What's So Funny About Men In Coats?

This is an older video, but it's a goodie. I crack up every time I see it.

If you have seen it before.... Enjoy.

If you have never seen it before.... Enjoy.

I and Me and We

There is an I in "TEAM". You may not see it. You may not hear it. But according to my cousin, that's how you spell it. It seems that June wants to do a “June and Cousin Steve” podcast. She said that “we” should set it up. Now, let me tell about my techno challenged cousin. The “we” means “me”. And if I want to do it, I will have to get it done.

Don’t get me wrong, I love her. She is brilliant in my eyes. I am a very lucky cousin. But lurking behind those innocent eyes is pure trickery. It’s like when my sister would pinch me and then yell “Mom Help!!” right before I punched her, so my mom would catch me doing it. All I’m saying is that when we to school, I carried both backpacks, while she skipped.

I am pretty sure that my wife, lovely wonderful light of my life wife, is going to hit me in the head with a frying pan as soon as she gets wind of this new adventure. She has been supportive of the “blog thing” so far, but I will mention that when she walks by, she gives me a look. And then I say “Leave me the hell alone”. Of coarse this is after she is gone and I mumble it so she can’t hear me.

Last week I used to have some free time, then, my cousin made me, I mean, I started a blog. Did I mention I have a full time job and a wife and two wee ones?? Did I mention that job does not allow me to be on the computer?? I only get a couple of hours in the night. When in the bloody heck am I going to get time for a “FAKE RADIO SHOW”!! June said she is going to make me wear an outfit for it. I told her “Nobody can see us”. She said ”Just put it on Pansy”.

So now I figure sometime soon I will be hiding in some corner of my basement, wearing a Leprechaun outfit 2 sizes too small, taping a podcast.

When “I” can set it up.

Sunday Nights

Sunday nights around my house are probably the same as yours. Get ready for the week. I try to scramble to get crap I should have leisurely done during the weekend, done in thirty seven minutes. But last night, you see……. was Oscar Night. I don’t know if I care about the show anymore, too much ego stroking for me. I believe I remember it differently as a kid, seemed to have so much class and elegance. Now it is a program that just my wonderful wife watches.

During the show, I walked over to pick up the remote and she gave me the look that said “Go ahead, change that channel. I dare you. Do it and I will rip off both of your arms and beat your stupid little head with them.” Or at least, that's what I thought she meant. So I said.. “I was just checking to see of it had the right batteries in it…gosh.” Total lie. Then I went and baked her a cake. Not really.

Number one rule in my house, keep momma happy, we all will be happy.

Get Down From There!

My mom always said I was a climber. I would climb everything. As a baby I climbed on the furniture, climbed in and out of the crib. I would even climb up my dad. One time, as told to me, I climbed up the front living room windows, pure buck naked. Mom said, it was funny, cute and scary. All at the same time. I was 2. For the longest time I thought my name was "GET DOWN FROM THERE"!!

As I got older I did what any boy would do, I kept climbing. On top of the house, up a tree. Another time my dad had to go get a ladder from the neighbors to help me out of a tree that I couldn't get down from. I only cared about going up. Down was just a circumstance.

Well, now I am a carpenter. And as all young carpenters should, I spent my younger years framing houses. Big houses. Tall, huge, high up, wonderful houses. My first year I got to work on a 14,000 square foot house. Talk about HUGE! The guest quarters are bigger than my house I am raising my children in. Every little chance I got, I would climb to the top and look around. It was awesome.

I hope that I have established that I am indeed a climber. Or at least that I want to climb stuff. Here comes my problem. We are getting a new ceiling at church. The ceiling was very old and had been painted before. But now is falling apart. It's a cathedral type ceiling, with wonderful large wooden beams and the ceiling is made up of patterned tiles. Kind of like drop ceiling tiles without the grid, for sound. Anyways. To get up to the peak of the ceiling and all points in between, they are using scaffolding. To put it bluntly, our church looks like a huge jungle gym. Like, the best best jungle gym ever made. I cannot focus on a homily with a contraption like that looming over my head!!

For the past few weeks I have no idea what the readings, or gospel, or whatever is about. All I see is the "jungle gym". At first I thought, "Oh cool their fixing the ceiling, sure needed it". That lasted for about five minutes. Every time I leave church without climbing and frolicking on that behemoth of a structure, a small tear runs down my face. Not really, BUT JEEZ!!!

I even want my son to appreciate it. My wife gave me the "What the hell do you think your doing?!!!" look last week. Like there is something wrong with holding your 18 month old son up so he can hang on one of the cross members. I never thought of the flip side of that. I just wanted him to want to climb like every other boy around. Well, he does want. And he does do. And his name also is "GET DOWN FROM THERE!"

I guess one good thing is, hanging in my garage is the ladder that my parents neighbor gave them to get me down, will get him down too. Thanks, Mrs. Rochford.

June, Don't Pass It On Yet...

So, I start this new blog, back in September..... I don't progress.

I revisit it in December, it goes no further.

I finally sit down and decide that I am now going to do it, and pour a side of me that I don't normally let out in public. I write this post late last night about my dad and nephew. A really big excuse for not blogging. But, to who? I had no readers. Key word there is HAD.

Today I send it to my cousin for approval, since she is the shiznit of blogging. In that e-mail, I wrote:

June, Don't pass it on yet. But here is a look at my blog that I started back in September. I have to do some fancy stuff to make it look good. I just came up with the name last night and switched the old blog to my new address. What do you think. I had to say something about dad, for me. But I tried to keep it quick.

See right after "June" where it says "Don't pass it on yet"? Holy Crap! She wrote a blog about it! I feel like I just emerged out of the shell and she came over and kicked my ass out of the nest.

She said I had nothing to worry about. "It's fine. Just write you Pansie." What that means is... She got an e-mail with a link from me. She doesn't have time to read the body of an e-mail about a funny video or whatever. So she clicks it, got excited, told all.

I freaked out.

I feel like I just got a liquor license for a bar and she told everybody we are having an opening party tonight!

I feel like when your on a first date and the other person starts talking about future plans and weddings and meeting their parents.

I feel like the first time you get on the "super big, rip your face off" roller coaster and it starts to roll out of the station. And your afraid of heights.

I feel like the first time you flew and the planes engines went full throttle on the take off.

I felt... scared.

But, now I'm over it. June called me. Gave me a pep talk. I feel fine.

Sorry the place looks a little drab. I haven't had a chance to fix it up yet. I was not expecting guests.

Thanks for coming. Hope to see you again.

I was a little busy...

Again, I have been gone for a while. I just came back today and realized that I am a horrible blogger. First I tried a shit load of logins and passwords to get here. Then I just looked around at this space that I haven't seen for a while. That's when I saw it. The blog I did on December 17th, 2008.

I was just going to try and get this blog thing going that night. I had decided that I could do it. I was going to get it done.

I remember that night. The kids were in bed. My wife was asleep also. And I was about to get my troubled nephew to come live with me so I could help him straighten out his life. I was feeling good. My life was headed in a good direction. Remember in "Jerry McGuire" when Tom Cruise is driving down the highway after the "handshake" with Cush's dad and he was singing "Free Fallin". That's how I felt that night. I was going to get it done.

I wrote that little blog feeling good inside. Ready to let the blogging world take me. Then I received a phone call. My dad was being taken to the hospital. He was experiencing a ton of pain in his lower back. I didn't think much of it. After all he has survived a minor stroke the week before with flying colors. They went over his whole body....... right? What could be wrong? What could happen? Just take him there to be safe. I met them at the hospital ER. They had a forty five minute ride. I live only ten minutes away.

I helped dad out of the van and into a wheelchair. I pushed him inside as he joked with all the staff. Dad died twenty eight and one half hours after stepping out of that van. Because of the stroke, they put him on some strong thinners to get rid of another clot. Something happened, and he started to bleed internally. They couldn't stop it. There was nothing they could do. It was very sad. I was very angry.

He had gone in late on the 17th and passed early on the 19th of December.

After a wonderful wake done by my Aunt Barbara's funeral home, we buried dad two days before Christmas.

The day that my dad passed, my sixteen year old nephew came to live with me. HOLY CRAP!! At first it was wonderful. But it didn't take long for him to re-start his shit. I fought a valiant battle. I didn't take his crap or let him get away with shit! (Lot's of fecal matter in this part of the story) The harder he pushed, the harder I pushed back. Right up until he ran away. Then I was done. It took us eight days to find him. I found him in a house and turned him over to the police. He fought the cops then ran right out of the station!! They caught him again nine hours later. Sent him to the Juvenile Detention Center. Two days later they released him to me. I drove him four hundred miles back to where he came from. Little ungrateful shit. (To anyone that may judge me, I could fill up 20 pages with the details from only 5 weeks. I have little children in my house.)

So now, I am recovering from the worst time in my life so far. I hope it will have been the worst in my lifetime. Thing are getting back in order. And I am getting back to being "Happy Steve". Hence, re-starting the blog.

Thanks to all for letting me get that off my chest, I really needed it. I don't want my blog to be a somber place. But sometimes shit happens, and we all need to talk about it. I am going to get it done.

Get ready for what???

Yeah, OK. So I started off fired up. But, I used all my fuel on the start up and then died out. Kind of funny actually. I just came back to my own blog and read the final words from my first blog post ever, "Well, buckle your chin straps! Here comes Steve!!".

Starting a blog is kind of rough. I didn't actually know what my blog should be about. Then it came to me. Who cares!!! Just write stupid!

So, now I think i am ready to do this...... maybe.