Our road twists and bends, but it never ends
John received his very first paycheck of his life tonight. After successfully completing a project for a client, John received his just due–well, almost. Some guy named FICA took a healthy bite from his hard-earned money. A few more checks like this and he’ll probably start paying more attention to news about taxes.
A day at the ballpark beats a day nearly anywhere else. Today brought a miserable season at home to a happy ending; happy for the Astros because they won, happy for me because we were here.
A baseball game is a poetic experience to me. To my children, however, it’s a food-fest. Knowing that, I made sure I brought them to a game when I had suite tickets. Thanks to Comcast, they gorged themselves and left me to drink in the game.
I was happy to have a hot dog, peanuts, and a indeterminate glasses of wine.
From the evil chuckle department: we (and most everyone else) received official team posters with next year’s season schedule on the back. The chuckle? Recently-fired skipper Cecil Cooper sits smiling front row, center. All I can say is, good thing rodeo season starts in a few weeks to distract me clear all the way to spring training.
When an idea grabs hold of the DaddyMom, there’s nowhere to go but done. This cannon thing has taken on a life all its own. Last week, John, Zuzu and I came face-to-face with a limitation of kiddie carrrier (our Expedition). Not to be deterred, I found the trailer hitch John couldn’t (it was hidden where I told him to look) and set it up for business.
Our circuitous route from Castle Ridge to the cannon took us through Lake Jackson. And, you simply can’t pass through the birthplace of a Texas legend without paying a visit to Buc-ce’s #1. Stella and John took my detour in stride. Our pal David, meanwhile, is still trying to get a feel for my ADHD sense of direction…
Okay, it would have worked better had it said “half off,” but it communicates the same thing. And, John’s all in favor of the idea. Of course he is: he’s a teenager and my son.
Our noble gal rests where we left her. Sorta. Last week, it was standing the other way. As luck would have it, this was better. All we had to do is get it across the room and out the door. Oh, did I mention it needed lowering about five feet?
It’s all loaded in this picture. I didn’t snap a picture along the way because all hands were engaged in the move. Stella, David, John, Suzy (the store owner), and I managed to get it down from that rusty gate in the upper right corner and onto the trailer. Easy peezy. We rolled it forward till the barrel was pointing out toward the trailer. Then, lowered the barrel until it was about six inches above the trailer’s deck. A short plop and there is stood–on it’s end. Pivot it on the barrel and lower it to the wheels and bam, we’re good to go. Don’t say NO to the DaddyMom.
68 short miles to our house; miles of opportunities to make new friends with countless “patient” Texas drivers on the Gulf Freeway and Beltway. It sure turned heads when we passed through the “hood” on the way to our house.
And now, we have the safest driveway in the subdivision. And, here she’ll stand until the final installment of our cannon adventure. In a couple weeks, I’ll drive it to the final destination: the Quarterdeck of Wizard Academy’s Tower.
They’ve played one. They’ve won one. Undefeated, I told Zuzu. That’s terrific!
It’s all fun for Zuzu. I explained to her later about “game face.” I don’t think she understood.
Indeed, it’s all for fun–and that’s how it should be. Another lesson for dad by Zuzu.
She didn’t score a goal, but she helped prevent a few on the way to victory.
Final score? As it should be: Catholics 3, Protestants 2. She’s so proud! Me too.
The sale is about to close and the customer asks for just one more little something. That’s called a nibble. And, Zuzu is among the world’s four best nibblers I know.
Got the cleats. Got the spikes. But, wait! Look at THESE daddy! How do I say no to that smile? I am a soft touch where they are concerned.
See those two blue flip-flops? They’re size 2. The new shoes? Size 3. It’s the only way she’d surrender the old ones. It was a total win until her two sisters saw her walk in the back door with new shoes. Why do I think there will soon be more new shoes in my house?