This was a sign posted in a cabin I stayed at on a weekend getaway. If not for the sign I might have come home one child short of a family….
For more challenge entries please hit the word “sign” above.
“You are a human interest reporter and the last 3 stories I have gotten from you do not hold my human interest!” The editor screamed.
“Dad, it’s not my fault…this city sucks and doesn’t have any interesting humans living in it.” The reporter retorted.
The editor sighed, calmed down a bit, and looked at his young reporter son dead in the eye and spoke.
“Look son, you think just because you work for me that I am supposed to let this mediocre writing slide by? When you are here…you are a reporter, not my son. Go find me a story worth printing and give me a reason to pay you for it!!”
The young reporter stomped out of his Father’s large office and out of the building, determined to find something worth writing about.
The kid was just a few months out of college with his journalism degree in hand when his Father hired him.
Sure he barely graduated, but as the old saying goes, “A ‘D’ still gets the degree.”
I wrote this last year in October. Being Memorial Day and all, I thought I would repost it. Enjoy my past writing….
I used to cherish this picture of you. I even had it blown up to poster size and hung it above my fireplace, so I could stare at it and smile for hours. I took it while you stood there, in your usual pissed off stance, from the comfort of my living room, mere hours after I finished my masterpiece hedge trimming, and minutes before you took your chainsaw to it. It made me glow to watch you get your dander all muffled and in a tizzy while you cremated my yard art.
We were neighbors. But by no means friendly. You moved into the house next door to me just as I got used to NOT having a neighbor. I hated you for that. We never even attempted to make nice…..just continued to try to 1 up each other on nastiness.
Instead of calling the proper authorities to intervene…we…
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I have a buddy of mine who is thinking about taking the leap into the sanctity of marriage.
He came to me asking for advice on how I went about asking my wife to get married.
The following is a dramatization of the actual events that occurred over 4 years ago……
The woman of my dreams and I had been dating for a few months. I was quite sure that she was the one for me but you know…..until you take a few rounds in the sack with each other….how do you really know?
We ended up facing that beast head on in an adult conversation…
Me- “You know, Babe….I got a little change just rustling around in my pocket…and I want to find the nearest phone to give you a ring….but each time we talk and I attempt to put my smooth moves on you and I get the same old thing….’no huggin or kissin until you get a wedding ring’…you gotta quit puttin my love on a shelf…I GOT NEEDS!”
Her- “Don’t give no lines and keep your hands to yourself.”
Me-“You are so cruel, baby…why do you want to treat me this way? Either way, I will still be your baby love..I will still feel the same way.”
Her-“I’ve heard that before, dear. I know you are familiar with the saying, why buy the cow when you can get the milk for free. I’m not about to give it up without assurances…. No naked loving without that wedding vow.”and she said, “…Stop it with the lines and keep your hands to yourself!”
The deal was….I wanted her real bad and I was about to give in…..but
that’s when she started talkin’ true love and started talkin’ about it being a sin to have sexual relations without being married.
I tried to plead with her…
Me- “Babe…I’ll live with you for the rest of my life….”
She quickly interrupted,
“No ring…no fling…and I will only say it one more time…don’t hand me no lines and keep your hands to yourself.”
After reciting this whole song and dance to my buddy he asked,
“So, what did you do?”
I have to give thanks to “The Georgia Satellites” for the inspiration to write this post.
They wrote the song, “Keep Your Hands To Yourself”
I just used it for my own selfish and comedic needs.
It’s still good2begone.
Super glue supposedly bonds all kinds of stuff in mere seconds.
I have been a step father to 2 awesome children for over 4 years and still we are forming a bond.
I should have read the package when I signed this deal. This stuff takes work.
My wife went out for an evening with friends. I took it as an opportunity to enhance the bond with the kids.
That’s bond…family bond.
Sometimes shaken…sometimes stirred…sometimes hard to swallow but always worth the effort.
I had visions of what television tells us what family time should be.
I offered movie night, after my wife left for the evening.
The responses were as follows…
“I’m in the middle of a campaign on my PS3. After my team finishes this secret mission and open up another map, I will be out to hang.”
“Is Netflix working? I was watching something a couple of days ago and I want to finish it…and do my nails. After that we can hang out.”
So…..my wife will be back in an hour or so.
My stepson is still playing war games…evident by the the gunfire and helicopter sounds coming out from his dark room.
My stepdaughter is engulfed in painting her nails and switching between episodes of “Bridezillas”and “The Cleveland Show” on Netflix.
Me- I have been sitting on the sofa with my headphones on listening to Ice T on my iPod.
Nothing more gangster than my life.
Family time in the age of digital technology…
Sometimes the presence is evident
Others shaded in the background
If you watch and listen closely
He stills makes a sound.
For more entries to the photo challenge please hit “in the background” in the poem above.
Remodeling a home helps to create a place where a family can create memories.
It starts as a blank canvas of sorts.
The owner adds the color and depth and atmosphere that they want…instead of what they have.
I am in the business of making a home into a “home sweet home”.
I can help make their dreams a reality.
Their dreams give me nightmares.
But, I love what I do…so I do what I love.
Currently, I am working out of town.
3-4 days a week for the next 2 weeks.
Another blank canvas in another town.
Work 12 hours a day. Sleeping on a blow up mattress in an empty house.
All the while, wishing I was at home with my wife and kids.
They are not.
I do what I love….but I do not love being away from them.
Things are happening at home that I only get to hear about but not be part of.
-my daughter can’t find her jacket
-my son is going bi polar over his grounding
-my wife had to give my chihuahua an enema.
-the family huddled in the center of the house, with candles, because of tornado warnings.
Me? I work, eat, sleep.
I talk to my wife on the phone. It’s not the same as being there. Texting is disconnected communication.
I. Miss. Them.
I quit counting down the hours when I got the news we are staying another day this week.
Part of the customer’s canvas needed to be erased as the dream has altered from the previous dream.
Let the nightmares begin.
If it were as easy as closing my eyes, clicking my heels together 3 times and saying,
“There’s no place like home.”
I would have been home already….
But I don’t have ruby red slippers,
I have 2 pairs of Chuck Taylor’s.
And that stupid witch keeps changing remodeling plans, making it difficult for me to get home.