Wednesday, November 29, 2006

Surburban Steak and Eggs

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As I sip on my Lipton Green Tea this morning (damn this stuff is good), I’m waiting for the proverbial “other shoe” to drop. There’s been too many good things going on lately that I’m inching around every corner waiting to be flattened by mother variance. It’s a bad mind-set to not enjoy a happy spouse, the cards falling my way more often then not, and a toddler that still won’t eat his lasagna. Actually I’d give him a pass on the lasagna, despite the Marie Callender pot pies being spank-worthy good; she can’t make lasagna that would pass for one of those $1 Banquet frozen dinner specials. At least with the Banquet dinner you get the edible brownie.

Anyone ready for Steak and Eggs?

I am.

After six months of changing blowouts and being in perpetual parenting motion, the chance to not worry about running out of cheese-flavored goldfish crackers and iron-added formula for four days is much needed time-out from responsibilities (FYI: Wife green-lighted the trip to the place of ill-repute, only stipulation is no lap dances, which I can live with). No worries about getting up in the middle of the night for wet beds or because Wyatt decided he needed to be read Curious George Goes to the Hospital in the middle of the night (gotta love how the “attractive young nurses” are described in the book). Just adult fun with several other like-minded individuals where speaking about cards, Football (both kinds), and making obscure pop culture jokes won’t have that needle-scratching-on-record type effect to a conversation.

If I have one thing to take away from this trip is a happy spouse. She’s been my backbone thru some mud thicker then you’ll find that those $200 for a massage spas in Vegas (I know the cost because I’m footing the bill for her). Despite being on a heater for the past month, all I can think about is how she’s turned my life around with her change in attitude (and maybe me getting off my fat ass to be a more pro-active parent once Kyra was born may have a little to with that).

Marriage has been wondrous journey through a rainbow of emotions that span Pavarotti’s singing scale range. I can’t begin to describe depths of the lows (miscarriage and my work accident) or the highs (two beautiful kids), but I do know that she adds color to my bland life. Suburban dad who works at an office job during set hours doesn’t sound like a headlining thing to be, but it suits me. Granted I love to cut loose during momentary breaks like the Bash, or even a simple pleasure of hitting up a bar to view some football on four different screens with my friends Burnsie, E, Jay, and BJ. For the most point, my feet are firmly in the ground, I’m not looking to become employee of the year or advance to stratospheric heights at work nor will I become a roaming poker pro or move to Vegas to deal at a casino like I’ve wanted to.

I’m content with being Dave the deaf-mute who enjoys $1 prop bets on breast size of the waitress and still reads a story to each of his kids every night and watches the glow-in-the-dark stars while Wyatt rambles off his A-B-Cs for no particular reason.

Thanks for dropping by, now there’s 192 hours before I climb aboard a plane for another chapter of fun with a group of people that have gave this guy’s life the taste of freedom that I need once in a while.


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