Archive for the '“He said what?”' Category


I’m Not Sure the Professor Was Talking About Math

ProfWords1AlgebraThere’s a large pond (almost a lake – maybe a Pake? A Lond? I don’t know, it’s a ‘Tweener’.) near us which was drained, dredged and generally beautified over the summer. They finally put the water back in about three weeks ago and it was – rather instantaneously – filled with weird muck.

We drove past the pond not long ago and the Professor noticed the muck. The result is captured in vivid Dad-Moon-O-Vision (copyright 2013) above.

I’m not sure he was talking about math, but perhaps the local geese were into algebra and the Professor was just more perceptive than Alpha Tween or I.

The “algebra” has since been cleared, maybe for some science or word problems.

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Jack-of-All-Trades, Master of an Axe

Here is a conversation which took place at dinner with the extended family last night. It involves The Professor and my uncle, who is a firefighter down in Florida.

This is paraphrased because it was told to me secondhand, but it seems to have started when The Professor asked my uncle what he did.

Uncle: I’m a firefighter, EMT and a teacher.

Professor: Shouldn’t you just stick to one thing and do it right?

If you think about it, it’s a fair question since we’re constantly on him to focus on one thing at a time. On the other hand, it’s not exactly the most polite thing he’s ever said.

Also there was this gem:

Professor: So if you’re an EMT, a teacher and a firefighter, do you chop students up so they can get shown how to be put back together?

I have no idea where he gets this stuff.

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Neither of Us Know What is Going On

I’ll have some more various thoughts about coaching later this week, but for now, here’s a funny Alpha Tween moment.

My son has, for the entirety of Summer, been expecting a packet from his school detailing what classes will have, as well as books he is supposed to read.

He’s been very anxious because said packet has yet to surface. We’ve told him over and over not to worry but—well he’s my son.

That’s how I roll.

Anyway, at the end of today’s football practice we sent all the kids to carry equipment to the field house while the coaches stood around and chatted.

All the kids came back, but I didn’t see Alpha anywhere.

I waited and waited until finally I saw him walking across the field with another boy.

As they drew near they waved goodbye and my son made his way over to me.

“Who was that?” I asked.

“Oh, that was a guy I know from school,” was his reply.

A few moments of silence went by as we walked to the car.

Then he said, “He hasn’t gotten his packet either.”

He looked at me and shook his head.

“I don’t know WHAT is going on over there….”

Neither do I son, neither do I.

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And So A Little Surfer Dude Was Born

When we left California, I pretty much wrote of an experience I had been looking forward to since my first son was born: teaching him to surf.

Yes, you can surf on the east coast and yes, I could still teach them but I was already struggling to find time to go surfing. Add in a two hour or so drive and I was pretty sure I wasn’t getting to the beach for it on a regular basis.

And when it comes to kids, very few want to get up at 5am to make this happen. They’ll happily go to the beach, but try to pry them out of bed that early and they look like this:


And when they get to the beach, more often then not they just want to do their own thing. Which is fine.

Flashforward four years or so to this week when we’re down on the Jersey Shore at this awesome beach house. The kids saw a lot of other kids boogie boarding and wanted their own boards. Luckily for our wallet, the house we rented had boards already.

So this afternoon myself, Alpha Tween and Omega Child now also known as The Professor, headed to the beach with the boards in addition to our usual gear.

Alpha, as is his wont, dove right in and headed out with his board. He tried hard but had a difficult time getting going and even when I gave him a push he missed more waves than he caught.

Omega is another story entirely. He’s not the most confident swimmer. At some point in New York, after doing well in swim lessons back in LA, he was placed in a swim group which used water wings. Ever since then he hasn’t had any confidence no matter how much swimming we do.

This is even more of an issue in the ocean. I have always tried to stress to the boys that while the ocean is wonderful and a lot of fun, it’s also dangerous. You have to be careful about turning your back on it and you have to pay attention.

That cautious reminder has backfired with The Professor as he is now somewhat afraid of the water. He’s afraid of the fish he can’t see, the crabs he can’t see and the waves.

Suffice to say I won’t be showing him Jaws anytime soon.

Flying sharks…..awesome


Yesterday we discovered that the beach we are at has a sandbar about thirty feet or so from the shore. So you can walk, then swim and then stand waist deep. Professor Omega wouldn’t come out at first, then only on my back. He was happy to learn he could stand but said he was definitely going to forget about it and not return to the sandbar again.

My son is a big fan of the self-fulfilling prophecy.

Today he allowed himself to come out in the water with his boogie board (leash firmly attached to his wrist), but not too deep and ONLY if I held onto the board.

We got out to where I was a little deeper than waist deep and I helped him lay on his board (he’s a small guy) and taught him to properly balance himself. Slowly but surely, I held onto the board less and less firmly. Finally he didn’t even notice when I wasn’t holding on.

Then, when he said he was ready, we picked out a wave and when it closed on us I shoved him towards the shore.

It wasn’t a good ride nor a long one. Yet when he turned towards me afterwards his eyes lit up. He was so proud.

Soon, he was running back into the water and jumping over waves with his board. Soon he was kicking himself to catch a wave on his own (mostly – I still gave him a shove most of the time) and pushing himself further and further from shore.

We took a break and almost as soon as he was out of the water he was arguing he had to get back in, shivering lips and all.

When we got back in, I began to tow him out to the sandbar.

Omega: Dad. Dad! DAD!

Me: What?

Omega: I really don’t need you to tow me dad. I can do this myself. I don’t need your help with this.

Well, well, well.

Little Surfer Boy

Little Surfer Boy

And he didn’t (mostly). He even got to the point he could paddle with one or both arms as well as kick with his legs. He caught some waves all on his own.

He even jumped back in to board with me when I grabbed Alpha Tween’s board. He didn’t last long (another first – ab/stomach pain from so much swimming and paddling) but it was great.

We were already planning on bringing my board down here next year (we’re hoping to come back) and now, without a doubt, I know the Professor will be there with me.

The friend who taught me to surf said that for a lot of people, once you get the surfing bug it’s really hard to shake it. It looks like at least one of the kids (eventually both once I get done with the Tween) might have been bit.

Whether that’s the case or not long term, I’m so thankful that I had a chance to fulfill a goal I had given up on seeing happen.

A little surfer dude has been born.

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This might be off topic but the only way I get any more work done today is if I vomit this out.

Hang on kids, it’s going to be bumpy.

So, being that I can learn shit sometimes I decided that I would write my latest article for one of the websites I work for today so I could have Saturday to proof it.



You know, so it looks all professional and junk.

I also figured if I was done Friday I could spend Saturday drumming up some great pictures and graphs because this publisher loves graphs and shit like that.

Now, the dashboard we use to write in has this……….issue.

And by “issue” I mean “occasionally eats all the work you did over the last three hours for no reason.”

We’re told to write in Word and then cut and paste it in, but it’s a huge pain in the ass and always means you have to go in and re-do a host of things because the format drops randomly.

So I say “screw it” and don’t.

And then we have nights like tonight where three hours and about 1,000 words go KABLAMMO and disappear.

Now, I’m pissed and tired and the last thing I want to do is re-write the whole freaking thing because “screw you internet, I want to go to bed.” Plus I have a video to shoot, my mother in law is coming tomorrow night and I have a 40th birthday party to go to.

So I don’t want to be messing with this all night.

Omega Child came into the office while I was sharpening a knife for the inevitable seppuku because my brain can’t deal with this garbage tonight.

Him: What’s going on Daddy, you look upset.

Me: Well, the program we use to write for the site ate all the work I did today because I didn’t back it up.


And then he hugged me.

So I’m still pissed, tired and stressed out.

But I’ll tell you what—sometimes this dad gig is pretty damned awesome.

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I’m Roughy

Omega Child had a great day today.

First day of camp, a lot of new friends and one swim in the pool interrupted by some errant vomit.

Not his, mind you. But it did put the kibosh on his swimming.

Anyway, if you’re a parent you know that after a day of camp your kid is in terrible need of a bath or shower.

Oh lord, do they need a shower.

He’s no tween but man he stinks like one.

So off he goes for his evening shower. After which he came downstairs half dried and in his underwear with his hair in a million different directions.

Which then led to this conversation:

Wife: Honey you’re head is a mess?

Omega: What do you mean?

Wife: Your hair is all crazy.

Omega: Oh no. It’s roughy.

Wife: What?

Omega: It’s roughy. I’m a roughy, I’m tough.

Since then I’ve been wondering what that means. I suppose that’s grist for the blog mill later this week.

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I Want to Know What Love is-OW OW OW NOT THAT

We are back from the lake and our family outing.

As always, the Wife hit the nail on the head with our destination.

Of course, after a day in a lake, we were all wiped out upon our return to the homestead and needed to wash the lake slime off.

I went last (as you can recall, we have two bathrooms but the boys insist on just using OURS) after having walked Dog.

I took my shower, got dressed again and headed into the living room.

Alpha Tween was lying on the floor with Dog, holding Roadkill (you remember Roadkill the tug toy, right?) in front of Dog, who was tranfixed.


Me: Yes?

AT: Watch THIS.

And then Alpha Tween (using Roadkill as a puppet) busted into a stirring rendition of Foreigner’s “I Want To Know What Love Is”….but with a twist.


At that point Dog snapped and attacked Roadkill.


I love that kid.

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Oh and in case you need it – who doesn’t, really? – the actual non-Tween rendition.

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Reading: Dead Beat by Jim Butcher Listening to: The Heist, Macklemore Watching: Damages