True Love...

is cleaning your wife's urine off the bathroom floor.

Just thought I'd share a little tid-bit.

Cheers!

Anger Management training streams of consciousness (unedited)

As the speaker paced back and forth espousing his propaganda I nervously shifted in my seat. "He's getting a little too close to me," I thought, terrified that he might request my name or ask me for my opinion. "What would my opinion be?" I thought. "How can I have an opinion without knowing what he's asking of me or knowing what he thinks?" I snap out of it as everyone around me begins to laugh. " I wonder what he said that's so funny? It probably wasn't that funny. I just can't believe that we've been here 45 minutes and we're still on the first slide. We have 29 more to go. He jumps from subject from subject almost completely disjointed from each one, but he's so passionate about it. oh, no, it's that lady again! She always has something to say. Why do people like that talk? They just aren't self-aware. (Not like I am anyway.) The details are hardly engrossing. In fact, the more words spoken the more meaning lost. I sip my coffee and wonder why I bought this terrible coffee out of the gas station cappacino machine. It reminds me of when I first started drinking coffee in 8th grade. I think that possibly stunted my growth. Too bad. I always wanted to be tall. I'm snapped back to reality as the speaker loses his train of thought. I think he might have seen me writing. I wonder what he'll do. He reads a quote from a philosopher. "Serenity comes from having few expectations" -Lou Marinoff. What a name for a philosopher. I can't take a philosopher seriously if his first name is Lou. Plus, it's a cop out quote. Why don't you just have no expectations? Now the annoying lady is speaking again. At least I can manage my anger, even if she can't. There seems to be a high proportion of brown nosers in the class. Another sip from my thick, lukewarm coffee reminds of my wasted $1.05. Coffee should never be this thick, it's making me nauseous. I wonder how many people in here are learning something? I must have horrible breath. The taste in my mouth is like curdled milk. I feel like I should drink a little more just to get rid of the taste. I adjust my tie and am filled with pride when I feel the knot. This has to be one of my best double winsor I've ever tied. The key is the kimple. I'm very happy with this dimple. It's just a little off center, but that really builds character. I nod my head as if I'm listening to the speaker. Maybe he thinks I'm so interested in the class that I'm excitedly writing down notes.
(Break)
The video:
You've got to love the training videos. This one starts off with some blues and a guy walking into a bar. He's obviously had a bad day. I can't wait to see more. Everyone looks interested this is about the best fun they've had all day. There's just something about a flickering T.V. that you can't turn away from.

Gainesville

Gainesville
Originally uploaded by NealeT.

A few weeks ago we evacuated because Wilma was coming. We went up to visit Jenn's cousins at UF and had a great time. We learned all about UF and F.I.G.H.T. (fierce Israeli guerilla hand-to-hand tactics). It's pretty intense. I'm definately going to buy my own set soon.

A Tribute to Tara, Heath, and Barbie

I have some happy news I would like to report to the world: the stretch mark cream is working. Yes, good news indeed. Neale and I had our October obstetrician appointment today and found out our ultrasound results returned positive and the baby's heart is beating at a normal pace. I had some proud moments in addition to these, which I think some of our readers can relate to (dangling participle, I know). First of all, when the doctor viewed my stomach to measure me, he said "Oh, no stretch marks" as if they could already be there, but had not arrived yet. In addition, when he was feeling around above my belly button to find the top of my uterus, he said, "oh, I see you do crunches". Nice to know my hard exercise efforts are appreciated.
Anyway, I just wanted to share this exciting news with those who cared about me enough to give me stretch mark cream.
Jenn

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times

Moving to a new city has it's ups and downs. You don't know anyone, no one knows you, you get lost, you discover new and exciting places, and other such things. But by far the best thing is that Jenn will sit down with me and watch TV. (It also helps that I still haven't begun working and might not until late next week, thank God for credit.) In the summer of 2004 Jenn was completely disgusted by the obscene amounts of movies that Heath and I watched. I wasn't working just taking classes and I didn't have a daily schedule at all. Jenn worked and was continually frustrated to come home to me sitting on the couch or at the computer. Of course I couldn't see what all the commotion was all about...It's not like I had anything to do that day except watch movies. According to Jenn there were various ways I could help out around the house and contribute, if not to society, then to our family unit.

But now, the tables have turned. Jenn, with nothing better to do, has taken up the life of being a couch-potato. And it is glorious. We start our day by sleeping in. We then might snack on some breakfast and watch television. When we're done with that we take showers and move onto lunch, which is then shortly followed by another television show. We then walk around our new apartment and pretend to straighten up and the like. We then either take an afternoon nap or watch another television episode. Next we prepare for the evening. We dress in some of the finest t-shirts and shorts and leisurely make our way to our mail box. We then convene for dinner and settle down to watch some more TV. Then we get ready for bed and watch some more TV well into the night, because we know we can sleep in the next day and get up to start our television watching all over again.

Ahhhh, the sweet sound of Jenn's voice calling me to watch some more television, I must end this blog session. Back to the grindstone...

P.S. All the television I've mentioned us watching has been the first season of Lost. We absolutely refused to watch it last season, but have since given in to the pressure. There's just nothing much to watch on TV.

Back in the Saddle Again

After reading some absolutely brilliant blogs and then some devastatingly boring ones, I decided that mine would probably fall somewhere in the middle. And I feel pretty good about that. So, I decided to try this whole business again.

In the past month I've watched 4 Clint Eastwood movies. The reason for my astonishment is that I seem to sense some sort of a change taking place in my life. Maybe it has to do with the fact that my wife and I moved 1000 miles from our home of 4+ years leaving my parents and all of our beloved friends behind. Maybe it's the fact that my wife and I are constantly preparing for our son due in February by discussing baby products and parenting styles (not to mention the mood swings; I'll have to start a second blog on that entitled anonymous-husband-with-preggie-wife). Or maybe it's the fact that I've sold out on my life of leisure wearing t-shirts and shorts and traded them in for regular 8-5 wearing a shirt and a tie. But I'd like to think that the change began and ended with Clint Eastwood films.

Today my wife and I were babysitting for an adorable 4-year-old whose favorite movie happened to be Spirit: Stallion of the Cimmaron. I found myself completely fascinated with the movie. I didn't want to stop watching. When it skipped I was filled with a righteous anger that such a thing would happen during the movie. I was on the edge of my seat when the stallion was being chased by the evil Cowboys and jumped the canyon with the kind Native American on his back. I felt true joy when the horse reunited with his girlfriend and mother and they all galloped free once again. The reason I bring this up is the first line of the movie: "They say that the story of the West was told from the saddle of a horse..." Which brings me back to Clint Eastwood. The man whose made a living trying to tell stories from the West (fictitious or not).

My change is . . . wait for it . . . I kind of like Westerns. That's my embarrassing admission. With all my artistic integrity thrown out the window, all of my critical analysis of film discarded, I really like to see a really tough guy with a just cause and some great one-liners shooting all the bad guys dead. It's all because of Clint Eastwood modeling all of the ideals of traditional America and the way people wish it was.

Anyway, speaking of those one-liners this entry turned out to be so much longer than I ever imagined it would. I'm very impressed if your still reading. So here's a scene with a one-liner that I just love:

Bounty Hunter: Are you Josey Wales?
Clint: Are you a bounty hunter?
BH: A man's got to do something to make a living these days.
C: Dyin' ain't much of a livin', boy.

What a great line! And so true. Try to work that one into an everyday sentence. "I work at _______ ?" respond, "Dyin' ain't much of a livin', boy." "I'm on my way out to get some coffee," respond, "Dyin' ain't much of a livin', boy." "I'm so tired, I think I'll sleep in today," respond, "Dyin' ain't much of a livin', boy."

It's late, and I need some sleep. Dyin' ain't much of a livin', boy.

Birthday Parties

Comment from tara:

yeah, texas?????????? hmmph.
how could you think of leaving arkansas, especially with such fantastic birthday parties being thrown at me and barbie's house everytime you turn around/??? come on neale... think of the fun you will be missing!!!

True, it's going to be crappy moving to Dallas where I might only experience birthday parties 3 or so times a year. As opposed to Searcy where we have birthday parties every week. I will definately miss the fun parties. *Sigh* nostalgia.

Maybe we should have birthday parties at least twice a month just so we can have an excuse to eat cake and blow out candles. It would make life more of a phantasmagoric (ha, ha) collage of memories. We could celebrate other people's birthdays.

Like today it's Ice-T's birthday. He's 47. Or for Ashley, John McEnroe turns 46. Wouldn't it be fun to have theme birthday parties and we only listen to Ice-T and have tennis playing in the background? Maybe. We could play games called, Name that Tennis Star and Ice What? Other people might need to come up with the games. But we should at least try it sometime.