Category Archives: Daughters

Dance On

She smiled, flashed her big brown eyes open wide in anticipation, before scooting over and asking what I knew she would ask.

“Daddy, will you dance with me?”

Dancing. It terrifies me. On the other hand, I don’t mind looking like a fool on the dance floor because other than a slow dance, I know that’s how I’ll look.

Now my oldest daughter, Shawnna, who was 14 years old at the time, was asking to dance with me at her basketball fund-raiser in the school cafeteria.

There’s only one answer. “Absolutely!”

There were lots of girls there, only a handful of guys, and even fewer fathers.  If you lined all the other males up and rated them from first to last on the dance floor, I would by far be last, dead last.  I didn’t, no wait, I still don’t know how to two-step.

Shawnna is a very kind, observant daughter and knew I would dance, but also knew I didn’t like dancing because quite frankly, I don’t know how.  As if our roles reversed, she smiled, took my hand and said, “Come with me. I’ll teach you.” Continue reading Dance On

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Flea Market Flea Bag

Seven years ago, my oldest daughter wanted a little pet.  An inside cat was out of the question.  So was a dog. At least until I had a momentary lapse of sanity.

We went to a flea market to look around. If I’d known how things were about to play out, I would’ve walked right by the old woman sitting under a shade tree selling puppies.

She was selling little breeds. Without hesitation, all four daughters zeroed in like heat seeking missiles to a cage with four puppies, half Chihuahua, half Japanese Chin.

Half Chihuahuas!  God made Chihuahuas as a practical joke on rats. They’re noisy, obnoxious, cranky little animals that on their best day look genetically defective.

These, however, looked like the furry Japanese Chin part. Before I knew it, the heat seeking missiles exploded.  Shawnna was holding the runt of the litter, all nine weeks old, in the palm of her hand talking to it like it was a little baby.

I’m convinced now the old lady selling them set the hook right then. I just didn’t know it right then. Continue reading Flea Market Flea Bag

#Bring Back Rotary Phones

I know it’s unrealistic, politically incorrect, and uncool, but I loathe cell phones.  Lucky people live where there’s no cell service!

Maybe it’d be OK if it was JUST a phone, but it’s a camera, recorder, computer and alarm clock.  There’s more technology in a smart phone than all the systems added together used to send the first man to the moon!  And whoever heard of microchips? Chips are supposed to be made by Lays, not drain the living life out you!

Plus, Europe says it causes cancer!  And then you pay a ton of money for unlimited talk, text and gigabytes of data.  Nobody should be bit by a giga!

Maybe it’s just me?  Maybe if I grew up not knowing anything but internet and cell service, I would fully appreciate cell phones?

Nope!

In my old-fashioned, decrepit way of thinking, cell phones are like Congress: you get a lot of talk, end up paying a lot and get virtually no return on investment!  (Virtually…see how I snuck in tech word there?  No wait, it’s virtual. Nevermind.) Continue reading #Bring Back Rotary Phones

Yella One!

I had a car full — all four daughters and wondering wonder why I never remembered ear plugs for a road trip.

There was a noise lull, which is usually a sign something’s about to happen.  I was obliviously enjoying the semi-peaceful, kinda quiet moment, when a screeching, high-pitched voice shrieks, “Yella one!!!”  Then she hit me in the arm, frogged me right in the muscle!

Being the strong, hard as a rock muscles, manly man that I am, I whimpered, “Ouuuuuuch!”

Wincing in pain I rubbed the muscle while bent over the steering wheel like an assignation victim.

“What did ya do that for!?” Continue reading Yella One!

Cobalt Didn’t Listen

~~I was driving and a bluebird flew into my windshield today.  Feathers went everywhere as the little guy toppled lifelessly in the road behind me.  I feel terrible about it.

I think it went down like this:~~

Several months ago, Mr. and Mrs. Bluebird worked daylight to dusk to build a nest.  Mr. Bluebird made sure the structure was strong enough for a brood of growing, rowdy chicks, while Mrs. Bluebird was sensational at finding just the right lining to keep her chicks comfortable.

Once the eggs were laid, Mrs. Bluebird took a two-week sabbatical to sit and keep the eggs warm.

When hatching day finally arrived, each egg started shaking within hours of each other.  From inside the shell, each hatchling broke loose and used all of its energy to escape the hard shell.  After breaking free, each hatching laid wet, exhausted and gasping for air. Continue reading Cobalt Didn’t Listen

Homecoming and Prom

Two of the worst nights of the year are Homecoming and Prom, and Saturday night was Prom.  Some people may think that’s an odd thing to say, but to dads of teenage daughters, they get it in spades.

It’s just a snapshot of the future, way, way off in the future hopefully, when a dad has to walk his daughter down the aisle.  They’ll be radiant in white flowing gowns, smiling all the way, but the dad walks beside them white faced, grimacing, needing Pepto-Bismol and anti-depressants!

A daughter’s “happiest day ever” is like the most dreaded day to most dads. It’s like taking a rare, precious, porcelain doll worth millions of dollars and handing it over to a gorilla! Continue reading Homecoming and Prom

Car Deal Gone Good

The seller dropped the keys in my youngest daughter’s hand, and with a smile, told her he had just filled up the gas tank for her too!

I’ve bought eight, yes eight used cars for each of my eight kids as their first vehicle.  Don’t be impressed. There is a set amount that has been the same for all of them.  They can spend more if they want with money they have saved, or they can spend less and take the extra cash and run.

Continue reading Car Deal Gone Good

Carl, The Cat!

My daughters wanted a cat several years ago. I put my foot down. Absolutely not! No cat! Zero! Zilch! None! Ever!

They kept on. I said no, no, no! They kept on. I said no kitten, no way!

They kept on. It was like verbal water boarding, so finally, I agreed to go look, but that’s all! Just look! Understand? No cat, period. Just looking!

We adopted Carl the next day.

Continue reading Carl, The Cat!

The Old White Truck

It’s official! The old 96 GMC pickup has been driven solo by all eight of my kids!

My Dad would be proud! Or maybe, just maybe, the floors of heaven opened up for just a minute so he could see Jessica, the last of my Mohicans, drive the truck he bought new before he died. In that case, it’s safe to say he IS proud!

Me too!

It’s a wonder the ole white beast truck has survived at all! Clocking in at just under 200,000 miles, it has seen better days, but it’s still a solid truck. It’s just good to have solid metal surrounding a teenage driver, ya know? Even with no radio, air conditioning, fan blower and a tailgate that won’t open without a pair of pliers, the old fellow just putts along. And besides, who needs air conditioning in Texas anyway??

Continue reading The Old White Truck

Beelzebub’s Workers

It’s pretty much the same every time. “Daddy, there’s a boy I want you to meet.  Can he come over?”  It starts with a 30 to 40 minute interrogation about who he is, who are his friends, where’s he go, how do you know him, what do his parents do, does he have a prison record, etc.  I usually get his height and weight too, just in case I have to dig a shallow grave in the woods.

If he makes it through that hurdle, then I’ll get, “Well, Daddy” – blink, blink and a puppy dog expression – “Can he come over?”   I put my hand on my forehead, not to be dramatic, but because a major headache is setting in, and I blurt out a foolish, half hearted, “Ahhhh!  Yeeeees. He can come over.”  And with that, another one of Beelzebub’s workers has an appointment to “hang out” with one of my daughters. Continue reading Beelzebub’s Workers