Stop Googling that quote, it was me… just now.
As a topic, it perfectly sums up my mood these past few days.
For the handful of you that have befriended both my wife and I on the social ‘book, you’ve no doubt heard that this past week our trusted babysitter informed us that she is moving and therefore no longer able to continue watching the Kalenator or start watching the baby Hayden. Since Melissa is set to return to the work force this coming Monday, you can imagine the panic that has crept its way into our normally somewhat placid lives.
We instantly began the search for a new sitter. All inter-resources have been exhausted. And there’ve even been a few hits here and there that have lead to some interviews tomorrow. But put aside the stress of searching and assume we find and agree upon one of the potential baby watchers, THEN I’ve got to come to terms with the fact that there will be a perfect stranger watching my baby girl.
This is where that miss-served plate of anxiety comes into play.
You see, I didn’t sign up for this. At no point along the way did anyone bother telling me that loving one’s wife and kids so much puts a terrible amount of uneasiness in your stomach. It’s enough to drive a person mad.
The rub is that now I couldn’t imagine my life without Melissa and Kalen… not to mention the most amazing little thing I’ve ever seen, Hayden. So with no other way to say it, I am stuck with these worrisome thoughts and this undercooked anxiety.
What if the sitter is a trickster? What if her/his ruse misleads us? What if they turn out to be d-bags? These are the things you have to deal with. And believe you me… it blows.
The only saving grace I have is that the institution of babysitting has been around for ages. And its practice is widely accepted. Oh, and I have a friend that can run background checks for me.
So that helps.
Now I just have to prepare for the next couple of weeks and the start of Kalenator’s school career…
If you excuse me, I’m going to go throw up - J
Thursday, July 22, 2010
Saturday, July 17, 2010
“There is nothing more thrilling than to be shot at without result”
Winston Churchill if you were wondering.
The relevance of that quote weighs primarily on this past week of work, Thursday to be specific.
Thursday I found myself in a bit of a shootout with a truck driver. This was not a planed fire fight. Nor was it dangerous. But none the less, the results of said unanticipated gunplay were note worthy and self entertaining enough that I thought to share it with you.
My job… not very glamorous.
Of late it is downright taxing (physically and mentally). But it pays decent. And from time to time, like Thursday, it can be somewhat laid back with moments of subtle hilarity.
Thursday, stuck with very little outgoing deliveries and equally numerous walk in customers, I found myself waiting on some sort of event to break the monotony. That’s when the trucker arrived with an inbound delivery.
On a blisteringly hot day, he began to exit his “rig”. After executing a properly safe and perfect three point dismount of his cab, he met my greeting with a smile, a nod. And then he drew.
From his hips, he raised his arms, made guns from seemingly innocent hands, and fired.
At first I was shocked. I didn’t anticipate anyone outside of the old west (or without being a cheesy sitcom character) to take shots at me with such high caliber finger guns. Luckily his aim was atrocious, thus allowing me to continue working and him to resume his trucker duty.
As I continued driving my forklift for the next thirty minutes or so, the humor in the grown man trucker’s twin hand pistols started to sink in. Never have I seen anyone do this and never would I expect to again. Knowing this, I had to seize the moment.
I had to engage him in all out finger gun fire.
So, after unloading his trailer and signing for the invoice, I carefully plotted for the perfect moment to be an epic level smart ass. It came, I pounced, and said, “Hey buddy. You just go on and have a good day.” I then drew my own two fisted finger six shooters and under my breath voiced a small “bang, bang!”
To my surprise, and dismay, the trucker was the model of cool. In fact he seemed to enjoy the return fire. And even more to my dismay, and as if to purposely steal my thunder… the son of a b!%@h retorted with a Fonzie like two thumbs up and he said…
“Aww-right man!”
I can only assume the gesture was some sort of a finger gun version of popping pins on two grenades.
In which case, the damn truck driver destroyed me easily and with no remorse.
Whatever, pretty great Thursday for me - J
The relevance of that quote weighs primarily on this past week of work, Thursday to be specific.
Thursday I found myself in a bit of a shootout with a truck driver. This was not a planed fire fight. Nor was it dangerous. But none the less, the results of said unanticipated gunplay were note worthy and self entertaining enough that I thought to share it with you.
My job… not very glamorous.
Of late it is downright taxing (physically and mentally). But it pays decent. And from time to time, like Thursday, it can be somewhat laid back with moments of subtle hilarity.
Thursday, stuck with very little outgoing deliveries and equally numerous walk in customers, I found myself waiting on some sort of event to break the monotony. That’s when the trucker arrived with an inbound delivery.
On a blisteringly hot day, he began to exit his “rig”. After executing a properly safe and perfect three point dismount of his cab, he met my greeting with a smile, a nod. And then he drew.
From his hips, he raised his arms, made guns from seemingly innocent hands, and fired.
At first I was shocked. I didn’t anticipate anyone outside of the old west (or without being a cheesy sitcom character) to take shots at me with such high caliber finger guns. Luckily his aim was atrocious, thus allowing me to continue working and him to resume his trucker duty.
As I continued driving my forklift for the next thirty minutes or so, the humor in the grown man trucker’s twin hand pistols started to sink in. Never have I seen anyone do this and never would I expect to again. Knowing this, I had to seize the moment.
I had to engage him in all out finger gun fire.
So, after unloading his trailer and signing for the invoice, I carefully plotted for the perfect moment to be an epic level smart ass. It came, I pounced, and said, “Hey buddy. You just go on and have a good day.” I then drew my own two fisted finger six shooters and under my breath voiced a small “bang, bang!”
To my surprise, and dismay, the trucker was the model of cool. In fact he seemed to enjoy the return fire. And even more to my dismay, and as if to purposely steal my thunder… the son of a b!%@h retorted with a Fonzie like two thumbs up and he said…
“Aww-right man!”
I can only assume the gesture was some sort of a finger gun version of popping pins on two grenades.
In which case, the damn truck driver destroyed me easily and with no remorse.
Whatever, pretty great Thursday for me - J
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