Redneck pride

Did you think I'd let Tanis over at Attack of the Redneck Mommy get all the glory? Well, maybe. She does have me outnumbered at the moment (congratulations!). But we still have duct tape and we're not afraid to use it.


And just for good measure, it takes a redneck to take a truck like this;


turn it into a truck like this;


and then sink it in a river like this:


Touché!

Thank you Grandpa

The last few months have been busy. Since buying this place, it's been a never-ending collage of home improvement projects minor and major. Lately though we started to give ourselves a little time off so our heads wouldn't explode.

It's been a while since I did a project just for the heck of it. Okay, I guess the last one was the hoist for the kayak, but that was a response to the challenge, "Where do we store the new boat?" I get to be crafty and ingenious at work while solving unique problems, but that too, is problem-solving with flair. In a small way, so was this one. "What do I get SuperMom for Valentine's Day?"

Neither of us are big into the commercialization of that day, but I know she still appreciates the sentiment. Flowers are, oversold. I try to remember to give her those on completely random days of the year with a special process involving a Chinese lunar calendar, a hampster, pecans, and a bicycle chain. What could I put together on short notice (Yeah, procrastination is a specialty. It's like a gift-with-purchase for being male)? Better yet, what could I build?

My brain started to flash back to my youth. My grandpa was great with these kinds of things. Small projects. Tinkering projects. When you grow up during the Great Depression, you get great at building your own solutions rather than buying them. Grandpa used to build most of his own Christmas decorations. He'd build airplanes out of beer cans. He helped me carve out custom propellers for my 7th grade science fair project on propeller-pitch-efficiency. Lots of things I know were cool but just can't remember, but most of all they were simple. That's when it hit me. A bird house.

Yeah, I know all you women are thinking about how much you'd just loooooooove to get a frickin' bird house for Valentines Day, but there's a perfectly good story that goes with that decision. And no, I'm not going to tell you :p

So I grabbed the munchkin and made a quick trip to the hardware store, then to the shop for some of my tools (because even though I have practically everything, most of it stays on the utility truck @ work), and finally it was off to the internet to figure out the best way to build a bird house. Yeah, it seems simple enough, but I did actually learn some stuff. Like those little dowels everyone puts in front for the bird to perch on? -Apparently the birds don't like them so much. Friggin' finnickey birds already made me waste $2 on a piece of dowel and I haven't even started building yet! And the hole in front, yeah, they don't care for that either. Aww come the frick on! What happened to the old-fashioned birds that were happy to get free housing whatever way we decided to build it for them? Damned yuppie birds.

So for the most part, it was simple. Measure twice, cut, um, 3 times or so. Wood glue, brad nails, and lots of painter's caulk. The best part though was having Twerp help paint it. It took me about three times longer to accomplish, but she helped, "build the birdhouse for mommy and the birds," and loved it.

And so did SuperMom.

Where, oh where has my sister gone?

This song, from my youth, makes me think of her every time. I was 12 when my parents divorced. It was odd. I had a strange relationship with my father, and since I was an only child, had always been more of an introvert anyhow. The break-up didn't hit me too hard. At least not tragically like in some families. If anything I got a lot more attention from dad than before. It was awkward, but we coped well.

I'm not sure how long afterward it was before he began dating again. It wasn't too long. By the time I was 13 he was dating a great woman named Roberta, who had 2 kids of her own. Robin was 16, and Steve was 19 and had already moved away. The very first time I spent the weekend at their house, I remember Robin coming to give me a hug before we left. Not a mandatory hug out of courtesy - a real hug. When you're 13 and a hot 16 year-old gives you a real hug, it makes an impression. Most girls her age wouldn't be caught dead around a geeky guy like me, but her acceptance was both immediate and unbounded. Even in public and around her friends. All that and she was cool, too. Crafty, smart, and artistic.

When I was 14 I had my first official "girlfriend," which consisted of a whole lot of telephone talking gibberish and some hand-holding. Unfortunately, she lived about 15 miles away. On one of dad's weekends, Robin spent her Saturday night driving me to Donna's house (yes, I still remember her full name and her former address), bringing us both back to Santee for a movie, drove us back to Clairemont to drop her off, and then back home again. At that point in time, she was cemented in my mind as the coolest sister I never had.

The three of them accepted me without reservation or hesitation. I never refer to them as my "step" siblings. It's simply my brother and my sister. Even years after the death of both of our parents to cancer within 2 months of each other, we have remained very close. They both came to my wedding in Hawaii, and we've seen each other through quite a bit. It's because of her that my wife and I have a mild addiction to "Scrubs."

This summer my sister went off the map though. All I got was a cryptic email about needing time to herself and then.............nothing. I have enough vague communication channels to know that she's alive and not on her death bed or anything, but aside from that I'm in the dark, and I don't like it. We all have our ups and downs, and it seems that Robin has gotten a disproportional amount of downs over the years. Every time we talk I have something cool to tell her like getting married, a promotion in a job I love, a new kid, moving to Hawaii, another great job, travel with my older daughter, etc. I have had an exceptionally fortunate life (not counting some "turbulence" from 1997-2000) and can't help but think that it might be depressing for her to talk to me.

Robin, please call, or write, or email, or send a message in a bottle or something. I don't care if you're depressed, in a heavy metal band, joined the CIA, in a cult, have differing political or religions views from me, questioning your sexuality, or just frustrated with the world. I. Don't . Care. I love you and I miss my sister. Do you want me to fly out for a weekend with the kids? Done. I just want to know you're okay. We're all worried about you.

Ummmm, you were suppsed to leave the nasty weather at home

Tourists will pack the damnedest things when they come to Hawaii. Very unsightly swimsuits, expensive cameras they've never used before, tornadoes, etc.

Twister Wreaks Havoc, Raises Eyebrows

Come on guys. We get hurricanes, volcanoes, flooding, brush fires, earthquakes, and the occasional tsunami. Please leave your tornadoes in Kansas. This is your last warning. Next time I'm telling Pele.

What do craisins, whales, and sunburn have in common?

Step 1. Eat a light breakfast of Cheerios with Craisins.

Step 2. Join a group of kayakers for a Sunday morning whale watching excursion off of the southern tip of Oahu.

Step 3. Paddle out about 2 miles into the ocean with your wife, against the swells and current.

Step 4. Realize that you're never going to be comfortable in 5-6 foot swells trying to spot whales.

Step 5. Try to tell your wife that you are really not digging this and want to go back. She replies that she really wants to see a whale.

Step 6. Present the elusive whales with a gift in the form of Cheerios with Craisins. Heaving is met with endless nervous giggling from the front of the boat. Briefly consider slapping her upside her head with your paddle, but interrupted by more heaving.

Step 7. Return to shore.

Step 8. The whales have gifted you back with a minor sunburn for your efforts.

Step 9. Consider impeding the efforts of Greenpeace and funding Japanese "research scientists."