I have decided most film critics are idiots.

Reading the reviews of movies in the newspaper is an exercise in self control for me. Over the years I have not only come to ignore film critics incipient ranting but have actively sought out movies that they all agree they hate. I cannot understand how so many people could be so blatantly moronic and amazingly they seemingly all have jobs doing the same thing. I can imagine the interviews for these jobs. "Do you have a banal sense of taste and absolutely no talent at spotting a good movie? Good. You have the job." I seriously think that they should hire someone that at least recognizes popular content when they see it. Some of the best movies in my collection are movies that the critics hated. Everyone is entitled to their opinion I suppose, and I am sure that about 80,000 film critics across the country would disagree with mine.

Winter is definately here

As I walked out of my door this morning to chisel the $%^&!!! ice off of my car windows so that I could take the kids to school I knew that it was just too darned cold to be outside. Last night there was a heavy fog in the air and it is a nice balmy 7 degrees outside creating a quite lovely layer of hoar frost all over everything. Well... it was quite lovely until I noticed that underneath was a solid layer of ice that thumbed it's nose at my feeble attempts to remove it. Now, as my wife has banned me from doing anything that involves my use of gasoline and styrofoam (the poor mans napalm) and a blow torch was pretty much out of the question at this point, it came down to me using plane old brute force to hack my way through it. After about 10 minutes I had managed to clear enough of a space that I could safely drive without having the locals questioning my sanity; well... question them further anyway. How anyone could let their kids walk to school in this is beyond me. I could never feel good about myself if mine had to trog to school in it. Walking stiff legged back inside the house to go shiver in front of the heater, it dawned on me about Santa's reindeer... they don't wear bells to make that jingling sound... their yarblies are just frozen.

Well the tree is up.

At my wife's urging (and threatened use of a cattle prod should I not comply with her wishes) I have dug the tree out of the storage shed and put up a few lights. (I'll be horsewhipped first before I will do anything as dumb as climb up on that ice covered deathtrap of a roof to put up any more.) The kids did a very good job of decorating the tree. Not even a hint of an argument between them as they did so gratifies me to no end. We even put together the gingerbread house that we bought. We have bought one every year for the past 11 years and this is the first time we actually put the darned thing together. Most of the time I will be going through the pantry in February and hold up the box to my wife saying, "I thought we put this thing together." Not this year. It has been put together, properly photographed for proof that we actually did it one year, demolished and devoured. As I look around, my home is feeling very nice at the moment. Now I just have to take all the d^%& boxes back out over the sheet of ice we call a driveway these days to the shed. This Christmas thing is going to kill me yet.

Why I hate Christmas

My dislike for this most revered holiday stretches back to my childhood and is seemingly reinforced every year. I can remember when I was a kid, money was always tight so presents were scarce, but somehow my mom always tried to come up with something. I never really minded not having a lot. Somehow children seem to adapt fairly well to that. What really bothered me was that everyone in my family came together seemingly to argue with each other. Little petty arguments and large quarrels were sure to erupt whenever my family came together. Curiously over the years we have all grown apart. I can only truly say that I get along well with one of my brothers, speak cordially with another and do not speak at all to the rest of my family. Mom was really the only thing most of us have in common, and now that she is gone we truly are a family of strangers.
Looking now to my own children I am happy to say that they get along a lot better than my siblings and I do. Sure there are the small arguments over who watches what on TV or who gets to hug my wife or I first when we come home, but they are far more loving to each other. The sad part is when it comes to the older two. I have noticed in recent years that it is all about how much loot they can get. The smiles for the camera are at best painted on and the appreciation of the holiday is just not there. This year will be a rude awakening for them I am afraid. With work cut back so greatly, we are really struggling to pay bills and unfortunately lights, food and rent will take a front seat to presents. For me it will be very hard to see the looks of disappointment on their faces. Yet another stone added to my load of discontent with this holiday.

Doesn't appear that I will have a lot of readers.

In retrospect it is perhaps for the best that not too many people take the time to read my ramblings. I do tend to ramble on.
Well another day has came and went and now it is my son that is sick. I feel sorry for these poor kids. They go through so much, nothing at all like it was when I was a kid. I can remember that it was indeed a rare event were I ever to become ill. I guess I owe that to a hardy constitution. It seems that kids today spend most of their time sick. One has to wonder if it is environmental or dietary changes that has made the difference.

A long day begins

As my wife is working today, we were counting on our teenage daughter to be able to lend a hand with the little one while we both were at work. As it turns out, she woke up and made a mad dash for the bathroom as well. Looks like I will be staying home and taking care of both of them. At least at this point our 12 year old boy is not ill and has been lending a hand where he can. What can I say, I hate this time of year.

Another late night.

I am typing this when I am supposed to be sleeping. Sleep is something that is a little hard to do when you need to be close to a sick child. It must have been something she ate that has her stomache upset. Poor girl has had a rough go of it tonight. I have her on the couch right now as her bedding is now in the wash.
Although I will be exausted for work in the morning, it is a sacrifice I am more than willing to make for her. She just turned six this last April, and her eyes still have that beautiful gleam to them that proclaims she has not yet been touched by the troubles of the world. Her smile lights up my day and reminds me of why life is so precious.
We almost lost her when she was just three weeks old. She had a coarctation of the aorta (A narrowing of the major artery leading out of the heart) which nearly proved fatal. She was rushed by helicopter to St. Mary's hospital in Grand Junction Colorado, and then was flown to Primary Childrens Hospital in Salt Lake City Utah. I was never so scared of losing anything in my life. From the very minute she entered my life I have loved nothing more than her. I guess you can say that I am the very epitome of a proud father. She reminds me a lot of what it means to be innocent. That was something that was lost to me a very long time ago.
I look in the mirror these days and no longer see the little boy I used to be. I can remember having a boundless joy for life and the world around me. I guess that time stipped that from me little by little over the years. My eyes seem almost dead to me now, like their is a great emptiness behind them, a void that once contained all that I held special. I guess that happens to us all. As our knowlege of the world grows we loose a bit of that spark, that joy of living that we come into the world with. I see that spark in her eyes now. I see it, and I remember what it was like to be full of hope for tomorrow. I guess time slowly replaces our dreams of tomorrow with the memories of yesterday.