Archive for February, 2011

To All The Girls I’ve Loved Before, 2011 Edition

February 14, 2011

I’ve loved a lot of girls in my life, but admittedly, far too many of them have only been from afar.  I’ve no reason to believe, for instance, that Noel ever had any idea of the level of crush I had on her in 9th grade, but I still think about her (for obvious reasons) every Christmas.  I suppose, technically speaking, I could be classified as a “romantic” . . . if only I hadn’t taken so much joy in the past at sneering at Valentine’s Day.

But not all the girls I’ve loved have been from afar, and this year, one girl in particular deserves special mention (as well as this candle), because she has succeeded at long last, where all others have failed, in making me find some lasting worth in Valentine’s Day.

L., you see, via equal measures of planning and happenstance, is a Valentine baby.  (Yes, son, I know you were born in November.  Just think about it.)

But If We Did, I’d Pick “Three’s Company”

February 11, 2011

I want to explain some things about yesterday’s post, son:

First off, I consulted your mother before posting that entry, as I always do with anything involving her.  She thought it was cute, but felt it needed a follow-up explanation.  I agreed.  It definitely needed a footnote, but I felt a footnote would have spoiled the flow (something she agreed with), so I waited until today.

You see, son, yesterday’s story sounded like it came straight out of a sitcom, but the occasional appearance to the contrary aside, we don’t live in a sitcom.  Your mother was playing to old stereotypes, going for an easy joke to make me smile, knowing that I would play along.  So do yourself a favor early and never forget that while she frequently enjoys playing a role that could have been played by Gracie Allen, it is only a role she enjoys.  Consider it another variation on the old “Now I’m just a country boy, BUT . . .” ploy, if you like. 

It’s a ploy, son, a ploy, I tell you!

But Honestly, Why Would You Want To?

February 10, 2011

My original plan, son, was, since it’s been a while that we’ve really “talked” here, to bring up one of the many topics I’ve been waiting for the right time to broach . . . but then those topics got upstaged.  A quick errand out with you today prompted the following exchange between me and your mother:

Her:  “Everybody loves babies.”

Me:  “Now we both know that’s not true.  Everybody does not love babies.”

Her:  – disdainful sniff –  “You know what I meant.  Everybody of consequence does!”

It’s hard to argue against logic like that, son.  My advice is to not even try.

Shhhhhh, Don’t Wake The Baby

February 9, 2011

Oh, and in case I need to say this specifically:

As L. has started teething early, this week is not the week I shall be returning to work.  On the positive side, this is giving me more time to practice writing with him asleep in my lap (like he is right now).

A Window Into My Dreams

February 8, 2011

(Not those dreams though.  To hear about them, I recommend you start by buying me a drink first.)

From time to time I end up trying to explain to people my dreaming habits, in the sense that I often dream in complete stories, complete with several acts. (Which is one of the reasons I detest being woken up early; it might make me miss the final reel of the movie.)  I’m told this is unusual, but as there are so few studies on things like this, I have to wonder what the basis of comparison is supposed to be. 

Regardless, dreams being what they are, it’s difficult to find something I can articulate to the skeptics to explain what I mean, but last night’s dream just happened to provide an example.  (Please note that I’m not claiming what follows has any literary merit; it’s just an unusually clear to others phrase from my dream.):

“To deal with the stress of the death of his sister, he became a secret practical joker . . . and a not so secret drinker.”

I never did find out how his sister died though. 

Ah well . . . there’s always tonight’s dreams . . .

An Old Family Recipe For Teething Pain

February 7, 2011

It looks like L. has decided to be an overachiever on this one, and has started teething ahead of projected schedule, adding an extra level of stress to all our lives in the process.

Fortunately, I remembered being told that my great-great-grandfather had the perfect solution to this kind of stress – fine brandy.  (Not for the baby’s gums, mind you . . . but in the bottle.  I’ve decided to give him the benefit of the doubt and assume he didn’t mean the baby’s bottle.)

This hasn’t done anything for L., but I’m feeling no more pain from his teething, at least.

Disclaimer:  All of this is tongue-in-cheek, of course.  I’m pretty sure my great-great-grandfather never actually recommended this.  I say this because he was Irish, so I figure if he had said something like this, he would have recommended whiskey instead.

But Fiction Can Also Help Truth Be Funnier

February 4, 2011

Remember what I said yesterday about the truth being funnier than fiction?  I still stand by that, and that story was one hundred percent true.

And yet . . .

I didn’t mention that I actually refreshed the page five times, not four, and the first ad (the one I chose not to mention) was for a grilled hamburger.  I could have tried to include that ad in my list, but I thought it didn’t flow quite as well as the others, so I omitted it.  I also didn’t mention the fact that I made the deliberate choice to stop refreshing the page when I got something particularly funny to end on.

Tricky when telling a tale, am I.

Truth Can Be Funnier Than Fiction

February 3, 2011

Normally I tend to consider my blogging world and my Facebook world like parallel dimensions, i.e., similar but separate outside of some discreet contact points.  I do this because the two serve different purposes for me; specifically, Candles & Curses is my private forum (albeit open to the public), while Facebook is a public forum (albeit with the illusion of privacy). 

But yesterday something happened on Facebook that I feel the need to record here.

A friend of mine had expressed his . . . bemusement at one of the banner ads that had been automatically selected to (in advertising theory) match his profile (what it was is his story to tell, not mine), and this prompted me to refresh my Facebook page and see what banner ads appeared for me.  Four refreshes produced the following results, in order:

One “Meet Girls Now!” ad.
Two “Build Muscle Now!” ads.
And (my personal favorite), one coupon good for any K-Y product. (No link because if you don’t know what that is, it’s not up to me to teach you . . . not via a blog, at least.)

Do you ever get the feeling the Universe is making sly observations at your expense?

Mainly Because It Tempts Me to Have WAY Too Much Inappropriate Fun At The Questioner’s Expense

February 2, 2011

After posting something like I did yesterday, I always find myself (reasonably or not) bracing for some sort of “Just who do you think you are, anyway?” response.

I hate that question.

Icky Leaks

February 1, 2011

There’s nothing quite like changing a lot of diapers to acquaint one with the concept of “icky leaks.”  Almost nobody affected by them ever seems to be pleased, and bystander reactions tend to run from sympathy to disgust, sometimes with amusement mixed in so long as they are sufficiently unaffected.  And though it helps to be careful and to not leave the diaper on too long before changing it, icky leaks can happen even then.  Due to this, the truly wise caretaker will plan accordingly, because any plan that presumes an icky leak is impossible is a bad plan, because as long as there is a diaper, sooner or later there will be an icky leak.

Now as every caretaker knows, sometimes diapers are necessary, so calling for the abolishment of diapers would only lead to a different kind of mess.  The trick is to not overuse them.  Not only does this minimize icky leaks, but cuts down on all sorts of nasty rashes as well.  Icky leaks can be unpleasant, yes . . . but it’s important to keep one thing in mind:

Icky leaks never happen unless the diaper is full of something, and are always an indicator that some kind of change is in order.