New Year’s Eve Plans

Today is New Year’s Eve, the second dumbest holiday of all time, Labor Day being the all-time dumbest. The million or so people who cram themselves into Times Square to watch the ball drop are exhibit A in the case against human’s being the superior species on our planet. New Year’s Eve is when every restaurant has a line out the door, a limited menu, watered down drinks and inflated prices. No thanks.

In the old days when our kids were little and all our friends had little ones, Pam and I used to throw a huge New Year’s Eve bash at our house which featured kid-centric activities, games, and arts and crafts. We all wore goofy hats and ate fantastic food all night until the kids were exhausted. Then a few years later when I was working in the Youth group at church, our house was crammed full of teenagers, sometimes over fifty of them. We fed them, gave them free reign of the place and successfully kept them off the streets and out of harm’s way. When the ball dropped, they all gathered in our living room, began jumping up and down in rhythm and throwing homemade confetti skyward. it was a madhouse and we cleaned up confetti for literally months afterwards. Looking back on those years causes me to question my sanity. What on earth were we thinking? 

Now, the kids are gone. We have had tons of people and dogs traipsing through this house for the last two weeks. Now that they are gone we are thankful for the peace and quiet and just a little bit disturbed by it at the same time. All we see when we look around are all the Christmas decorations that need to be packed back up and taken to the attic. Looming out there in the future is the beginning of a new year, a new decade. We need to get to it but we can’t yet because of the dead days surrounding this random, disjointed and non-sensical New Year’s Eve...thing.

Our plans for the day involve a nice lunch out together and then a shopping trip to buy clothes for me. I don’t trust myself to make fashion decisions. That’s why I bring Pam along. I also don’t care for shopping of any kind, especially clothes, so I only do it once or maybe twice a year. I remember one time a couple of years ago when we were at Kohl’s and I was having a terrible time making my mind up about what kind of underwear to buy. It was a moment of....brief indecision.

Happy New Year’s everyone!

The 2020 Plan

“I have no list of resolutions for 2020, not that I can’t find things I need to be resolute about, but rather the things I need to improve about myself are eternal, always on my list of things to work on. I will forever struggle to be more patient, kind, and understanding. I will for the rest of my natural life battle the accumulation of unwanted weight. Making a list of my personal failings only serves to remind me of their continued existence and my past failures at self improvement. So, instead, I have condensed my goals for 2020 to a workable phrase which I hope to pursue consistently throughout the year...

...Love people, use things, and worship God.”

I wrote these words on this day two years ago. I have changed the date and submit them again for your consideration. I have had no new insights that improve on these sentiments. Although I have made advancements in their application since 2018, there is still much more work to be done. The actual room for improvement is still large enough to land a plane. Learning how to consistently and without prejudice love people is as daunting as it is difficult. Unfortunately, the teachings of my faith offer me no other option. I am instructed to love even my enemies, especially my enemies. This sometimes unreasonable directive requires giant infusions of that other unique quality of my faith...grace. It is my intention and sincere hope to become better at this with each passing year. There will be failures along the way. I am a flawed human being. There are others to whom love comes more easily. There are many others with much less guile than me. I’m not even as kind, loyal and forgiving as my dog at this point. But each year I learn more and more. Each year, with practice, I hope to get better at this love and grace thing. That’s the plan.

As 2019 comes to a close, I would like to thank you all for reading this blog. It astonishes me how many of you do. I hope that 2020 brings you much happiness and success. But more than anything else I hope each of you find...peace.

Happy New Year.

Dog Tale

So, Dunnevant Central has been home to three Golden Retrievers for the past 48 hours plus now, and I’m sure that all of you are dying to hear all about the path of death and destruction they have visited upon our home. Before I get to all of that try to imagine what it was like when Patrick and Sarah arrived Christmas night...

It was around 7 o’clock. There were 16 people and two dogs crammed into my house. We had all had dinner and were now opening presents in the den, boxes, packages, bows and ribbons strewn about like confetti. Into this caldron arrives a seven month old puppy who has spent the past 10+ hours in the back seat of a Honda Civic, having never made a trip of any kind that lasted anywhere near this long before. It had the potential for Hitchcockian terror, a recipe for a potential repeat of Lucy’s famous poop lap fiasco of 2017. While it was crazy, and eventually required some time out and one three minute trip to the penalty box for roughing, there was no feces deposited anywhere (that we are aware of). Once everyone left, things calmed down. I use that phrase—things calmed down—with great care. The word calmed is doing very hard work in that sentence. In point of fact there has been very little that has transpired in my house that can fairly be described as calm since three dogs have taken up residence. However, it has not been the full-fledged disaster I was worried it would be. The three of them have gotten along reasonably well. Lucy still guards our bedroom as if her very life depended on it—no dog of any description is allowed entrance. Jackson has experienced an epic dose of payback for all the times he annoyed Lucy by biting her ears and slobbering all over her. Frisco has put on a clinic in that regard. Most of the behavior problems have involved the two of them with Lucy serving as the above-it-all eye-rolling grownup. 

It occurs to me that any words of mine will fail to accurately describe what a few well chosen pictures would convey more accurately. So...enjoy!

A rare affectionate hug

An even rarer moment of group rest

Our Chairs used to be for humans only...


Frisco bobbing and weaving, looking for an opportunity to go for the ears.

“Ok boys, this beef jerky belongs to Pops and Pops only!!”

The calm after the storm.

Christmas Eve Eve and a Family Scandal??

Me:  

For Christmas morning, I'm going to make Eggs Benedict, and I'm going to serve them on hubcaps from a 1962 Ford.

Pam:  ??

Me: Because there’s no plate like chrome for the Hollandaise.

Pam: Geez...

And with that stellar exchange of deep thoughts, Christmas Eve Eve is off to a roaring start. At this hour I am still awaiting my marching orders from Pam. In between my assignments, I will begin the process of wading through the “simple step by step instructions for uploading your manuscript to Kindle/Amazon for self publication.” I am skeptical that anything involving the word uploading will be “simple.” I also doubt my ability to get this done without assistance from either my wife or one of my savvy adult children. But, my wife will be otherwise engaged and my adult children haven’t arrived yet, so my goal of having Saving Jack self published and for sale by Christmas looks like a lost cause.

So, my son-in-law is up in Maryland visiting his family. Somehow, among all the activities, he has managed to find this...

This is a Census for Buckingham County from 1930, the year that my mother was born. She had not yer arrived apparently since her name does not appear. Neither had my Uncle Jim. But everyone else was there...Granddaddy, Grandma, Auntie Ruth, John, Harry and Lloyd. Then, a mystery. Carrington Ewers, who is listed as “brother-in-law” must have been living with them. He was Grandma’s brother, I assume. I wonder what the story was? Why was he living with his sister and her family in 1930? I publish this in hopes that one of my cousins up in Buckingham and Nelson County will have the back story. Without any hard facts, I am capable of spinning a fantastic tale to explain his presence there, and while a writer should never let facts get in the way of a good story, I feel an obligation to do so in this case because...well...family.

     

The Twelve Ways of Christmas

Once again, it was my intention this morning to write a piece about the impeachment thing, but once again I just don’t have the stomach for it. I figure that being so close to Christmas, it’s not the time for political spleen-venting or spleen-venting of any kind for that matter. Eventually, I will get around to Trump’s impeachment. Although when I do I’m not sure I will be able to improve on this little thing that my daughter sent me yesterday:

No, this morning I will share with all of you 12 secrets of my family’s Christmas history. What follows won’t be particularly compelling to most of you because they are mostly inside jokes. But, every family has them. There are things that happen every year when the gang gets together for Christmas that are unique to your family’s style. Well, these are ours. All I ask is that you not judge us too harshly.

The Twelve Ways of Christmas

On the first day of Christmas my true love gave to me...an 8x10 photo of Bo Diddley, suitable for framing? YES!

On the second day of Christmas my true love gave to me...a live performance of Ahab the Arab, Sheik of the Burning Sands.

On the third day of Christmas my true love gave to me...three glass tea pitchers for Nanny, all of which she claims to need!

On the fourth day of Christmas my true love gave to me...an electric coat hanger, with charger, from Uncle Bill.

On the fifth day of Christmas my true love gave to me...FIVE POUND CAKES.

On the sixth day of Christmas my true love gave to me...Aunt Linda giving the “destructions”

On the seventh day of Christmas my true love gave to me...a seven hour present opening session.

On the eighth day of Christmas my true love gave to me...about hour four of presents, Ruaridh asking “Why did I have to marry into a dry family??

On the ninth day of Christmas my true love gave to me...a juvenile prank involving either fart noises, bugs or air horns pulled off by one of the children with absolutely NO HELP from me.

On the tenth day of Christmas my true love gave to me...Uncle Ron dozing off...while opening his own presents.

On the eleventh day of Christmas my true love gave to me...Me singing “Jolly Old St. Nicholas” in a terrible French accent.

On the twelfth day of Christmas my true love gave to me...Aunt Paula making twelve vows to make changes in the present unwrapping NEXT YEAR.

Urine Luck

No, this is not some clever metaphor for what happened yesterday on the floor of the House of Representatives. This is the future of the commode, a smart toilet, developed by two scientists at the University of Wisconsin. I was all set to write a piece about impeachment this morning. Watching Nancy Pelosi, dressed in mourning black reciting the Pledge of Allegiance was a stunning visual image. Discovering her new-found devotion to the United States Constitution took the concept of stunning to a whole new level. But when I saw this headline—Smart Toilet May Pose Privacy Risk—impeachment will just have to wait.

So, these two scientist have come up with a revolutionary crapper called the smart toilet. They hope it will make a splash with consumers and usher in a new era of personalized medicine. Among its many advantages are its ability to closely monitor your health and check for early signs of diseases like cancer and diabetes.

It is fitted with a camera that takes pictures of your waste, analyzes it and comes back flush with information about everything from what you had for dinner to what medications you are taking and even how well you slept last night. 

With this toilet, users can preemptively detect urinary tract infections, kidney disease, diabetes and other metabolic disorders, before they show symptoms. According to the scientists, frequent samples from a smart toilet could also help monitor how prescription or over-the-counter drugs are being metabolized, and allow users to adjust their dosage as needed.

But, with all this helpful data comes the possibility of it falling into the wrong hands. Suppose an employer uses it to secretly delve into an employee’s drug habits? Would this be a violation of privacy rights, not to mention, kind of gross. And what of the mountains of video of personal waste that this thing would produce and store? Could it be used to blackmail its user? “Whoa there, big guy. Probably shouldn’t have had that second burrito last night, eh?”

Of course, another barrier to wide spread acceptance of smart toilet technology is the cost. Current technology can’t build these toilets for less than $10,000, making it out of reach for all but the number two of the 1%. But considering the health benefits not only of early detection of disease, but the ability to more closely monitor day to day developments of your health, the future of these devices looks bright. I think I smell a government subsidy in the wind.

That’s where marketing comes in. There are many headwinds that must be overcome when selling toilets. But many of them can be solved with a catchy name for this new device. The Japanese already have a smart toilet, although not as advanced. They call theirs the Flowsky. Not bad. But I know we can do better. I mean we have Madison Avenue. Here are just a few candidates I came up with just this morning while using my very dumb toilet...

The Pee-Gazer 2000

The Loo Lab

The Shitbit

Urine Luck

Disturbing Christmas Math

Yesterday, we finally nailed down (sorta) our Christmas Day plans. It would appear that we will be hosting Pam’s family here at our house. At this hour we still have not decided on a precise timeline for the meal, but the details that are clear present some troubling mathematics. There are three particular numbers that give me pause, 18, 7, and 3.

18. This represents the number of human beings that will be in my house for the day. Luckily for me, I love all of them. They are generally well-mannered, well-spoken, and they all bathe regularly. It will be as agreeable a group of family members to be trapped inside with for four-five hours that one could possibly ask for. 

7. This is the number of fully decorated and lit Christmas trees that will be competing for space with the aforementioned 18 humans. Long time readers of this space are familiar with my wife’s Christmas Tree obsession. They are all lovely, each with a different theme, each designed to make a different statement. They are placed strategically throughout the house in every available nook and cranny. All of this is well and good. Far be it from me to put a damper on my wife’s Christmas spirit. Heaven knows we need more, not less, of it...but our house is not what one would call, overly spacious. It has 2600 square feet, I’m told. Although if you subtract the space gobbled up by the 7 trees and the 18 humans, it feels much more like a 600 square foot bungalow. Which brings me to our third number...

3. This will be the number of Golden Retrievers that will competing with the 7 trees and 18 humans for floor space and attention on Christmas Day. Each of them are beautiful, adorable and loved by one and all. But each of them brings their own, er, uh...challenges.

Lucy, is the elder statesmen of the group, and if you can believe it, the most well-behaved and rational of the bunch. This picture was taken as I was having a talk with her, warning her about the coming chaos. I’m aware that this will be hard for many of you too believe, since her many neurosis are well known to readers of The Tempest. But, as crazy as it sounds, she will be the voice of reason in the dog hierarchy on Christmas Day. (God Help Us)

Jackson. Then there’s this guy, the Great White Dope, the galloping galoot, the 95 pound canine freight train. Jackie-Jack is the sweetest boy you’ve ever seen, but has never exactly played with a full deck, he’s not what you would call a Rhodes Scholar. He is covetous of our attention and thinks it his responsibility to warn all of us of every chirping bird, falling leaf, or odd cloud formation lurking outside with a full-throated bark. Most trips, Pam tapes paper on the windows on the sides of the front doors to block his view of the terrors outside, but this is only partially effective since Jackson has a vivid enough imagination that he doesn’t require visual evidence of his prey to belt out a warning bark. Also, Jackson can sometimes be jealous of the newest Pup in the family...

Frisco. The newest member of the family is this gorgeous good boy. Unfortunately, in keeping with family tradition, Frisco brings his own mental issues to the table. Of late he has discovered his reflection in his water bowl, which causes him a great deal of angst and produces much barking. Also, alert readers will notice that in this particular photograph, Frisco seems quite concerned about something, distraught, in fact. Yes, that would be his profound suspicions about his very first ever...Christmas tree. Obviously, this has the potential to be problematic when he gets to our house for the first time and is introduced to 7 of the monsters.

So, while each of these three numbers are perfectly fine in isolation, and although each of these three numbers are even desirable on their own, the pending combination of these three numbers has the potential for chaos. At the very least, this volatile combination of numbers could produce enough material for a month’s worth of blogposts. For that I suppose I should be grateful.

Pray for us.