Happy Independence Day everyone (particularly since I don't have too many readers from the UK)! No worries though, the vast majority of my family was in Germany at the time, except for the those rabble rousers on my Mom's side that were giving the Red Coats a bit of grief.
Here it is, 11:20 AM, and there is no post yet on the blog. I guess earlier in the week I told Russ that I would post Thursday and Friday. It’s surprising to me that he hasn’t picked up the slack or cared enough to write a blog entry yet. Thanks, buddy!
In an effort to appease the masses of followers (4) and regular commenter’s (maybe 12), I’ll write something that could be considered readable. Maybe it’ll be fluff or filler. Perhaps it could evolve into a charming anecdote. It’s possible that a stream of consciousness will flow like a river, filled with the random thoughts of a lonely, shirtless man. Whatever happens, rest assured, very little effort was used.
Jasper is lonely? Yes, friends. I am lonely. The house is empty, save for the three cats and the marauding band of black ants that seem to roam freely. Sydney and Esmeralda have abandoned me again. This time, they are deep in the heart of Texas. My girls are visiting Sydney’s grandfather. Millie drove straight there after finally leaving us. Fil, Syd’s dad, is also making the flight down from Kansas. Apparently the only way to entice him into traveling is to mention that his granddaughter would be around. They’ll just be gone for the weekend.
You may have noticed the word “shirtless”. You probably asked yourself, “Shirtless? Jasper mentioned something about the ‘Shirtless Club’ last week. He said would write about it this week. Where is it? I demand satisfaction!” Sorry, dear readers, but that post is still in process. It will be ready in two weeks. I can say that it is my preferred state of dress.
Inquiring minds surely want to know why the “shirtless” post won’t be ready for next week. Well, I’m leaving tomorrow to do something nice, noble and Jesus-like. It is difficult to explain. Let’s just say that Jasper is taking a sabbatical. Hopefully I'll be able to keep Russ posted via text messaging.
Since I am leaving for a week, there is much to do to prepare. So, for the rest of the day, I have to attempt to attack a lengthy list of tasks to complete for departing. That being said, what the hell am I doing sitting here? I better get busy.
Oh look, I have something that resembles a blog post. Hurray! That didn’t take long at all. And, look, its 11:50! It was like no time at all!
In closing, I would like to dedicate the following video to Sydney and Esmeralda:
Sydney and I decided some time ago that August would be the month we would begin the process of procreating the next Mockingbard. June would have been fine, yet the s-i-l and m-i-l were visiting. July would be great, but I’m not going to be around for a week. So, August wins.
Sydney wants a May birth so that more of her maternity leave would coincide with “The Summer of Jasper.” Also, she didn’t want to next spawn to have a birthday too close to Esmeralda. I don’t understand that reasoning though. To me, it doesn’t matter. I’m just looking forward to the daily sex… with hopes of begetting another heir to the Mockingbard Manor.
To begin preparing her body’s metabolism for pregnancy, Sydney stopped taking the pill in April or May. As a result, anytime we review the proper procedure, I am required to wear to a condom. It is no big deal, really. I’d used them before. But since we’ve been married, there have been only a few times I’ve had to interrupt that intimate moment to don a raincoat. When she had taken antibiotics, the pill’s effectiveness was reduced, so the condom was necessary. Also, one was used each time we reviewed procedure before producing Esmeralda.
What I am about to say will contradict what was previously was stated… A few days before Millie was to leave, Sydney suddenly found herself in the mood. Sure I was surprised, but who am I to refuse her advances? Besides, Millie’s room was on the other side of the house, and she is slightly hard of hearing. It was then that I discovered something that induced feelings of dread. The Trojan condoms I prefer have an expiration date. The date printed on that square little packet: 6 2009. Ugh.
I suppose condoms have an expiration date for a reason. Perhaps after time, the lubricant begins to dry-up or the latex begins to break-down. I don’t know. But I don’t usually question expiration dates. My real fear was not having a wardrobe malfunction that resulted in a sooner-than-expected pregnancy. Rather, I was terrified that I was going to have to purchase condoms.
It seems that I have always felt that way. I have this notion that people are thinking something terrible about me when I sneak up to the counter with a box of Trojans. Even if I casually stroll up to check-out with my Trojans, a pack of gum and a bottle of Coke (or any other random items), I know the cashier to making fun of me in her mind. It seemed to ease my hesitation if I imagined the cashier giving me a high-five, or a nod and a smile, knowing that I was about to get some sweet action.
To a lesser degree, I was deterred by fear-nervousness-embarrassment when I was single. I lived in a town where I didn’t know anyone. (I lived 30 miles from my job, so I never saw co-workers, nor did I socialize with any neighbors, etc. Also, at the time, my girlfriend worked for me. Convenient.) Maybe I thought I was perceived as a stud. I don’t know.
Things are different now. Sydney and I are established in this town. Most of our friends are from church. My position as a teacher gives me a higher level of prominence in the community. I can’t go to the local Publix or Wal-Mart without seeing a student, a student’s parent or fellow teacher.
If I were to bump into Bobby’s mom or Pastor Paulson while carrying a box of Trojans, what would they do? What would I do? I can’t even begin to imagine the awkwardness I would feel. In all likelihood they would ignore it, even if they noticed the bright blue box of Trojan-enz. But then, what would they do after they saw me? Would discovery of Mr. Mockingbard’s choice of contraceptive be the subject of gossip? Would I be scorned for fear that I might be carrying some STD???? The horror! The horror!
Negative thoughts such as these filled my mind. What was to be my course of action? I realized that for the good of reviewing proper procedure, I must put aside my fears and make the purchase. Sydney also requested two additional items: Diet Cherry Coke and bananas.
I left for my quest around 8:00 PM. Hopefully that would be a time most people would be home enjoying their evening. When I arrived at Wal-Mart, I headed directly to the produce section. As I was searching for the perfect bunch of bananas, I heard my name. “Mr. Mockingbard! Mr. Mockingbard!” I shuddered when I turned around. It was two little boys from the school, with their parents and younger sister. Excitement filled their voices as they continued to shout while raining eager waves upon me. I waved multiple times, selected my bananas and sped away. I located the soda without incident.
When I neared the condom aisle, I winced as I heard a familiar voice. It was the director of Esmeralda’s daycare, talking to her kids. I thought I darted passed her unseen, but out of the corner of my eye, I saw her wave. I paused and returned the wave. My paced slowed. Who would I see next?
I cautiously approached the shelf. Suddenly, there was an onslaught of customers passing by. I redirected myself and walked several aisles away. I made a u-turn and assessed the situation. The coast was clear! I sprinted to the shelf, grabbed the appropriate box of Trojan-enz. Carefully, I tucked the box behind the case of soda, which made carrying the items awkward. I didn’t care. I wanted to be discreet. Thankfully, self check-out was operational! After the transaction, I hurried to my car to avoid being seen.
Sydney greeted me with a smile when I got home. Without hesitation, I relayed what had transpired. We both laughed, noting the ridiculousness of my trepidation. Though the fear had subsided, I’m sure it will return when I restock my supply. Maybe next time I’ll order from Trojan’s website. Incidentally, Trojan has expanded their product offerings. Check it out. No one will know.
I figured you guys need a break from poop and other bodily functions for a day or two.
The Wife and I had my parents over for lunch last weekend. This is not an unusual occurrence, although it is not a usual as it probably should be. As they came over on Sunday, my parents came straight from church. (Not the best choice of clothes to wear as I was serving crab still in the shell. Yes, they did know this before hand.)
To say that Dad is not a big church goer is a bit of an understatement. He humors my Mom. She humors him by allowing him to pick where to sit. He chose the back of the church. You gotta beat the traffic out of church, don't you know! (In the Catholic church, you can leave when the priest passes you on the way out, so it behooves you to sit up front. Well, for those who don't leave right after communion, that is. If that observation is wrong, any of you Catholics out there, feel free to correct me.)
As it happens, Dad's choice of seats put him directly under an AC vent. He arrived at my house still overly cool (Mom was not cold/having a hot flash and requested the AC on in the car). So Dad asked for some coffee when he arrived.
I brewed a pot figuring whatever he didn't drink I could make into granita (I substitued orange flavored liquor for the sambuca and vanilla). After thanking me for making the coffee, Dad said that I made strong coffee. To which I would argue, a) I grind my own beans right before brewing. This makes a much fuller flavored coffee with much more body. And b) he is used to IHOP coffee, which is coffee in color only. (IHOP, just where someone with Type 2 diabetes should be eating breakfast three days a week.)
First a little housekeeping. It was a big weekend at the Russ residence. First Mr. B pooped for the first time in the potty! Yeah! He followed that up with three poops in his pants. Boo. He has had his first taste of success, so I'm hopeful that we have turned the corner (or more likely, we've reached the corner and will be turning it soon).
As if that wasn't enough, Miss L took her first steps! (We have plenty of video, but the Wife is featured prominently as I was the videographer, so it won't be aired here.) We figured she was close, as she could stand unassisted and was only hanging on to my fingers while walking as a security measure. I figured she would have been walking sooner than her brother, instead of several months after him, but he was a little too good at getting down on her level and crawling or just flat out brought her what she needed/wanted.
I guess life just got a little more interesting for me.
Now on to the main body of the post.
The family made a trip to see Grandma and Grandpa. To no one's surprise my sister and Damien were there as well.
After the usual fights over toys, totally normal for a two and three year old I'm well aware, and a brief but odd debate with my sister over how best to deal with a tomatohornworm it was time for Mr. B to pee pee. My sister, who wants Damien to be potty trained this summer, encouraged him to accompany Mr. B to the potty.
Now the rest of this is hearsay as I was busy rolling my eyes with my Father at my sister's inability to deal with garden pests.
I heard Mr. B "making bubbles", followed by some cheering, which was followed by a SLAM! As you might guess, there was plenty of crying to follow that. It would seem that Damien, who was tired of not having the attension on him, slammed the toilet seat onto Mr. B's cannoli.
For some reason, Damien didn't get a spanking, time out, or even a stern (enough for my taste) talking to. Nope, all he got a "we don't do that Buddy!" (Frackin' Right we don't do that!)
Needless to say, Damien will not be invited to go pee pee with Mr. B anymore. He can learn from watching his Father.
As the title would suggest, I pulled a page out of Russ’s Home Alone Handbook. Sydney, Esmeralda and Millie have left the building, leaving me alone.
Before the wife’s departure for what was to be a two day jaunt at the beach with her mother and our daughter, I was rather looking forward to some Jasper Alone Time (JAT). I have been able to resume my role as King of the Castle, doing what I want, when I want, how I want. That is JAT. The Mockingbard Manor has, for the time being, become Jasper’s Shirtless Club. (I’ll explain the Shirtless Club next week, but I can tell it could become the next big trend!)
Of course, there are a variety of chores, tasks and projects that I need to do before the ladies return. And I’m sure that those jobs will be completed in a timely manner. In the meantime, I have found myself slipping into the world of Russ.
Wednesday, as soon as Sydney’s car was out of the driveway, I headed to the computer room. Millie had occupied the room for the last week, and I was eager to revisit one of my usual haunts. I parked my skinny ass in the chair and stayed there for a good two hours. Despite the lengthiness of my computer time, my attention span was minimal. I fluttered about the internet, looking at everything: email, news, sports, porn, video games, youtube, porn, machinima, blogs, porn, etc.
When I had my fill of the worldwide web, I reheated leftovers: ribs, coleslaw and corn-on-the-cob. I watched “24: Redemption” while enjoying my meal. After my massive bowl of ice-cream, I joined Russ for some zombie killing. If you haven’t checked out Call of Duty: World at War, you should, just to play the zombie mode. The newest map, Shi No Numa, is tons of brain-exploding fun! By 11:30, Russ was "too tired" to continue playing, plus he knew the wife would be calling. I pouted for a bit after being abandoned.
As I attempted to fall asleep, I kept cursing myself for staying up too late. I knew I would have trouble sleeping without Sydney next to me. I tossed and turned most of the night. The lack-of-sleep-headache began around 3:30 AM. I had wanted to get up at a decent hour in order to attack the to-do list, but getting up proved to be difficult.
The jackass teenager across the street finally woke me with his lawn mower at 8:52. I pried myself out of bed, bemoaning the day of chores. I knew my first priority would be to post today’s blog entry. Inspiration was lacking, so the post turned into Coffee Time with Russ.
My day did finally become productive. I ran an errand, caulked a bathtub and rearranged Esmeralda’s room, organizing her toys and books in the process. There are more tasks for Friday. Strangely, I feel eager to finish them. Perhaps my soul wants to escape Russ’s world of lethargy and laziness.
Sydney called around 7:00 to let me know that the trio was having so much fun at the beach that they wanted to stay another day. She asked if it was okay with me, and I gave her my blessing. I could use another day of peace and solitude. Of course that means it will be another late night, followed by sleeplessness. Oh well.
By the way, this is the song that's always going through my mind when Sydney is gone. (I really miss Esmeralda, but I couldn't find an appropriate song.)
** I'll pretend that you care and tell you this... This post was scheduled for auto-post at 8:00 AM. For some unknown reason it did not auto-post. I apologize if your morning was ruined because you visited our blog and there was nothing brand new to read. Sorry to keep you waiting. You can always read the old stuff, particularly mine, in the Flashback section, if there is nothing fresh for you to read. In case your morning wasn't affected by the apparent blogger blunder, then you should take a look at yourself and find a way to care about the blog that Russ and I write for YOU. Have a fabulous Friday.
