The Effects of Withdrawal

Sorrow of sorrows, I went this here entire World Series without observin’ even a minute of any game. I know, I hang my head in shame. But, at least I am man enough to admit it.

Now, I don’t watch much TV and when I do, it is usually the news. (Even though there isn’t much to report on in Dogpatch.) Sometimes, I watch some sports but not near as much as I did in the past. The sports has (gasp) fallen in priority with family and church responsibilities. That said, there are three particular sportin’ events I really enjoy a’watchin’. These are the World Series, college bowl games, and March Madness. They are only on during short, concentrated periods of time and so I figure I am being fairly realistic by limitin’ my moments of sports fanaticism to these relatively small moments.

So, when I miss the ENTIRE World Series, my body goes into convulsions and I find it hard to breathe correctly. Ok, so it isn’t that bad, I admit it. This one did hurt particularly bad, though. I was really pullin’ for the Cards (for Mammy, I’ll say Red Birds) and to not even see them play, I may never be the same. Please pray for a quick recovery – or at least a recovery.

Ode to Popeye

Such simple joy. Pure enthusiasm. All for the sake of a Thomas The Tank toy or a Curious George movie. If only I could bottle it up an’ sell in on the street corner – a person could make a fortune. And no pretenses. No disguisin’ or veilin’ ourselves to meet others’ approval. As adults, we have become deft at deception – fittin’ ourselves into the little molds created by our perception of others perceptions. Notice any irony in that?

A book I am currently a’readin’, “Primal Leadership”, skillfully promotes that it behooves us to become more transparent to others. To stop buildin’ facades and walls of mirrors around ourselves. In reality, what they are a’talkin’ about is true integrity. We live by principles and by so doin’, have no need for the smoke and mirrors acts in which we so commonly engage.

The worst thing about writin’ this diatribe is that I am probably more guilty of this that any reader that happens by. It’s like the scam artist that got all upset at the guy who led him on for weeks as if he was a’fallin’ for the scam only to turn the tables on him. You wasted all my precious time you *&%$#**@! Now, if only I could take my own advice and be able to say like Popeye, “I yam what I yam.”

Shopping in the Oooohhh Zone

Well, strap me down to an ant hill and cover me with honey – I done fell victim again. Now, what has me all riled up, you say? Shoppin’. Shoppin’ with a gaggle of females.

Last Saturday, whilst I was unawares (they must have drugged me or somethin’), somehow I found myself wandering around the local mall with Mammy and three of the younguns. “Oooooh, isn’t this so cuuuute?” “Sweeeet!” “How cute!” “Isn’t this pretty?” “Cuuuuute!” “Don’t you wish you had one of these?” And so it went, on and on for over 30 minutes. In an’ out through the maze touchin’ and handlin’, ooohhing and aaahhhing, pointin’ and agrabbin’, showin’ and mincin’. On top of that, there were a dozen other gigglin’, gapin’ females adding to the chorus of ooohhs and aaaahhhs.

Must escape. Must have air, my mind screamed frantically. Must get out before my masculinity implodes, overwhelmed by the oppressive amount of female giddiness. Finally I made it out, walked around a little to clear my senses then ducked my head and re-entered the Ooooohhh Zone, only to be nearly thrown into a tailspin by returning too quickly. Finally, I managed to shepherd my lot out of that dangerous environment and on to safer stores we went.

Finally, we ended up in Pennys. Mammy quickly found some clothes she wanted to try on, as did one of the older girls. That left yours truly with the two younguns. Not that I minded that – they can be a passel of fun. The problem was, they wanted to find and ride the escalators and the elevator. So off we went. Up and down the escalators we went, people wondering if we done got ourselves lost or something. Kind of like the lab mice that have always found the cheese in the maze in exactly the same place all the time and now suddenly someone moved the cheese and they can’t find anything.

After that little bit of embarrassment, we ended up walking into a store decorated for Halloween, only to find it to be an “alternative” store with strange body piercing jewelry, incense, racy clothing, gothic paraphenelia, and a multi-tatooed, nose and tongue-pierced, pink highlighted haired clerk. I immediately figured out we were in the wrong kind of store and proceeded to devise and execute an exit strategy.

Next came the trip on the elevators. I don’t know if’n your younguns do this but mine like to jump up and down through the whole ride, then giggle as their stomachs give a little lurch at the end. Thoughts of country hicks that seldom make it to “the city” were reflected in eyes of passersby as the youngest let out with “Can we do it again?”

It was then back to more ooohhhhs and aahhhss in the girls clothing section, only to be followed by cries of despair and anguish as one daughter lamented that since we wouldn’t buy her anything that day, it means we never buy her anything, period. Blubbering all the way to the car, grinding on my nerves – I reflected “Now, why do I do this?”