Tuesday, August 29, 2006

Oh sweet lord jesus...

We Tell Them Americans Are Fat Monsters. Is That What You Meant?

Trainer: In America, when our kids don't finish their meals we tell them that there are starving kids in Africa. What do you tell them?
Clients from Kenya: [Silence]

Cafeteria, Hazina Towers, 258 Monrovia Street
Nairobi, Kenya

via Overheard in the Office, Aug 28, 2006


Monday, August 28, 2006

The Wall and the Wonton

Hey everybody. How was your weekend? Really? Yeah? Sounds great. Me? Oh I didnt do much...nah...I just


Actually, I wasnt fixit man. I was his alter-ego MR.Break-some-shit. I took up my Sledge of the Titans, and Lo did I go to work. And ye, verily I say unto you, some shit, indeed, got broke.

We went to work on the upstairs bedroom with one bright idea and not alot of thinking. We figured, if we tore down the plaster that was rotting due to the water leakage, we'd be able to....um...what were we doing next honey? Our plan was basically;
  1. Break down plaster wall.
  2. ???
  3. Rule the world! *And eat dinner*
What did we find when I took hammer to wall with much gusto? Why Bricks, of course! Bricks and morter...crumbling bricks and mortor. Crumbling bricks and motor that peels away with the slightest touch. I must remind my gentle readers that this wall is all the will protect my loving wife and I from the harsh, cruel elemental warriors of Mother Nature.

My wife was at first shocked, but then her HGTV training kicked in. What do you do with a brick wall in your bedroom? Seal it and leave that bad boy bare! Since she's ALWAYS wanted a bare brick wall in her bedroom because of the character it gives the room, guess who's gonna have some crumbling brick action in his evening plans? Yeah.

My biggest worry is that the brick, upon seeing the polyurethane sealant, will shriek and run and crumble. I have this strange image of me leaning against the wall and somehow pushing Out; the wall crumbling outward, falling two stories and pelting our poor, poor dog like missles from an angry God.

I also made Wontons. I created my own wonton steamer, which consists pie tins, all of which had holes in them, a stock pot, and lid to said stockpot. One I made enough wontons, I placed my contraption (tuna can, pie tin with wontons, tuna can, pie tin with wontons) into the stockpot with a medium amount of water) Cover andof tuna cans (sans tuna) steam. They came out pretty tasty. I also made wonton soup, which was tastier and easier, though I am still proud of my Mcgyver contraption (Thank you Alton Browne). The recipes I used are simplicity itself. Honestly, the most annoying part was folding the wontons.

I was the HIT of the party! *Giggles*

What else...um...listening to a lot of Ninja Tunes, Theivery Corporation, Talvin Singh, and the like. With a little MOP *ANTE UP!* and Ghostface Killer thrown in for a mix.

It's monday and I'm ALREADY done with work this week. I mean, Im not DONE done...Im just DONE.

(Im working on a poem called Ice Refrain but it aint coming easy. It's hard, and brittle; every time I try to grasp it, it shatters in my hands, leaving me cold, wet and frustrated....LIKE ICE! HA! *sobs*)

Thursday, August 24, 2006

The Winds of change...Like that nickel-breeze right there...

Hey. I'm okay.

I mean that. I'm fine. I was in the doldrums. A sort of wretched hive of scum and villainy. And cabbage. But that was then!

This is now!

How do I feel? Apprehensive.

Not in a 'I have a bad feeling about this' Han Solo staring for the first time at the Death-I'll blow your planet the fuck up-Star. But more of a looking at your cup and see the ripples in it coming rhythmically, as something very large stomps through the jungle towards you.

You're hoping for the Mr.I-Love-You-you-love-me Dinosaur.

But you're expecting the shit yourself while you try to run away and remember that stupid thing that they said about some dinos only seeing movement Meat grinder type.

Um...That's not much better is it?

I should be in a great mood. I should be happy that things are going well. But like Cassandra getting a getting a microcomputer up her bum for a colonoscopy, I'm having inner visions. What of? I don't even know. Maybe it's the not knowing that's got me so weirded out.

You know, rereading what I've written, it doesn't sound like I'm in any better mood than I was before does it? I am. I truly am. I think I need a makeout session with my pillow, my blankets, and some sweet sweet darkness. That might help. Oh. And a good lengthy prayer session. Nothing too serious, just me and J-Sizzle, shooting the shit, talking about our peeps, lamenting over the cardinals. Stuff like that. Sometimes you forget the simple stuff.

Anyways, It's Friday, and school is out! I hope you all have great weekends. I, on the other hand, am leaving work at noon to spend some quality time with the Wife. What sexy, sexy adventures we'll have, filled with cupcakes and paint and infrared heating coils, and...

um...I think I've said too much.

Have a great weekend.

(I hope to be THIS content, my paws on my proverbial globe, by the time I leave work. It's good to be the king...or at least, the giant lion gargoyle with the 'I just ate your best warriors and now I'm going to eat you' grin) Either way...

p.s. If you look REAL CLOSE at that Barney in the window, you'll notice he's not carrying flowers in his hand. HA!

Monday, August 21, 2006

The Swamps of Sadness...

For some strange reason this morning, I was hit with a bout of sadness. A melancholy vapor, if you will, a misty vibe of woe that shrouds my face today. Where did it come from? What will make it go away? Why does it smell like cabbage?

Nothing real exciting to report. Oh yeah, Cammy did some projectile upchucking on our way to church sunday. Raquita made Chicken Marsala (my fav! Yum!). I've got some kind of stomach virus that has allowed me to memorize the number of tiles in the bathroom walls and give each one a unique story based on the minute colorations differences and imperfections found therein.

Seriously. Why does my cloud of sad smell like cabbage? What gives?

Anyway. I'm going to try and ingest some caffeine into the body via hot oral injection...um...wait...thats not right. lets try that again. Im going to get a cup of coffee.

Hopefully that will kickstart the day and help me to get rid of the cabbage. I mean sadness.

Its nothing serious so no need to worry. Just a little melancholy. I bet if I hit my foot with a hammer, I'd stop being so woe-is-me. Isnt there a joke where melancholy is a punchline but it refers to a dog eating fruit? Or is that a fruit eating dog? Like the dog is eating the fruit but...nevermind!


Oh! We watched 'The Family Stone' last night. Talk about your study in family awkwardness. The wife and her collection of gal-pals loved it. I thought it was funny but unrealistic since everyone got with who they were supposed to get with right at the end, and then mom dies of cancer. It's almost (and this is grumpy cynical movie-goer Benticore talking here) as if they threw all these awful things at these characters for the sole purpose of allowing all of the ACTORS to demonstrate their emotional range onscreen. We had rage, and incredulity, laughter, sadness, bitter laughter, gleeful sadness, lust, drunkeness, and pot-headedness, among a host of others. Maybe Im just being crotchety today. Thats it...today is my crotchety day, and, unfortunately, it doesnt have all that much to do with my crotch. Maybe thats why Im melancholy? Cabbage in my pants? Huh? Oh, you're still here??

Thursday, August 17, 2006

I was digging around Urbis and found this...

I wanted to repost this poem, just in case anybody missed it. I really like it and sometimes I read it to remind myself that I'm not the talentless piece of mud I think I am. Talentless clay, maybe. Cause clay you can mold. Mud, your usually trying to wash off your shoes or your playful child.


Black Woman Blues

If she holds that first note
eyes sealed and tomb-heavy
finger kissin’ the mic
we know she’s got the ghost
Fat Bass sighs his strings down
Bone Boss stops tap-tap-tapping
Doc Stick rattles a soft march
and Brass Man pulls the pause.

The cotton skirts and
dirt shirt boys take their pew stools
they know the hymn and the sermon
hands raised and testifyin’

She pulls that mud-water tone out
on a holiday, a holy day
and she’s still making love
She’s got the melody and
Brass Man’s on the down stroke

Doc Stick watches her hips
she’s molasses thick and he marks
time as she willow-sways
the old music in her
the lyrics heat-trickle down her neck
and Doc pounds the old heat through
that black skin bass

The dirt shirt boys see the ghost in her
they get to clappin’ and stompin’
they wanna rush the groove
cotton skirt-twirl hike-up dance it,
skip to the end and
sleep on the chorus
She aint lettin go

Bone boss stays spider-light
on the ivory. He bird-songs
her summer night
pulls the stars out and
sets them twinklin

Fat Bass hums thick and sorghum-low
he lays down that country road home
sausage fingers on gold string biscuits
but she’s got the ghost and
she aint coming home tonight

Brass Man takes her up
they dance that ghost-step
off the road, past the birds
her song is hot peach cobbler on his lips
burns the tongue but he keeps on playin

The cotton skirts dance green angry moves
narrow hips and can’t keep Black Woman’s groove
She takes all the men to that hidden place
they don’t know the way

Black Woman pulls that
last boy-summer
out of an old song
hums the final note
lets the dirt shirt boys know they
aint got time to waste before
winter’s coming and black woman’s
on the next song
and the band is packin up

Wednesday, August 16, 2006

Because the Dog gets better treats...

Teeheehee!! This made my giggle hysterically! Thanks to Daimushi, my main man in the land of Japan for the heads up! Benticore Out (MURDER! Heeheehee!!)


Tuesday, August 15, 2006

The Nickel and the Dime

Before I begin, many of you may be wondering if I've been able to keep my joy so far. I'd say yes. While there are things that are frustrating or annoying going on, I still feel like I could simmer with the happiness thats rolling inside me. It ebbs and flows, like an ethereal sea of contenment, sloshing against the eternal beach of ME sending frothy bubbles of Smile into the air.

With that said, there's something I wanted to get off my chest. Saving money is hard and not hard at the same time. It takes discipline. The thing of it is, learning discipline is the hardest thing, especially when you are forced to do so against your will, and you may or may not have had to have discipline earlier in your life. There are so many shiny things in the ocean, it's so easy to get off-task, off-goal and swallow the brighty, luminous little bobbles that wriggle and sparkle all around you. The American Economy is made of mostly baubles and lures and wriggly things that ultimately, just lead to the hook. But what does that have to do with me? Well, Im just saying that sometimes its easy, and sometimes its hard. Somedays its simplicity itself to say, 'Now, Benticore. Surely you dont need that breakfast sandwhich. If you had had the foresight and the fortitude to wake up a bit earlier, you could have dined on frosted flakes at home, thus saving yourself a bit of money and a lot of cholesterol. Why dont you wait until lunch.' Other days, its like. 'Fuck you, Im hungry. Gimme that!'

But Im the man of the house, the head of my home and family. I have to be the one that sets the tone and example. I have to be the responsible one, no matter how hard it may be to do it. I understand that. I get it. I accept it. It's just that sometimes, its hard. I hate denying the things my family loves, I hate seeing them dissappointed or frustrated with our current lot in life. The only thing that gets me through those sad or angry faces and looks is the thought that, in the long run, we have a chance to be healthy, financially, and every little bit helps. I want to make my family's every little wish come true. But I want to stop the hemorrage of nickels and dimes more. If you're not careful, you'll bleed yourself to death with tiny little cuts. But those cuts add up and soon, if you're not vigilant, you can find that when it comes time to do the BIG Things, implement the Important Plans, there just isnt enough left. THAT is something Im sick and tired of.

So, daddy is taking a stand for economic stamina and fortitude. I'm putting my foot down and Im going to lead my family to a more stable financial future. One step at a time.

*lifts a glass of water* Cheers!


Champion Requiem

I'm happy.

No, not just happy. Right now, I'm Joyous. Its a sort of peaceful contentment that seems to be ebbing and flowing out of me, like some kind of invisible aura or electric field. I feel like if I hugged someone, they'd be happy too. It's strange and tingly and wonderful.

I've also had a cup of coffee. That might be it. But I dont think so.

My mother is feeling better. She called me last night to inquire where I was and how come I hadn't visited her on Monday. We really were exhausted and Cammy was too, so we just ate, put her to bed and rested for a minute. I want to be UP for my mother, so I figured seeing her today would be better. Plus I can bring Cammy, who will no doubt be the hit of the nursing home. I think hearing my mother's voice, strong, and slightly testy as she talked to me last night made me happier than my reptilian male brain knows how to comprehend. So today, I'm just happy. It's a nice feeling.

Because Mos Def is one of my favorite hip-hop stars of all time, and his song Champion Requiem is one of my favorite songs, I wanted to post some lyrics that seemed to speak to me these past couple of weeks. *OH SHIT! Tru3 Magic out in September?* SWEEEEEEEEEET!

I was taught when there's somethin' you can change around
Keep quiet, you got nothin' to complain about
You got work to do, I don't know if that work for you
But thats how Mos work it through
And my work is personal, I'm a workin person
I put in work, I work with purpose
I get it there, on the water, air, the surface
You feel the impact? Niggaz yeah it's workin
Listen God did not make me a fearful person
The only fear I have, Is my failure to adhear his path...
The bold parts are what really have been playing through my mind. I dont know if it inspires you to be less fearful of the things in your life, but I hope it reminds you that you can conquer anything with strength, faith, and a strong sense of purpose. And humor. humor is very important. Bionic Ninja monkeys don't hurt either.

(ps. Did I mention the Mind Bullets? That kill yaks 1000 yards away? Cant stress those enough...)

Monday, August 14, 2006


If you dont know, and failed to ask somebody, you've been just hit with a fist full of...


*Edit: The video is acting wonky on the blog so click the link above for your Dr. Tran fix. Remember, its not meant for kids, no matter how cute the little asian boy seems...um...that didnt come out right...anyway, enjoy!*

(Its not really appropriate for young children or small dogs...just so you know)

Poisonous paragraphs...

Good Monday to you, gentle reader.

I know, I know. In the great words of Timbaland, "Its been a long time. I shouldn't have left you without a dope beat to step to. Step To. STEP TO! (wicky-wicky) Step to."

Crap. That just doesnt print well, does it? Well, here's my update so far plus a couple of things.

Sometimes the right thing to do still hurts.
I took my mother to a Nursing home Friday. I hated to do it, but there was no alternative. You see, the friendly hospital released her on Friday at noon (they called me at 11:30 to tell me this) and expected her to be picked up. But, even as I was arranging to get time off to pick her up and take her...um...somewhere, the Nurse was telling me, in a strict, almost belligerent tone that, 'Your mother needs 24 hour healthcare supervision. She cant be left alone because she cant walk." Um. Well, thats why we took her to the hospital. Turns out my mother's doctor released her. So my aunt called a Nursing home where my Grandmother is at, and through the Grace of God, they had a bed free and accepted her. I dont know what I would've done if they didnt take her though. She didnt want to go. She really didnt, but I think, in the end, she knew that for her to get better, she had to have help, the kind of help neither me nor my aunt can provide. The good news is she's doing better, she's eating and shes getting healthy. But there is something torturing her, behind her eyes, back in the dark recesses of her mind where all the memories that haunt her reside. THAT demon will have to be fought somehow, before she can truly be healthy and HAPPY again. I'd like to see my mother happy. Thats something I dont remember ever seeing. I mean the kind of happy where you are smiling and laughing at noticing the little things in life that bring you small moments of joy. I can't remember a time where my mother was like that.

Moving Furniture and stuff...
So on Saturday, I helped Grandma clear her bedroom of furniture she didnt want (which somehow made it to MY house) or furniture she still wanted but truthfully will probably never use (which I took to Raquita's moms house where she stays). It wasnt necessarily hard work but it was tiring and I was a stinky, sweaty mess by the time I was done. That pretty much ended my weekend in salt and grime an d exhaustion.

I had more stuff I wanted to post about, like my friend breaking up with his Girlfriend of 2+ years, and the awesome present my boy Gikinmaro brought back for me from NYC, or a host of other things. But Im not gonna, mostly because I forgot what I was going to say.

So Imma Kick the Dueces (KICKEM!)
And Im out.

Out (But you knew that didnt you)
ps. I promise I'll post more interesting stuff later. Just trying to stay awake now.

Wednesday, August 09, 2006

The wall...

I'm tired.

This past week has been more than a drain. It certainly has been filled with both highs and lows. But my last post only really highlighted the lows so I wanted to shed some light on the highs before I pass out into a halucination-filled coma.

I dont mean to be tellin' tales outta school, but theres a man in there'll pay ya $10 to sing into a can.
I was on the radio. Monday, I think. Or maybe last week. Time and my grasp of it are tenuous at best right now. Anyway, the local radio show was talking about online dating and this new online dating site called Bootycall.com or some such nonsense and Raquita decided to call in. You see, gentle reader, if you werent yet aware, I met my wife through these same interwebs that I know pollute with my nasty nasty viral thoughts. We courted for about a month and a half via email before I got up the nerve to call her and see her in person. That first date at the art museum has now lasted 5 years as we've never broken up (When you win the lottery do you spend all your cash on the chance that someday, that massive jackpot might be surpassed and you can win THAT one?? HELL NAW! I won the lottery with Raquita. I intend to stay rich and fat!). Was it love at first sight? Nope. She thought I needed the gentle touch of a strong woman who wasnt afraid to roll up her sleeves and get dirty. I thought she had a big head. But through our emails, we had gotten to know each other pretty well, and the first meeting and her attempting to seduce me with her talk of 'I dont normally do this but....wanna come back to my place?' pretty much sealed the deal. Um...I had a point.

Oh yes. The Radio. So anyway, she's talking on the phone, live on the radio, and me, being the humorous fellow I am, start shouting 'Help! Help!' in the background. They hear this and ask to speak to me, to make sure I'm not being tortured. It went kinda like this.

Radio Personality: So you guys met online and got married? How did that go?
Me: Well, I had an add in the paper, an old add that said, 'On a scale of 1-10, Im looking for a Q'. Her poetry stage name is Queue so she naturally wanted to know what was up. We traded emails and bad poetry (my bad poetry) for a month or two before we went on our first date and that first date has lasted almost five years. We got married last year.
Radio Personality: Aww! Thats real nice, man. And you guys are happy?
Me: She's sitting right next to me! Of COURSE I'm happy! What you think I'm gonna say??
Radio Personailty(chuckling): Well, have you heard about this Bootycallonline.com site? Would you ever have gone on something like that if you were single?
Me: Nah...probably not....Im pretty much an old school kind of guy so I would probably stick to my old tried and true methods. You know, Begging.
Radio People Crack up and cut to commercial.

Raquita thought I was funny. I thought I was pretty funny. Maybe I'll be on the 'Best Of' radio shows that they air when the Radio people decide they've got to go back to Cancun for vacation. But still, it was pretty sweet. Plus more proof that, if put on the spot, I can NOT make an ass of myself for short periods of time.

I hate hospitals:
I do. I truly do. They drive me nuts. There's something about that generally aniseptic smell, the mean, bitter nurses, the horrible food, the gremlins that run around, laughing from the dark, unlit corners in the hallways.

Wait. What?

Okay. Did I mention Im going on 6 days with about 3 hours sleep each? Im pretty much hitting the fucking wall here, people, so forgive me if I ain't William fuck your mother Shakespeare right now. Im trying.

Where were we?

Oh yes. So we took my mother to the hospital monday. She didnt want to go. OF COURSE she didnt want to go. But we had no choice. She cant walk. She cant hold anything down. Shes getting better now, though she's mad that she's there. She can be mad at me all she wants. She can hate me all she wants too, but Im not letting her go that easy. Not this time.

That doesnt sound like a good thing, but really it is. She needed to go. I needed to take her. She can get the help she needs and we might be able to fight this demon that has it's clutches on her. God Willing.

I love Sweet Baby Rays Hot 'N Spicy Barbecue sauce. The stuff is golden buttered crack in sauce form. I had some ribs at lunch but since I ate the ribs and still have a nearly full jar of sauce, I've taken to just putting a dollop gently on the tip of my index finger and rubbing it into my gums like a fiend trying to get a fast fix. Then somebody at my job tried to say that Mauls was as good as Baby Ray and I had to go off. Baby Ray would take Mauls down to the beach to show it a good time, but then leave it crying in the sand, having beaten the tar off of it's behind in a drunken rage.


I think Im going to end this post now. It's just going downhill and Im having trouble seeing the screen.

Ciao Cow!

Out(but not out!....yet)

Monday, August 07, 2006

The past six days...

Ikeep meaning to get here, to post, but life keeps grabbing me by the scruff of the neck. Sometimes it be like that, though. F'sho. But without further ado, I'll get right to it. Or Write, to it, if you've got the fever for the flavor of a bad pun/play on words/blah-blah-blah.

Wow. I just bored myself. Anyways.

Wednesday, Aug. 2nd - Its not a tumor!: After work, I got the rare opportunity to get to ye olde breadshop (STL Breadco) to get some writing done. For me, there are too many distractions at home for me to write with any kind of consistency or concentration. I'm always wanting to fix this, or look at that or clean this or wash that. And Cammy makes that twice as difficult as she'll want to play with me or Raquita will be tired so I'll want to get her fed or change her or something. There's always something. But if I'm at a neutral location, the worst I have to deal with is the insane guy at the next table, frothing at the mouth and ranting about beehives and Bisquick. Breadco on South Grand also has free wi-fi so I can check the barren wasteland that is my email inbox, and keep track on the Cardinals growing list of on-the-field failures.

Anyways, I'm writing, doing quite well, nose-to-the-grindstone kind of work, when I look up and notice that its 9:15 and my phone is ringing/vibrating. I see its a call from home and assume it's my loving wife wanting to offer me her undying support for the novel I'm writing but haven’t let her read because I tell her I want her to experience the whole thing at once but secretly I’m afraid that its just gutter trash. In all actuality, it IS my loving wife but she's called to inform me that my child has contracted the plague and I need to come home NOW.

After I stop off at the drugstore for the requested Benadryl, Calamine lotion, and beef jerky (What? I was hungry and it looked tasty!) I get home to find my poor, sweet princess laid-up with a 103 fever and hives from head to foot. Her lips are swollen and her eyes look like she'd been smacking herself in the face with cayenne pepper. Even her hands and feet are swollen. Being ones not to panic, we put her on a steady regimen of drugs to bring the blistering fever down (which sort of worked) and tried to keep her comfortable (which didn’t work at all). Cammy was itching all over and couldn't get any sleep, which meant that nobody got any sleep. We resolved to call the doctor in the morning and Raquita would stay at home since she can get paid time off (I don’t cause I'm a lowly Ronin contract employee).

The next day, we notice, as we blearily wake from our 4th 30min nap, that Cammy still has a fever, the welts are shifting and moving across her body, some disappearing, others appearing, and her hands and feet are STILL Swollen. I go to work late, though I truthfully didnt want to go at all, and Raquita goes to take Cammy to her pediatrician. At this point we're convinced that she has the Neo-Bubonic Plague that the government has cooked up to wreak havoc on the populace to convince them that the Martians finally Have landed.

The Doctor refuses to let her come. She tells Raquita that it is most certainly an allergic reaction and that they would just tell her to do the same things she's already doing. This infuriates me to no end because a) What allergic reaction comes with fever? and b) she didn’t have or ingest anything that she hasn't had since she was 6 months old. Nothing new, nothing strange, nothing iffy did my child ingest. But the doctor had spoken, we didn’t want to take her to the emergency room, and during the day, she seemed to be getting a bit better.

Later that night, she went back to the high-fever and hives bit, with some vomiting and the lack of desire for the eating of food. The next day, Cammy went to the doctor. Before I tell you what was wrong with her, I have to do a quick sidebar.

NEVER ASK CO-WORKERS ABOUT WHAT YOUR CHILD MIGHT BE SICK WITH! I swear, I got more paranoid talking to them that sitting there with my daughter as she tossed and turned in her fever dreams. One lady went on and on about Impetigo, another lady suggested Foot and Mouth disease. A third co-worker calmly offered up kidney failure and blood disease. A good friend suggested measles, mumps, poison, and Scabbies. I think Scarlet Fever and Ebola were in there too.

What did she have? Here's a rough transcription of the conversation I had via cell-phone with the doctor while Raquita and Cammy were in the office.

DOCTOR: Hello, Mr. Henderson.
ME: Hey doc. So whats wrong?
DOCTOR: She has a bad STOMACH VIRUS with and ALLERGIC REACTION. The stomach virus may have made the allergic reaction worse but she'll be fine.
ME: So she doesn't have kidney Disease?
Doctor (chuckling): No, she-
ME: Crones? Scabbies? Blood Disease, Mumps, Measles, Impetigo?
DOCTOR (slightly annoyed): No, no, no, no, no, and no.
ME: Oh. So...she'll be okay then?
DOCTOR (clearly annoyed): Yes. Yes she will be fine. Just give her some Claratin once a day to help with the reaction. If it doesnt improve over the weekend, we can give her something stronger.
ME: Right. Okay. Well, thanks Doctor...
DOCTOR (chuckling again): It's okay. It can be a scary thing when a child...
ME: It's not measles? I think she was vaccinated but I heard it was coming back and-
DOCTOR: No. No mumps. No measles. None of that. She'll be fine by Monday.
ME (sheepish): Heheh. Okay Doc. Thanks.

It's Monday and she was right. Her fever is gone, she's eating like she normally does (which is to say eat half the meal, play with the other half, mushing some into her hair) and he rash has MOSTLY disappeared. Plus she is much more comfortable now though she’s not so keen on letting mommy out of her sight. Daddy? Daddy = Chopped liver, for all she cares now. Its okay. She's a mommy's girl when she gets sick. Daddy is for fun and play, mommy is for ouchies and owwies. I get that. Daddy is pretty handy with a Band-Aid too though, do get it twisted. But Mommy is mommy and there is none greater. But whilst this was going on, another crisis reared its ugly head...

Friday, August 4th -Come Home Snoopy, Come Home!: So you may know by now, we are the proud (and constantly slobbered-on) owners of a Italian Mastiff named Anubis. There are pictures all over my wife's blog. I might put one on here though. Anyways, our gate in the back yard has been broken for a minute but we keep Anubis on a leash when he's outside so that he doesn’t run the neighborhood scaring folks and drenching kids with his sticky, ever-present slobber. Well, Friday, while my loving wife was tending for our sickly child, she went to let the dog in whom I had let outside to stretch his legs and use the facilities (unfortunately the facilities right now consist of what’s left of our herb garden…Bad Dog!) That’s when she noticed *cue sinister music* THE DOG WAS GONE! On the deck, lying in the fading afternoon sunlight was his leash, broken at the small metal clip. Raquita drove the neighborhood calling for our dog in vain. Then she called me to tell me that Anubis was gone and that she was going to the human society. Luckily, THAT’S where he was. You’d think this was the end of the story, dear readers, but you’d be wrong. This is where things turn INFURIATING!

So, Anubis is chilling at the local Humane Society. Raquita goes up there, sees our dog (who has enjoyed his semi-vacation but wants to come home) and naturally asks for our dog back. The Humane Society tells her that she can have the dog back AFTER they neuter him.

Wait. What?

Yeah. They have to neuter him before they give him back as it’s a city ordinance that all dogs must be spayed or neutered if they come through the City Animal Control and since the human society is an extension of the Animal Control, they aren’t allowed to break city ordinances.


They tell us to call Animal Control, who is closed at the time (this goes down at around 5pm) but they cant do anything unless animal control says something. The next day, Animal control says (and sneakily at that…keep reading) that all we have to do is get the Humane Society to transfer Anubis to them and all will be okay. Well, Raquita, being the super-smart cookie that she is, does some investigations. She finds out that a) If you have a breeders license or a dog show coming up, they cant really force you to snip your dog, b) you cant get a breeders license unless the dog has been in a show AND is over a year old. Anubis is neither. And c) The Humane Society has the leeway to let a dog out of the Animal Control/City Ordinance rules, if they find there is merit there. Im sure some of the people over at the Humane Society knew this and many didn’t. But if Anubis HAD gone to the City Pound as was first suggested, they would HAVE to fix him, no ifs ands or buts about it. Hows THAT for trying to be sneaky. So, we’re going to try to break Anubis out of Jail tonight. But it will have to be fast work. We’ve got our papers and our ‘papers’ so hopefully we’ll be able to get him home tonight. But we’ve got even bigger fish to fry because of what I found out LAST night, the most important of the nights in question. But real quick…

Saturday August 5th – The wedding march: One of Raquita’s old friends got married on Saturday and I was in attendance. We actually got there late, but their processional was so long that we still didn’t miss anything. It was a nice wedding and the bride was Gorgeous. As Raquita said, they both looked happy, truly happy, and a little relieved to have the actual event behind him. Did it make me a little sad that We didn’t have a traditional wedding? A little bit. But I loved the way I got married. I absolutely loved it. The fact that the only family I had there was Tambora and Gikinmaro is something I’ll have to get over. Cammy wont EVER have to worry about that. Also, FRAP (a bougie-ghetto concoction of ginger-ale, fruit punch, and sherbert) is my new favorite. I got looked at real funny when I professed to never having imbibed the blessed elixir, but frock em, right?

Apparently young, enthusiastic, bright-eyed teachers of our youth don’t appreciate old negros like me referring to children (not all, just some) as assholes. Whatever…I still say, some kids ARE assholes, despite their parents. She was so incensed but I bet she aint got no kids! Anywho, the evening was all in all very nice but that leads us to Sunday, the true reason for this post.

Sunday, August 6th – A mothers kiss is worth more: I talked a little bit (read, not much at all) about my mother in this space a few weeks ago. It’s still kind of hard for me to talk about. Not that Im shy or anything. It’s just that it’s a part of my life that for so very long, I’ve had NO emotion but regret. Now theres all kinds of other crap in there, sorrow, hope, fear, longing, a desire to HAVE a mother. I’m a man, and despite whatever kind of game your current beau might be spitting at you, the male spectrum of emotion isn’t nearly as complex as a woman’s emotional cortex. There are some things we just have trouble sorting out quickly.

Well, we get a call from Sunday from my Aunt Yvonne. Apparently my mother hasn’t eaten since we saw her last (two weeks ago, just about) and that she’s gotten worse, and they want to call an ambulance to come and take her to the emergency room. Why an Ambulance? Well, they don’t want her to sit in the hospital for eight hours before she’s seen by somebody and she REFUSES to go to her normal doctor, who sounds like a heartless wench anyway. So we went over there and brought her some food and talked with her. She told me that it isn’t that she doesn’t eat. Its that when she doesn’t eat what is brought to her, nothing else is brought either. Its really deeper than that. Its about having family WANT to spend time with her whereas her sister Yvonne right now is OBLIGATED to be there and take care of her. That shows in the way Yvonne tries to take care of her by placating her and basically keeping her quiet. I don’t blame Yvonne. I blame myself, mostly. Last couple times we went to see my mother she seemed to genuinely be doing better. Just being there with her and talking with her and coaxing her to eat made her more focused, more determined to eat and be normal, wanting to be better and do the things that will make her better. Raquita and I were able to get her to eat and she asked us to come over and visit with her this week and if she’s not better by the end of the week, she’d go willingly to the hospital. She might be moving in with us later on, after she gets checked out with the hospital but she’ll have to be able to walk and what not sense both of us will be at work during the day. But during the evenings and at night we wont shut her away in her bed infront of a TV for her to wither away.

Those are the facts. We’re going over tonight with some Lobster Ravioli and Cammy to try and get her to eat more and basically keep her spirits up. The more she eats, the better she feels. There’s more to it than that but I ‘m not going to get into it. That’s not so much important as her getting better. But what I wanted to get off my chest was this:

When we got to my mothers house last night, Raquita grabbed my hand and asked me if I wanted to pray. It was a simple question and the answer seemed pretty obvious, but I had to force out a yes and I asked her to pray for both of us. Why? Anger. I was angry. Not righteously so, not angry for any good cause. I was angry like a child whose been told something he doesn’t want to hear and throws a tantrum. I felt like a small, stupid child and I was angry. If I was a little puppy I would have bitten someone. I didn’t want to pray. And That scared me more than anything. So I prayed for forgiveness, for an ease to my anger and my stubbornness, and the courage to do Gods will, which is to take care of my mother. If you have a good relationship with your mother, as I’m sure many of you do, this is a ‘No Duh!’ moment for you but for me, it was a revelation. When I held my mothers hand in mine and she ate with me and talked with me, I wasn’t angry anymore. Just worried. Keep her and us in your prayers.

That was my last 5 days. I hate to end on such a downer. I truly believe that she will get better and with time, and patience, we’ll get her looking like the Miss Kitty of old, full of fire and vinegar and sass and beauty. THAT is my mother. I remember clearly. I just have to help her to remember too.



Thursday, August 03, 2006

Starwars Robot Chicken

Thats TOTALLY what I would have said to Vader too...just watch and bear witness to the impeccable hilarity that is Robot Chicken