The kids were, as they often do, having one of their nonsensical arguments. I forgot what it was about but it probably involved stop touching me, get on your side of the couch or some other thing kids have fought about for just about ever. I tell them to knock it off and then, thinking I thought it, I instead said I can’t believe you guys argue about the dumbest crap. Junior then pipes up: You argue about dumb crap too. Thinking she may have heard about my blog, I say Oh do I?

Her: Yes, you argue about dumb crap too.

Me: No I don’t. And don’t say crap.

Her: Oh, yes, you do.

Me: When have I argued about dumb stuff?

Her: Always.

Me: I do not.

Her: Uh huh.

Me: Oh please.

Her: You’re arguing about dumb stuff right now.

Me: Well played, Sparky.

And I laughed hard. I was both taken aback and proud that I was outsmarted by my 7 year-old daughter. Still brings a smile to my face.

Update: Rage comic by Michael. LOL.

What children’s drawings would look like if it were painted realistically

A nerd website is all butthurt because kids like to play with toys. The FBI agent play set has handcuffs and a baton. I think they’re reading a bit too much into it. Newsflash: kids like toys. They like toy guns, but we don’t hand them real ones to play with without supervision. They like toy cars, and we don’t let them drive. They like battle monster type toys, and we don’t send them to cock fights. Lighten up, Francis.

Discussing kids’ party ideas with the wife last night and she says that it’s kind of sad that most parents have this germophobia thing because it’d be kind of fun to let kids bob for apples. I told her that’s one of the issues facing the nation today. A nation of pansies. The first generation of kids who grew up using hand sanitizer every 30 seconds and everyone gets a trophy is currently Occupying Whatever.

She asks me then Where did that come from?

But, she’s right, parents these days probably wouldn’t let their kids bob for apples.

When I was a kid, my uncle owned a knife shop. While visiting, he said I could have one and let me pick. The Rambo movies were big then so I picked this survival knife:

I immediately opened it, took the contents out of the handle, played with the compass. Sorted out the matches and fishing stuff in the handle. Dad didn’t want me playing with all that stuff and told me to put it away. I didn’t. So, he took the knife from me. This was in 1982.

Monday night, I met dad for the weekly card game. He asked me to get something out of the hallway closet. While doing that, I saw the knife sitting in there. I picked it up and showed it to dad. And I reminded him of taking it from me. He laughed and sad Well, you’re forty now. I guess you can have it.

This past Saturday was my birthday and you didn’t get me anything. I was fine with the fact that I was turning 40. I reasoned that, the day before, I was 39 and nothing was going to happen in a day to make me feel old. It was just a number change, my next doctor visit would result in a prostate exam, I’d start hitting the treadmill more (and by more, I mean again) and I think my car insurance might get a little cheaper. No big deal. My wife arranged for some friends to come over and help me mark the occasion with some good food, good drink, gifts and black balloons. Usual 40 year-old stuff.

Then at about noon, we got a call that a friend of mine’s dad had died.

And, then, about thirty minutes before the festivities were to start, my mom called to say that dad was on his way to the ER. They were driving to my party when dad’s vision got flaky. He’d had a heart attack. He’s fine now and home. Very minor but, still, gets your attention.

Other than that, it was a good birthday. Catching up with old friends, a nice little get together where we all say we should do this more and then we never do. One of my friends, I hadn’t seen since my wedding. It was good to catch up.

And here I was not fretting about being over the hill when life smacked me right up side the head with a dose of mortality.

Tomorrow, I’ll be 40. I’m not going to feel any different than I do now so, no, I’m not all that bummed. Putting numbers on mortality is something we do. Getting older does suck but it beats the alternative. Another day on the right side of the ground is a good day.

Firehouse Subs has this new Freestyle Coke Machine. At your fingertips are no less than eleventy billion flavors of cool liquid refreshment. I recommend the Cherry Coke or the Vanilla Coke. And the limeade is good too. I tried the raspberry, not a fan. Where was I? Oh!

Anyway, it’s a fantastic machine that gives you all the carbonated awesomeness you can stand. However, every time I’m at the sub shop partaking of this phenomenal piece of technology, I manage to get behind an 80 year old woman who is looking at the machine much like I think my 5 year old would look at a quadratic equation. And it takes ten minutes for them to either find Diet Coke or realize the iced tea is still in the machine on the counter.

As the kids are getting older, I’m turning over household chores to them. Teaching responsibility and all. Last night, it was kitty litter.

See, I never wanted cats but Junior did. And the Mrs. caved but I didn’t. I was adverse to keeping a box of turds in the house. And, so, I finally agreed under the arrangement that 1) the litter box would be kept clean and 2) I’d never have to empty it. Like most marital arrangements, that lasted about two days. And I was doing more than my fair share of emptying it since my fair share was zero.

So, being weary of emptying the turd boxes daily, last night I turned it over to Junior. And she fought me every step of the way. The conversation went roughly like this:

Me: It’s time you started emptying the cat litter.

Junior: I don’t want to.

Me: They’re your cats. Time you take some responsibility for them.

Junior: No. I don’t want to.

Me: This is not a negotiation, you do not get a say, and what you want will not change the outcome.

There was a lot of whining and fussing but we made our way to the litter box where I showed her the scoop and the bags. I even held the bag for her. And she thought she was done. When I reminded her that we had another litter box to empty. More whining.

Junior: I already did one. You do the other.

Me: No, Babe, you’re going to be responsible for your pets.

Junior: Fine!

Me: Doesn’t having cats suck?

Junior: No! You suck!

At that point, I was rolling on the ground laughing that she said that. Probably shouldn’t have encouraged her but the tone in her voice just floored me. I’m still laughing about it. Any way, we both laughed as she emptied the other turd box.

I thought I had this but it turns out I had children. I kid.

I’ve actually explained this to my wife before but there are certain sounds that drive me insane, make me uncomfortable or really piss me off. A continuous rap on a hard surface and I have to leave the room. The sound of babies crying, who are not my own, I cannot listen to. Or whining dogs.

Why your teenager can’t use a hammer.

When Junior was just shy of four, she watched intently as I used a cordless drill to tighten some screws. She asked about it. I sat her down in the work area of my basement and gave her a couple of old boards, a handful of screws, and the drill. I showed her how the drill worked, how to hold it, and how to change it from tighten to loosen. She sat there for about 45 minutes putting screws in the boards, taking them out, and bolting them together. After, she tried the hammer too. At three years old.

One of the openers was Rage Against The Machine, who I had never heard. After the show, I bought their CD. On the second stage, there was a band no one ever heard of. They put on a helluva show and drew a large crowd from the main stage. There was moshing, dancing, screaming, drinking and all manner of fun. I watched in amazement. One hell of a set. That band was Tool. Later, I saw Alice in Chains put on one of the worst live shows I’ve ever seen. The sound was terrible. But that was followed by Primus putting on one of the best shows I’ve ever seen. Layne Staley bummed a smoke from me.

That was 19 years ago at the Starwood Amphitheater.

Lollapalooza turns 20 this year. And MTV turns 30.

How did that happen?

Are ultra-safe playgrounds making kids neurotic?

Children who are not exposed to risks can’t learn to cope with them. The world is not coated in Nerf and bubblewrap. And kids should know that.

Son: Mommy, I thought you said kindergarten would be fun.

Mom: It wasn’t fun?

Son: We sat there and the lady talked to us the whole time.

Upon hearing of the conversation, I say to him Well, get used to that. You’re going to spend a lot of time doing that.

Today, my son started kindergarten. Well, not really kindergarten but kindergarten camp. The school has a couple of weeks in the summer where the kids get acquainted with school rules and teachers and stuff. So, it’s like kindergarten without the school work.

Regardless, he’s old enough to start school.

When did that happen?

On a recent vacation, our room contained this toilet:

Now, I understand the reasoning here. The conservation minded would like you to use one button for number one and the other for number two, thereby saving some water and utility bills and stuff.

But here’s how it actually worked. The kids saw the two buttons and I explained to them how it worked. They each then proceeded to hit each button about six times so they could verify that, yes, one button did actually use less water.

My son completely lacks an appropriate sense of urgency. It doesn’t matter if he dropped a Cheeto and the dog ate it or if he’s on fire and in a pit of cobras. The reaction is the same. Emit blood curdling scream that pierces the skulls of those around him. Everything is a crisis. Obviously, the number of times he’s dropped a Cheeto or can’t find the toy he’s looking for occur slightly more often than catching fire and falling in a pit of cobras (I really should move that thing). So the result is that I don’t really go rushing when he howls like a banshee any more. This annoys the wife a little. Not his screaming but that I don’t go rushing to see what is wrong. Because it’s always nothing. We’re working on appropriate reactions, which will probably be met with about as much success as working on our ‘inside’ voices.

Junior is sort of obsessed with zombies. Not a full on obsession just in that they’re fun to play and make believe about. Last night, she was playing Plants v. Zombies and she says to me: Daddy, If there were real zombies, what would you do?

Me: I’d go south.

Her: Why?

Me: Because the only thing that sucks more than fighting zombies is fighting zombies in the cold.

Her: So, we can fight zombies on the beach?

Me: Yes.

Her: Awesome!

And just prior to that, she asks her mom: Why would someone make up the word vampire when vampires are not even real?

I chime in with: Same reason someone would make up iCarly. Entertainment.

Her: Shut up, Dad.

The Mrs. took the kids to Build a Bear yesterday. Whenever the kids go, the both always build dogs and not bears. Junior built herself a dachshund that had rollerskates. And she named it Weiner.

I wonder if she’s been watching the news?

My son is a huge fan of the movie Cars. Cars 2 is coming out soon. I guess I’ll have to see it since it has a tribute to John Moses Browning:

From Kids

Last night, my son graduated pre-school. Starts kindergarten soon. I’m not all weepy yet since his last day of school is next week. But I’ll miss that place.

And, this morning, I dropped Junior off for her last day of first grade. She didn’t seem to care about it too much. But I did.

When this happens, I sit back and wonder where the years went. And someone reminded me on Facebook that They may have went, but they were full.

Indeed.

Chuck E. Cheese’s getting sued because it hooks kids on gambling. Odd, I was just there this weekend and thought it just got kids hooked on video games, cheap toys and crappy pizza.

Today is my son’s fifth birthday. He starts kindergarten this year. Man, the time does fly.

I was unaware though that today is also Tactical Day. I have tactical kids.

Alternate title: yo dawg, I heard you liked smoked bacon.

Grass mowed, cars washed, sink fixed. Meal number four in the new grill is coming along nicely. Will add some portabellas in a bit:

From Home Life

Also, at the light, a Dodge Charger revved at me. Very well, I accept your challenge. And then the realization I was in the wife’s SUV. Oh well.

And the kids found a swimming hole in the creek. Big fun.

I’m told this photo of someone you may know will be a poster at the NRA convention.

Suppressors are a great tool for teaching kids to shoot:

From Kids

Photo by Oleg.

Today I made for the kids, at their request, peanut butter and salami sandwiches. My curiosity got the better of me and I tried one. While they are disgusting, they’re not as horrid as you would think.

Yeah, I know what you mean:

From Kids

Cooking some barbecue sauce today, need a supply now that the weather is warm. First step is get up in the morning and have some bacon for breakfast and keep the bacon grease. Important later. Then, assemble ingredients. Organizational skills are key (note: dog in the background knows something is going on):

From Sauce

Mixing it up this time, I added some mangoes and an apple to the usual combination of onion, ginger root, tomato and peppers. Gives it a nice sweet flavor. Now, chop all those veggies up and set aside:

From Sauce

Remember that bacon grease? You left it in the pan, right? Well, heat it back up to medium and toss in quite a bit of minced garlic:

From Sauce

After the garlic gets a bit of a browned look, toss in all those cut up fruits and veggies:

From Sauce

Cook on medium or low until tender, stirring regularly:

From Sauce

Now, you can skimp on a lot of things in this recipe but not on the spices. Don’t buy cheap chili powder or paprika. I like the Spanish paprika and medium chili powder from Penzeys. Here, we have some paprika, chili powder, and black pepper (ground in a coffee grinder):

From Sauce

Add enough chili powder to soak up some of the moisture, probably about half a cup. Add paprika, black pepper and some kosher salt to taste:

From Sauce

Stir it up to get those fruits and veggies coated in a nice layer of spicy goodness. Cook for about 5 minutes:

From Sauce

Let it cool, or the next step could be painful. While you wait, you can read you daughter’s book on Samoyeds.

From Sauce

Drop that concoction in the blender and hit the liquefy button:

From Sauce

Now, we have what looks like baby food:

From Sauce

Trust me, it gets better looking. Add the rest of the ingredients, which are (approximately – use your own judgement):

You could puree up some tomatoes and sugar and vinegar or read the ingredients on ketchup and use about four cups of it.
1 cup yellow mustard
1.5 cups apple cider vinegar
1 cup Worcestershire sauce
1/2 cup lemon juice
1/2 cup dark molasses
1/2 cup honey
2 cups brown sugar
1/4 cup Soy sauce
Some hot sauce if you want. That jalapeño was kinda mild so I added a few dashes.

From Sauce

Now, if you happen to have your smoker going, you can cook this on it in a big pot. But I’m feeling lazy today so I’ll add a bit of Liquid Smoke and finish it in the Crock Pot. Not much Liquid Smoke, a little goes a long way:

From Sauce

Whisk away until nice and smooth:

From Sauce

And, now, that baby food looks like sauce. Leave on low heat in the Crock Pot covered all day and stir every once in a while:

From Sauce

A list. A peeing toy dog?