He has a bright future in acting...

This past week my son took a giant step forward in the pursuit of a lucrative acting career.  His dream of working for George Lucas is turning into a reality right before our eyes.  And it is moments like these that I can say that I am glad to have been a part of the journey.  Yes, I can say that, but I am not...not this time, anyway.

My son's school held it's annual winter program last Thursday at a building that some said was a church.  This "church" however, was none like I have ever seen before.  Before I go on, let me say that I am in no way making fun of any religion, church, practice, belief, or anything like that, rather I am just giving you my interpretation of what my eyes saw, and I will let you be the judge from there.  In addition, I suppose the Greater Being (insert preferred name descriptor here)  is everywhere, so the building itself could be anything from nothing to the most ostentatious structure in the world, right?  Anyway, enough with the disclaimer...

So, we pull into an office park full of medical offices and other types of businesses.  Smack in the middle, we find the, umm, church.  It stands a few stories tall, and has a very mall/office building look to it.  The congregation has a choice of two doors to enter where the sermons take place, but we will get to that later. 

In the lobby to your left (or right, depending on which door you entered from) appears to be an information desk that rivals (and may even win) those in a mega-mall.  Since we were here to attend a school function and church was not in session, I cannot be 100% sure what the desk was for, but it sure looked like a place to get directions. 

Since the first auditorium door was stuffed with anxious parents waiting to point identifying fingers toward the stage and gleam with joy at their child's perfected performance, we made our way down to the less-populated doors.  On the way we noticed an ATM-like machine.  The kiosk stood about five feet tall, had a computer screen, and a card reader that seemed the perfect size for a credit card or ATM card.  Still unsure of its intended use, we moved forward to the doors we would later enter.

For our viewing pleasure during our wait, we were treated to scrolling photos of various kids, which appeared to be taken during the school year.  Having moved to the area just two months ago, we had absolutely no idea who these kids were and I felt like I was watching some stranger's summer vacation slide show...not my idea of excitement, that's for sure.  However, I can say with 99.9% accuracy that if my son was in one of those photos, I would have watched the entire slide show repeatedly just to catch a two second glimpse of him...but he wasn't, and therefore, the slide show was quite boring. 

Although the slide show was humdrum, the interesting part was what the slide show was on.  Picture, if you will, six 50" high definition televisions standing on their sides, pressed up against each other in a row, with some type of psychedelic light show traveling a few feet above and below the televisions.  After you see that in your mind, look to your right and see six more identically placed television next to the first set of doors.  I guess I never realized Jesus had gone so high-tech, but then again, why would he not?  Perhaps the televisions were there for the Sunday afternoon crowd...you know, that way the football games could be displayed while church was in service...but I didn't see any Lazy-boys around...however, the bathrooms were conveniently placed in between the two sets of technical miracle projectors, so you never know.

Finally, about forty-five minutes after arrival, we were ushered into the grand auditorium.  Walking up the neon blue tube-light lit stairs, we found our seat.  Yes, each step (and there were a whole bunch of them!) was lined with a tube light, similar to those found in a movie theater or airplane, only the light was a very dreamy and heavenly electric blue that produced a magical, warm and fuzzy feeling in my noggin.  The movie theater style seats were comfy, but I cannot recall the last time I was in a church that had stadium style seating, so that threw me off a bit.  They sure were nice for the winter performance, though!

In the center of the room stood a sound board most audio-visual geeks (like me) would be envious of that took up four or five rows of seating.  The control panel operated the superior sound system for maximum clarity preaching, I suppose.  The Broadway stage type of lighting must have been controlled in one of the multiple windowed rooms, at the back of the mega-meetinghouse, that over-looked the immense area one would assume the "alter" would be placed.  The stage was big enough to make The Lyric jealous...well, maybe not that big, but it was still a decent size!  Then it dawned on me...I knew what that ATM looking thing in the lobby was for!  After looking at all of this technology and fancy apparatuses, the church had to pay for it somehow, right?  Therefore, I pondered, it must be a tithing machine...yes, that's it, simply slide your Master Card, Visa, American Express, Discover, or ATM card through and voila!  Yes, even He takes plastic, now.

So, in this church we sit, waiting patiently for our son to make his big North Carolina acting debut.  The first set was a group of primary students.  The first few seconds of the performance was nearly perfect with all of the kids signing clearly and in harmony.  Then, the confusion started.  One or two of the little Pavarottis started signing slightly off cue...which threw the others off...then the short attention spans kicked in and a little wandering began.  But, kudos must be given to the teachers since these little tykes sat relatively still for three songs, and sang (mostly) from memory without the help from the adults.  

The next few skits had everything your typical elementary school play would have...one or two kids not paying attention, forgetting lines, walking on stage at the wrong time, and running around trying to catch up.  Yes, it was a scene from a blockbuster movie indeed, well, not quite the rock concert in the movie "Love Actually", but...well, you get the idea.  I think it was at this point that I started to doze off a little...

So, two and a half hours had passed since we first stepped foot in the door and our son was finally about to make his presence known.  Yes, his big NC debut was about to unfold...When the young narrator mentioned "China" and "dragon" in the same sentence, I woke from my nap.  Yes, I kinda dig dragons and more importantly my son said he was in this skit, so it was time to be alert.  Fortunately, I perked up just in time to see four pairs of shoes attached to four pairs of youthful legs, covered in a long, flashy, and red dragon suit.  There he was!  The second pair of legs belonged to my son...Man, was I proud.  My finger pointed to the stage, I sat a little taller, and joy gleamed from my smile.  He walked effortlessly and flowed with the other three sets of dragon legs, just as they had rehearsed for weeks.  Then, two minutes later, poof!, he (and the rest of the dragon) did an exit stage left and that was that.  A half of an hour later, the show ended. 

As another parent reality check popped up (me waiting two and a half hours to see two minutes of my son...err, son's legs and being ok with that), my son spotted me in the crowd and he weaved his way through the sea of proud parents, up the neon blue stairs, to give me a big hug.  "Did you see me, Dad?" he asked with a sense of extreme pride in his voice.  "I did! And you did great!" I remarked.  His smile, hug, and sense of accomplishment made the night a night to remember.  Yep...two and a half hours to watch two minutes.  And yes, I really was proud of him!  

Why I want to be my son's age

While sitting here at the computer, applying for an agglomeration of jobs, I realized I have not written in the blog (who coined the term "blog", anyway?  And why didn't they come up with something more appealing?) for quite some time.  Then, I realized, I actually have a story to tell...and I needed a break from looking at the computer screen before my eyes go wonkers.  Well, I am sort of taking a break, and instead of staring at the monitor, I am staring at the keyboard.  Yes, I only use three fingers per hand to type, and yes, I still need to look at what I am typing, unless I am feeling particularly brave and rebellious.  Hey, don't judge me!

Anyway, yesterday afternoon, my son and I came home from school and he promptly asked me if he could have a piece of candy.  I replied, "No.  Don't forget, today is a grounded day." which he, apparently, conveniently forgot.  This, of course, was met with frustration, huffing and puffing, a mediocre slamming of the door, mumbling incoherently about how we didn't tell him he was grounded, followed by the clicking of the door being locked, with him on the inside and me on the outside.  Fortunately for him, he thought twice and unlocked it about as fast as he turned the knob to block me from entering, so that little no-no was overlooked.     

Once I was inside and began taking off the layers of warmth, I noticed he left his hat and coat on the table and floor.  When I asked him (or rather, I strongly suggested he do so) to put them away just like I have for the past four years (and every other time he leaves his coat, hat, socks, shoes, gloves, toys, plate, glass, shirts, or anything else he thinks he might be able to get away with, lying around), he, of course, responded with frustration, huffing and puffing, and a mediocre stomping across the noisy floors while mumbling a little louder this time, saying, "Why do you and Mom always ruin my day?"

Confused, I asked him what he meant by that and how did I ruin his day, today?  After a quick re-think of his words, he tried to soften the blow to Dad by saying, "Mom is going to tell me to put her dish away after dinner tonight and I don't want to always be the one to do it and it ruins my day when that happens!"  Since 99% of the time it is me who has, somehow, managed to make his day miserable (most likely from telling him to complete the nearly impossible task of putting his socks and coat where they belong instead of leaving them in the middle of the floor), I was pleased to find out it was not my fault, this time...at least not right away.

I tried to explain to this intelligent nine year-old that we work as a team and help each other out.  I then asked him what he would do if I did not fix dinner every night...to which he replied, "I would fix dinner for you!"  Impressed with this answer, I probed a little further and said, "Oh yeah?  What would you fix?"  "That's easy, I'd fix Taco Bell bean burritos!" he quipped.

Bean burritos...yum...notice those three letters are not capitalized and they are not followed by an exclamation point.  No, I am not a big fan of bean burritos.  But, kudos to him for being quick! I thought about asking him how he would get to the nearest Taco Bell and how he would pay for the burritos, but I refrained from completely bursting his bubble so quickly.  Instead, I tried to let the air seep out slowly enough that he could see it unfold in midair. 

The point is, at his age, picking up his socks, doing his chores, and not being allowed to eat bean burritos every night is pretty much the equivalent of me wondering and stressing out about how the bills will be paid this month, figuring out how to acquire a job that will help pay those bills, and not getting to relax on the couch for an hour before bedtime.  Hmm, come to think of it, he doesn't get bean burritos every night and he is still "forced" to do his chores and pick up his socks, and despite not figuring out how to pay the bills, and not finding a job (yet), I normally do get to relax on the couch...at least for half of an hour, every night, so maybe I don't want to be his age!  After-all, he also has a Dad and Mom who make his life so miserable every day that they are the sole cause of him being fussy and whiny .  Nah, I like being the grown-up, for now.  When he is old enough to get a job, maybe then I will revert to his age (his age, now) and take him up on the offer to provide dinner for the family.  Until then, I will just continue ruining his entire day...

FSMSS (Part II)

This isn't the funniest one, but I found it to be humorous enough to warrant a chuckle or two.  I didn't think I would have another FSMSS entry so soon, but this is what was said this morning on the way to school...

Him:  Dad, would you and Mom ever sell me?
Me:  What?  What are you talking about?
Him: You know, would you and Mom ever try to sell me for money?
Me:  No, we wouldn't, but I might.
Him: WHAT!?!?
Me: Actually, no I wouldn't try to sell you, because I would have to pay someone to take you!
Him: (said in a very adult-like, dry, sarcastic tone)  gee...thanks. 

(yes, he knew I was joking) 

Funny stuff my son says...Part I (of many)

First, this is going to be a short entry.  Second, in case you haven't figured it out by now, I tend to have a dry, witty (attempted, anyway), sarcastic, diverse sense of humor...hopefully it translates well.  If not, you will get over it.  Third, I am certain this will not be the only entry entitled "Funny stuff my son says" (FSMSS) so search for them in the future, hopefully they will be as funny to you as they are to me.  Fourth, as always, thanks for reading and leave a comment, say hey, tell your friends about the blog, and let me know what you think from time to time.

Today's FSMSS:

I can't remember what we were talking about on the way to school this morning (I'm throwing out the geezer card, here), but about midway through the conversation, it went like this...

Me:  How do you like them apples?
My son: I don't like "themapples"
Me: Why not?
My son: Because I've never had "themapples" and I don't know what they are!
Me: (Silence...with a smile and a chuckle)

When did I become a "geezer"???

Hello again!  After taking a much needed hiatus from my stressful writing life...(yes, I am being very sarcastic)...ok, seriously, I do not have an excuse for not writing in the blog since my son has made many humorous comments, caused me to lose more hair, and given me enough material to write a novel that would give War and Peace a run for its money in the past two weeks, other than...well, I don't have an excuse; period.

I could say that time has flown by so fast that I didn't realize two weeks have past...but that would only solidify my son's comments.  I could say that I haven't had time because I have been working on the house and couldn't do two things at once...or take a break from one to do the other because it would throw off my rhythm...but that would only further the inevitable solidification of my son's comments.  So, I won't say anything at all...except to my many (all 3 - but growing!) followers, I apologize for the delay. 

So, when, exactly, did I become a geezer?  Yes, my son calls ME a geezer.  The last time I checked, a geezer is someone who is slow moving, old, and unable to do the things he once was able to do with ease.  According to the dictionary, a geezer is an old person, especially an eccentric old man. 

Am I old?  NO!  Am I eccentric?  ummm...no...well, not really...ok, maybe a little bit.  But I am not OLD!  Well, maybe I am older than my son, but I am younger than a lot of other people in his life.  So, based on this technicality, I am not a geezer.

Of course, when I was his age, I thought 18 was the age I would become an adult, 20 was old, 30 was soooo far away, and 40 would never come.  Forget the rest, since I was unable to process that far in advance at such a tender young age.  Now, at nearly the youthful spring chicken age of 40, I look back and think, wow, I really didn't know too much at 10.  At 20, I realized my parents were right some, ok, most of the time...30 was just the beginning of my life, and at 40, I'm still learning what it means to be alive and looking forward to what the next 40 years have in store!  What scares me the most, though, is trying to figure out at what age my next epiphany comes...and what it will bring.  

So, as I take a bite of my humble pie, I have to say, yes, perhaps I am a geezer...but only to my son...well, and his friends...and probably a few other kids.  Ok, we will just stop that nonsense right there. 

However...I refuse to say, admit, claim, that I am old.  I can still (with a bad knee, too!) whip his butt in a foot race, overpower him in an arm wrestling contest (left OR right handed), outsmart him (most of the time) in a battle of wits, throw a ball (any) farther then he can, and best of all, I can still command complete control of the remote!  Ha!  So, there, you young whipper snapper, how do you like them apples?  ...geezer?...I think not!  Now, what was I going to write about?

Hey!  Who's that geezer with the bald/gray hair dancing with my wife?

17th Annual Carolina Renaissance Festival - Alternate title: Who is Clevis, Dad?

I just finished an article on the 17th Annual Carolina Renaissance Festival on the Examiner. ( Renfest article ) In the article, I touched on some of the basics about the festival, but there were a few things that I could not put in there that I can put in the blog.  Some of the things that made me laugh, chuckle, smile, and remember why I love being a dad.

The festival was very much like the Maryland Renaissance Festival; full of vendors peddling their goods, lots of food to purchase - some of it really really good, some not so much -, cold beer to enjoy (which might have been good if it wasn't so cold outside and idiot me wasn't wearing shorts and a tee-shirt), awesome costumes, great performances, cool swords, neat jousting tournaments, and cleavage. Yes, I said cleavage, but I am not going to discuss that...yet.

The festival was all that I had hoped for...well, except for having to park at the very far edge of the parking lot and having to walk two miles before actually entering the gate. As we approached the gate, my son's enthusiasm began to shine as if he just hit the million dollar jackpot.  Dressed in makeshift renaissance gear, complete with his homemade (made by yours truly) shield, Oklahoma Medieval Faire  purchased sword, and a white tee-shirt decorated by Sharpie with his own designs, he was ready to experience all that North Carolina Renaissance Festival had to offer...in his Chuck Taylor high tops...The participants of the festival, and some of the patrons, were dressed in period costume, and yes, there was some cleavage...but that is still for later.

Immediately after entering the gate, he wanted to run to every store that had anything to do with hats, swords, or knight armor.  Unfortunately for him, his mother, me, and his aunt pulled back on the reigns and kept him at bay.  Don't worry, he got to do plenty of what he wanted, so I did not earn the title of "Worst Dad Ever!" from him...yet.

His excitement popped into overdrive as he saw the wooden ships go round and round.  With enthusiasm, he politely asked if he could ride them.  Then he asked if I would go on it with him.  Now, these "ships" were more like wooden dinghies that could hold one average sized person, or two small kids.  My son is not a small kid, and I am 6'3" 250lbs.  Needless to say, I did not go on the ride with him.

After I got over the initial shock of the price to sit in a wooden tub and go around in a circle, I changed lenses on the camera and tried to snap off a few shots.  I did not look at them until today...the joy on his face left me wanting to relive the moment and my own childhood when life was so much easier.  How often do we, as adults, pay three bucks for anything that makes us grin from ear to ear?  Maybe we need to search harder for those moments, or perhaps we need to cherish the moments our kids feel when it is happening, and not wait to see them through the memory card stuck in the computer.  Either way, I am really glad I spent those three bucks on those silly dinghies!

As the day progressed, he got to try on helmets, play with swords, and stuff his face with yummy treats (as did I).  At the end of the day, he hustled front row seats in the jousting arena, to watch the final joust - the fight to the death!  Our knight was Sir Maximilian, that mean, cheating, dark knight...who kicked butt, but in the end, good always wins.

Exhausted, cold, and ready to walk the two miles back to the car, we headed out to the parking lot after checking out the remainder of the village.  Sir Max must not have suffered major wounds because he was standing at the exit gate, so we snapped a few pictures.

After the long trek through the wilderness (parking lot), we finally arrived to our chariot.  We had to take my sister home and decided to stop in to say hey to my brother-in-law.  As we were discussing the day, I mentioned to him that he missed out on some good sights...cleavage, to be precise.  His eyes opened wide and he said something along the lines of, "What?  If I had known about the cleavage, I would have gone!"  It was at this point I found out my son is still a kid...thank God.  His response was, "Dad, who is Clevis?"  "Clevis?" I asked, "Yeah, Clevis." he repeated.  All I could think to say, between the chuckles, was, "Don't worry, one day you will understand when you meet those twins yourself."

Don't forget to check out the Examiner article and thanks for reading!
Examiner Link