Don't Forget Valentine's Day

O.K, so February began to be an important month for me when I was a kid in elementary school due to the fact that in my school everyone in the class received a valentine from everyone else in the class regardless. That way there would be no hurt feelings, I liked this because I was an odd looking kid with funny eyes and chances are I would not have scored many valentines otherwise. We always spent time decorating old shoe boxes or tissue boxes with our names on them so our valentines could be stuffed into the slot in the top we had cut with blunt scissors. I could relate to Charlie Brown each year when he didn't get any valentines, my own insecurity was that if it weren't for the class policy of a valentine card for everyone I would be holding an empty box at the end of the day. It did not help that my younger brother Jim always insisted that I looked like Charlie Brown, that was when we (like all the other kids we knew) were sporting those parent inflicted buzzed hair cuts with the custom nicks and gouges. At the time I refused to accept this but now looking at those pictures, dang if he wasn't right I looked like Charlie Brown's ugly twin brother. The other great thing about Valentine's Day when you are a kid is the candy. Yeah you know the hearts with words on them like "EAT ME", "MY LOVE", or "SO SWEET". They tasted a bit like tooth paste.

Other great things happened in February for me. Two of my children were born in February. My first child a daughter and my first son were both born in February. I remember taking Melinda into the hospital in a snow storm driving our 1974 Dodge Club Cab Custom 100 pick up truck. Eighteen plus hours of labor, and an episiotomy later Kristine was born. Life would never be the same. I was in a state of stupefied amazement, my wife never looked prettier as she held our child. I could not believe the contortions she had just gone through to give birth. I still can't fully appreciate why women have more than one child, Melinda has done it 6 times, it is most definitely a woman thing. While sitting in that hospital room the next day, Valentine's Day, a question shocked me out of my state of bliss, "So what did you get me for Valentine's Day honey?" my wife asked. I thought to myself "Holy crap!" I'd forgotten about Valentine's Day, with all of the excitement of the birth, being a new dad etc. I had not given a thought to a card, candy or flowers, nothing for my wife. The only response I could think of was "You got a baby what more do you want?" This went over about as well a truck load of pig manure at a 4th of July picnic. She acknowledged that Kristine was much better than anything I, her hopelessly non-romantic husband could ever come up with in a million years even if I had been personally coached in "How to be a romantic guy school" by Saint Valentine himself or Fabio (Fabio was big in those days).

The best thing that ever happened to me in February was getting married. Melinda and I tied the knot on February 11th at the Idaho Falls Temple, 26 years ago. It is a day I shall never forget. It has been one heck of a ride ever since. I do not regret any of it, well except perhaps forgetting her birthday one time and oh yeah there was that one Valentine's Day, and then the time I forgot to ... you get the picture. I remain in love with Melinda and while 26 years ago I did not imagine it was possible to love her more than I did then, I do love her more now. So about now you're wondering what is this dork going to do for his wife for this anniversary and Valentine's Day. Truthfully I am not certain, it is not for lack of thinking about it.

I was at Wal Mart a couple of days ago doing the grocery shopping, my brother-in-law John was with me, we saw two teenage girls admiring a display of large over stuffed heart shaped pillows and giant teddy bears talking about how this one was "so cute" obviously hoping beyond hope that the young lads they had a crush on would see them fondling the pillows and stuffed bears and would get the idea to buy them one. I approached and said "can I ask your advice about something" they smiled and humored me. "Do you think I should get my wife one of these for Valentine's Days". They both assured me that one of the large teddy bears was a guaranteed winner. I suggested that if I gave her a large teddy bear she may like it more than me and I didn't want that. The teenagers replied "no she won't", but I was pretty sure that she didn't want a giant teddy bear. My eight year old daughter over heard my recounting of the story to my wife and while I was putting her to bed she offered "Dad I think you should get Mom the giant teddy bear, she won't get rid of you for the bear, and us kids don't need to worry because she loves us too much". I now know what to get for my eight year old daughter for Valentine's Day. I won't get her lingerie because she has always insisted that lingerie is a gift for the man not the woman. I don't think the reverse is true. I doubt she would be impressed if I bought her a pair of men's boxers with hearts on them that said "Eat Me" for me to wear as a gift to her. The more clothes I have on at this age the better just trust me. So I guess we'll see what I can come up with for Melinda.

To all you in love people out there I hope you have a great Valentine's Day.

How to be a Grandparent

I was looking for books at the local library last night and found one titled "How to be the Favorite Grandparent". The title shocked me. I wasn't looking for anything on grandparents or grand parenting. I did know one needed a book to learn to be a grand parent, nor did I know there was an actual competition between competing grandparents for the love and favor of their grand children. First let me explain, this is in no way meant to reveal that any of my children are expecting a child at this point in time. I do look forward to the day when I will be a grandparent but when that happens fortunately is not my decision. One of my younger brothers, (no not my little brother, I have no older brothers only younger brothers and they are all bigger than I am so I cannot really refer tot hem as "my little brother") fairly recently became a grandfather. He said it had been a major goal in his life, partly due to the fact that his/our grandfathers both died when we were relatively young and our father died before any of us had children of their own.
Jim (my brother) said before his grandson was born that he was going to be the best grandparent ever, I asked how he thought this would happen and he said he was going to let his grandchildren do whatever they wanted at his house and give them money. I think he is on to something.

I do have some recollections of both of my grand fathers. They are good memories for the most part. They were both vastly different from each other and I remember enjoying being with both of them. They both died when I was fairly young so I did not have much of a chance to get a handle on their faults. Grandpa Jim (maternal grandfather) was a tall, relatively quiet man, who liked history. He was always calm and gentle, this was opposite from my grandmother who was stern, verbally abusive and generally not a very happy person. My main memory of my grandfather Jim was a walk we took to a small store near my home, we walked around the store hand in hand as he waited for me to purchase a piece of candy. We then walked home talking as I ate my piece of candy. My Grandpa George (paternal grandfather) was a big, wide shouldered man, not terribly tall but he had a bit of swagger about him, he was loud and for the most part good tempered. My grandmother was small, a good cook and relatively pleasant when I was younger. I remember getting on Grandpa George's train when I was a boy. He was an engineer for the Southern Pacific and Santa Fe Railroad. Needless to say I had an interest in trains as a young boy.

It is interesting that I have a similar goal to my brother Jim. I want to be a grandfather someday. I think his idea of being permissive with the grand children and giving them things is a good one. I intend to teach them important things like "pull my finger", how to bait a hook and catch fish, and to enjoy the outdoors to name just a few. I hope I can be a good grandfather like my father-in-law has been for my own children and his other grand children. He loves them all and they have no doubt that he does. It is fun to watch his eyes twinkle with joy and occasionally fill with tears as he watches them. I will always wonder what it would be like to watch my own father be a grandpa but find great satisfaction with the great job my father-in-law does as a grandparent. My in-laws have never been blessed with a great deal of material wealth but in the eternal scheme of things they are perhaps the wealthiest people I know. My dad used to tell me that "people are more important than things" that is an idea which can be lost in the day to day struggle to make a life in this world but remains true none the less. Like any good grandparent I anticipate thinking that my grandchildren are the smartest, best looking little buggers on the planet and making certain that everyone else knows I think so. It is not just about families it is all about families. Our greatest joys and greatest sadness come as part of being in a family.

One of my bother-in-laws has recently moved in with use as he starts a new job and waits for him home to sell so he can move his family to be with him. I can tell he misses his wife and children. Perhaps being separated from family members even if only for a short and then being reunited gives us an idea of how the final reunion will be with those who have passed beyond this life before us will be. I suppose at some point I will get to see my father be a grandfather and I will have a chance to get to know my own grandfathers who died when I was very young. What a day that will be.

Imagine That

The stomach ailment which plagued our family appears to have run its course. Melinda has been busy making holiday treats. The children have been shopping today for the sibling whose name they drew. It has snowed some more setting the mood for a "White Christmas". Alex and Karlee may have found an apartment they can afford to move into after they are married. It is a small, very small, no it is just flat out tiny but I am certain they can turn it into a love nest.

The apartment reminds me if when I was a kid building "forts" with my siblings or friends. They were small but comfortable and it was amazing how many people you can fit into one. The art of "fort" building requires very little in terms of materials but it does require a great deal of imagination. There is the Inside fort and the Outside fort. The Inside fort is generally constructed of sheets, blankets, towels, animal hides and the occasional table cloth stretched over the back of chairs, couches, pianos or lamps thus forming a tent of sorts. Add some imagination and the odd sibling or two and the hours fly by when the weather is too bad for outside play. It is however important not to forget that mothers can be a bit uptight about the toll an inside fort can take on the furniture and linens. This is one of the times a kid can hone their negotiating skills. I remember negotiating with my mother not to tear down the third world refugee camp like tent city which had popped up in the living room. "But Mom, we promise to take it down and put everything away when we are done playing", we never seemed to be done playing and my Mom would end up picking up and putting away. I always had a slight twinge of guilt watching my mother cleaning up after me, but never enough guilt to pitch-in and help. I am convinced that moms let their kids make forts because first, it gets them out of the way for a while and second, somewhere in the dark recesses of their childhood memories they remember having a blast doing it themselves.

The Outside fort could be built out of odds and ends of lumber, bent nails and then placed over a deep hole dug in the lawn, or vacant lot, or it could be a large appliance box or series of boxes with windows and doors cut into it using Mom's best kitchen knife. In the first instance the deeper the hole, the better. With a make-shift roof in place you had a foxhole type structure which provided protection during dirt clod wars with friends and enemies. Yes we really threw clods of dirt at each other and we threw them hard with the intent of inflicting severe pain. Yeah I realize that now it is probably a crime to have dirt clod wars and children caught doing it are probably labeled as violent and forced to go to counseling. In the second instance the cardboard box fort provided a shady place to read books on a summer day or to campout in or just to play. The ultimate was to have a large appliance box, turn it on the side, and make it into a "tank". This was accomplished as the occupants walked on hands and knees forward or backward moving the box across the yard. It was pretty much like a cardboard "hamster ball" for kids only without the see through feature. Not being able to see where you were going only added to the excitement.

I was just thinking today how much fun I had playing with my siblings and friends in forts. Don't get me wrong I am not advocating that we get ride of X-box, Ipods, computer games, Dish TV etc. Nor do I suggest that children be given empty boxes for Christmas gifts. Trust me I like my computer and Dish TV, I was just enjoying some good memories, this seems to happen with more frequency now as my hair turns greyer.

So what the heck let the kids build a fort, they are on break from school, might as well let them sleep in it too, I can promise they are going to ask if they can. Have a Merry Christmas and a happy new year!

Eruption

My youngest daughter called her mother today from school asking if she could come to pick her up because she didn't feel well. Melinda obliged, and as she and Mary were walking down the hall to leave, Mary began to barf. After leaving three large pools of noxious liquid on the hall carpet Melinda managed to get Mary into the restroom to finish the job. Melinda nonchalantly mentioned to the school secretary that there was some vomit in the hall. Without flinching the secretary said "Yeah that is going around, I'll call the custodian".

Memories from my own elementary school days came flooding back as Melinda told me the story over the phone. I can smell it now, vomit and that powder stuff the custodian would sprinkle on it before he cleaned it up. I remember at lunch one day at Crow Elementary school when one of the Pitch kids who had recently begun to use smokeless tobacco and put some into a fellow classmate's plate of stew. This resulted in an instantaneous violent eruption of projectile chunk blowing. Sympathetic puking began almost immediately by students sitting near by. Not unlike the pie eating scene from the movie "Stand by Me". On one occasion I remember feeling a little green but was determined not to throw up because it is such an unpleasant experience. I was sitting in my desk on the top floor of the school listening to the teacher and trying very hard not to blow. It was a warm spring day and the room felt stuffy and uncomfortable. A quarter sized amount of stomach contents made it through and onto my desk. I looked around nobody seemed to notice, only fifteen minutes left in class and I could make a break for it. Unexpectedly the teacher stopped talking, looked at me and asked, "John are you feeling sick?" I remember thinking "what a stupid question", "No I feel great that is why there is a small pool of partially digested food on my desk". I began to respond, all that came out was "Ralph! Aaarrfff, sploosh!" the torrential flow hit the desk top and spilled onto the floor. I felt as if the Devil himself was being pulled kicking and screaming from my stomach. My teacher looked at me crossly and said, "Get your things and go home", there was none of this be certain to stop at the office to sign out or to call your parents to be certain somebody was home etc. In those days it was pretty much a no-nonsense approach. Virtually everybody's mother was at home and there was no question that I could walk the half mile home, so what if I had the dry heaves and was hallucinating. I didn't worry too much about what my classmates would think, they had all done something similar and besides the girl I had a crush on was not at school that day due to an upset stomach.

My daughter commented on the ride home, "Well that was embarrassing", my wife attempted to calm her fears said well nobody saw you do it except one third grade boy. Fortunately it was not the third grade boy she has a crush on, unfortunately he is a third grade boy and third grade boys like to talk about stuff like barfing. Her only hope is that he gets sick also.

So as the holiday season is upon us, try not to over do it with the food and drink. If you have to vomit try to do it in private. Trying to hold it never works and as Shriek says "Better out then in". One other thing for those of you who consume alcohol to the point of barfing, what is with that? It certainly can't be much fun hugging the base of a toilet puking your guts out.

Rabbits, raisins and "Peeky the Butt Cheek Elf"

I know the reason for the season is to celebrate the birth of Jesus Christ Savior of all mankind. Today however I have been reflecting upon Christmas memories having to do with families. I do not think it would take much of a stretch to link families with Christ's birth etc, etc, so you Purists can settle down and enjoy or run off screaming blasphemy! warning all creatures great and small to not read this blog.

One of the Christmas memories my mother is fond of telling and she has told to everyone she meets around Christmas, has to do with a rabbit and it's dropping. To my children, wife, and my siblings, nieces, nephews, and anyone else who has been told this story more than once I am truly sorry for the pain you may well be reliving. I am only going to touch on it briefly. As the legend goes Santa Claus (wink, wink, nudge, nudge) had bestowed the gift of a real live white rabbit to the wee Slaughter children. Upon entering the living room to inspect the booty (the pirate definition of booty not the Snoop Doggie Dog one) we were reportedly delighted to see the rabbit hopping around. My sister always thinking of food made the observation that the rabbit had left some raisins behind for us. My parents, by my mother's report, broke into fits of laughter and nearly wet themselves. I remember none of this and only have my mother's word on it since Dad has been dead for 25 years. I do remember that the candy canes and carmel pop-corn balls in the stocking were infested with ants and I was more than a little annoyed by the fact that Santa had brought insect infested goods into the house.

My wife reminded me of a Christmas memory relating to our own children. My mother had purchased a book called "Peeky the Curious Elf" for the children, they liked it and read it a great deal. In some of the drawings of "Peeky" his pants ride just a tad bit low, I am certain the intent was to make the story even more charming. My oldest daughter, a blossoming artist decided that the original artist had left out an important detail, the "butt crack". She in a very uniform and anatomically correct manner added the "butt cheeks" to the drawings of "Peeky". When she was done the children renamed the book "Peeky the Butt Cheek Elf". Melinda and I had a good laugh as we talked about it. Melinda is going to see if she can find a copy of the book someplace and give it as a gift to all of the kids next year. Of course we'll have Kristine do the artistic editing first.

I also remember the Christmas before my grandfather Slaughter died. I was just 6 years old at the time but the trip made an impression on me, not because grandpa was dying because I didn't know that at the time, but because of the trip we took that Christmas Eve. I distinctly remember my parents loading all of us children in our pajamas into the back of the old Volkswagen van with some luggage and packages and heading out into the night. We were traveling from our home in Ukiah to Bakersfield, a trip of 400 miles on old highways, this was pre-interstate. I know that as I faded in and out of sleep during the trip my main concern had to do with how Santa was going to find us and deliver the gifts that night in Bakersfield and not to our empty home in Ukiah. My father who always loved Christmas sensed my concern and reassured me that Santa had been alerted to our temporary new address that evening. This placated me for a while but I was till uneasy about the whole thing. Later in the trip my father said "Hey look kids there is Santa and his sleigh, he is heading the same direction we are, I'm certain he knows were to find us" as he pointed up into the star lit night skies. I strained my eyes and to this day I am pretty certain I saw Santa and his reindeer, either that or some blood vessels burst in my eyes because I was looking so hard, but you get the picture. The next morning we woke up to some gifts and stockings and spent a day or two playing with our toys. I don't remember seeing grandpa very much during that visit, but it has been a good memory for me over the years. It helped cement in my mind that my father knew what he was talking about and I could trust him. Thinking about it now makes me miss him a great deal. He never got to see his own grandchildren open their gifts on Christmas and I have often wondered what it would be like to see him with his grandchildren at Christmas, to hear him speak to the Nisa man in Danish in reference to each of the children.

Anyway enjoy Christmas this year, piss poor economy and all. If your father is still alive don't take him for granted this Christmas, if he is gone think of those good Christmas pasts. Merry Christmas!

"Dad you're like Kung Fu Panda."

It has been a while since I have posted a blog, but life has been busy. The new dog needed to be spayed, the Tahoe had to go in to the body shop to be fixed, I spent a whole weekend in Afton and Rock Springs for work, I tolerated a 2 hour CES in-service and had my Institute class observed by the CES "dude" from Casper, and I tested for 2 martial art belts.
So today is Thanksgiving and at 5am, I woke Miller up to go hunting with me, he didn't want to get up. Melinda got very ill so I decided to stay home and get the food ready. Melinda wouldn't let me do the pies, she is considering letting me do the rolls. I did the turkey and stuffing and will almost certainly be able to peel the spuds without being challenged for the job.
I am looking forward to going hunting tomorrow, Sandi (the new dog) has recovered from her surgery and I hope we can find some pheasants to shoot. Miller and I have a couple of deer tags to fill so the weekend may shape up nicely as long as I don't get sick and provided Miller will get up at 5am.
Michael recently tested for and earned his red belt. In 6 months he can test for his black belt. I think it is pretty cool that he has stuck with it and has developed a pretty decent jump double kick. I have made it to green belt which is the fourth belt in rank in the long line road to black belt. I managed to do it in 6 months. Not too bad for a middle aged fat guy. I still haven't mastered the jump double kick yet, but the ground shakes when I do a back break fall and my bo staff skills are beginning to take shape. A couple of weeks ago at the end of a particularly long and strenuous practice as we were walking out to the car, Michael and Mary both said "Dad you're like Kung Fu Panda". I was not certain if this was meant to be a compliment or a gentle slap down. I asked what they meant by the comment, both answered in unison "I don't know". Normally I would take this to mean they didn't want to hurt my feelings and thus used the "I don't know" card to save their skins. I had not held out any delusion that I resemble a grey haired Jackie Chan or anything so on this occasion I allowed myself the luxury of thinking "Kung Fu Panda? Hummmm, well he did turn out to be pretty cool by the end of the movie". So now I am working on figuring out the "Wooshy finger hold" so I can impress the judges at the next test, and perhaps I'll use Micheal and Mary to it demonstrate on.
Have a good Thanksgiving everyone. Jim, I wish I could be at the Chili Bowl this year.

A Great Day

O.K. so the election is over. History has been made, let us just hope that President-Elect Obama is up to the task and will do no lasting damage to our freedoms. Having now covered this topic I would like to describe a great day I had. Melinda has a great gift for knowing what can make me happy. With a birthday coming up in a few days she recognized that I might be happy with a new dog. I believe that this idea came after she read my last blog about dogs. A few days ago an opportunity came for me to get a rescue dog from Cheyenne. Not just any dog but a 5 month old registered Brittany Spaniel named Sandi. On Saturday Miller, Mary and I drove to Douglas and met the people who were giving up Sandi. After some tears by those saying goodbye to Sandi, we loaded her into the Tahoe and headed for home. All and all she has settled in pretty well, she is not as well trained as we were led to believe. The up side of this is that we can train her as we want to. I have been interested to see if Sandi had any hunting instincts, this morning as I was following her on her morning walk she came to point and flushed a pheasant, then flushed three more. I was pretty excited, this dog can hunt. I waited until about 9am and called an old hunting buddy to see if he was doing anything today and if he knew of a good place to hunt pheasants. He said well you got a new dog and I got a new shotgun sounds like a deal. We met at 10am and within 30 minutes were hunting. To make a potentially long story short, Sandi did pretty well for her first day hunting. I got to shoot my gun several times, I was able to spend time with a good friend I haven’t hunted with for years and we got our limit of pheasants. My back hurts, I’m tired but I can’t stop smiling, I called Melinda and said “I had a great day”! I hope to have more great days recognizing of course that there will be some crap days mixed in। I hope you had a great day and if not I hope you have one real soon.