Not Very Handy

I went to an Indian restaurant for lunch today and saw the most amazing thing.

When camera phones were first introduced I asked myself, “What’s the point?” Rarely have I found myself out-and-about and felt the immediate need for a camera; certainly not often enough to warrant the need for one in EVERY cell phone. Now some people feel the need to snap shots of themselves doing every day things, but I’ve never felt important enough to post pictures of myself shopping for flip-flops or pumping gas. If I go somewhere special I remember to take along the camera and that’s that.

Today I learned what camera phones were for. Attached is a real picture I took with my “phone” earlier today. This shot was taken in the parking lot of the afore mentioned restaurant where I had lunch (I will not divulge the name incase there are lawsuits pending). While enjoying my chicken tikki marsala I did not notice the dearth of wheel chaired patrons, but since I don’t often see a lot of wheel chairs around that makes sense. In hindsight I think there might have been something more sinister going on here…

Here is what the front of the building looks like from the parking lot. I added the handicap symbol in order to demonstrate where the handicap parking spot is located. The ramp is a not well maintained and some of the concrete is crumbling making the ride bumpy. And there is a random electrical tube poorly located at the top of the ramp…but I think that these problems can be overlooked once you take into account the obstacle waiting at the top of the ramp. In case it’s hard to tell (I’m no Ansel Adams) there is no gate at the top, just solid fence. This is a real picture.

I laughed and I cried, funny and sad all at once.

From the Mouth of Babes

After reading a few blogs (doing some homework for a change) I realized that most blogs fall into categories.  For instance some focus on politics, others humor, others news, others sports, you get the picture.  I don’t think I know enough about any of these categories to get that specific and still post articles on a semi-regular basis.  So here’s what I’m gonna do, I’m gonna give most of my posts a category.  If you don’t want to read about my take on that particular topic, skip it.  If you’re smart you’ll skip the whole thing all together and do something productive with your time like working at the food bank or playing guitar hero.  This way I can post stuff, and you can decide if it’s worth your valuable time.  Fair?  I think so.  Here goes.

 

HUMOR

 

To kick off the humor section I’ve decided to share a couple of things my middle child said to me that I find funny.  Before we start I need to establish some ground rules about the family.  I think they will be a heavy focus of the blog, as they are a heavy focus of my life.  But I’m not sure if they should be named in the blog.  After all, I’ve made the decision to put my name, opinions, and picture out, they did not.  So, to protect the not-so-innocent I will give the family quasi-pseudonyms.  I’ve got three kidd-o’s.  The first will be referred to as “Number One Son” (see where this is going?), the second will be “Number Two Son”, and the youngest, my only daughter, will be known as “Princess”.  The boys already call her that, so I guess I’ll follow suit.  I haven’t settled on a proper name for the Misses.  I need to make sure my pseudonym doesn’t get me in trouble (I asked her if I could call her as “Ball and Chain” or “old Battle Ax” or “Rolling Pin” in the blog, but all of those suggestions got me the Evil Eye, so I dropped those options right away).

 

Humorous Tidbit Number One:

Number One Son and Number Two Son have just started soccer practice.  They love it.  Watching little children play soccer is like watching worker bees move a queen bee to a new hive.  They all swarm around the ball for no apparent reason.  There’s no strategy involved, they just known instinctively that near the ball is where they should be.  A few of them kick the ball once in a while and every so often the ball escapes from the pack.  When that happens the swarm scratches its head in confusion, and a dozen parents yell in unison “Go get the ball!”  But the best part isn’t the swarm around the ball.  The best part is that since these kidd-o’s are only four to six years old their attention span matches their age in minutes.  So at any given moment two or more of them wander away from the swarm idly picking clovers or looking for whales in the clouds, and the goalie is swinging on the posts like a monkey or flopping in the net like a snapper on the deck of a shrimp boat.  Jr. Soccer is nothing but straight comedy.

 

Humorous Tidbit Number Two:

Number Two Son refused to call his shin guards by their proper name.  Despite repeated attempts to correct him he seems incapable of putting the words “shin” and “guard” together.  We try and try but to no avail.  The Misses and I break the word down for him and he can successfully say “shin” and “guard”, but when referring to the piece of plastic that covers his lower leg he constantly says at the top of his lungs to anyone who will listen, “Shit. N. Guards.”

 

Humorous Tidbit Number Three:

Most parents give fair warning to their children that trouble is on the way if they do not listen.  Children tend to know what is coming when parents reach the end of their rope.  Bill Cosby explains it plainly in what should be required viewing for every expecting parent in the movie Bill Cosby, Himself when he declares “Let the ritual beatings begin”. (If you haven’t seen the movie, you’ve done yourself a disservice, here’s a link to the second half, Bill Cosby, Himself)  But in order to avoid going through the trouble of smacking backsides, most parents have adopted the age old countdown system.  Something on the order of, “If you don’t get in bed before I count to three…”  Now children’s reaction time can be slow, so we give them an out with the two-and-a-half, two-and-three-quarters, two-and-four-eights…  So tonight, as I ushered my children to bed I gave them the countdown.  Number One Son needed a little extra time to climb the ladder on to his top bunk, so I gave him the two-and-a-half count courtesy.  After I reached two-and-a-half, Number Two Son looked at me from the safety of his bed and called out, “Two-And-Three-Car-Keys”.  I need to work on fractions with that boy.