of December. However, to be perfectly honest, it's a little too late to get into the spirit of things, because then it's a mad dash to the finish. I think I get so caught up in dreading the Christmas lights, loathing the necessity of shopping, and the animated fever that my children get into. The kids in particular just get so worked up that it's almost unbearable. I want so badly to just relax and share in their excitement, but they can be so very loud. They've been banging out Christmas carols on the piano the past month. Anytime, and I do mean ANYTIME another adult walks into our house, they insist on adding to the insanity by banging as forcefully as they can on the piano. Dont get me wrong, I'm really proud of them for learning, but I swear if I hear Jingle Bells ONE more time in the next month I swear I'm going to lock myself into the garage with three vehicles running and all the doors and windows shut. I think it's not just the piano, it's the constant ringing of the phone, the barking of the dog, the shoveling of the snow that everyone just packed-down nice and icy-like and the whole December experience. I get cabin fever I think. I can't do any outdoor work, I cant go for a run, I can't get the kids tired or anything. It's just almost unbearable. Then there's the knowledge that one of the vehicles needs four tires, the $500 in repairs on the other car, the wife that spends 4x the amount on me that I think we've even come close to bargaining for, and the coup-de-gracias, Tithing Settlement. As if I needed yet ONE more reminder at how selfish I've been throughout the year, now I learn that I'm 5% in arears and I've been blessed beyone measure.
Well this year is just no different. I've got to stave-off the requirement to drive down to Salt Lake and see the lights. See, I'm not big on cold. You add "wet" and I'm just plain unhappy. I've seen the lights, I know how beautiful they are, but spending fourteen bucks to ride the Trax, or ten dollars to park and lug kids and strollers and backpacks and coats and all the requisite accoutrement is just NOT my idea of fun. Once we get there I have a great time sure. I feel the Spirit, I love to listen to the First Presidency over the speaker system from the Temple Grounds and of course the Visitors Center for the Salt Lake Temple will take the starch out of just about anyone. I think it's not the experiences that turn me off, it's the logistics I know that nobody factored in that's required to get there. So, by the time I get to our destination I'm upset about the cold, upset about having to stop for gas, the fact that our tire was low for the third week in a row, and the yelling from the back seat, and the aforementioned prospect of carrying a screaming, tired, and uncooperative child (pick one. There's four to choose from.).
The other day in church the kids were doing their little primary program. It wasnt the big one in Sacrament Meeting but the little one in Primary. Josh was a wise man (pardon the irony), Lexi had a singing and speaking part and Isabelle was gripping my neck lovingly like we were going to sell her into slavery the following day. Well, along comes the song, "Silent Night" and of course, it just melts me. They'd gotten me good with a couple of hymns the first hour and I was already feeling my heart swell, undoing the previous years shrinking of my heart (two sizes at last count). So, I guess that's when I let go of the griping and bemoaning of my fate and just tried to enjoy myself.
Well tonight is unfolding EXACTLY as I predicted. A last minute dash to the grocery store ($167.00) for "milk, rolls, and salad dressing", and the bustling night-before making of $4.00 gifts for family and friends that takes three hours of work to make. Then theirs the wrapping of gifts, the assembly of bikes, the making of nine p.m. cookies (almost as an after-thought) and the constant chiding of the baby for pulling the little gold leafy-beads-thingies off the tree constantly.
Well I tell you what, that trailer of mine in the driveway is looking awefully comfortable. As a Mormon, I can't distance myself from the reality of in-laws and outlaws with alcohol. I'm supposed to put on a smile and make it the hap-hap-happiest Christmas since the good ol' fashioned Griswold Family Christmas I've grown accustomed to. I tell you what, I'd just rather enroll everyone within sight and sound in the, "Jelly of the Month" club and just be done with it. I'd rather be sipping highly alcoholic beverages out of a cup shaped like a moose than watch this day through to fruition. It's insane I tell ya. And noone EVER listens to me. I can' see the writing on the wall DAYS and WEEKS in advance. My lovely wife keeps trying to cheer me up and make me smile and somehow look ever-forward to the opportunities awaiting us with family only a few short hours hence. (Hold on, baby Livy is handing me the bead-twig-thingies again).
So, I guess this is what it is to be a dad on the holy of holiest nights. But I want you to know I do actually love this season. Sure, I gripe, I complain, but for that calm in the middle of the storm, I really do love it. I just wish we could make it more about the Savior, and less about the hustle and bustle to pacify neighbors with two-liters of Sprite and quipish little festive sayings. I wish we could focus on the birth of our Lord. "For unto us a child is born, unto us a son is given: and the government shall be upon his shoulder: and his name shall be called Wonderful, Counselor, The mighty God, The everlasting Father, The Prince of Peace." (Isaiah 9:6)
I have this dream. This vision. If I was in charge of my little family and their wranglings and slowing the insanity down to a crawl. I'd love to have them quietly sit at the foot of the tree. I'd like to give them the account of His birth. "For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord." (Luke 2:11) I'd like a little peace and quiet. I'd like a respite from the entrapments of the world. The flurry of activity that preceeds and succeeds this night. I'd like them to know and feel the Spirit in our home. I'd like to not be so short with them. I'd like to have us all just dispense with the television, the cookies, the candies, the ringing doorbell and acknowledge the birth of our Savior.
I think about Him. All that He has done for me. Even now, at 7:30, I am encouraging one child not to pound on the baby's back. I'm watching the feverish excitement of "What smells in the car???" I'm being beseiged on all sides (including the baby whom wants me to hold her and her bottle). I want to tell my children to speak at acceptable volumes. To have our home feel as Celestial as the inside of the Temple. I'd like them to speak kindly to each other, I'd like them to acknowledge what this day really means. I love them so very much. (And of course, THERE is the phone!!!!!!!) I am telling you I just cant catch a break. I want to lock the world outside and make this night about what it really means. I frankly dont really care that we have name-tapes on the gifts. I want to invite the Spirit here to attend us tonight. I'd like us all, including me to treat each other like we really care. Like we love each other. There is NO rest from the insanity of the day. I am upset, even beginning to entreat upon angry at the lack of respect for what today really means.
I suppose in time it will come. I suppose that someday, in the not-to-distant future we'll all be able to speak at acceptable volumes. I expect the possibility exists that we can shut the world outside the door and celebrate the birth of our Savior without constant interuption. (Que the making of the last-minute cookies I alluded to earlier).
I wonder if it's enough that I just know these things myself. Tonight I was thinking about Stacey and my first Christmas together. The year after we got married. We lived in a tiny little apartment in Tooele, UT for the paltry sum of $400/month. We wanted a tree and a few days before Christmas went to the lot, with our little sedan. We didnt have a pickup then, and the lot-owner reasoned that he could tie the tree to the top of the car. With the help of a few burlap sacks, the paint on the roof would be fine. After all, we were only traveling a few miles in return. Well, I looked over the prospect and resigning myself that it was the only way, proceeded to allow him the opportunity to tie the tree to our roof. We had to roll our windows down to allow the ropes to circum-navigate the tree and provide for a tie-down. But we weren't going that far. I was so happy. She was so happy. We smiled at each other, like newly-weds do, and made the trip home. It was in the driveway I discovered that not only had the tree held fast, but we were in very point of fact, tied into our vehicle. The car doors were both tied shut, almost mockingly, and I imagined the lot-owner laughing at yet-another fool who allowed him the priviledge of tying them into their car. Well, to get out I had to pull a, "Dukes of Hazard" move and slide out the car window and untie it.
You know, we laugh about that everytime we think of it. It's one of those Christmas memories that made you so angry at the time. I felt incredibly foolish that day. I'd encouraged my tormentor to tie me in, and smiled, THANKED him and PAID him to do it. But it's a memory I wouldnt trade for all the sap in all the pine trees in all the world(Let alone Tooele).
So I guess now we're left with looking for a catharsis for my rantings and whinings and carrying on. I'm looking for that five minutes of solitude and solace where I realize it all went according to plan. I'm looking forward to looking back with fondness at whatever memories I am choosing to ignore on this, the eve of the celebration of our Savior's birth. I love the Savior. I dont believe I can fully understand what He has truly afforded me. I look at my life. My children. My wonderful and incredible wife. I look at the home I live in. The Nation which allows me the freedoms to pursue my every ideal and dream. I am, and have been blessed truly beyond measure. I love the Savior. I am humbled by His affection and concern for me. I want Him to know I need him. I need Him daily. I think of my own short-comings. I think of how He has blessed me and how finite my efforts really are in comparison to those blessings. I want Him to know I feel those things to be so close to my heart. I want Him to forgive me for my tirades. For my shortness with my beautiful wife and children at times. I want Him to know that I look to Him in all things. To guide us as a family. As a couple, and as individuals. I want Him to know that although I fall almost continually, that I will continue to stand and press-forward in His service. I want so much to be a better man. I want my weaknesses to become my strenghts. I want the promise of his guidance and protection which I have enjoyed even without full knowledge at times.
I hope you have a wonderful and incredible Christmas. I hope you take a moment to love your family. I hope you soften your heart to the promptings of the Spirit. That you let Him into your life. I hope that you resolve yourself to make this the year that you start or even renew your journey back to Him. I hope that you find great joy in his personal sacrifice on our behalf. That you may know I am very, almost painfully aware of all that He has done for me. I believe that He can and will make me equal to the design which He has set me here for. I believe He will assuredly do the same for you and yours. My heart is incredibly full at the knowledge of all that He has been for me in my life and want that same understanding and fulfillment for you.
May God bless and keep you this holiday season. May you have the time requisite to reflect upon the message of His love. May you know of a surety that He came into the Earth, to pave the way for you and I to return to our Father in Heaven. May you feel the sweet forgiveness of his mercy. May you know of his hand extended in your behalf. May you feel in your heart the remembrance of his pain in the Garden of Gethsemane in our behalf. That you might know that the price of our sins has already been paid through His infinate atonement. That you and I might again return to our loving Heavenly Father to continue His design for sharing in His Eternal Glory. I love my Savior, He is everything to me. He has provided me with all that I enjoy, and spared from me nothing which would allow me the sweet knowledge of His plan.
May God shower upon you all that your righteous heart seeks and desires this holiday season. Is my hope and prayer. Merry Christmas.
Always Yours,
J
Well this year is just no different. I've got to stave-off the requirement to drive down to Salt Lake and see the lights. See, I'm not big on cold. You add "wet" and I'm just plain unhappy. I've seen the lights, I know how beautiful they are, but spending fourteen bucks to ride the Trax, or ten dollars to park and lug kids and strollers and backpacks and coats and all the requisite accoutrement is just NOT my idea of fun. Once we get there I have a great time sure. I feel the Spirit, I love to listen to the First Presidency over the speaker system from the Temple Grounds and of course the Visitors Center for the Salt Lake Temple will take the starch out of just about anyone. I think it's not the experiences that turn me off, it's the logistics I know that nobody factored in that's required to get there. So, by the time I get to our destination I'm upset about the cold, upset about having to stop for gas, the fact that our tire was low for the third week in a row, and the yelling from the back seat, and the aforementioned prospect of carrying a screaming, tired, and uncooperative child (pick one. There's four to choose from.).
The other day in church the kids were doing their little primary program. It wasnt the big one in Sacrament Meeting but the little one in Primary. Josh was a wise man (pardon the irony), Lexi had a singing and speaking part and Isabelle was gripping my neck lovingly like we were going to sell her into slavery the following day. Well, along comes the song, "Silent Night" and of course, it just melts me. They'd gotten me good with a couple of hymns the first hour and I was already feeling my heart swell, undoing the previous years shrinking of my heart (two sizes at last count). So, I guess that's when I let go of the griping and bemoaning of my fate and just tried to enjoy myself.
Well tonight is unfolding EXACTLY as I predicted. A last minute dash to the grocery store ($167.00) for "milk, rolls, and salad dressing", and the bustling night-before making of $4.00 gifts for family and friends that takes three hours of work to make. Then theirs the wrapping of gifts, the assembly of bikes, the making of nine p.m. cookies (almost as an after-thought) and the constant chiding of the baby for pulling the little gold leafy-beads-thingies off the tree constantly.
Well I tell you what, that trailer of mine in the driveway is looking awefully comfortable. As a Mormon, I can't distance myself from the reality of in-laws and outlaws with alcohol. I'm supposed to put on a smile and make it the hap-hap-happiest Christmas since the good ol' fashioned Griswold Family Christmas I've grown accustomed to. I tell you what, I'd just rather enroll everyone within sight and sound in the, "Jelly of the Month" club and just be done with it. I'd rather be sipping highly alcoholic beverages out of a cup shaped like a moose than watch this day through to fruition. It's insane I tell ya. And noone EVER listens to me. I can' see the writing on the wall DAYS and WEEKS in advance. My lovely wife keeps trying to cheer me up and make me smile and somehow look ever-forward to the opportunities awaiting us with family only a few short hours hence. (Hold on, baby Livy is handing me the bead-twig-thingies again).
So, I guess this is what it is to be a dad on the holy of holiest nights. But I want you to know I do actually love this season. Sure, I gripe, I complain, but for that calm in the middle of the storm, I really do love it. I just wish we could make it more about the Savior, and less about the hustle and bustle to pacify neighbors with two-liters of Sprite and quipish little festive sayings. I wish we could focus on the birth of our Lord. "For unto us a child is born, unto us a son is given: and the government shall be upon his shoulder: and his name shall be called Wonderful, Counselor, The mighty God, The everlasting Father, The Prince of Peace." (Isaiah 9:6)
I have this dream. This vision. If I was in charge of my little family and their wranglings and slowing the insanity down to a crawl. I'd love to have them quietly sit at the foot of the tree. I'd like to give them the account of His birth. "For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord." (Luke 2:11) I'd like a little peace and quiet. I'd like a respite from the entrapments of the world. The flurry of activity that preceeds and succeeds this night. I'd like them to know and feel the Spirit in our home. I'd like to not be so short with them. I'd like to have us all just dispense with the television, the cookies, the candies, the ringing doorbell and acknowledge the birth of our Savior.
I think about Him. All that He has done for me. Even now, at 7:30, I am encouraging one child not to pound on the baby's back. I'm watching the feverish excitement of "What smells in the car???" I'm being beseiged on all sides (including the baby whom wants me to hold her and her bottle). I want to tell my children to speak at acceptable volumes. To have our home feel as Celestial as the inside of the Temple. I'd like them to speak kindly to each other, I'd like them to acknowledge what this day really means. I love them so very much. (And of course, THERE is the phone!!!!!!!) I am telling you I just cant catch a break. I want to lock the world outside and make this night about what it really means. I frankly dont really care that we have name-tapes on the gifts. I want to invite the Spirit here to attend us tonight. I'd like us all, including me to treat each other like we really care. Like we love each other. There is NO rest from the insanity of the day. I am upset, even beginning to entreat upon angry at the lack of respect for what today really means.
I suppose in time it will come. I suppose that someday, in the not-to-distant future we'll all be able to speak at acceptable volumes. I expect the possibility exists that we can shut the world outside the door and celebrate the birth of our Savior without constant interuption. (Que the making of the last-minute cookies I alluded to earlier).
I wonder if it's enough that I just know these things myself. Tonight I was thinking about Stacey and my first Christmas together. The year after we got married. We lived in a tiny little apartment in Tooele, UT for the paltry sum of $400/month. We wanted a tree and a few days before Christmas went to the lot, with our little sedan. We didnt have a pickup then, and the lot-owner reasoned that he could tie the tree to the top of the car. With the help of a few burlap sacks, the paint on the roof would be fine. After all, we were only traveling a few miles in return. Well, I looked over the prospect and resigning myself that it was the only way, proceeded to allow him the opportunity to tie the tree to our roof. We had to roll our windows down to allow the ropes to circum-navigate the tree and provide for a tie-down. But we weren't going that far. I was so happy. She was so happy. We smiled at each other, like newly-weds do, and made the trip home. It was in the driveway I discovered that not only had the tree held fast, but we were in very point of fact, tied into our vehicle. The car doors were both tied shut, almost mockingly, and I imagined the lot-owner laughing at yet-another fool who allowed him the priviledge of tying them into their car. Well, to get out I had to pull a, "Dukes of Hazard" move and slide out the car window and untie it.
You know, we laugh about that everytime we think of it. It's one of those Christmas memories that made you so angry at the time. I felt incredibly foolish that day. I'd encouraged my tormentor to tie me in, and smiled, THANKED him and PAID him to do it. But it's a memory I wouldnt trade for all the sap in all the pine trees in all the world(Let alone Tooele).
So I guess now we're left with looking for a catharsis for my rantings and whinings and carrying on. I'm looking for that five minutes of solitude and solace where I realize it all went according to plan. I'm looking forward to looking back with fondness at whatever memories I am choosing to ignore on this, the eve of the celebration of our Savior's birth. I love the Savior. I dont believe I can fully understand what He has truly afforded me. I look at my life. My children. My wonderful and incredible wife. I look at the home I live in. The Nation which allows me the freedoms to pursue my every ideal and dream. I am, and have been blessed truly beyond measure. I love the Savior. I am humbled by His affection and concern for me. I want Him to know I need him. I need Him daily. I think of my own short-comings. I think of how He has blessed me and how finite my efforts really are in comparison to those blessings. I want Him to know I feel those things to be so close to my heart. I want Him to forgive me for my tirades. For my shortness with my beautiful wife and children at times. I want Him to know that I look to Him in all things. To guide us as a family. As a couple, and as individuals. I want Him to know that although I fall almost continually, that I will continue to stand and press-forward in His service. I want so much to be a better man. I want my weaknesses to become my strenghts. I want the promise of his guidance and protection which I have enjoyed even without full knowledge at times.
I hope you have a wonderful and incredible Christmas. I hope you take a moment to love your family. I hope you soften your heart to the promptings of the Spirit. That you let Him into your life. I hope that you resolve yourself to make this the year that you start or even renew your journey back to Him. I hope that you find great joy in his personal sacrifice on our behalf. That you may know I am very, almost painfully aware of all that He has done for me. I believe that He can and will make me equal to the design which He has set me here for. I believe He will assuredly do the same for you and yours. My heart is incredibly full at the knowledge of all that He has been for me in my life and want that same understanding and fulfillment for you.
May God bless and keep you this holiday season. May you have the time requisite to reflect upon the message of His love. May you know of a surety that He came into the Earth, to pave the way for you and I to return to our Father in Heaven. May you feel the sweet forgiveness of his mercy. May you know of his hand extended in your behalf. May you feel in your heart the remembrance of his pain in the Garden of Gethsemane in our behalf. That you might know that the price of our sins has already been paid through His infinate atonement. That you and I might again return to our loving Heavenly Father to continue His design for sharing in His Eternal Glory. I love my Savior, He is everything to me. He has provided me with all that I enjoy, and spared from me nothing which would allow me the sweet knowledge of His plan.
May God shower upon you all that your righteous heart seeks and desires this holiday season. Is my hope and prayer. Merry Christmas.
Always Yours,
J
Thursday, December 23, 2010
Update Meow
So, heck of a week huh? Man, tell you what. This whole work week was a complete waste for me. Seriously, I tried to get engaged. It was just tough. I couldn't focus. Dont get me wrong, I have PLENTY of work stacked up from months of neglect. You ever notice how if you take one day off, somehow you're three days behind? How is that even possible? I dunno, but I tell you what, I've been somehow able to do it. I took two days off last week and came to work with 96 emails. That's of course including the crap that is FYI, which I JDC (Just Dont Care). Anyhow, so here I sit today at the table in the kitchen.
Hold-up for a second. I'm going to go off on a rant. See, I'm in charge of our children whilst Stacey is with the neighbor lady gettin' pretty down at the salon. So, in addition to making a huge mess by trying to feed baby Olivia her Chef Boyardee Chicken and Rice, I am also in charge of finding the blankey and making a baba. Yeah, so here's my rant. SOMEONE PLEASE explain to me what is so freaking great about baby formula in the powder? It's like 25 bucks for a 25 oz can. If you're doing the math at home, that's like a buck an oz, give or take. So, I gander at the incredients: "Whey protein concentrate (from Cow's Milk, Enzymatically Hyrdrolyed, Reduced in Minerals), Vegetable Oils, Soy, Coconut and High-Oleic Safflower...." among a slew of others. However, aren't we trying to sell the world on the amazing benefits of soy and how much cheaper it is to grow than beef?
Hold up, neighbor girl has a bloody nose in my garage...how DO I end up with these issues???
OK, we're back, anyhow, I think it's friggin' ridiculous how expensive formula is, when it's nothing more than my own Whey Protein Shake I buy from Walmart for building muscles 12 different ways. I figure my protein shakes are a rip-off at ten bucks a container, and THOSE come in chocolate, strawberry and vanilla!!!
OK, so where were we? Oh, anyhow, so the holiday is just around the corner. Today Stacey took me to the Men's Warehouse. Which is about the biggest misnomer I have come across in a long time. She said I needed a new suit. But I figured since it had, "warehouse" in the title, I was good to wear my jeans and boots and go in unshaven and unwashed (See also, "Clientel for Red Lobster" on an earlier rant. Anyhow, so, I'm obviously out-classed, and out-gunned when I go into this place. "Jay" whom is immaculately dressed, and "Guarantees I'm going to Like the Way I Look" walks me on over to the starter suits at about 700 bones a pop. Well hey the good news is, it's, "Buy One, Get One Free", which makes my boots feel a little less out of place. So, anyhow, Jay takes about 45 minutes going through the educational process of where my shoulder line should be, and the cut of this, and that....blah blah blah. I think at one point when he was marking my suit he reached a little deep in between the trouser thighs, but he had chalk in his hand, so I figured it was normal. So, blah blah blah, yada yada yada, I end up with four new shirts, four ties, six pair of socks, two black belts, two new suits, and of course the proverbial partridge. OK, so we check out, and I'm about 800 bucks lighter than when we went in. Thursday of next I will don my suits and I'm certain that I will look simply smashing in them. However, I'm not certain that I will be 800 dollars worth of SMASHING. That's a lot of friggin' smashing if you ask me.
Anyhow, so were on our way home, and Stacey starts to tear-up and tell me how she just wanted to do something nice and how much I deserve it, and how I'm always sacrificing for her and the kids..all very touching stuff. It meant a lot to me. But I still have trouble buying clothes. For me, it's all about utility. I need 800 bucks worth of satisfaction for 800 dollars worth of ...well...dollars. See, I'm a guy that prefers 25 dollar jeans. 150 dollar jeans with little white stiching and flaps on the pockets and a nice little place for my boyfriend, "Stephan" to rest his manicured hands just aint my style you dig? I'm much more at home with a nice pair of JC Penny's slacks and a nice Van Huesen shirt. If I've even spelled that correctly.
So, moral to this story, is I felt a little, no a lot, out of place today. I mean, I'm an officer in the U.S. Army. I'm supposed to be a gentleman, but it was apparent to me today, that I'm way out of my element in some of the more refined arts and dress of the day. I couldnt tell you a Vera Wang from an Aloe Vera. I just frankly dont have a clue. Anyhow, I guess what I'm saying is I like to look nice, but I need a dang good reason to drop that kind of cash. So, we checked out, and Jay was nice and all, but I can't help but think he was quietly disturbed at my rough edges and how he must have done me a favor purchasing two suits off the, "Bargain Rack". You know what? That really doesnt bother me. To me, I would expect the same from a BMW dealership. I think there's a certain expectation of what their clientel should look, act, and maybe even smell like.
My point in all this I guess, is, hey I'm ok with that. I'm ok with frugal. I'm ok with old-school. I'm ok with acceptable pricing and expecting minimim service and convenience. Not to mention utility. I think this world has swayed very wide of those traditional ethics and that mindset that our grandparents exhibited. I think paying for a car shouldn't mean a second job. I think having a home shouldn't mean you eat beans and rice every meal and freak out the day you buy steak. I think everything in moderation. I think, hey, I get just as much love in my 25 dollar jeans as some get in their 150.00 jeans. I think, well the difference is, I'm not all that interested in snuggling up with Stephan so, it really doesnt bother me that I'm not that polished. I'm a man moulded after my dad, who was, well a heck of a lot like his dad too. I guess, good enough is good enough for me.
But I guess when the rubber hits the road, and you need someone to help you fix your fence, or change your serpentine belt, or look under your hood (if you catch my drift), well I guess I'm your man.
I gotta run now, momma just got home and the insanity just kicked up three more notches. I'll catch you guys later, color inside the lines and hugs and kisses on all the appropriate areas. We'll see you soon.
Keep it Real,
J
Hold-up for a second. I'm going to go off on a rant. See, I'm in charge of our children whilst Stacey is with the neighbor lady gettin' pretty down at the salon. So, in addition to making a huge mess by trying to feed baby Olivia her Chef Boyardee Chicken and Rice, I am also in charge of finding the blankey and making a baba. Yeah, so here's my rant. SOMEONE PLEASE explain to me what is so freaking great about baby formula in the powder? It's like 25 bucks for a 25 oz can. If you're doing the math at home, that's like a buck an oz, give or take. So, I gander at the incredients: "Whey protein concentrate (from Cow's Milk, Enzymatically Hyrdrolyed, Reduced in Minerals), Vegetable Oils, Soy, Coconut and High-Oleic Safflower...." among a slew of others. However, aren't we trying to sell the world on the amazing benefits of soy and how much cheaper it is to grow than beef?
Hold up, neighbor girl has a bloody nose in my garage...how DO I end up with these issues???
OK, we're back, anyhow, I think it's friggin' ridiculous how expensive formula is, when it's nothing more than my own Whey Protein Shake I buy from Walmart for building muscles 12 different ways. I figure my protein shakes are a rip-off at ten bucks a container, and THOSE come in chocolate, strawberry and vanilla!!!
OK, so where were we? Oh, anyhow, so the holiday is just around the corner. Today Stacey took me to the Men's Warehouse. Which is about the biggest misnomer I have come across in a long time. She said I needed a new suit. But I figured since it had, "warehouse" in the title, I was good to wear my jeans and boots and go in unshaven and unwashed (See also, "Clientel for Red Lobster" on an earlier rant. Anyhow, so, I'm obviously out-classed, and out-gunned when I go into this place. "Jay" whom is immaculately dressed, and "Guarantees I'm going to Like the Way I Look" walks me on over to the starter suits at about 700 bones a pop. Well hey the good news is, it's, "Buy One, Get One Free", which makes my boots feel a little less out of place. So, anyhow, Jay takes about 45 minutes going through the educational process of where my shoulder line should be, and the cut of this, and that....blah blah blah. I think at one point when he was marking my suit he reached a little deep in between the trouser thighs, but he had chalk in his hand, so I figured it was normal. So, blah blah blah, yada yada yada, I end up with four new shirts, four ties, six pair of socks, two black belts, two new suits, and of course the proverbial partridge. OK, so we check out, and I'm about 800 bucks lighter than when we went in. Thursday of next I will don my suits and I'm certain that I will look simply smashing in them. However, I'm not certain that I will be 800 dollars worth of SMASHING. That's a lot of friggin' smashing if you ask me.
Anyhow, so were on our way home, and Stacey starts to tear-up and tell me how she just wanted to do something nice and how much I deserve it, and how I'm always sacrificing for her and the kids..all very touching stuff. It meant a lot to me. But I still have trouble buying clothes. For me, it's all about utility. I need 800 bucks worth of satisfaction for 800 dollars worth of ...well...dollars. See, I'm a guy that prefers 25 dollar jeans. 150 dollar jeans with little white stiching and flaps on the pockets and a nice little place for my boyfriend, "Stephan" to rest his manicured hands just aint my style you dig? I'm much more at home with a nice pair of JC Penny's slacks and a nice Van Huesen shirt. If I've even spelled that correctly.
So, moral to this story, is I felt a little, no a lot, out of place today. I mean, I'm an officer in the U.S. Army. I'm supposed to be a gentleman, but it was apparent to me today, that I'm way out of my element in some of the more refined arts and dress of the day. I couldnt tell you a Vera Wang from an Aloe Vera. I just frankly dont have a clue. Anyhow, I guess what I'm saying is I like to look nice, but I need a dang good reason to drop that kind of cash. So, we checked out, and Jay was nice and all, but I can't help but think he was quietly disturbed at my rough edges and how he must have done me a favor purchasing two suits off the, "Bargain Rack". You know what? That really doesnt bother me. To me, I would expect the same from a BMW dealership. I think there's a certain expectation of what their clientel should look, act, and maybe even smell like.
My point in all this I guess, is, hey I'm ok with that. I'm ok with frugal. I'm ok with old-school. I'm ok with acceptable pricing and expecting minimim service and convenience. Not to mention utility. I think this world has swayed very wide of those traditional ethics and that mindset that our grandparents exhibited. I think paying for a car shouldn't mean a second job. I think having a home shouldn't mean you eat beans and rice every meal and freak out the day you buy steak. I think everything in moderation. I think, hey, I get just as much love in my 25 dollar jeans as some get in their 150.00 jeans. I think, well the difference is, I'm not all that interested in snuggling up with Stephan so, it really doesnt bother me that I'm not that polished. I'm a man moulded after my dad, who was, well a heck of a lot like his dad too. I guess, good enough is good enough for me.
But I guess when the rubber hits the road, and you need someone to help you fix your fence, or change your serpentine belt, or look under your hood (if you catch my drift), well I guess I'm your man.
I gotta run now, momma just got home and the insanity just kicked up three more notches. I'll catch you guys later, color inside the lines and hugs and kisses on all the appropriate areas. We'll see you soon.
Keep it Real,
J
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