my week

Things have been okay. I got my license reinstated. That was cool.

I had a box of checks made and after writing about a dozen of them, I realized that I'd typoed a digit on the account number. One actually hit my account, but most will be rejected. I have no idea what kind of financial hit I'll take on that idiot move. So I ate four hamburgers for lunch yesterday to make me feel better.

On the bright side, my girlfriend's Great Dane is starting to get a long with my Shih-Tzu. But you have to picture the combination. Imagine William "The Refrigerator" Perry trying to find a sport he can play with Verne "Mini-Me" Troyer without scaring the living shit out of Mini-Me.

I mean, Lola (my dog) can walk between The Dane's legs. Not squeeze between them--walk through, with about 18 inches to spare. She could actually walk through his legs without even realizing he was in the room.

He wants to play and so does she. Every time they both go for a squeaky-toy, he wins by her resignation.

So, the other night, The Dane was trying to induce Lola into a squeaky-toy tug-o-war. He kept picking up the toy and dropping it in front of her and giving her a completely heart-melting look that said "will you play with me?" Finally he nudged it over to her with his nose in a very Tramp-nudges-a-meatball-over-to-Lady way.

She tentatively pawed it.

He nudged it again.

She slowly approached it to pick it up with her mouth. As she made contact, The Dane leapt to grab the other end, nearly decapitating the Shih-Tzu in the process.

Lola, well.... screamed and darted clear across the room, startling The Dane in the process, and mayhem washed over us for a few moments.

Lola was shaking for the rest of the evening.

I was so proud of The Dane for trying so hard to play, but when it came to the moment of truth, he showed his true colors as a big, dumb (albeit, totally lovable) animal.

Maybe next time. I think we'll make them a nice, long, tug rope to try...

mupp it

Dr. Bunsen Honeydew here at Muppet labs, where the future is being made today.

My car has working brakes.

My car has a new seat instead of milk crates holding up the floppy back of the old seat.

My car starts with a key rather than a screwdriver.

I got to bed at 2:30 this morning. Or so I thought. My power was out briefly yesterday and my alarm clocks were fifteen minutes ahead because they gained on battery backup. MY kids were heading for the bus when I looked at my watch and told them they were on the wrong time.

Kevin and I used to work with a guy who once insisted that, according to the world time on his new Casio Databank watch, it was twenty minutes later in a town about an hour away. The argument that his world time might be set wrong was not as strong in his mind as the argument that time zones might not generally shift on states lines and might not generally shift by exactly an hour.

The seat was the result of a half an hour of wading through mud and standing rainwater in a drizzle at the junkyard and finding a seat, discovering I have the wrong tools, going back to the office, guessing at the right tools, going back through the mud to the car, discovering that I had actually selected the right tools, taking two of four bolts out, sitting in the junk car--thankfully with all of it's windows and door seals intact--smoking to get my composure back, removing the other two bolts and carrying the seat back to the office over my head as an umbrella to pay for it. Another half hour of work when I got home and I have a perfectly working seat in my car. Thankfully the seat was out of a dry car. The seat has 100,000 fewer miles than my old seat, so maybe it will last as long as the car.

We are working harder, so we can go home earlier!

thanks

Well thanks to a few women (and my brother) who really love me and truly care, my life is better.

My mother and sister-in-law came over last week and did a bunch of organizing and laundry and cleaning. It was unexpected and glorious. I'm not one to ask people around me to help, so it was nice that they volunteered.

My brother came over on Saturday and helped put brakes on my car. (Well, he did pretty much all the work.)

My new girlfriend has been a blessing. We've been going out for a few weeks. I met her online and she's a remarkably intelligent and funny woman. She's been a real port in my storm, keeping me sane and giving me perspective. As an added bonus, her Great Dane loves me too!

She came over last week and helped me cut my dog (well, she pretty much did all the work, I pinned the dog down). I have a Shih-tzu. If you feel that giving a dog a haircut is a luxury, you've never owned a Shih-tzu. Shih-tzu's hair never stops growing. Lola's hair was so matted, it was litterally akin to shearing sheep. The kids took some of Lola's "wool" to school for Show-and-Tell. She looks pretty hacked up, but she's also about half of her prevoius size and is much, much happier. Whereas she used to lie around the yard when she went out before, she bounds about the yard chasing rabbits (both real and imaginary) now that she's lighter and not bound up by fur.

That's your update.

Thanks for reading.

donate

A very close friend, whose judgement I trust, suggested I put a donate link on my site. So, here it is:


Donate to Ric's Single Father Fund
Donations will be used for expenses not due to my own stupidity.

Any amount you feel is appropriate will be appreciated. If you want a mention or a link or a lock of hair, don't hesitate to ask.

[Why am I doing this? See "challenge me this" below.]

challenge me this

I've accepted the NaNoWriMo Novel-in-a-Month challenge.

I'm not going to meet the challenge.

Actually it's not much of a challenge compared to the rest of my life right now, it just one challenge too many.

This morning I woke up too depressed to get out of bed. But I accepted that challenge. I also accepted the challenge of going to work and leaving the Rooster home alone sick from school. This is the longest she's ever been alone. Ever. She's not good with solitude.

Also challenging me is the fact that I have to come up with about $3000 in November to keep my house from going in to foreclosure.

Then there's that challenge of figuring out what food I need to buy so the children don't starve.

And finding time, money and space to put new pads on my brakes to kill the metal-against-metal screech when I stop. And the new seat I should buy to replace the broken one.

And how to not get pulled over because I think my driver's license was suspended today because I forgot to settle a speeding ticket.

And how to come up with the money to satisfy a medical claim judgment to prevent my wages from being garnished on November 25th.

And how to get my dog's hair cut without spending $60 to get her shots updated.

And how to keep my house clean.

And when do I have to pay my gas bill so it doesn't get shut off?

And when will Ex ever get a phone so she can help me with the kids' schedules?

And will I have to leave work early today to take Katie to choir?

When will I have time to practice for the gig Saturday?

Where's the money coming from for Christmas?


Write a novel? Some challenge.

novel excerpt

I've been working 20-hour days. Today was my first opportunity to write. I've only got 800 words, but it was only about 40 minutes work over lunch.

"No Check Accepted"

That's how the sign read when I started down this long road of making this country a better place to live. It was seven years ago when I first succumbed to the call of the demon in my mind. Since I was old enough to understand the grammatical complexities of the English language, an ethereal hand slapped the inside of my skull whenever I saw a grammatically imperfect public notice. A voice attached to the hand screamed "FIX IT!" And I didn't. I couldn't.

At least I couldn't until that day in the Super Delicious Chinese Buffet at the Southwest Isle strip mall. Light from large plate-glass windows across the front of the restaurant lit up the small cardboard sign on the cash register counter.

All I wanted to do was pay my five bucks and head to the buffet for a big bowl of sweet-and-sour sauce and all the Crab Rangoon I could eat, but the hand came. The voice came. They were more insistent than ever--wanting what I didn't want.

The lack of food in my body must have been making me mentally weak. I'm sure that was it.

I succumbed. Seven years ago and seven days after my twenty-second birthday, I asked the Chinese woman for chopsticks. As she bent under the counter to get me some, I took a pen from the pocket of my button-down oxford and scribbled in an "s" so it read "No Checks Accepted," all in red letters except my newly-scrawled "s" in black.

The country was now a better place to live and was liberated--I'd lost my sign-fixing virginity. I was ready to go again. Near the single step down to the seating and eating area there was another sign. This one read "Watch Your Steps."

One quick scribble of my pen later, and the superfluous "s" was obliterated.

The food tasted better than it ever had.