Thoughts..

Have you ever wondered how guys and gals can have a relationship, and NOT want to chop the other's head off at some point?



I mean, when you think about it, everything about a male and a female is diametrically opposed to the other.



Guys communicate more by doing than talking. We show our support by providing. We do things, and let our actions dictate our feelings.



Women? They talk. They talk about anything, and they talk about EVERYTHING. They talk about their hair, their clothes, their kids, their dreams, their job, their sex life, their therapist, yadda, yadda, yadda..



Granted, this is a generalization, and there are exceptions to this, but they are damned few and far between.



Let's talk about clothes!



For men, dressing up means wearing the jeans that DON'T have holes in them, a clean t-shirt with no witty sayings on it, and sneakers. Button-down shirt? Nah. Slacks? No way, this is a PARTY we're going to, not work! Loafers or Patent leather shoes? Only if the patent leather shines enough that we could possibly sneak a peek up a dress or skirt!



For ladies? Yeah, get two or three outfits out, ask the man his opinion, then ignore his suggestion, and wear what you were planning on wearing anyway. Then spend the next TWO HOURS applying makeup, hairspray, mousse, foundation, eyeliner, lipstick, mascara, hair curlers, hair straightener, perfume, etc. on. By the time you're done, the guy's gotta go wash his face, because he fell asleep in the easy chair, and has drool on the side of his face!



Shoes? For ladies, it's an addiction. What pair would look good with which outfit? Does this match the color of my eyes or handbag? Do they help to show off my pedicure and polish on my toenails?



For guys.. As long as they're comfortable, and we can wear the heck out of them, one or two pairs will do, thank you.



Food:



Yeah, I'm going there!



Girls, you totally confuse us on this one.



Let's start at the beginning. When a guy and girl date for the first time, she'll eat like a bird, hardly touch anything, and talk his ear off the entire time. He'll order what he usually would, and enjoy it. She'll take her leftovers home, and let them rot in the fridge, because she didn't really want the dish she ordered, but she doesn't want to seem ungrateful for the date.



Next, after getting to know each other better, a change happens. She'll actually start eating. However, this doesn't keep her from talking the entire time. So not only do us guys get to eat our food, but we get to see how yours looks too. The guy keeps up with the same thing. Order what you would normally, and try to keep the food pieces that could possibly fly from her mouth from landing on your plate.



Then they become an "item" or even get married. Then you find out this lady does something you never even considered: She eats ALL THE TIME. not big sit-down meals, but she's constantly snacking. Crackers here, a rice cake there, breakfast, a snack bar, a small doughnut, lunch, a candy bar, some Wheat Thins, a diet bar, Dinner, some ice cream, maybe a small slice of pie, a bag of popkorn.



It boggles the mind.



Shopping.



When I shop, I plan on what I'm going to get, know where I'm going, get in, get the stuff, and get out. Job done.



Girls?



Browse. Look over the price of this or that, this would look nice. Let's see what's in this store. I know we don't need anything here, but it would be nice to plan on a time when we might, so let's go in here and see what they've got. Try this on. Try that. What do you think that would look like in "x" room? Ad Nauseum. Can you tell that I HATE shopping? No? I'll tell you then. I HATE SHOPPING.



Yet for all of this, we are somehow able to look past this, and find someone that seems to match us. Our compliment. The other half of our being. The one who can finish your sentance before you even know you're talking about it. The Yin for your Yang.



I don't know how it happens, and I don't know WHY it happens. Yet the thing I find the most humorous about it all is this one simple fact:



The person we come to join with is one who you'd NEVER expect to deal with. They do each and every thing that you don't do, and yet somehow, instead of this being some kind of annoyance, it is something that you wind up cherishing that person for.

The same exact behavior that your brother does that can send you completely over the edge is something that you boast about to your friends because your wife did it..

The stuff that seems to melt your eyeballs to hear about is the stuff that you love when your girlfriend does it...

Nothing's as cute or as adorable when that significant other is at work. They could do something you've sworn you'd never deal with, and it becomes passable..

What is it about these unchecked emotions we've got that makes us more tolerant?

If we were to ever be able to harness the power of an emotion, then I'm sure quite a few of the "world problems" we've got going today would be taken care of.

The wars that we fight would cease, since we could promote tolerance for religious and racial differences.

The political arena would be less of a mess, since we'd be more tolerant of deciet and broken trust issues.

Wages would increase, and the cost of living would decrease, because we'd be wanting to help support and provide for each and every person we came into contact with...

The only real problem I have is that we'd also be wanting to screw each and every face we saw..

For some, that's not considered a "bad" thing.

For me, I'm just too old now to really enjoy it!

Have a great week, and a happy Mother's Day (early) for my lady readers!

Tuesday Blues

Well, as some of you know, I work Tuesday through Friday, and have the weekend off, plus Mondays.

So the normal doldrums of Monday really don't seem to affect me as much as others who have to go back to work on Mondays.

However, Tuesdays for me really kind of suck.

As with most things that I plan, nothing really seems to go according to schedule with my weekends.

I had planned on working on the house. It never got done.

I had planned on cleaning up some of my mess outside with brush that I've been trimming. That didn't get done either, because I'm not one for getting soaked outside when it's nice and dry inside.

I'd thought about taking the wife away to the beach for the weekend. That didn't happen because she'd already made plans, and the weather SUCKED this weekend.

So what did I do?

Nothing.

Not ONE thing.

I sat around the house like a lump, and wondered what I was going to do.


I hate weekends like that.

Usually, I solve that problem by going and playing video games (as I've said before, I'm a gamer!) And because of this, games are an end-all solution to problems.

However, I've also noticed that my excessive game playing has caused problems with the family, so I'm trying to "detox" with the excessive gaming, and work on other constructive ways of dealing with things.

So I was able to do this by just sitting around and watching paint dry.

Yeah. I don't think my idea is working too well yet.

Weekends when my kids are gone to my ex's house are really kind of tough on me. When my kids are at the house, it's kind of easy to forget about the games because I can fill my time with things other than the computer or game system. There are young bodies to tickle, wrestle with, and have fun with.

But when they're gone, the house just seems so empty. There's always a mess or two that didn't get taken care of before they left, and so I'm reminded that they're gone (temporarily) and that I'm alone.

Since getting custody of my kids, there's been one major problem that I've had to face. The toughest part about being a divorced father is trying to stabilize my kids with rules and regulations for my home, but those rules can directly clash with the things my ex will enforce.

My wife and I have tried numerous times to talk with my ex, and get us all on the same page. Yet for all of our efforts, things don't change. Sure, she'll (my ex) give us all of the yes-man attitude, and claim that she'll do her part, but when it comes down to basics, she's always done her own thing, regardless of the problems it may cause not only me, but the kids as well.

I had to face this problem when they got back home this weekend.

My oldest is 13. He's feeling his age, and is trying to learn how to mentally grow. I've encouraged his thinking, and I've tried to instill in him a need to provide stability when he can. Yet for all of my effort, there's a side of his personality that I admire, yet find difficult to deal with when he gets back from his mom's house.

That part is what I tend to call his "lawyer" side.

I encourage his questions. I love seeing his mind work through things, and figure out the next step. I don't love it when he argues an issue to death, and even when proven incorrect, will still argue some points that he feels are valid and warrant special attention.

Take this example:

I, as a gamer, have been persuading (read nagging) my wife for an XBox 360. I have friends who play, and I'd love to get some serious multiplayer Halo or Call of Duty going without having to go over to his house each and every time we'd want to play. My son knows this. He's in favor of the idea mainly because he'd love to be able to play along at some point. After all, playing games with the "big boys" means that he's growing up, right?

So this weekend when he got home, he proceeded to argue with my wife about how we needed to get this gaming system, and the valid reasons for it. I personally don't care if we get this system anytime soon, because I've got other things that can fill my attention span, and keep me occupied. My wife doesn't want another game system in the house, as we've already got a Wii and a "regular" XBox, so the two game consoles are plenty for her.

My son wouldn't let up. He argued. He pleaded, and he begged.

I've tried to teach him that when a parent says "no" that it's final. End of discussion. However, while at his mom's house, I know for a fact (because I've seen it) that the other kids in the house don't abide by these rules. They question, the complain, and they outright defy their parents.

How can I set any kind of ground rules for my family when those rules are completely tossed aside each weekend that they leave my house? How can I instill values that are going to be ignored and rejected by the authority figures my children are living with?

I'm not sure.

All I can hope to do right now is keep the faith.

I give them my unconditional love, my promise of safety and security, and my undying support.

My hope and prayer is that they'll see the good, and want to keep the lessons and things I've taught, and mostly block those things that aren't as constructive that they see and live with at their mom's house.

This is the prayer of a divorced father.

All it takes are a couple of words...

Yeah.

Well, the wife _did_ admit that she called my to-do stuff "men's work".

However, because of that statement, I inferred about the "woman's work" stuff.

Now, this isn't to say that I expected her to _do_ any of the work I was having to do.

But sometimes the most help is an added set of hands. To hold a flashlight, or hand me a screwdriver when I can't reach it, etc..

To blatantly look at me, and tell me you're not going to even be around because it's not your job, it's mine?

Yeah, that's really what got my fur all ruffled.

But we're good now.


Isn't it amazing that there are certain key words that can set someone off?

In just one or two words, I know that I can send my wife from being a loving, caring, kissing, and happy individual into a headhunting, hating, killing, maiming machine.

Well, not all of that, but it does tend to turn her mood completely around...

The same can be said of just about anyone. There are things - words, phrases, insinuations - that tend to rub folks the wrong way.

There might be complete innocence in the uttering of this word, and it can still set off a strong reaction.

Now, this goes both ways.

Some words can take a good mood, and turn it sour.

Some words can take a bad mood, and brighten it considerably.

My hope for myself is to learn how to control these words, and to pick them very carefully.

My reason for this?

It all comes down to a simple gradeschool rhyme, but with a slight addition:

"Sticks and stones can break my bones, but words can break my heart"

Yeah. Outwardly, they don't do any damage. It's the person inside that you're killing when you use these words to cut.

Why is it that some of the "funny" stuff we watch on TV is all about one character cutting down another?

I can rattle off some of these shows: Family Guy. Married, with Children. Two and a Half Men. Seinfeld.

Yeah, some aren't running anymore, but they were wildly popular.

I know that I try to make humorous remarks, and there are times where the stuff I'm ranting and raving about here at work is really quite funny.

However, I'm doing the rant with the anger and angst of the moment, and not thinking about how the person I'm writing about would feel if they were to read the post.

Maybe this is all stemming from my talk with my daughter last night, but I'm really trying to be a good father. I want to be someone my kids will grow up to emulate.

Do I want them to grow up as sarcastic smart-assed little brats with no consideration for another person's feelings, or do I want them to be well-adjusted people who try to make sure each and every person they come into contact with enjoys their company and presence?

Yeah. I think we all would like choice #2 when we're honest with ourselves.

I'll be back to my old self eventually, but for now, thanks for reading the serious side, too!

More rememberance about jobs...

Now, for those of you just tuning in, yesterday I talked about my first job, and what I did and how I managed.

Today? I'm going to talk about some of the jobs that made me who I am today.

After leaving the glorious job at McDonalds, I took a little time to myself, and just decided to be a "free teen" with only the task of continuing my education.

However, that didn't cut it, and I had to get a job.

I was lucky enough to know a man who owned his own construction business, and he was willing to teach me what I'd need to know in order to get by, if I was willing to put in the work.

I agreed, and started my fascination with power tools and building stuff.

At first, I was relegated to cleaning up areas, and prepping new areas for work.

This meant picking up scraps, or sweeping out stuff, or running the "tamping" machine so that the ground was firmly packed, or taping off areas for painting, etc...

After about six months of this, he deemed me ready to learn some real stuff. That's when I learned about hanging drywall, and mudding and taping.

I then graduated to painting.

After that? Cutting lengths for framing.

Then reading plans, and putting up walls and stairs.

Then roofing, and finally installing electrical lines and plumbing.

By the time I'd hit 2 years, he'd gotten quite trusting of me, and gave me a small team of workers to oversee.

Basically, I was a foreman of an 8 man team. We'd go in, clear out an area, prep it, then put up the skeleton frame of the house he was working on.

Once this was done, then we'd head for the next spot, and begin work there while a new team would take over where we'd left off.

I made pretty good money doing this, and I actually loved the work.

It was at this time that I also had my near-death experience.

Once, while working a job, we were required to tear down an existing apartment complex before getting started with the new building.

The new complex was actually 6 stories, and was in poor repair, so the idea was to take down entire floors as quickly as possible. This meant basically gutting the inside of the building, and then dropping the exterior walls down towards the dumpster.

I was walking an inspector through the site one day, and we were talking about where we were going to be running the water and electrical from, because the old headers were bad, and needed to be replaced.

As we were talking, a support beam gave way, and the upper story (I think it was the 5th story wall) fell toward us.

The inspector didn't have any safety equipment on, and so I shoved him out of the way, and then got a 2 ton piece of wall dropped on me. I was knocked unconsious immediately, and I don't know how long it really took for them to get me out. I only remember waking up in the recovery room the next day. I'd dislocated my left shoulder, I had a major concussion, a slight fracture of my L-3 vertebrae, and four broken ribs.

Considering the height that wall fell, and the weight of it, I am one lucky man to be able to be writing to you today about this.

Anyway, because of that accident, I decided to change careers. Since I was still in college, I decided to see what else I could get into.

Information Technology was still HUGE at this point, so I decided to get my degree in networking administration. I also decided to get some programming experience, and maybe even some hardware knowledge.

However, while going to school, it's great to be an academic, but bills still need to be paid.

Because of this, I took up another job.

I became a Certified Nursing Assistant at a local nursing home.

This was a job that I loved. Not for the work, but for the people.

The work SUCKED. I don't know about you, but you really can't pay a person enough money to go wiping butts, or emptying urinals, or giving showers. There's just not that much money.

However, some of the most interesting and entertaining people you'll ever meet are the ones that know that you're there to help them in their hour of need.

Sure, some see you as Satan incarnate. But others look at and treat you like their own personal guardian angel.

Yes, it was (and probably still is) an unwritten policy to not get attached to your clients, as most were elderly, and destined to eventually die.

However, I don't think that's really possible with the amount of attention and care that you provide for someone in that situation.

Yes, I saw death. In many forms. But I also saw love. I saw peace. I saw contentment. And I saw laughter in the face of adversity.

That, more than anything taught me the strength of the human spirit. It also gave me an even stronger dedication to family.

Since then, I've gotten my degree, and my extra classes, and I've got my dream job.

Sure, the pay isn't what I want, but it still provides very well for me and my family. I'm sure I could go somewhere else, and make much more. However, would making more make me happy?

I don't think so.

As of now? I'm content with my life and where I'm at. I've done what's needed to be done, and now I'm focused on helping my kids get there.

Now that's a journey and tale well worth living, don't you think?

Letters From War.

I had the chance to listen to this song after posting my last experience from being in the service, and I have to be honest, it got me a bit misty-eyed.

The artist is Mark Schultz, and it's off his album Stories and Songs. I don't have any way to embed the song on my page just yet, but once I get the chance, I'm going to do it.

But, since I can't let you hear the song, I can still write down the lyrics, and hope that you get a chance to listen to it at some point.

Here's the song:

She ran to the mailbox on that bright summer's day.
Found a letter from her son in a war far away.
He spoke of the weather, and of friends he had made
Said "I've been thinkin' 'bout Dad and the life he had and that's why I'm here today"
Then at the end he said "You know what I'm fighting for"
It was the first of his Letters From War

She started writing:
You are good, and you're brave
What a father that you'll be someday
Make it home, make it safe
She wrote every night as she prayed..

Late in December, a day she'll not forget
Oh, her tears stained the paper with every word that she read
It said "I was up on a hill, I was out there alone
When the shots all rang out, the bombs were exploding
That's when I saw him, he came back for me
And though he was captured, the man set me free
And that man was your son..
He asked me to write you, I told him I would, oh I swore."
It was the last of his Letters From War

And she prayed he was living, she kept on believing
And she wrote every night just to say

You are good, and you're brave
What a father that you'l be someday
Make it home, make it safe
And still she kept writing each day..

And then two years later, Autumn leaves all around
A car pulled in the driveway, and she fell to the ground
And out stepped a Captain where her boy used to stand
He said "Mom, I'm following orders
I got all your letters, and I've come home again"

He ran in to hold her
He dropped all his bags on the floor
Holding all of her Letters From War


I hope this touches you all as much as it hit home to me.

Hopefully one day they'll all come home!

Finding the Oxymorons in this trail we call Life...

Ok, as you all might have been reading, the marriage my wife and I have has been quite rocky as of late.

For one, we're trying to have another child, but with me fresh from Vas Reversal, and she having problems with ovulation.. Well, it just doesn't quite TICK.

So, the doctors came up with a GREAT solution.

She's on Clomid.

Now, I know that there are a couple of folks out there who know that this drug is one of those that women take to become "extra fertile" and get that chance at the joy of their life.. Multiple births.

However, there are some side effects that I finally got my doctor to admit to, and it made EVERYTHING that has gone on these last few months just seem to fall into place.

Want to know what the biggest side effect is?

DEPRESSION.

That's right. DEPRESSION.

So, let me paint this picture for you...

As a woman, there are things that they desire. Romance, the chase, being pursued, and the conquest.

HOWEVER.. If you're on this drug, and you're depressed? All you're wanting is that raggedly full-length cotton nightie and a blanket, wrap up on the couch, and watch sappy love stories and Discovery Chnnel's documentaries from the OB unit!

So, take the drug to get pregnant, but kill the sex drive in the woman. Sounds like a match to me!

But thanks to the ingenuity of science, you no longer need to "do the act" in order to get that way!

Just have the fine, upstanding man leave his "donation" in a cup at the lab, and they'll do the rest!

No fuss, not much mess, and if the stars are in the right position, everything's good!

Oh, did I mention that the docs claim that these symptoms go away after she gets pregnant?

That's a good thing, considering how RAGING those hormones get when they ARE pregnant!

I could just imagine how great life would be if she was on the drug and then also going through post partum! Ye gods, that would be true bliss..

Anyway, Now that we know what's causing the problem, maybe there's a way for us to work around the issue until such time as there's no need to the drug..

We'll see, and I'll keep you all posted!

More Rants and Raves..

OK..

Now, I'm not going to say that I'm the smartest cookie out there.

I know that in fact I'm pretty oblivious to quite a few things, and there are some things I could really care less about.

But the fact of the matter is: Common Sense just isn't common anymore!

I mean, let's think about this for a second...

You'd think that someone who worked with a car would know that it needs gas, oil, and the occasional tune-up, right?

Yet this same person will then complain when the car breaks down. When asked when the last service was done, they'll say "Service? I put gas in it, what else do you think it needs?"

Observation #2: Someone working at night should know better than to turn lights out. One, it's DARK. Two, IT'S DARK. One coworker of mine is now on disability for falling off a loading dock because he couldn't see where he was going, and fell out of the loading doors. Pure Genious!

Then we have those folks who claim that they can do what they like with their bodies. It's their body, they make the call.

Fine and dandy. Do what you like. But please don't involve me in it. Then it no longer becomes YOUR decision, as it becomes OUR decision, since your actions also influence ME. Think about it.

Lastly, who was the idiot who considered bailing out a financial company? Really?

I mean, these people are supposed to be PROFESSIONALS at finance, and yet they went BANKRUPT!

If you're having to funnel cash into a bank because the bank keeps spending your money, where do you think you'll be getting your cash from? I can guarantee you that it won't be from your bank, because they're spending it all. But yet we're supposed to think it's OK for the government to bail out some finance companies, and expect everything to be A-OK?

I don't get it, and I don't think I ever really will.

Maybe it's just something wrong with MY wiring, and I tend to see things in a different light.

Maybe it's because I'm just too picky, and I want something to go right for a change..

Or maybe I'm just one voice of reason in a sea of idiocy.

I don't know, I really don't care, but I'm beginning to get worried.

Throw me a lifeline if you are one of those who agree with me!

Teen escapades

Time for a trip back in history, to when I was a senior in high school, and getting in TONS of mischief!

My last month of high school seemed so full of things that I did that should have either killed me, sent me to prison, or at the very least left indelible marks on my person.

I'll tell you about one of them..

My first car was a 1971 Volkswagon Super Beetle. It was painted bright orange, so that the rust wasn't easily visible. The heaters worked.. ALL THE TIME.. And one headlight would never stay adjusted right.

This car became a rolling ball of fun that year, as me and my friends would use it to regularly get into all sorts of teen mischief.

On this particular night, we'd decided that we (all 10 of us) were going to go out and "cut cookies" in as many school fields as we could find.

The night started out ominously. I went and picked up all 10 of my buddies, and they piled like sardines in the back of my VW Bug.

For those not familiar with the "Bug", it seats 4, but very uncomfortably. Now imagine two 6' tall guys in the front seats, and 9 guys piles like firewood in the back of this little tin can. (I'd made the modification so that my back seat would fold down flat, and make a type of cargo bed if needed).

Anyway, on our way to pick up some more vehicles, I was pulled over by one of our city's finest.

Everyone was in shock. They didn't know what was going to happen, and they for sure thought we were busted before the night could begin, and confession to potential mayhem to the parents now seemed to be an inevitable conclusion to this night.

However, my cool head prevailed, and I took charge.

"What are you boys doing out this late at night?" the officer asked me.

"My brother and his friends were over at my house this evening, and I'd told their parents that I'd bring them home before 10. As you can see, I fell asleep, and I'm trying to hurry to get them home before they or I get in any more trouble, officer!" I responded in my panicky big-brother voice. (The panic didn't have to be faked, I nearly pooped myself when I'd seen his overhead lights)

I and my passengers got the fish-eye from the officer, and then he handed my ID and info back.

"Get them home, and stay out of trouble" he admonished me. Little did he know how much trouble we'd get into that night.

Promising my eternal diligence, I put the car back into gear, and headed to the first destination.

Three kids got out, and one truck was picked up from a parent's workplace.

Next stop, four more kids and a suburban were acquired.

Now we had three cars, all pretty full, and kids just raring for some mischief.

The town I grew up in is pretty small. However, there are quite a few gradeschools and city parks spead throughout the area. These then became our targets.

My little machine was the pick of the litter for this, as I could drive it up a wheelchair access with no difficulty. Because of this, I was able to get into parks that nobody else could.

I ran bases around baseball diamonds with my car.

I created 25 foot long turf tears trying to create the longest skid.

And I nearly killed us all when running the bases once, I hit the grass outfield, and flipped the car onto two wheels for what seemed like an eternity.

The guys still talk about that one.

But the one thing they always remember is... The Jump.

Near the end of the night, we were headed back to my house to get some drinks, and plan the next night. While on the road home, I noticed a road that joined onto mine that had to come up at least 3 feet before it could join the pavement.

Harps rang, and angels sang when I saw the potential in this one intersection.

I grabbed the maglite that I kept in my glovebox, and asked who was going to "stand watch" at the intersection while I jumped the road.

At first, I didn't get any volunteers, because EVERYONE wanted to go.

Then, when I informed them that I could only take three at a time, in order not to weigh down the car, they drew straws. This also meant that I would be jumping this three times.

The first jump, I only got a 20 foot start. it was decent. Wheels came off the pavement, the landing was a bit rough, but all in all, a good start.

First group climbs out, next group piles in.

For the second jump, I got the car up to about 45 miles an hour. Good takeoff, decent landing, and everyone had a great time pretending to be one of the actors right out of "The Dukes of Hazzard".

Exit group two, enter group three.

For my final jump, I pulled back about 180 feet. I gunned it, and was doing about 80 miles an hour when I hit the jump.

Now, two things occurred to me when I hit the jump the last time.

One, the last group was made up of older and heavier guys.

Two, I hit the jump a bit crooked.

We LAUNCHED.

There is no better way to describe it. If you've seen Top Gun, and the way the catapults shoot the jets off that aircraft carrier, then you know what the Bug looked like taking off from this last jump.

Now, with there being heavier guys in the car, it did something I hadn't dealt with before.. It started to tilt to the heavier side while in the air.

Add to that the complication of being turned a bit when we took off, and you've got a car that's leaning and tilting, and not coming in at a good angle for landing in one piece.

Not only that, but we'd drifted a bit, and we were headed directly for a concrete fountain and pond in someone's front yard.

I held on for dear life, while everyone else just screamed at the top of their lungs.

Luckily for us all, when the car hit, the tires caught, and I was able to turn us away from the fountain while digging a 15 foot furrow in the yard.

Needless to say, I had to spend the next two weeks working on the suspension, in order to clear all the grass and dirt out of the undercarriage, and replace a spring that had broken. But I had accomplished something that night.

Complete infamy in the memories of the fellows who went with me.

It never fails to come up in conversation when I meet one of those guys, even if it has been nearly 20 years since this happened. I think it lives on forever fresh and frightening to know how close we came to making an indelible mark on our lives.

Ah, young boys and their escapades!

My only hope is that my boys don't learn about this, so that I can at least retire without having a heart attack!