daycare4dads

Hotdogs and Hamburgers Won't Help Me Sleep at Night

noreply@blogger.com (chuckd76) — Sun, 12 Sep 2010 00:58:00 +0000

A week ago today, The Feast of Father Sorin was underway and going well. Today, well...Let's just say the Irish played Michigan tougher today than they have in the last I don't know how long. But, even with the football season underway and going pretty good, I'm not going to talk about football anymore. No, I've got something else on my mind. Last year, if you've been reading that long, I wrote about a car accident that I came across while working. The result of the accident was the death of three-year old Thomas Kocsis. I went through a tough time after that. I cried, I didn't let daughter leave the house for a week, I saw Tommy every time I looked at a young child, I couldn't hold daughter without realizing how fragile she is, etc. Eventually that passed and I was good for a few months. Then Tommy came back and started haunting me. Every time I would look at a kid younger than five I would see Tommy's face superimposed over theirs. And that included daughter's face, too. So I got more counseling and it helped. And now, a year later, I'm at a point where I don't have to think about Tommy unless I want to. And then, this past Wednesday, I came back from vacay, went into the office and saw a thank you card. From Tommy's mom. On Monday the 13th, she's throwing a picnic for all of the police and fire departments that showed up to the accident. I didn't know Tommy until he died but I'm having a tough time believing that this is the best way to remember him. With "music, food and games for the kids." So now I'm back to where I started: Crying about Tommy and wishing I had gone down that stretch of road just five minutes earlier than I did.

School is Cool!

noreply@blogger.com (chuckd76) — Mon, 30 Aug 2010 03:46:00 +0000

It's late but that's okay. And I'll tell you why: In fifteen minutes it will be tomorrow. And tomorrow is daughter's first day of (pre) school. Yay, daughter! On a much more somber note, the last thing daughter asked wife before bed was "Can I cry at preschool?" Tomorrow will be an interesting day.

What Did I Get Myself Into?

noreply@blogger.com (chuckd76) — Thu, 26 Aug 2010 16:08:00 +0000

As readers of this blog may or may not know, I'm a HUGE fan of The University of Notre Dame (and Notre Dame Football). You also could possibly be aware that, since I started writing this blog, it has been peppered with references to Gilmour Academy. Gilmour is a private school - lower, middle and upper - that was founded by the same fine folks who founded Notre Dame. Gilmour faculty don't mind telling you about the affiliation either. Upper school kids are encouraged to volunteer their time at the lower and middle schools and in the community. There are also regular "field trips" to South Bend. You can imagine my joy when daughter was born and I found out about all this. And then came "The Great Push," during which I made it known that no daughter of mine would ever set foot in a Cleveland school. My friends and family scoffed and said "But you live in Cleveland, so chances are..." To which I replied, Gilmour. And then everyone laughed even harder. And now I know why. I'm all for kids volunteering their time and admiring expensive cars and the people that drive them from afar, but now I'm in the thick of it. Last night was parent night for the Montessori preschool and traditional kindergarten. And wife and I were slightly blown away. Everyone is so expensive looking and their cars cost more than my house. There was a Panamera there and that starts at five grand more than what I live in is worth. There were people on boards and people with foundations and people with three and four kids who all go to Gilmour at the same time. To get a sense of what that many kids means monetarily: Montessori preschool is ~10k. The tuition doubles at kindergarten. And I'm expected to give back. Not just with my time but also by donating money to the school. As I sat there in my Docker's from Kohl's (K-Mart) and looked at women's wedding diamonds that were literally the size of blueberries all I could think was Holy Shite. At the end of the night, as wife and I climbed into the five year-old Corolla, we were reduced to pulling out some classic Stuart Smalley. As an added bonus, it's a St Patrick's Day clip. Go Irish! Oh yeah, I did ask and no, I cannot chaperone a South Bend trip.

On The Daddy Tip # 15

noreply@blogger.com (chuckd76) — Wed, 11 Aug 2010 00:44:00 +0000

When I first started working in law enforcement I was afraid to use the radio. I had no trouble patrolling my zone(s), pulling people over or just talking to folks. I just didn't like the radio. Partly it was because I think my voice sounds stupid. Mostly it was because there is no way to get on the radio in a polite way. You just wait for some dead air and start talking. Sometimes you can get out what you need to say and sometimes you get stepped on. Either way, you just do it. When I first started, my department was just stopping the use of coded language. We didn't use ten-codes, we used our local ordinance codes. We had 5-5, 5-7, 4-2, 4-7, 4-1 and others. Only problem with that was the code book had been revised and the numbers changed. New people like me got the new books and, unless you could find a senior person to teach them to you, were lost in the dark about the old radio terminology. Thirteen years later I still don't know which is which for 5-5- and 5-7; one is alcohol and one is marijuana. And here's an anecdote: I once had to respond to backup a guy who had caught a guy doing 4-2 activity. I didn't know whether to go lights and sirens so I drove lit up halfway and dark the rest of the way. Turned out, 4-2 is "deviant sexual behavior" between two men. All of this round-a-bout filler crap brings me to my Tip o' the day: Use regular English around your kids and talk to them like they are adults. They might not understand everything but, when they don't, have a teachable moment and tell them to ask their mother. Wife and I decided, long before daughter was born, to not hide what things are called. That's right, my two year-old knows that girls have vaginae and boys have penises. She does not realize, however, that it is not good social etiquette to ask my wife if the man in line in front of them at the grocery store has a penis. Nor does she realize that, when Dad is in the shower, it is not okay to ask him where his penis is. Those are the finer points that we must work on.

Remember That Guy? Yeah, He's Back....

noreply@blogger.com (chuckd76) — Tue, 03 Aug 2010 01:00:00 +0000

Contrary to what all those drug companies tell you, depression can be funny. You can be bopping along, ready to enjoy a week and a half of vacation and the next thing you know, you're standing in AutoZone and in walks an Amish guy who puts your "awesome" vacay beard to shame (true story). So it has, or had, been for me over the time I've been away from the blog-o-sphere. I do tend toward the weird side of things and depression is one of them. I think it's just because I think Kurt Cobain was a genius that I suffer from depression and IBS (which I love to call Crohn's Disease), although I have been officially diagnosed with both. The last time I posted, I was getting set to go to New York for a camping trip. Well, that didn't happen. And then I was getting set to go to PA for a camping trip. Some of that happened. I went to PA, I hiked for five hours, I set up my camp, I got lonely, I packed up my camp, I drove home. See, funny. LOL! Usually, when I get down, I function okay. I go to work, I cook, I eat. My main depression "tell" is that I don't want to be seen by people. I don't start drinking, I don't get suicidal and I don't kill other people, I just hide. Kinda like Sasquatch. Because I am the law I can pretty much sit in my office all day and only go out for calls if I feel crappy. Then, it's straight home to cook and eat. One of the reasons why I got rid of my Grand Cherokee was this hide response. It had dark tinted windows that allowed me to hide, lengthening my episodes. So, it was funny (there's that word again) for me to get out in the woods - alone - and get lonely. Luckily for me wife is kinda crazy, too. She can understand my pain, although she still bugs me about the money I spent on camping stuff. In case you're wondering, I'm better now. I'm out in public (even tho I hate people; see: Trip to Lowe's), I'm doing what needs done and I'm actually happy(ish). To top it all off, if you can see and read, I'm Tweeting (@NakiaDJohn). Why? Because I'm awesome! And I'm working on building my platform. What's a platform. Well, kids, a platform is a term coined by writing professionals. In short: it is you. Your exposure in the world, your marketability, your advertisement for yourself. Why am I working on my platform? Cause I write. This blog, and The Lost Ranger, were originally for practice. Just a public writing exercise. Helping me get my thoughts down and out. This, and my super childish imagination, has lead me to start my first novel. I won't tell you what it's about just in case I stop writing (or it sucks) but I'm on my way. I've also submitted a couple short stories; one to Albedo for the Aeon Award and one to Black Static. I've got my fingers crossed and my face to the sun. And it's ninety degrees so I'm going back inside.

Today's Guest Blogger: Cherie Priest

noreply@blogger.com (chuckd76) — Thu, 10 Jun 2010 01:54:00 +0000

Because I'm still in love with New Orleans and because the city just so happens to be located close to the Gulf of Mexico, the oil slick/spill/fiasco has got me kinda pissed. But, instead of writing out a long, ranting post about what you can do to help, I'll just direct you here. As an added bonus, Cherie Priest writes some awesome steampunk fiction (Boneshaker is not X-Rated like I thought...but it's still a good read) and will sign her books that you order from U-Dub's bookstore, so be sure to check out the rest of her site.

On The Daddy Tip #14

noreply@blogger.com (chuckd76) — Tue, 01 Jun 2010 14:04:00 +0000

A wise man once said "When The Hulk gets angry, he turns into Chuck Norris." Well, when Chuck Norris gets angry, he turns into daughter. All of a sudden, it seems overnight, daughter has devolved into a Terrible Two. Wife doesn't know when it happened. I sure as hell don't know when it happened because I was at work. We both just woke up one day and daughter had grown horns. And let me tell you something: It sucks!! The slightest provocation results in daughter putting her hands in her mouth and screaming and crying. Naturally, because I follow my own Daddy Tips, daughter has been left standing in several grocery stores (the police know where she lives now and just bring her home) but ignoring these new mega-tantrums doesn't seem to be working too well. It may even be exacerbating the problem. On a bad day, we can average about three full blown tantrums an hour, and because wife has decided that nap time is no longer necessary...It sucks!! So, Ive come up with a new solution that's not really new: Once the TT's pop off, you've gotta start listening to your kid. It's not rocket science and it's so easy to do. When a kid starts erupting with all the whine just look them in the eye, gently take their hands out of their mouth and ask.... "Want some cheese with that?" LOL! I couldn't resist! No, really, just look them in the eye and ask them "What do you need?" Nine times out of ten the kid will look at you and explain what's wrong. The tenth time, well, that's probably not your kid and I would strongly suggest to you, if you want to avoid jail-time, that you remove your hands from them immediately!

Floyd? Floyd, Please? You're Embarrassing Yourself.

noreply@blogger.com (chuckd76) — Sat, 22 May 2010 12:46:00 +0000

There are a few things about competitive cycling that stink. First, from what I've heard, the smell of The Tour de France peloton near the ends of each stage; Second, saddle sores; Third, doping. And now you can officially add one more thing to that list: Floyd Landis. Without getting into a rant about how Landis was a punk from day one and that there was no way in hell that a guy with a degenerative hip disorder could have won a Tour without something in his blood stream, Landis has taken it upon himself to bitch and moan about Lance Armstrong; going so far as to say that Armstrong was doping during his Tour wins. Ass. I'm no Lance fanboy but that shit's just ridiculous. If Landis had been sober during Armstrong's Tour streak he would have noticed that the French hated Lance. Cycling fans, media, Tour organizers, all had it in for Armstrong. As a consequence, Armstrong's blood was drawn so many times he could have given himself a transfusion. I'll admit, I've backed the wrong horse (really, he's training other cyclists now?) before but the attitude of "I'm taking a lot of people down with me" is just too much from Landis. Hey Floyd, why don't you take your Robo-Hip and your "prescriptions" back to your family farm and live out your days in obscurity like I'm doing after my "brilliant" cycling career?

Who's on Parade

noreply@blogger.com (chuckd76) — Sun, 16 May 2010 19:09:00 +0000

Daughter has recently become a connoisseur of a select few movies. Namely: Cinderella, Ratatouille, The Little Mermaid and Horton Hears a Who. She has seen each of these movies so many times that she knows the words and will sing along to the songs. Before you blame wife and I of shirking our parental duties, daughter also knows the words to each of her three Maisy books, both of her Little Wombat books and I Know a Rhino. But this post is about movies so, think bad thoughts if you must. Recently, brought about through the numerous viewings of Horton... I have noticed a peculiar and troubling thing: I think the Who's are ants! I guess that isn't so troubling in and of itself actually, because who doesn't love ants? I know I do! No, what troubles me about the Who's being ants is that I think they may be born into their stations in life. Why does that trouble me, you ask? 'Cause, like ants, the Who's being born into their stations means that they are born with the stuff they need to do their jobs. By stuff I mean their clothes! Slash Fur! Yeah, that's right, the Who's are nekkid! If you look very closely....NO! You don't see their junk! Pay attention! Ahem...If you look very closely you can kinda sorta maybe at times see that the Who clothes is fur. If you say "pshaw" well, ask yourself this: Why do you think none of them wear pants? Why would the folks who made the Who movie bother putting shirts on the Whos and not give them pants (it's true, you cannot be arrested for it but you might get a disorderly charge)? 'Cause the Who's ain't wearin' shirts! They're just covered in shirt-like fur! So the Who's are naked! No wonder the mayor's such a "busy" man!

W is for I'll Beat Your Ass

noreply@blogger.com (chuckd76) — Sun, 02 May 2010 17:03:00 +0000

I tried to find the Nazi lamp, I really did. I searched about the attic but it's been disappeared. Wife probably got rid of it 'cause she hates when I call her grandma a Nazi. I say, "If the lamp fits." Anyway, after the Nazi quest I was stomping through the living room and something started talking to me. It was this. Daughter has quite a few Melissa and Doug products and up until now I've been cool with them. I repeat: Up until now. The alphabet puzzle is starting to piss me off. Apparently, in addition to being educational, the M and D puzzles are little earthquake-o-meters: When they sense vibrations they make noise. The alphabet puzzle says basic alpha stuff like: "A is for Apple" when you drop letters in or walk by. Except for daughter's. Hers is a smart ass and, for a half dozen times when I walked by, said "W is for Watermelon." Really, Melissa and Doug? Well, you know what? "Fire beats wood!"

She's Still Awesome to Me

noreply@blogger.com (chuckd76) — Fri, 30 Apr 2010 19:19:00 +0000

Did you ever have a dog (or a cat or a hamster or a little brother) that joined the circus? Yea, me neither. I would just come home and find the top of my hamster or mouse or gerbil cage busted in and there would be blood on the inside of the glass and hamster or mouse or gerbil parts strewn about the room.....Imagine the horror. I recently was able to relive those feelings when wife informed me that daughters ribbons from 'nastics were not from doing rolls and leaps and bounds. Daughter got four ribbons for attendance. Yup. You see it happens like this: I have been called by a friend of mine "the whitest black guy he knows" (growing up skateboarding and listening to Jane's Addiction, Suicidal Tendencies, RHCP, The Smiths, et. al. will do that to you). In addition my wife is mixed (I know you just said mixed-ded!); her dad was black and her mom is German (and her grandma had a Nazi lamp!). So, daughter is pretty much destined to never know how to dance. Or play basketball or be in a music video or drink Olde English while sitting on a porch. Or leap or bound. She does roll well though. So maybe one of the ribbons is for 'nastics skills. And the other three are for showing up on time. Great. Bye-bye Subway sponsorship. Oh, and don't be shocked 'cause I made black "jokes." I know you were thinking it.

She Stuck the Landings

noreply@blogger.com (chuckd76) — Tue, 20 Apr 2010 04:51:00 +0000

Daughter is awesome! Or, at least she is when she isn't whining about something. When she whines her awesomeness drops exponentially. To zero. But this weekend, she was awesome. You see, daughter does stuff. She is or has been a Little Lancer, a Li'l Kicker, a Kinder Musik-cian and a Jump Start Gynastics-er. This past Saturday was the last day for "'Nastics" and, things being ridiculous, there was a performance/recital thing. The children (bless their snotty little hearts) had to do the stuff they had learned over the course of the gymnastics season. You know, rolls and leaps and bounds and....rolls. So, daughter got to shine, and got four ribbons! Sweet! Daughter is now well on her way to being a professional gymnast and reaping the rewards that will follow. Like.....um.....like.....being in a Subway commercial or being a spokesperson for Revco. Like I said, she's on her way.

I HATE SPIDERS

noreply@blogger.com (chuckd76) — Wed, 14 Apr 2010 03:00:00 +0000

Some people I know called me up and were all, "Hey, I haven't seen you around in a while, are you okay?" I told them, "Sure, I'm fine. I've just run into a lot of doors lately so I'm waiting for wife to go to work so I can...I mean...I'm stuck in my house cause of a spider, man! I think I need an exterminator....

Get offa my Lawn!!

noreply@blogger.com (chuckd76) — Sun, 11 Apr 2010 20:10:00 +0000

If you don't know me, I mean really know me, you may get the impression from this blog that I hate everything, especially babies and wives. That's not true, though. I love wife. And making daughter was fun. I just consider myself a bit of a realist in that I don't mind complaining about having to give up things, like fun and staying up until six a.m. And, I don't care if you, or anyone else for that matter, finds it selfish that I complain about those things. I have this idea that deep down inside, way deep for some parents, there resides a little Man or woman, an id, if you will, that really didn't want to have to give up anything in order to have kids. Before it was a parent this idealistic id thought to itself, "When I have kids....blah, blah, blah ponies and butterflies!" Well, that id is an idiot. And now the id knows of it's mistake and has realized that it cannot buy Fenders or have a trail Jeep or visit Seattle or sleep until noon or close down The Cave or overdraw it's checking account. And so the id is pissed. And the id is now a curmudgeon. Mind, the curmudgeon will kill you if you hurt wife or daughter but it also realizes that life has gone through a drastic change. And now the curmudgeon is counting down the days until a certain someones twenty-second birthday so that He can buy himself a Porsche and retire.

The End is Nigh!

noreply@blogger.com (chuckd76) — Tue, 23 Mar 2010 23:52:00 +0000

Have you ever seen Signs? The movie with Mel Gibson, Joaquin Phoenix and those two kids where aliens start buggin' folks and actin' all....alien? If you didn't see it stop reading here, go watch it and then continue reading cause I may spoil it for you. If you did see it, remember how Bo, the little girl, would always want water, take a sip and then say that it was contaminated? Then, she would leave the cups and glasses of water all over the house so that Joaquin Phoenix could then smash them on aliens and cause them death. Well, we may be under attack here in Collinwood. Daughter has, for the last week, been on a "it's nasty" trip. She will watch you get fresh juice out of the fridge, drink approximately half of it and then hand it back to you and say "It's nasty." Further questioning of daughter as to the specifics of the nasty will get you answers such as: 'Cause; 'Cause, yes; 'Cause, it's nasty; and my all time favorite "I'mma ask mommy." As you can see, non sequiters are daughter's specialty. This may be a good thing, though. As I remember it, Signs was one big non sequiter fest until the end, when humans won. So, if you're having a birthday party and some alien walks all through the cake, you can call daughter. I know for a fact that she loves cake and, apparently, she hates aliens.

One Monkey Down....

noreply@blogger.com (chuckd76) — Sat, 06 Mar 2010 03:51:00 +0000

The world is a tad darker now. Colors have lost their vibrancy, smells have lost their appeal. I've given up coffee. Not just for lent but for good. So, yeah, everybody can go to hell.

On The Daddy Tip #13

noreply@blogger.com (chuckd76) — Mon, 01 Mar 2010 15:33:00 +0000

Just in case you were up all night wondering: Even though you are advised to contact poison control or a physician in case of ingestion,
"Maximum Strength Desitin is not harmful in small amounts. It does, however, act as a laxative."

-Poison Control Lady

Oh Crap.

noreply@blogger.com (chuckd76) — Wed, 24 Feb 2010 04:19:00 +0000

Have you ever heard the saying "God don't like ugly?" No? It's probably only because people don't want to tell you the truth. But I will. 'Cause I'm your friend. Apparently, God also doesn't like Dads bragging about how their kids are potty trained. Let me expound: I've just come from cleaning poop out of daughter's bed. Yup. You see, when wife and I explained to daughter that big girls don't poop or pee in their pants, daughter took it to mean that, first, I have to take off all of my clothes and then I can poop and/or pee wherever I'm standing. Which, for the second time this week has been her crib. I think we created a monster...

Where You From?

noreply@blogger.com (chuckd76) — Sun, 07 Feb 2010 04:55:00 +0000

So, remember how I've been whining about how you should buy my book and make me famous (what are you waiting for btw?) and I said I have a girl's name? That's not totally true. The truth is my name is Native American. It means "The son of the chief." At least according to a TV show from 1974 it does. Yeah, that's right, I was named after a TV show. But at least I have a theme. And one person on You Tube has it uploaded. So here you go:

Awesome right? Until you realize that Kronk also has a theme:

And you know what? I kinda like his better...NOT! It doesn't get any better than kicking ass and taking names and apparently, when I was a very, very, very little person, someone whom I was named after did, which makes me down by law. Cause he was a deputy.

On The Daddy Tip #12

noreply@blogger.com (chuckd76) — Thu, 04 Feb 2010 02:52:00 +0000

Daughter's newest trick is to stand up, stick her butt out, move her hips from side to side and chant "My booty, my booty." I don't know where it came from and I kinda don't want to know. It gives her something to do and makes her happy, so it makes wife and I happy. I've found that - betwixt meals, getting dressed and other required things (but not diaper changes; that's right, my two year old is potty trained. Is yours?) - daughter needs stuff to do. Which brings me to the tip: Give your kid something to do. I headed to Wal-Purgis Mart and picked up this. Now "Goldfish" (yes, that's his name) has a place to swim, frolic and sleep. Also, it's an awesome night-light. And, daughter has something to do, i.e. feed Goldfish. Feeding time is slotted right in between teeth brushing (Spin Brush) and the bedtime story ("Brown Bear See" or '"Night Moon" or "Elmo Book" or "Mag-Seen"). As an added bonus, Goldfish is also a regulator; "What, you don't want to brush? Well, Goldfish is brushing." Or "You don't want to sleep? Well, Goldfish is going to sleep." Goldfish even has a voice. Even though wife is the only person to have heard it.... In short: Getting your kid a cheap fish tank and a fish that only cost a buck fifty so He/she can feel good about having some responsibility: Priceless.

This Elmo for Yew

noreply@blogger.com (chuckd76) — Mon, 25 Jan 2010 06:17:00 +0000

I walked into the house yesterday after work and while I was saying "Wuz Up!" to wife, daughter runs over to me and presses some thing into my hand. Before looking at it thoroughly I ask daughter, "What's this?" Daughter replies, "This Elmo for yew." So without any further ado:

Usually, when some new toy shows up at our house wife will explain from whence it came. In this instance she didn't. I don't think she even knew this thing existed until I started messing with it. Maybe daughter got one of her other Elmo dolls wet.

Holy Knight

noreply@blogger.com (chuckd76) — Thu, 21 Jan 2010 05:12:00 +0000

As many of you might know-and I use the word many very loosely-I am a fan of Notre Dame Football. And before you ask, I don't give a damn who coaches the team, as long as there is Notre Dame Football. As I've gotten older I've also come to appreciate the school and the education it represents. And having taken until I was 34 to get a degree I know that education is damned important in the fight to be what you want to be in life. So, early on during The Pregnancy, I made a push. Because we live in Cleveland (40% is not a typo) I swore that no child of mine would ever set foot in a Cleveland school. I told wife that if lump never even knew the Cleveland school district existed, I would die happy. Thus began the search for an education. And I settled on Gilmour Academy. Truthfully, it was only because they were founded by the Congregation of Holy Cross in Notre Dame, IN. Which brings me to tonight. Wife and I just got back from Gilmour for a Montessori preschool open house. And now wife is on my side. The people at this school are extremely intense about education. Great. And because daughter is awesome and she was a Little Lancer this past fall, the Dean of Lower School Admissions already knows her. Perfect. And wife is already planning to observe a class and have daughter interviewed. Two words: Boo. Yah. And then I looked at tuition. And I'm thinking I shouldn't have taken away the "Donate" button.

Because I'm a Ranger, Duh!

noreply@blogger.com (chuckd76) — Wed, 20 Jan 2010 02:16:00 +0000

It seems as if I've gotten away from the Daddy stuff lately. Well, "It's an illusion!" I'm still totally aware of the fact that I have a daughter. Believe me, wife makes sure I don't forget. Anyway, I realize that a plea for camping money has no place in a daycare4dads. So, I'm moving the camping stuff. Yes, that is correct, sir. Now you can head on over to thelostranger.blogspot.com and scoff at my attempts to get out. Like I mentioned before, I'm planning a trip for June but I am a camping virgin so I'm hoping for some laughs, and some learning. But not death. Death is never funny. Unless it's that SpongeBob episode where he pretends to drown when he splits his pants. 60% of the time that one kills me everytime! Woo, yeah. So if you want to hang around the day care, feel free. I'm still gonna hit chu up wit dope-ness on this page. And if you want to know what it's like to get eaten by a black bear well, follow me on over to thelostranger. I swear I know where I'm going.

And Then Butter Said, "I'm on a Roll...A Roll!"

noreply@blogger.com (chuckd76) — Mon, 18 Jan 2010 07:05:00 +0000

I remember when I was younger. At least people tell me I do. Truthfully, I can't even remember Christmas too well. But, one thing I do remember about being young-ish was how long everything took. Car trips, stupid cartoons, dinner. Everything took forever. Then I got old. And now I'm all of a sudden really old. 'Cause time speeds up; it's been proven. And since time never mattered to me, at least until I decided to make resolutions, it seems as if it's moving faster than ever. I've pretty much thrown 'pacing' out the window is what I'm saying. My vacation time is submitted (mid June) and I've reserved a room (it's the Jay because I love my cousin) for the night before and the night after and now I'm starting to plan seriously for camping. Woo-hoo! I think. I think because I've looked at a calendar and I realize that June is very close in spite of it only being January now. Close because I don't own a tent. Or a sleeping bag, sleeping pad, bear canister (at least it's not a Sasquatch canister), bear spray, stuff sacks, water purifier or maps. I do know that it's a nine hour drive to Keene Valley. I don't know what I'm going to eat for three days in the woods. Did I mention I've never camped outside of a backyard before? So I'll probably be adding a PLB to my shopping list. So, in light of all of my foolishness I'm making yet another pitch/plug. Give me money. Please. I've lowered the cost of my Kindle book to .99 cents so you can click on the new PayPal link I added to the lower left and donate the .50 cents I saved you to Chuck's Folly or Hey, That Guy That Got Eaten By A Bear/Sasquatch/Locals, I Read His Blog. I know you probably want to know, "What's in it for me?" right? Well, you can tell all your friends that you helped some old guy you don't know fulfill his dream of camping. Or you can be a total jerk, not give me any money and let me die unhappy. It's your choice.

Yes, They Continue

noreply@blogger.com (chuckd76) — Tue, 12 Jan 2010 18:06:00 +0000

As promised here come more self-plugs. Amazon has done Kronos justice and taken only 24 hrs to make me an official seller on their website. Cool. Here's my book/collection/hopes and dreams for all to purchase and (hopefully) enjoy. If you don't have a Kindle, you might want to buy one first. Otherwise, you're just giving me fifty cents for nothing. Thanks! I'm gonna go stare at my Amazon page now...