Daddy, I’ve got cider in my ear

May 15, 2012

Hello again.

It’s been a while, which seems to be how I start every blog post.  I am back, at least for today, with goals to write more (as always).   Lately, other than multiple deadlines, I have been going through “some things”.  “Having issues”.  Cryptic enough for you?

We will boil it down to, “taking care of parents”, and for now, we’ll leave it at that.  I am probably saving it for the dramatic memoir worthy of the Oprah Book Club.  Although the ship for Oprah books has sailed, since she has stopped telling America what to read.  But at this point, I can tell stories that would make James Frey ask if I was full of shit. And things just keep getting weirder.

But, aside from all the drama, I have been saving up a few stories that are blog worthy.  I went to the RT convention and The Chicago Spring Fling Conference, and had a good time at both, meeting several fans.  Shout out to Daria!

You probably thought I’d forgotten you.  But you totally made my day at that signing.

And now, for the rest of the story.

#2 son, Sean, is due back from college tomorrow, and will be returning mostly in one piece.  And with most of the money he left home with.  In our last conversation, he told me he did not need more phone minutes because he has “13 texts left” before he runs out of time.

My apologies to his girlfriend, but I seem to have raised one of the cheapest human beings alive.  Although they seem to be well suited.  They spent one date together in the freezing cold, waiting for a pizza place to open, and both won a year’s supply of pizza coupons.  And she went willingly.

Sean told me that, at one point, he took off his glove and was convinced he had frostbite.  And then realized that it was chocolate from a brownie on his hands and not blackened flesh.

So it’s all good then, I guess.  He is eating for free, and still has all his toes.

But before we turned him loose, we seem to have forgotten one lecture.  Ever seen Teen Wolf?  It is an awful movie, except for one line, which, as I remember it is:

Never play poker with a guy named after a city.

This rule is good for most betting.  Realize that, when  something seems like it can’t lose, there has to be a catch.  So if, in my son’s case, you have never seen the track team’s steeple-chaser run, you probably shouldn’t bet on him at all, much less betting against him.

Or maybe, after growing out your hair for a year, until it reaches ridiculous lengths and is do thick and curly that it makes the labradoodle jealous, maybe…

Just maybe…

You will lose your hair in a bet.

With my son in a tank t-shirt with his nearly shaved head, Sean feels he is 30% more likely to commit a hate crime.  Not with a Nerf gun, you’re not.  Although he does kind of look like he’s seeking a summer internship in a meth lab.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *