After bbq with Heather and 2+ hours of catching up while standing in line, we got to see Jenny during her Atlanta book signing!

Everyone in line had sticky “post it” notes of varying colors inside their books to signify tiers of early signing, but we didn’t get there early enough to get a sticky note in our books.  In fact, I didn’t even have a book, since I’d pre-ordered the kindle version of Jenny’s book.  I decided to buy another, because supporting first-time published authors who were first bloggers is cool.

By the time the signing began, we had a few hundred people in front of us.  After about an hour, we too were handed yellow sticky notes.

Normal people put their names on the sticky note, but since I’ve talked to Jenny at each of the past 3 BlogHers, on email, and on Twitter, I didn’t see the need.  Right before Heather and I walked up to her, the Barnes & Noble manager looked at my book and asked where my name was.  “I don’t need to write it; she knows me,” I responded.  She smirked.

I walked up and opened my book.  It had already been autographed!  For the second time in my life, I just happened to buy an autographed book (“The Four Hour Body” was the other).

Me:  “I guess it’s already signed…maybe you can personalize it!”
Jenny:
B&N Mgr:  “You sure she knows you?”

At this point, I want to throw one of the cupcakes on Jenny’s table at the B&N manager’s glasses.  I smile and pose for a picture while something is written in my book.  Something personal, I’m certain.

Me:  “So, guess I’ll see you again at BlogHer, right?  Congrats on … all this!”
Jenny:  “Actually, I’m not going this year, but I’ll be at BlogWorld…go to that!”
Me:  “I’d love to!  It’s on my birthday, June 7!  I was thinking about it, but my wife said something about wanting me to be with family on my birthday, and something about my going to Spain in July and New York for BlogHer in August already.  Women…”
Jenny:  “You should come!  I’ll see you there.”
Me:  “Okay, then…congrats again!”

I looked down, hoping for a “Muskrat” or “Michael” reference I could show the B&N manager.  Instead, I got something even better.  I think.

And while the middle finger aimed at the B&N manager may have stayed hidden in my right pants pocket, believe me–it was there.  Even if only ironically.

Last week, we had parent-teacher conferences for Maddie the 5-year-old and Owen the 3-year-old at their preschool.

At Maddie’s, I learned she tends to hold her pee until she’s visibly uncomfortable, so she doesn’t miss anything going on in class.  She likes helping the younger children and being a leader, frequently to the point of being bossy.  Has a good grasp on reading and math; doesn’t mind correcting others’ reading or mathematical errors.

I went through 7 years of elementary school (K-6th) without ever knowing what the inside of the restrooms looked like.  Some people say I have an assholish habit of correcting others’ grammar on social media outlets, but I know I’m just helping them.

At Owen’s, his teacher–the one I offended by mistakenly joking about the restraining orders against me, and the one who had to call to tell me when he’d shoved a chickpea in his nose–told me he’s sort of the “class mayor.”  And that he’s sometimes the benevolent governor who manages the class with kindness and charm, but he can also be the evil dictator who tries to force others into his way of thinking.  Right before our session ended, we spoke about her replacement, since she’s moving 10 hours away this summer, meaning Owen will have another teacher for his next year of preschool (they normally have the same one for several years in Montessori school), and she started to tear up.

And then:  “I just hate that I won’t be around to see him grow up and find out who he becomes one day.”  I had to stop myself from suggesting she read my blog(s).

For the first several minutes after she said this, I assumed she said this to every parent this May and probably took drama classes in undergrad.  But then I wondered if she meant it.  I spent the rest of the day thinking about the gift I take for granted every day.  The gift I was afraid to receive but now can’t imagine giving up.  The gift who can’t wipe his ass all that well.

***

Today, Lola turned 2.  This summer, I reckon she’ll learn to use the toilet, and another anticipated milestone will be met, but we can’t help but lament the disappearing sweet temperament, laughter, and innocence that only a baby can bring to a household as she goes from toddler to preschooler to elementary schooler.

Because before long, she’ll know all the swear words her older siblings know.  And how to lie and argue and sneak out of her bed at night to put on her mother’s eyeliner and crap in the bidet.

But for today, she’s the sweetest, most affectionate little creature I’ve ever known, and her favorite word is “yes.”

What are we doing in these pictures, and how are our activities helping children all over the world get the chance to grow up and sue people?  Find out via my post here on DadCentric!

Last week, your government did all of us the service of sending me to Frederick, Maryland for some critical training in the art of watching PowerPoint slides.  Luckily, there was some down time in the evenings.

At the suggestion of my Baltimore-residing friend with expertise on all things Epicurean, Charlie, I tried a restaurant called Volt for a romantic dinner for one.  And, since my Indian name isn’t “Flocks With Prostitutes” while on official government business, this was the best $200 I could’ve spent on myself.  Delicious.  Good bourbon, too.

The following evening, I got to travel through 2 hours of traffic and rain to the welcoming Sweetney + Charlie crib!  I was treated to love from at least 19 dogs, a wonderful meal that included the first batch of collard greens I’ve actually enjoyed (from Charlie), some fine KY bourbon (also from Charlie), and some enjoyable and enlightening (about myself) conversation (from Tracey, because Charlie went to bed early).

I asked to see where Tracey runs her 19 or so websites (one for each dog…hmmm), and was led to a cozy home office on the top floor with a window overlooking the neighborhood, a MacBook Pro (like the ones on which my bride and I run our businesses, too), and hanging reminders and remnants from past Sparklecorn parties.  I was impressed.  Especially since none of the dogs seemed particularly adept at grammar.

More camaraderie by way of Rowan’s Creek followed.

And I think I talked about the war and various other sensitive topics that have been explored and shelved in my “drafts” folder for 4+ years.  I love how the internet comes alive when I travel.  And how it keeps me from drinking alone.

The following day was April the 19th, my little brother‘s birthday.  And, thanks to the wonders of FaceBook and its tracking my whereabouts, I learned from a mutual friend that my brother’s residence in Pennsylvania was actually quite close to me that week (having been educated exclusively in the South, all I know about Northern geography is where the Battle of Gettysburg took place).  So, I invited him down for dinner at Volt.

Best I can recall, dinner was delicious.  Best I can recall, so were the shots the people he befriended at subsequent bars kept buying us until I tapped out at 2am, since I had to get up at 6am to drive an hour and catch an early flight home.

We love fire water!

And he got a free CD!  From some dude I called “Fugazi” who appears to be his new best friend!

And so concluded another wonderful display of service to our country.  You’re welcome, America.

If you like literature that relates the little boy living under the Ghost of Christmas Present’s robe and Tom Cruise’s character in “Magnolia” to my dirty ass and the reliability of Crocodile Dundee, feel free to check out my review of it by clicking here to get to  DadCentric!

Or else it gets the hose again.

Ginger:  You have a hard time saying “no,” don’t you?
Me (surveys the 4 children, dog, and 2 birds in her hair salon):  That might be true.

Thursday of last week, I looked at my planner for this week and realized I had nary a deposition or hearing all week!  We were already going to Montgomery for some speaking engagement my bride had committed to a long time ago, but we’d planned to come back Saturday evening when it finished.  Instead, I thought and suggested the following:

Me:  Hey, why don’t we go to the lake for a few days instead of home Saturday?  It’s spring break; all my opposing counsel appear to be out of town, as I have nothing on my schedule for the first time in 3 years.
Her:  I’ll ask my mom if we can occupy her lake house…sounds fun!

Or something like that.

We were nearly to Maddie and Owen’s preschool on Friday when I learned we’d committed to keep the class parakeets for the week.  So, the Odyssey’s back row had 2 carseats and a surly 16-year-old in the middle, while the middle row had one carseat and a large birdcage in its two seats.  The dog lay between the two seats and diligently watched the birds.

As big a pain in the ass as it was to load all these creatures and their belongings in and out of the car in Montgomery and again at Lake Martin before doing it again at my Tuesday afternoon haircut appointment, the rest and relaxation gained from a few days away were worth it.  See for yourself:

Baby Lola at a park.  She’s an excellent driver.

See the woman on the deck on her laptop?  That’s how self-employed people “vacation.”

Maddie mothers Lola whilst Owen checks the structural integrity of the landscape timbers as seating.

“I’m the stranger.  Killing an Arab.”

And on the fifth day, we came home to a dumpster full of formerly covered-in-black-mold pieces of our basement.  Hooray!

At least I was able to open the garage door from over 100 miles away with my handy LiftMaster garage door iphone app.  I certainly didn’t want to be there for the demolition.

In other news, tomorrow’s my 3-year soloversary.  I usually do some triumphant post every year on the anniversary of quitting my job to start my own gig, and I may do that next week if the inspiration hits me, but here are the past couple of years’ posts.  I’m going to celebrate by taking the children to see Clifford the large red dog at a local museum, because there’s no way in hell I could leave for half the day to hang out with a giant red dog when I worked for other people.

Well, apparently, Kevin has forgotten that it’s not 2008 any more, but given my frequent inability to find inspiration for new material after over 350 posts, I’ll play along.  He tagged me to answer the following questions:

1. Ginger or MaryAnn?
   Mary Ann.  Yes, I like redheads over brunettes, but Mary Ann had the better personality.  And, as we learned in Pulp Fiction about dogs, “Dogs got personality.  Personality goes a long way.”  Same with women.
2. What would you use to dilute water?
   Heat.
3. What mnemonic would you use to help you remember how to spell “mnemonic”?
   My Necrophiliac Enigmatic Motherfuckin’ Octogenarian Neighbor Is Cool
4. What is your theme song?
   This:
   
   
   
5. Cake or pie, and what kind?
   This:
   
6. What’s the worst movie you ever saw in its entirety?
   The Avenging Disco Godfather in high school.  I have no idea why we thought this would be a good movie.
7. What celebrity would you NOT mind your significant other having a one-nighter with?
   This one:
   
   
   
8. Six of one or half a dozen of the other?
   Half a dozen, because it could be a Baker’s dozen.
   
   
9. What you gon’ do with all that junk? All that junk inside your trunk?
   If you touch it, I’ma start some drama.  You don’t want no drama.
   
   
10. Vampires or zombies – which would you try to kill first?
    Zombies, because I keep seeing them all over Atlanta, and they’re clearly real.  And scary.
11. Who are three people who’ve never been in my kitchen?
    Cliff Clavin, Buddy the Elf, and the Avenging Disco Godfather.
    

I’m suppose to tag a bunch of folks I want to answer some questions now, but I won’t.  Not everyone likes these nostalgic games like I do, because not every0ne is as cool as I am.  It must suck to be “not everyone.”

I started seeing my current dentist in 2001 after getting a recommendation from a colleague.  I picked him because the internet told me he’d gone to school in Nashville (where I grew up), and because his office was a couple blocks from the Bank of America tower where I worked.  His office was pretty shabby, and his practice seemed to be geared toward lower income patients.  I was the only guy in the waiting room wearing a tie.  Several of the folks sitting around me looked like the guys who’d ask for spare change outside the Shakespeare Tavern across the street.  I was uncomfortable and didn’t want to stay.

I was called into the back and met the hygienist, Johnny.  He too had been schooled in Nashville, at an HBCU instead of Vanderbilt like the dentist.  We talked about college football, landscaping, and his family.  He laughed at my self-deprecating humor.  I liked him.

Over the next few years, Johnny saw the following milestones through updates every six months while I had my mouth open:

-changing jobs (and seeing their dentistry office had moved to a nicer office)
-deploying to Iraq
-graduating from law school
-buying a new house
-passing the bar
-getting my first job as an associate attorney
-eloping (and learning Johnny’s wife had been killed in a car wreck)
-having my first child
-building a new house near his family’s (but never selling ours, so we never moved into it).
-deploying to Washington, DC
-switching jobs to a new firm (and learning he’d remarried and gone from 2 to 4 kids)
-deploying to Iraq again
-having my second child
-quitting my job to start my own firm
-having my third child
-moving to a new house (a rental) after nearly 4 years of trying to sell
-moving yet again (a purchase)

The most memorable of these visits was when I came in after having my appointment rescheduled to allow for coming home from Iraq in 2003, and instead of waiting on me to come back to his room, he galloped into the waiting room where I sat and gave me a sustained hug.  The dentist wasn’t far behind him.

After that visit, the dentist stopped lamenting how boring my 6-month visits were (because I never had cavities for him to fix), and we started enjoying catching up on one another’s non-teeth-related life changes since the previous visit.  I’d leave and wonder aloud about such predictions as “I wonder if when you see me again, I will have passed the bar?” or “I wonder if when we next meet, I will have sold our house?” or “I wonder if I’ll ever get married or have a family of my own?”

My visits are in September and March.  Today, I got to tell them we’d finally moved into the house in which we plan to stay 20 years and raise our children.  And, oh yeah, I need a new cap put on that tooth that got chipped during the fist fight at Whitewater on a church trip in 1986.  It was getting discolored.

When I finished, my bride had her cleaning.  We scheduled the precursor-to-braces teeth extraction for the 16-year-old and the first cleaning for the 5-year-old.

I gave Johnny one of those “handsome black man handshakes” that includes a hug before paying the bill.  On the way out, I told the receptionist something I’m sure she doesn’t hear very often:  “Can’t wait to see y’all again!”  And then I tried to imagine my life in September 2012.

I caught my fourth MuteMath show a couple Sunday nights ago, and as upset as I was to miss the season finale of “The Walking Dead,” here’s why it was totally worth the VIP package:

1.) They look great in blue.

2.) Paul doesn’t shy away from a close up.

3.) Darren doesn’t mind a drum solo while on a cart in the middle of the crowd.

4.) Roy supports Movember all 12 months of the year.  And he blogs!

5.) Vertical keyboarding!

6.) They can make it snow!  In March!  In Atlanta!

7.) When was the last time you passed a rock star over your head on a raft with flashing lights as said rock star continued singing?

You haven’t.  But I have.

8.) The drummer has to wrap his hearing protection around his head to keep it from being flung off during intense head banging.

9.) Willingness to mingle with the little people at 1am.

I was introduced to these guys in Spring 2004 while visiting North Point Community Church, and they became the most energetic performers I’d seen before or since.  On that day in 2004, the band played before the preacher interviewed a guy who’d become addicted to pornography.  I bought their “Reset” CD within the hour and have bought every subsequent album over the past 8 years while seeing them do three more shows at two more venues.

When we met the band after the show, I told the lead singer, Paul, about my introduction to their music so many years ago.
Him:  “Pornography Sunday!  That’s how you heard about us?”

Yes, Paul.  Pornography Sunday.  I wouldn’t have it any other way.