Just a Little Off the Top

Gifts from Nana.

Ironically, "Spike" seems to be the follically challenged one. The girls get a kick out of seeing how high the grass will grow. Me too. Sadly, this is the best grass I've been able to grow here in Arizona. I'm thinking about transplanting my back yard with Chia grass...just buy a bunch of these things and bury the heads in the ground? It could work.

And They Came Bearing Gifts

The girls are back from their trip with Grammy and Papa, and they didn't come home empty handed. Whenever Diane and I go on a trip alone, being the amazingly fantastic parents we are, we always bring back a gift for the girls, even if it is just a "stupid" T-Shirt. Well the girls, taking a cue from us, decided they couldn't possibly return home without bearing gifts for their beloved parents. They came to this decision while on a delay at the airport waiting for their return flight home. So Grammy and Papa accompanied them to the airport gift shop where the girls carefully and thoughtfully selected their gifts for Mommy and me.

Their flight didn't arrive in Tucson until late Wednesday night, so the girls spent the night at my in-laws. I stopped by to see them yesterday morning on my way in to work. The first thing they did, after giving hugs, was run for their presents. Kyra grabbed hers first and proudly presented it to me: a water bottle from the Woodland Park Zoo in Seattle, decorated with a 3-D mural of a variety of animals. Cost: $9.95 (the price sticker was still affixed to the bottom). She told me that I could use the bottle at work. Very thoughtful. I DO get thirsty at work. I gave her a big hug and told her that it was perfect.

Kailey then ran up and handed me her gift: a key chain from, well whaddaya know, Woodland Park Zoo! I'm noticing a theme here. The key chain had a fabric strap with a cheetah or leopard, I'm not shure which, on the end. Cost: $5.95 (we haven't yet taught them the practice of removing price tags from gifts). She told me that she knew I didn't have a key chain and thought I needed one. She's absolutely right. So I attached the key chain to my already too-bulky ring of keys because I am an awesome and supporting Dad who loves his daughter enough to walk around with a very large bulge in my pocket. Besides, it makes up for some of the shortcomings down there. I gave Kailey a big hug and thanked her.

It is often said that it's not the gift, but the thought that counts. I believe that whoever coined this expression must have been a parent. I was moved as my girls took turns revealing the overpriced airport gift shop treasures that they selected specifically for me. And regardless of the price tags, seeing the expressions of pride on my girls' faces as they showered me with their gifts has made them forever priceless.

The Price for a Weekend Alone

It was a memorable Memorial Day weekend. Several weeks ago, my in-laws decided they were going to take another trip to see my sister-in-law, and they asked us if they could take the girls with them. COOL! They also asked if we would watch Rex for the four days they'd be gone. CRAP! Kidding. Watching Rex is a small price to pay for a long weekend alone with my honey.

On Sunday, Diane treated the two of us with massages, using the remainder of a gift certificate she received. Diane went with a sixty-minute hot stone massage and a face brightening facial while I indulged in the ninety-minute signature massage, and it was awesome. It sounds crazy, but a sixty-minute massage goes by too quickly. Needless to say, we left the spa feeling happy and shiny. We spent the rest of the weekend utilizing the grill, resting, catching up on some videos, and doing a little house/yardwork. Oh yeah, and watching Rex.

Sunday night, we let Rex out so he could do his busy work, and after a couple of minutes I heard Diane cry, "Oh crap...the sprinklers are on!" I rushed to the window to find that the sprinklers, indeed, were on, and that a thoroughly soaked Golden Retriever was frolicking in the midst of them like a swimsuit clad ten year-old on a hot summer day. I grabbed the video camera and captured the video you see below. It was quite the sight.

All in all, Rex was a good boy. It sounds like the girls had a good time with their Aunt, and I'm excited to have them home tonight. We'll see how long that excitement lasts because I'll spend the next six weeks trying to keep them entertained during their summer vacation.

A $50 Toy Vs. a 70¢ Balloon

The balloon will win out every single stinkin', frickin' time. Diane gave me a task to fulfill on my way home from work for Kailey's birthday party on Wednesday: pick up some balloons. I stopped by a party store where they had a whole wall-full of balloons to choose from. It was a little overwhelming. I stood there staring at the wall for about ten minutes before someone came over and asked a really stupid question, "Do you need some balloons?" No, I'm making a mental sketch of every freakin' balloon on your wall so I can go home and construct exact duplicates in an attempt to avoid paying the exorbitant prices you people charge for a mylar balloon. Did I say that? No. I simply responded, "Yes, please."

"Are you having your party within the next eight hours?" she asked. I shot her a puzzled look. "The regular balloons only last eight hours after being inflated," she explained. Allll-righty then. I assured her that we would be partying as soon as I got home, roughly twenty minutes after she fulfilled my order. Satisfied, she scooted behind the counter and began rounding up balloons.

I bit the bullet and bought one of their $13 mylar balloons, an enormous heart-shaped "Happy Birthday" balloon that had four smaller stars branching off of it, along with a dozen regular ones of varying colors. The balloon lady filled them up while I settled the bill, and I went on my less-than-merry way. These party people are running a racket, and they know it. They also know that I'll be back to pay their ridiculous prices because they understand that the look on my child's face once she sees their balloons will make my suddenly lighter wallet worth while. And they're right. Kailey was ecstatic when she saw me walk through the door with my posse of balloons in tow.

We tied the balloons to her chair and proceeded with the birthday festivities: lunch, cake, and presents. Presents. The kid made a quite a haul in that department: dolls, art stuff, outdoor play gear, electronic gadget toys...enough stuff to keep her busy for a month. They did keep her busy for the day. But on Thursday, one guess as to what captivated her attention. Balloons.

True to the balloon lady's prediction, the regular ones wilted overnight. The girls cut the strings off of them and proceeded to bump and kick and swat them all over the house...for hours. It was maddening. What was worse is that they then had the audacity to argue over one balloon. And of course all of this happened while I tried to take a nap (I'm not lazy...I worked the early morning shift and had been up since 3:30). "THERE'S TWELVE BALLOONS AND I'LL BREAK EVERY LAST ONE OF THEM IF YOU CAN'T STOP FIGHTING OVER THE PEARLED BLUE ONE!!!" I threatened. They normally ignore my idle threats, but I must have sounded really angry because they relented...for about twenty minutes. Then, like a dog returns to its vomit, they returned to their folly. It's been a long couple of days.

The good thing about balloons is that they don't last long. By tomorrow they will have deflated enough that they'll need to be thrown away. Hopefully, Kailey will then return to play with the gifts we bought with our hard-earned money. If she doesn't they'll sit in her closet and collect dust with all of her other forgotten toys only to be remembered several years from now when we try to give them away to Goodwill or The Salvation Army. Then Kailey will petition and plead like mad to keep them. The headaches will begin all over again, all because of a 70 cent balloon.

Tanner, the Defecating Dog

OK, so all dogs defecate. But how many TOY dogs defecate? After reviewing my last entry, I was bummed that I couldn't show and help you fully appreciate Mattel's latest Barbie release, Barbie and her faithful companion, Tanner. I searched several websites for visual images of this amazing mutt's full range of potential, but to no avail. So I climbed up into the attic, fetched our girls' latest and greatest Christmas present from its hiding place, and put my faithful scanner to use. Those of you who are faint at heart may want to leave now.

Behold...Tanner, the Defecating Dog:



Here she is...what a good doggy! So you start out by giving her a treat. I love the caption..."YUM!" The problem is that what goes in looks amazingly similar to what comes out. A little while later, Tanner needs to go outside. Here's the money shot:




"Oh-oh" is right! Looks like Tanner had a little bit of a poopy. That looks like more than a couple of treats. Looks like Tanner might have gotten hold of a small animal. But never fear, Barbie is here to make things right with her super-duper-pooper-scooper!

Barbie IS the best! She scoops the poop with a smile. She doesn't even have to plug her nose, and, hey, no gagging! Why train your kids to clean up real dog feces when they can PRETEND to do it first? See, kids, it's not so bad. Now get out in that backyard and give your dad a hand!

The Perfect Gift

My dad's birthday was this week, and I finally got him what I believe to be the perfect gift. He's not the easiest person in the world to buy for (whose father is?), but this year I nailed it.

A little background: I was born nearly 38 years ago on January 12, 1969. Any sports nut worth his or her weight will know that one of the greatest upsets in American sports history happened on this date. On January 12, 1969, Joe Namath delivered on his guarantee of victory as he and his upstart New York Jets defeated the heavily favored Baltimore Colts, 16-7, in Super Bowl III. The victory gave much-needed credibility to the AFL, whose teams had been blown out by the "superior" teams of the NFL in the previous two Super Bowls. My dad never saw a minute of the game. Not a huddle. Not a snap. Instead, he waited for his precious baby boy, his first child, to be born. And nearly every year of my 37 years, he has reminded me of this.

Until now.

The idea came to me last year as I looked for my dad's birthday present, "I wonder if there's a DVD of Super Bowl III?" So I jumped on the internet and searched. I came up empty in my DVD search of Super Bowl III, but I did find something in a format called V-H-S...it's a video tape played through a V-C-R. They seem vaguely familiar. Anyway, I stumbled across a video series called "The NFL's Greatest Games", one of which was Super Bowl III. SCORE!! IN YOUR FACE! IN YOUR FACE!! Except the series had gone out of print (or whatever videos "go out" of) and retailers wanted $1 million for the tape. Abort. Abort. I bought him a hat. I'm not cruel...he collects them.

This year in my quest for a birthday present I returned to my search for the NFL's greatest game to see if it had come down to a respectable price. It had. SCORE!! IN YOUR FACE!! IN YOUR FACE!! So I purchased it along with a couple of hats, Jets and Colts, of course, and sent them along to my dear ol' dad.

I talked to him a couple of days ago and he told me he just laughed as he opened up his gift. "Guess I can't tell you that I've never seen the game anymore, can I?" he said.

Nope, I reckon not. But I'm looking forward to the day when we can watch it together.