Several posts ago I wrote about Charlie's cowboy birthday party and mentioned the special bond between our neighbor and my kids, Charlie and Delta. This family moved into the house across the street just before Christmas in 2004. They have three boys: one who is in college, one Bravo's age, and one two years younger (right smack between Bravo and Charlie). Neighbor Lady strikes me as someone who was a bit of a tomboy when she was a child, so having three boys hasn't really been much of a problem for her. However, she has felt the lack of feminine influence in her family, so it was a bit of a pleasant surprise for her to meet Delta.
Delta is in many ways our most unusual child. Miss Saccharine and I are both fairly reserved around strangers, and the other four kids range from shy to hostile when meeting new people (Bravo is still learning that "(Grunt)" is not a polite response when someone says, "So nice to meet you!"). Delta has developed the habit over the last two years of greeting every child she meets at the park and setting up play dates with at least one, even if she has never met the child before. Within a few weeks of meeting the new neighbor family, Delta began making regular visits to Neighbor Lady. For her part, Neighbor Lady loves Delta's visits: for some length of time every few days, she can ignore all the typical boy stuff (video games, charging like rhinos through the house, flatulence) and listen to Delta talk about ballet, princesses, and arts and crafts. Neighbor Lady and her husband have told me several times that Delta's visits are a regular subject of conversation at Neighbor Lady's women's meeting at church.
When Neighbor Lady discovered that Charlie likes cowboys a couple of years ago, she decided she had found a kindred spirit. None of the males in her family are all that into cowboys--they're more into knights and video games. She has loaned us old western movies from her collection, called to tell us about rodeo on the telly, and shared the lessons learned that she has gained through many years and trying different models of cap guns. At the time we were planning Charlie's cowboy party and came up with the idea for the posse capturing the band of outlaws, we knew we were going to need several helpers--there were going to be at least five guests, and MS, Alpha, Bravo, and I weren't going to be enough. Alpha's friend wasn't available and none of Bravo's friends would have probably been interested. We needed two more bandits who needed to have the flexibility and live close enough to us to pretty much get over to our place at the drop of a hat (see the earlier post for the low-down on the sketchy weather). Then it hit us: Neighbor Lady would probably love to be a cowboy.
When we asked her, she fairly skedaddled home to fetch her western outfit to find out if we thought she might be too intimidating for a group of 8-year-old boys. She was back quickly with a hat, bandana, gun belt and holster, and one of the best-firing pistols we have ever seen. Needless to say, she got the gig. She brought her son (Bravo's age) with her for the party, and the two of them played their parts to the hilt and had a great time doing it. She came back over a couple of times during the week after the party to chat with us and shoot caps with Charlie.
Anyway, between Delta becoming a virtual proxy daughter, and Charlie's affinity for cowboys, Neighbor Lady has apparently found her bliss. I'm just hoping our kids don't wind up driving her crazy with all the attention they might well shower upon her.
Saturday, July 28, 2007
Sunday, July 22, 2007
The Christmas Letter
Miss Saccharine and I resisted the pull to write an annual Christmas letter for many years. Our third Christmas after the wedding, we did send out a Christmas card that we still treasure and prize as perhaps the most inspired moment of silliness in our lives. At the time, we were living in a badly furnished basement apartment in Provo, UT, and Alpha was pushing 16 months of age. My oldest sister came down from Salt Lake with her two kids--at the time her son was 2 years and her daughter about six months old. Both her kids had reflux problems as infants, and Linds was particularly grouchy after the hour-long drive. Miss Saccharine decided the three cousins just had to have their picture taken together (MS LOVES pictures), so we sat the three kids on the couch (which was covered with an old, frayed, pale green blanket from Miss Saccharine's childhood to hide the awful 70's-vintage yellow luau flower print upholstery) and tried to get them to look pleasant. Nothing doing. Linds gave up being surly and started howling to raise the dead. Flynn (my nephew's in utero nickname) curled up in a ball and gave us his very best "picture smile," which only succeeded in making him look like he was in some sort of physical agony, possibly from trying to clear a particularly bad case of constipation. And Alpha decided he wasn't going to put up with just one infant hollering, so he put his healthy lungs into outdoing Linds. Knowing this was about as good as it was going to get, Miss Saccharine took a couple of pictures and hoped one of them would turn out. None of them did.
Several days after getting the prints back and laughing ourselves silly at Flynn's apparent (although not actual) discomfort and the two screaming babies flanking him, we noticed a display for Christmas postcards. With the horrific cousins picture fresh in our minds, we spotted what, at the time, seemed like the perfect design. In the white space to the left of the picture is a flying Christmas angel over the word "JOY!" We picked the worst of the pictures, bought 50 cards, and sent them to all of our friends and family. We have treasured that card for more than 14 years and continue to put it up on the refrigerator along with all the other cards we receive every year. That was the only card we mailed for the first 10-plus years of our marriage. When we decided a couple of years ago to start writing a Christmas letter and sending our a family picture, several of our long-time friends wrote back to tell us they also had kept a hold of that first card, because it was one of the funniest things they had ever seen.
Now that we are up to five kids, we have gotten more traditional with our Christmas card picture, which is fine. I'm not sure, given the span in our kids' ages, that we could get something as silly as that first one in a candid shot--it would look posed, forced. So gone away are the funny pictures, here to stay are the studio pictures.
Our energy now goes into the letter that goes out with the picture. Miss Saccharine and I are of different minds on Christmas letters. She views them as important documents that convey important facts about the family that might be suitable for archiving as a bit of family history. I think they are more like Sports Center--quick interesting snippets that tell your friends the kind of thing you would say if they called and asked, "What have you been up to?" We agree, however, that the typical Christmas letter reads a bit like a resume--selectively choosing the best stuff and presenting it in a way that "sells." Reading some of the letters we get from friends and extended family, one would think that our entire circle of friends and relations all hailed from Lake Wobegone: All the women are strong, the men are pretty, and all the children are above average. There cannot possibly be so many public schools around that every family we know has at least one child who is student body president, head cheerleader, or basketball team captain, but it seems from our incoming Christmas letters, that that is the case.
Anyway, in an attempt to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, we have set ourselves certain rules for the writing of the wheelhead family letter. Nothing about the childrens' achievements, only their participation (this last year, Alpha, Bravo, and Charlie all ran at the AAU National Cross Country Championship Meet in Orlando, FL. Our letter only mentioned that they ran and that we had a great time at Gatorland--which we did). Nothing about our church callings. No travelogues. Instead, we focus on how the kids are developing (this year we will probably mention Charlie taking art classes over the summer and really enjoying them) and our growing appreciation for God's blessings in our lives.
Not being ones to keep it short and sweet (witness every entry in this blog), and being a family of seven now, MS and I struggle to keep the letter to two sheets of paper printed on both sides. The writing typically consists of the two of us spending an hour talking about what we want to include and making a list of stuff to cover for each kid. She writes the first draft of the letter in longhand. I then type it up (no small feat, given her handwriting) and she starts editing, rewriting, rearranging, and so on. I make the changes, then make my suggestions, and eventually we get something we both like. Once we get the pictures back, Miss Saccharine addresses all the letters to her our relatives, her friends, and to the small circle of people that we consider to be "our firends" (people we befriended after we met each other. "Her friends" and "my friends" are people that we've known since before we met). My friends she doesn't address envelopes for. Because I typically have a significant honey-do list every evening and weekend, I haven't gotten around to sending out letters the last two years. I have meant and meant to do it this year, but it hasn't happened, and given the date, I probably will just give it up for this year.
So if you happen to be one of "my friends" (and you know who you are), please accept my apologies. We have the last two years of letters somewhere, so I will make copies and send them to you with this year's Christmas letter. That will save me writing and striking out Happy New Year, Happy Valentine's Day, Happy St. Patrick's Day, Happy Easter, Happy Memorial Day, and Happy Independence Day on anyone's letter. Incidentally, given the length of time it takes to write the Christmas letter, it's probably time to start writing this year's letter--don't want to leave it to the last minute!
Several days after getting the prints back and laughing ourselves silly at Flynn's apparent (although not actual) discomfort and the two screaming babies flanking him, we noticed a display for Christmas postcards. With the horrific cousins picture fresh in our minds, we spotted what, at the time, seemed like the perfect design. In the white space to the left of the picture is a flying Christmas angel over the word "JOY!" We picked the worst of the pictures, bought 50 cards, and sent them to all of our friends and family. We have treasured that card for more than 14 years and continue to put it up on the refrigerator along with all the other cards we receive every year. That was the only card we mailed for the first 10-plus years of our marriage. When we decided a couple of years ago to start writing a Christmas letter and sending our a family picture, several of our long-time friends wrote back to tell us they also had kept a hold of that first card, because it was one of the funniest things they had ever seen.
Now that we are up to five kids, we have gotten more traditional with our Christmas card picture, which is fine. I'm not sure, given the span in our kids' ages, that we could get something as silly as that first one in a candid shot--it would look posed, forced. So gone away are the funny pictures, here to stay are the studio pictures.
Our energy now goes into the letter that goes out with the picture. Miss Saccharine and I are of different minds on Christmas letters. She views them as important documents that convey important facts about the family that might be suitable for archiving as a bit of family history. I think they are more like Sports Center--quick interesting snippets that tell your friends the kind of thing you would say if they called and asked, "What have you been up to?" We agree, however, that the typical Christmas letter reads a bit like a resume--selectively choosing the best stuff and presenting it in a way that "sells." Reading some of the letters we get from friends and extended family, one would think that our entire circle of friends and relations all hailed from Lake Wobegone: All the women are strong, the men are pretty, and all the children are above average. There cannot possibly be so many public schools around that every family we know has at least one child who is student body president, head cheerleader, or basketball team captain, but it seems from our incoming Christmas letters, that that is the case.
Anyway, in an attempt to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, we have set ourselves certain rules for the writing of the wheelhead family letter. Nothing about the childrens' achievements, only their participation (this last year, Alpha, Bravo, and Charlie all ran at the AAU National Cross Country Championship Meet in Orlando, FL. Our letter only mentioned that they ran and that we had a great time at Gatorland--which we did). Nothing about our church callings. No travelogues. Instead, we focus on how the kids are developing (this year we will probably mention Charlie taking art classes over the summer and really enjoying them) and our growing appreciation for God's blessings in our lives.
Not being ones to keep it short and sweet (witness every entry in this blog), and being a family of seven now, MS and I struggle to keep the letter to two sheets of paper printed on both sides. The writing typically consists of the two of us spending an hour talking about what we want to include and making a list of stuff to cover for each kid. She writes the first draft of the letter in longhand. I then type it up (no small feat, given her handwriting) and she starts editing, rewriting, rearranging, and so on. I make the changes, then make my suggestions, and eventually we get something we both like. Once we get the pictures back, Miss Saccharine addresses all the letters to her our relatives, her friends, and to the small circle of people that we consider to be "our firends" (people we befriended after we met each other. "Her friends" and "my friends" are people that we've known since before we met). My friends she doesn't address envelopes for. Because I typically have a significant honey-do list every evening and weekend, I haven't gotten around to sending out letters the last two years. I have meant and meant to do it this year, but it hasn't happened, and given the date, I probably will just give it up for this year.
So if you happen to be one of "my friends" (and you know who you are), please accept my apologies. We have the last two years of letters somewhere, so I will make copies and send them to you with this year's Christmas letter. That will save me writing and striking out Happy New Year, Happy Valentine's Day, Happy St. Patrick's Day, Happy Easter, Happy Memorial Day, and Happy Independence Day on anyone's letter. Incidentally, given the length of time it takes to write the Christmas letter, it's probably time to start writing this year's letter--don't want to leave it to the last minute!
Thursday, July 19, 2007
Second Amendment Recruitment night
Well, it only took us six months to pull together, but we got Charlie's birthday party accomplished today. Charlie has been wicked crazy for cowboys for going on three years now (Miss Saccharine will probably set me straight if she ever reads this--it's probably been five years) and has wanted a real cowboy party ever since his first one hitched, hiccuped, and skidded off the road over a cliff two years ago. On that occasion, we planned a joint birthday party with the next door neighbors. Their daughter's birthday was separated from Charlie's by only a few days, and neither mother felt much like putting on a big show on her own. So they decided to pool their resources and throw one medium-sized party for two kids, combining themes as only the two of them could. So, MS pulled out her Barbie Princess-shaped cake pan (complete with detail-painted plastic bodice-to-crown, uhh, thingy--it is Barbie's torso in full-blown princess glory) and cake decorating kit, whipped up a delicious cake for the neighbor's daughter, and decorated it in stunning pink, violet, and some other color women know the name of and when they say it, I kind of nod in agreement all the time wondering if that is really the name of the color I'm looking at ("I thought ____ was actually more of an orange-ish color than blue-ish"). For her part, the neighbor mom whipped her recently redecorated place into party shape, cooked up a fantastic spread, and prepared to welcome 10 kids into her home.
Well, Mother Nature had other ideas. Instead of just a cold winter day, we had a substantial blizzard that dropped close to two feet of snow on our neighborhood over the course of the day of the party. At party time, it was just an inch or so, but--with the weatherman promising substantially more snow--most of the invitees stayed home anyway. We didn't have the luxury of needing to travel a great distance in order to beg off--plus Charlie was one of the guests of honor. So MS trudged over to the neighbor's, Charlie in tow, carrying the stunning Barbie Princess cake, and sort of enjoyed an intimate little party. One of the four boys Charlie invited made it to the party (I later learned from his mother that during the hour they stayed at the party, close to six inches of snow fell, and it took them almost an hour to drive the three or so miles from our place to theirs). Three of the girl's cousins made it, so four of the six kids had a fine time--the boys dressed as cowboys, the girls as princesses--playing very girly party games, eating themselves silly, and generally having a fine time; the other two made due. I vaguely recall Miss Saccharine lamenting that she hadn't thought to suggest some "cowboy" games so the boys would have had a better time. I also recall that the neighbor girl gave Charlie a cold, which then spread like wildfire through the rest of the family. As that tended to be the way our relationship with these neighbors went--either family made overtures at befriending the other, the daughter spent a concerted hour or so of time playing with one of my kids, and then the entire wheelhead family shared whatever cold the neighbor girl had--we weren't altogether sad when they moved out of the neighborhood the next summer. And we've been remarkably much healthier, too.
Fast forward two-plus years. Charlie didn't have a party last year, and for some reason we didn't do anything about organizing one for him over the winter when he actually had his birthday. Well, Miss Saccharine kept promising and promising he could have a real cowboy party (no princesses!) as soon as the weather got better. That dragged on and on for several months. Then Delta had her birthday and wanted to have a "heart party" (last year was butterflies), so MS decided to hold the heart party and cowboy party on consecutive weeks and just take care of ordering all the supplied from Oriental Trading Company at once. Between procrastinating the order placement and Bravo coming down with Lyme Disease, it almost looked like neither would come off. MS swore on a stack of OTC catalogs and party idea books that Charlie would have a party this week, and press on she did.
Again, mother nature appeared to have other ideas for us, at least last night as we were laying out our plan of attack for getting the house pulled together for the four invited boys. We turned on The Weather Channel and saw that today's forecast was for 93 degree heat, high humidity, and afternoon and evening thunderstorms (the same storm system that pummeled the midwest for three straight days this week). Suddenly everything that was set in stone was suddenly in play again: if we postponed to Saturday, Pops could attend (he's flying out from Cali today to spend the weekend with us as Alpha is ordained a Priest), the weather will be great--83 and low humidity. Somehow MS managed to sleep last night, I got off to work okay this morning, and it looked for all intents and purposes as though the plan would be to call all the invited families and see if Saturday would work out. A mid-morning phone call further reinforced that impression for me, so I planned to stay at work...until MS called me at 12:30 and demanded to know why I wasn't on the road coming home so I could mow the back yard before 2:00 and help her pull Charlie's party together--IT'S STARTING AT 5:00!!!
So, I schlepped myself home, picked up darts and masking tape on the way, rearranged my large backyard play structure project on the back patio (it's in mid-construction right now awaiting a level spot in the back yard), mowed the lawn, went to the grocery store, picked up Alpha (he's a junior counselor at a summer camp this week and next), and got home just as the first guests began arriving. Well, the party was a hit. Alpha, Bravo, and I, as well as Bravo's friend from across the street and his mother (I'll have to do another post about her special bond with Charlie and Delta) all set off for the park up the street and hid ourselves, decked out (largely) in bandit regalia, and waited for the posse of partygoers to come find all of us. Each of the boys had received a wanted poster with one bandit's picture, and it was their job to go find and arrest that bandit. They found Alpha and Bravo pretty quickly (Alpha was hiding inside a large pine tree that was pretty much barren on the side that faced the part of the park that the posse came from, and could be spotted in his black-on-white cowhide print vest from about 50 yards, seeing as how the barren side faces west; Bravo was about 20 feet away between two rocks that afford no visual screening from two directions...east and west (he was plainly visible from the other side of Alpha's tree). Miss Saccharine dropped obvious hints about where the neighbors were hiding, so they were quickly apprehended as well. All the while, I was hiding behind a tree at the end of the parking lot. It took a while and several more obvious hints from Miss Saccharine ("I think Big Bad Dad is visiting his friend, John!" she called from across the park [my hiding place was near the port-a-john--upwind, fortunately]), but they eventually found me.
Of particularly humorous note, a man pulled up with his two young daughters about mid-way through this part of the party and spotted me lurking in the trees with a bandana over my lower face and obviously trying intently to spot someone else in the park. At that point, all the posse and bandits were blocked from view, either because they were in hiding, or on the other side of some large trees in the park. Having gotten out of the car and noticed my suspicious behavior, he spent several minutes herding his girls repeatedly back into the car and not directly answering their, "Why can't we go play in the park?" questions. I'm guessing he figured some kind of gang warfare was about to erupt in this quiet suburban park, and the last thing he wanted was for his girls to be caught in the crossfire. It finally dawned on me that this guy kept looking at me (chubby, grey-haired guy with a black hat and bandana behind a pine tree), then scanning the park, then back at me, then trying to figure out where I was looking so he could check out that area, then looking at me again. The light bulb went on, I had to chuckle to myself, and I told him, "This is for my son's birthday party." He laughed, I laughed, and the girls got their playtime with dad in the park. I got caught about two minutes later and had to walk home in handcuffs.
Well, to finally get to the title of this post. Charlie has been in cap gun heaven for two months now. Ever since Miss Saccharine discovered that, "Hey! You can buy cap guns online!", she's been sampling the wares from several vendors. We now have about 20 of the beasties around the house. Miniature chrome detective revolvers that use ring caps, various styles of traditional cowboy revolvers that use either ring caps or cap strips, and rifles (strip). We've also picked up a bunch of dart guns. And one of the attendees brought his dad's Red Ryder BB gun. So, for three hours this evening, the five boys shot darts (for "Fill the Bandit Full of Lead," a variation on Pin the Tail on the Donkey), shot caps (at the hiding out bandits at the park), shot BBs (at an empty A&W bottle while they waited for their hot dogs to cook over an open fire), and shot manymanymanymany more caps (at each other, in the air, at anything that moved for the hour of free play between hot dogs and cake and ice cream. I'm not sure how all the mothers, who got to take home those sugar-filled, suddenly testosterone-ladened, and cap gun-wielding boys, feel about these youths exercising their right to keep and bear (and shoot and shoot and shoot) their faux arms, but I felt a glow of satisfaction knowing that even in the People's Republic of Montgomery County, I could do my little part to help win the hearts and minds of a new generation for the Second Amendment.
Charlie shoots the Daisy Red Ryder BB gun at an A&W bottle. If you can believe it, he managed to shoot three BBs into the bottle through the spout from about 14 feet away!
Well, Mother Nature had other ideas. Instead of just a cold winter day, we had a substantial blizzard that dropped close to two feet of snow on our neighborhood over the course of the day of the party. At party time, it was just an inch or so, but--with the weatherman promising substantially more snow--most of the invitees stayed home anyway. We didn't have the luxury of needing to travel a great distance in order to beg off--plus Charlie was one of the guests of honor. So MS trudged over to the neighbor's, Charlie in tow, carrying the stunning Barbie Princess cake, and sort of enjoyed an intimate little party. One of the four boys Charlie invited made it to the party (I later learned from his mother that during the hour they stayed at the party, close to six inches of snow fell, and it took them almost an hour to drive the three or so miles from our place to theirs). Three of the girl's cousins made it, so four of the six kids had a fine time--the boys dressed as cowboys, the girls as princesses--playing very girly party games, eating themselves silly, and generally having a fine time; the other two made due. I vaguely recall Miss Saccharine lamenting that she hadn't thought to suggest some "cowboy" games so the boys would have had a better time. I also recall that the neighbor girl gave Charlie a cold, which then spread like wildfire through the rest of the family. As that tended to be the way our relationship with these neighbors went--either family made overtures at befriending the other, the daughter spent a concerted hour or so of time playing with one of my kids, and then the entire wheelhead family shared whatever cold the neighbor girl had--we weren't altogether sad when they moved out of the neighborhood the next summer. And we've been remarkably much healthier, too.
Fast forward two-plus years. Charlie didn't have a party last year, and for some reason we didn't do anything about organizing one for him over the winter when he actually had his birthday. Well, Miss Saccharine kept promising and promising he could have a real cowboy party (no princesses!) as soon as the weather got better. That dragged on and on for several months. Then Delta had her birthday and wanted to have a "heart party" (last year was butterflies), so MS decided to hold the heart party and cowboy party on consecutive weeks and just take care of ordering all the supplied from Oriental Trading Company at once. Between procrastinating the order placement and Bravo coming down with Lyme Disease, it almost looked like neither would come off. MS swore on a stack of OTC catalogs and party idea books that Charlie would have a party this week, and press on she did.
Again, mother nature appeared to have other ideas for us, at least last night as we were laying out our plan of attack for getting the house pulled together for the four invited boys. We turned on The Weather Channel and saw that today's forecast was for 93 degree heat, high humidity, and afternoon and evening thunderstorms (the same storm system that pummeled the midwest for three straight days this week). Suddenly everything that was set in stone was suddenly in play again: if we postponed to Saturday, Pops could attend (he's flying out from Cali today to spend the weekend with us as Alpha is ordained a Priest), the weather will be great--83 and low humidity. Somehow MS managed to sleep last night, I got off to work okay this morning, and it looked for all intents and purposes as though the plan would be to call all the invited families and see if Saturday would work out. A mid-morning phone call further reinforced that impression for me, so I planned to stay at work...until MS called me at 12:30 and demanded to know why I wasn't on the road coming home so I could mow the back yard before 2:00 and help her pull Charlie's party together--IT'S STARTING AT 5:00!!!
So, I schlepped myself home, picked up darts and masking tape on the way, rearranged my large backyard play structure project on the back patio (it's in mid-construction right now awaiting a level spot in the back yard), mowed the lawn, went to the grocery store, picked up Alpha (he's a junior counselor at a summer camp this week and next), and got home just as the first guests began arriving. Well, the party was a hit. Alpha, Bravo, and I, as well as Bravo's friend from across the street and his mother (I'll have to do another post about her special bond with Charlie and Delta) all set off for the park up the street and hid ourselves, decked out (largely) in bandit regalia, and waited for the posse of partygoers to come find all of us. Each of the boys had received a wanted poster with one bandit's picture, and it was their job to go find and arrest that bandit. They found Alpha and Bravo pretty quickly (Alpha was hiding inside a large pine tree that was pretty much barren on the side that faced the part of the park that the posse came from, and could be spotted in his black-on-white cowhide print vest from about 50 yards, seeing as how the barren side faces west; Bravo was about 20 feet away between two rocks that afford no visual screening from two directions...east and west (he was plainly visible from the other side of Alpha's tree). Miss Saccharine dropped obvious hints about where the neighbors were hiding, so they were quickly apprehended as well. All the while, I was hiding behind a tree at the end of the parking lot. It took a while and several more obvious hints from Miss Saccharine ("I think Big Bad Dad is visiting his friend, John!" she called from across the park [my hiding place was near the port-a-john--upwind, fortunately]), but they eventually found me.
Of particularly humorous note, a man pulled up with his two young daughters about mid-way through this part of the party and spotted me lurking in the trees with a bandana over my lower face and obviously trying intently to spot someone else in the park. At that point, all the posse and bandits were blocked from view, either because they were in hiding, or on the other side of some large trees in the park. Having gotten out of the car and noticed my suspicious behavior, he spent several minutes herding his girls repeatedly back into the car and not directly answering their, "Why can't we go play in the park?" questions. I'm guessing he figured some kind of gang warfare was about to erupt in this quiet suburban park, and the last thing he wanted was for his girls to be caught in the crossfire. It finally dawned on me that this guy kept looking at me (chubby, grey-haired guy with a black hat and bandana behind a pine tree), then scanning the park, then back at me, then trying to figure out where I was looking so he could check out that area, then looking at me again. The light bulb went on, I had to chuckle to myself, and I told him, "This is for my son's birthday party." He laughed, I laughed, and the girls got their playtime with dad in the park. I got caught about two minutes later and had to walk home in handcuffs.
Well, to finally get to the title of this post. Charlie has been in cap gun heaven for two months now. Ever since Miss Saccharine discovered that, "Hey! You can buy cap guns online!", she's been sampling the wares from several vendors. We now have about 20 of the beasties around the house. Miniature chrome detective revolvers that use ring caps, various styles of traditional cowboy revolvers that use either ring caps or cap strips, and rifles (strip). We've also picked up a bunch of dart guns. And one of the attendees brought his dad's Red Ryder BB gun. So, for three hours this evening, the five boys shot darts (for "Fill the Bandit Full of Lead," a variation on Pin the Tail on the Donkey), shot caps (at the hiding out bandits at the park), shot BBs (at an empty A&W bottle while they waited for their hot dogs to cook over an open fire), and shot manymanymanymany more caps (at each other, in the air, at anything that moved for the hour of free play between hot dogs and cake and ice cream. I'm not sure how all the mothers, who got to take home those sugar-filled, suddenly testosterone-ladened, and cap gun-wielding boys, feel about these youths exercising their right to keep and bear (and shoot and shoot and shoot) their faux arms, but I felt a glow of satisfaction knowing that even in the People's Republic of Montgomery County, I could do my little part to help win the hearts and minds of a new generation for the Second Amendment.
Charlie shoots the Daisy Red Ryder BB gun at an A&W bottle. If you can believe it, he managed to shoot three BBs into the bottle through the spout from about 14 feet away!
Wednesday, July 18, 2007
Gadzooks! Where did that year go?!?!
Well, a good friend of mine sent me a note yesterday informing me that his blog had its own URL, separate from Blogger.com. Not knowing he even had a blog, I went to take a look at it, and was not disappointed. Wanders, it's a thing of beauty! I will be checking back often, particularly to see how Dawn Weston makes out (read into that what you like) with the new doctor.
Anyway, as to the title of this post, looking at the wanders blog (http://wandersblog.com) yesterday reminded me that I had "recently" started my own blog and, by golly, it was about time I got the world caught up with the family's transition from PC to iMac and all the other stuff that's happened since my first entry this last winter... Uhhhh...except it wasn't this last winter when I made the first post--it was the winter BEFORE!!! It's been over a year-and-a-half since I started wheelhead and hadn't written a single thing since! Well, I'm a reformed wheelhead and will do better (toi, toi, toi!).
Following wanders' lead, I'll be using pseudonyms for my family members (hey, wanders: it took me a while, but I finally figured out what you meant calling your wife "Mother," and you're right--it is hilarious!). For those of you who know my family, here are the new monikers for everyone:
The wife: Miss Saccharine (that was her character name in a high school drama production she was in), which I will more than likely shorten to MS, because I will even more likely misspell every time I try to type it.
Son #1: Alpha
Son #2: Bravo
Son #3: Charlie
Daughter #1: either Delta of Duchess--depends on the context
Daughter #2: either Echo or Princess, again based on context
My father: Pops or Pop (that's what his grandchildren call him)
My mother: Gramsey
Since I last posted, we've had a number of interesting, amusing, and odd things happen to our family. I've changed jobs thrice (still with the same agency, just three different positions); Miss Saccharine has become an absolute pro at making fabulous slideshow videos using her new iMac; the kids have lost a combined total of about 20 teeth; Alpha turned 16 (!) yesterday and is finally getting antsy about testing for his learner's driving permit; Bravo has had, in what seems like consecutive weeks, chicken pox, a norovirus, a cold, and Lyme disease (see wanders' blog for his family's brush with the same norovirus) interspersed with two different camps; Charlie got baptized in a friend's indoor pool; Delta finished her homeschool kindergarten work early and went to public school for six weeks; and Echo has started to talk...kind of...and you'd better pay attention when she does.
Perhaps most amusingly, I got moved into the High Priest Group (read: old men's group) at church last summer. I chalk it up to falling asleep too many times in Sunday School. That's a (very) little bit of Mormon humor there. The "common wisdom" is that men of profound experience and gospel knowledge are the ones who become High Priests. Because they already know so much and are, no doubt, greatly wearied by their extensive labors in the church, they have earned the right to sleep in church (after all, they already know whatever points the speakers will be making during their talks, right?). Still, one month shy of my 40th birthday, I'm not sure what to make of this development: either I have gone too grey too fast; or this is my bishop's bad idea of a good joke...
Much to catch up on. Must go to bed, though. Until the next post.
Anyway, as to the title of this post, looking at the wanders blog (http://wandersblog.com) yesterday reminded me that I had "recently" started my own blog and, by golly, it was about time I got the world caught up with the family's transition from PC to iMac and all the other stuff that's happened since my first entry this last winter... Uhhhh...except it wasn't this last winter when I made the first post--it was the winter BEFORE!!! It's been over a year-and-a-half since I started wheelhead and hadn't written a single thing since! Well, I'm a reformed wheelhead and will do better (toi, toi, toi!).
Following wanders' lead, I'll be using pseudonyms for my family members (hey, wanders: it took me a while, but I finally figured out what you meant calling your wife "Mother," and you're right--it is hilarious!). For those of you who know my family, here are the new monikers for everyone:
The wife: Miss Saccharine (that was her character name in a high school drama production she was in), which I will more than likely shorten to MS, because I will even more likely misspell every time I try to type it.
Son #1: Alpha
Son #2: Bravo
Son #3: Charlie
Daughter #1: either Delta of Duchess--depends on the context
Daughter #2: either Echo or Princess, again based on context
My father: Pops or Pop (that's what his grandchildren call him)
My mother: Gramsey
Since I last posted, we've had a number of interesting, amusing, and odd things happen to our family. I've changed jobs thrice (still with the same agency, just three different positions); Miss Saccharine has become an absolute pro at making fabulous slideshow videos using her new iMac; the kids have lost a combined total of about 20 teeth; Alpha turned 16 (!) yesterday and is finally getting antsy about testing for his learner's driving permit; Bravo has had, in what seems like consecutive weeks, chicken pox, a norovirus, a cold, and Lyme disease (see wanders' blog for his family's brush with the same norovirus) interspersed with two different camps; Charlie got baptized in a friend's indoor pool; Delta finished her homeschool kindergarten work early and went to public school for six weeks; and Echo has started to talk...kind of...and you'd better pay attention when she does.
Perhaps most amusingly, I got moved into the High Priest Group (read: old men's group) at church last summer. I chalk it up to falling asleep too many times in Sunday School. That's a (very) little bit of Mormon humor there. The "common wisdom" is that men of profound experience and gospel knowledge are the ones who become High Priests. Because they already know so much and are, no doubt, greatly wearied by their extensive labors in the church, they have earned the right to sleep in church (after all, they already know whatever points the speakers will be making during their talks, right?). Still, one month shy of my 40th birthday, I'm not sure what to make of this development: either I have gone too grey too fast; or this is my bishop's bad idea of a good joke...
Much to catch up on. Must go to bed, though. Until the next post.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)