Do I dare...

I have not touched this blog in over 12 years, and there it is. Like an old friend, reminding me of who I was and what adventures we were on in that speck of time. Before I posted this, I read ALL of my previous posts, and boy do I have lots of changes to put in here now. So much can happen in 12 years, and boy did it. This is my very quick post to mark my next beginning. It is summers end in 2018. I blogged about family life, siblings, soccer, politics, computers, horses and video games. I have much to recall from the past 12 years. So much. So SO much. And since it all followed me, it deserves some attention, as well as a fresh perspective. Quick sum up: Moved back to Colorado, divorced first wife, remarried to second wife, the boys off to college and beyond. Intrigued? Wait, there's more...professionally, I am business owner, soccer coach for hire and...that might be about it. I lied. Not that much more. It is amazing how much less eventful life is when your kids are no longer living with you. This blog will serve as my vent. I need it. So bad. Everything from the sum up is weighing pretty heavy. Nothing is where it should be and we / I am about to put it all down so I can reflect, revise and reassess. I am now in my 40s, life experienced and possibly a touch bit funnier. Join me, this could be fun for you and necessary for me...

Sharing pictures

RAGE: I'm sorry, do I know you?

I am reporting this one from a completely third person POV. If you have ever been this person, knock it off.

THE FACTS: Happily driving the speed limit down a 2 by 2 highway in my Tundra (see previous postings for pictures. I'm very proud.) Drove through an intersection in the left lane and was joined by a right turning Avalanche from the intersection. A van in the right lane at least 15 car lengths behind me runs up on the Ave in the right hand lane and starts honking like a cross-eyed retarded chimpanzee under the influence with a new squeeze toy. (I'm sorry, that was uncalled for. The facts, nothing but the facts. There will be plenty time for opinions about this asshole later.) Completely aware that this can only get more entertaining...Err...I mean, out of hand, I back off a good 10 car lengths and observe the rest. I can honestly say these two people did not know each other. The van continued to "circle" the Ave while "communicating" in every fashion available. In this process, the van curbed up twice and damn near flipped on the second time. The Ave then reached pole at a red light to turn left. The van proceeds pull into the intersection to get in front of the Ave and then reverses back blocking the Ave in while being in the middle of the intersection. All lights turned green including the left turn arrow and the van didn't budge. I proceeded to go straight and leave this retard to his business of being exactly that. Who knows how it turned out. Honestly, I'd seen enough.

THE QUESTIONS: What the hell? That's my first one. This is the perfect reason why driver's licenses should expire every year and should not be renewed if you are having an especially bad year or have lost your fricken mind. This guy looked like he was fresh out of electro-shock therapy. Hair everywhere, bug eyed and bitter. Second, please tell me this man has NEVER had unprotected relations with anything other than a tin can? You can't. Some cross-eyed retarded chimp of the female making thought this was Mr. Right and he turned out to be Mr. Right-Now. Now this award winning off-spring is in some shack somewhere in Colorado making "love letters". The lady in the Ave should have been allowed to be armed just so that natural selection can occur and we can seriously reduce the number of these amazingly abundant citizens. These retards should all be tagged and if you bag one, you win a tax break or an educational grant or something great that another retard wouldn't appreciate.

THE POINT: To my title, I have no idea what this type of rage feels like. But once you have tasted it like that, you can't be normal ever again. It has to burn in your mind. How do you relieve yourself of it? Can't imagine it would be easy. Life is hard enough without adding the element of accidentally setting off one of these whack-os. If you are one of these whack-os, knock it off. Some of us do have guns. Tag or no tag, we'll take our chances. If you are the lady in the Ave, kudos go to you and your calmness. I would have run him off the road in that big ass truck, got out and used his broken boney frame for a tire chain. That's just me. To my defense of previous statements, that is not rage. That is redemption.

Please press one for English...

Seriously? This prompt we have all heard more than once. Hell, even some people should have this prompt stamped on their fricken head. They might come home battered, but even a certified idiot will come around after multiple blunt trauma wounds to the forehead for a solid week.

My wife and I are currently shopping for "financial assistance" and I have heard this prompt more times than I can count. It baffles me in that, once a "non-English" speaking person get their instructions on the voice prompt from the automated system, they are transferred to live person who has no idea how to speak "non-English". Come to think of it, English has proven to be quite the challenge in recent years for this live person.

Quick case in point, although this is a nice gesture to attempt to accomidate everyone here in great US of A, it's a lost cause. By trying harder to include everyone, you will always leave someone out.

BORED, BORED, BORED

I have officially lost my mind. Every man's dream is to be released of all of life's tedious tasks and be allowed to play video games all day. When the weather gets chilly here, I get to do exactly that. After a day or two, it get old. "Soak it up" you say. Your mind starts to wander. You look lost. Bewildered, if you will. Exhibit A...

Sad, yes, I know. But what do you do to fix such a train wreck? 2 straight days of video games will do this. This is the reason why their are now documented cases of people actually seizing over dead after just 17 days of this joy. Did he die happy? No, he didn't. After just 2 days, I can say he was a bitter man. Wow. Word of advice, take a break every hour on the hour to keep your sanity. Even then, go find something else to do for a minute or ten. That's just me, though.

Currently, my horses and I have been separated because of politics. They are TECHNICALLY owned by the city. The full time livestock "tool" has control issues and it seems I am a bonofied threat to his job. I mean, some people pay money to have a patron deliver praise about the job you are doing right in front of your boss. It gave me nothing but cut hours and personal insults to boot. *sigh* Don't get me wrong, I get in to see the horses after hours, but it's not the same. It's not a working relationship at that point. That's what I miss. The compliment was nice, but the timing was off. So this is my way of telling that lady she should have kept her trap shut. I miss my job. I asked the site manager if I was fired since I have no hours to speak of any more, and he looked almost offended. The boss is always the last to know these things. We sat down for an entire morning and I let him know how I felt. He proceeded to praise me for the wonderful job I do with the animals. Still, no hours. *sigh* SOCOM 3 Online, anyone?

Change is good...

After a change of focus, I decided the name of my blog was misleading. Soccer has taken a backseat in my life. It is just a sport. To some, it is more. But in reality, that's all it is. Don't get me wrong. I still play and I will still watch it, but I have realized that youth soccer is a different beast all together. Seriously, has anyone actually watched these parents on the sidelines at the parks that these soccer clubs Bogart as "theirs" every Spring and Fall Saturday? It's out of line. I decided to stand back this season and watch for once. For the first time in 12 years of coaching, I stepped back and just watched. I was mortified. Sickened, if you will. It is a culture with relaxed guidelines at best that benefits no one in the long run. Let me put it simply. Children trained like soldiers and disciplined the same. Parents relinquish the right to teach valuable life lessons to a coach. Coaches who are given licenses merely because they "served their time" in the trenches as a MLS or International player. They must be great coaches if they have played on a soccer team, right? Guess again. After experiencing soccer club culture first hand for over a decade as nothing more than a successful coach, I will NEVER enroll my children into nothing more than recreational soccer. It's complicated beyond words at this point for me. I will now take my experiences with the sport that saved me and consider myself & my children lucky. It's time to move on...

My oldest is now in flag football. That's a funny sport to me. Derek (Son of Cheese) and I once played this sport one fall. That was funny. First, a little background. I'm not a large man. Some might venture to call me "cute". This is one of the worst things for a man's ego to be called "cute". But, it tells you I am not "football" size. Neither is my son. But with this "cute" size, comes an amazing & elusive speed. Derek, if would have harnessed this speed and sent me runnin' instead of lining me up as a tight end (HA!), we might have won one or two games. My son has some kind of record for first downs this season just because of his speed. Well, that's something going for us genetically. Right?

The blog name change is simple but needed. I am still a horseman and I still talk to my horses. And they tell me things back. The type of things that inspire; that make you think; that open you up; and that can make you bite your lip & think. My horses are part of my family. I plan to share my family with you as I have done in the past.

RANDOM: Keep the faith...

We all get busy. Busy is good. Some better than others. Drama is not a good kind of busy. Currently, I have more than I want to handle and less than most people. I operate better with none at all. This is the reason I have been absent from my blog. Once my drama has been subsided and life is simple once again, I'll be back. *sigh* Swear.

All I have, I give to them...

First, let me say, I am truly a manly man. Ego as big as...well...you get the point. But these are my boys. Understand that you want them to stay young forever. I stay young at heart through them. But there comes a time when you feel this tightness in your chest. Is it pride? Is it fear? Regadless, it there now. Both of my boys went to school this morning. Full day. For the past 4 years, I have been home with the youngest one teaching him everything I could for this moment. You spend every waking minute preparing them with the tools to make the proper decisions and separate what is wrong and what is right. This is the experience that I am not allowed to personally supervise for the first time in his life. You want him to buck up and attack this new experience with a running start. Good job, son. Son?? Ok, you can stop running now and at least act like this is hard for you too?! *Sigh* That was my morning. Wondering if there such a thing as "over-prepared"? He ran into his classroom without us, found his seat and proceeded to converse with the teacher and color without so much as looking back tosee if we were still there. If nothing else, it was a sence of accomplishment. That makes me feel better about it, even if it is a bunch of fluff. Right?

My wife and I took up tennis for no other reason than both of us have never done it before and it was a level playing field. I excel a little at soccer and her screen block in basketball is near fatal. Currently, she has the upper hand on me. Once we started scoring and paying our boys to be our ballboys for a dollar each (genius, I know), she has beat me in more total sets, but our match count is close. I never thought I would ever play this sport, but it is addicting like any other skill sport. If you have a inkling of an idea of what you are supposed to do, it grows on you. To date, she has me with a total set count of 13-6 but the match count is actually only 2-1. Of course, she requested I post this so there is record of it. If she wasn't so cute about it, I'd delete and post real quick. But I am a man of my word. So, there it is.

SIDENOTE: Whoever is spamming comments on blogs, cut it out. It sucks. Whoever is visiting my thoughts without so much as a brief comment, give me a little idea of who is out there & what you think? Do you walk into someone's house whose door is open & look around without announcing your presence?? Don't do that. You can get hurt or arrested doin' that. :)

Take care, all.

Short, but sweet...isn't he?

I had to share this one. Who wouldn't?? Funniest thing happens when a kid thinks the picture has already been taken. He losses all composure and you get a glimpse of the hillbilly in all of us. My oldest is now 9 years old. Makes you wonder...

Normal: A gut-checking analysis

It's been over a week since I last informed you of my new found freedom from my sister. I have to say, it was best and made me appreciate "normal" all that much more. Sure, it's a little difficult being in the presence of a 9 year old and 5 year old all day long. It sure beats having your sister determine certain aspects of your day on a daily basis.

First, let me say that it is not like that. With that said, I have to say it was like being married to two women. Again, it's not like that, but something like that. Now, imagine being married or with your significant other and reaching that point we all reach when you need your space. So, the wife goes off to work for her space and I get the house. All good, right? Wrong. My wife has to deal with her employees (she's a manager now, so they are her employees), and I have to deal with my boys AND my sister. Neither of us got a break and it started to show. Plus, you put two dominant women personas in the same house with only one man and someone is going to the ER eventually. So, you take three and subtract one and you get normal, once again.

Normal is a concept that often gets a bad wrap. Like it's some sort of disease. I beg to differ. Some people thrive on keeping normal from happening. Some require normal to function properly. Normal to one can be chaos to another. I took my normal, threw in some chaos, and now I love my normal. Good normal. Please, don't leave me again!! So, as a public service message to my fan base of one to none, embrace your normal. FOR PETE'S SAKE, EMBRACE IT MAN. Trust me.

Siblings: Are they really necessary?

I have more half-bloods and step-bloods than most people. My mother was a bit...well...friendly. I'm an equal oppurtunity offender. My father was overly-friendly also. There. Happy?

My half-sister moved into my house in March. She left yesterday. Check the date. Almost five months. Surprised I lasted that long. She and I have different veiws, to say the least. She had a melt down. I had an apiphany. 24 hours is long enough to make arrangements, right? Regardless, I didn't care. This problem had to be removed from office. When a man no longer feels safe from personal attacks in his own home, he has two options. Kick her to the curb or leave. Um, it's my house. Well, bye.

She lives with my soon-to-hate-my-guts half-brother (hyphens are cool). He might last a week or two and then, I will only safely be down to one step-sibling. Because she is going to drive him up a wall until he snaps and kills her, Then my mother, being the loving person that she is, will kill him in return for "pickin' on her daughter". Effective solution if you ask me.

And I have the most wondeful wife in the world because she told me to type it or else. So it's typed and now you know...

Back in 1865...

This is what I would look like. It has been a while. But in my defense, it's alot of work going back and forth in time. Now that the weather has warmed up, these clothes must be peeled off at the end of each day and posting is not exactly high on the list. I hope to be able to keep up on this a little more now that my schedule is fixin' to get slimmer. More to come...SWEAR.

Parenting: Learning as you go...

Youngest children are something of their own. Every problem as a variety of solutions that present themselves. As a soccer coach, spring is busy. That's grossly understated, but you get the point. Most every parent has the nightmare of getting our children to their proper destinations. You figure, if you only miss a couple of these "events" due to scheduling snafoos, your doing pretty good. Right? If only there were more than two parents in a household? Right? Well, we fixed it. It might sound crazy, but it hasn't been so far. My wife talked me into taking in my 22 year old sister and having her come live with us. It took a little convincing, but I folded and agreed because the scheduling was getting ready to be hell.

Thus far, no snags. She has been really pleasant to deal with, the house stays clean, the kids are happy and best of all she is cheaper than strangers watching my boys. The second bird with this stone connects to my previous blog. She is the youngest child in our family. Now, normally, us oldest children are trying to leave the youngest in the dust merely because we can. This situation is truely unique in that she and I do get along and communicate better now than we ever have. She understands my situation with my youngest and is willing to help him along without making me out to sound like the big bastard brother I was when I was growing up. Sweet deal, right?

I just hope she doesn't go Jeykle & Hyde on me and we'll be just fine. :)

Parenting at a young age

We have two boys. One will be nine and the other will be five this summer. My wife had the first when she was 19 and I was 20. We were merely children ourselves back then, but had enough of a jump on him to try and keep him guessing. It's worked so far, but he is gaining ground quickly. When we had our first, we couldn't even get drunk (in a bar). Probably best that way. A stiff drink (or two) might have made it way to easy to go to sleep at night when he was screaming to be fed or just to be screaming and needed someone to, do, something. My wife and I decided early that two children was fair considering we both came from a family of three kids. It was agreed on my part merely because I felt the youngest or third child made me (the oldest) null and void and let's face it, one child per parent is plenty. I didn't see it that way when I was a child, so I felt there had to be a better way to set a family. This was my solution. I could have been wrong.

We miscalculated one thing in our equation. The youngest child. Our family is a youngest child's nightmare. Let me explain. My wife is an oldest child of three girls. No prior knowledge of boys before me. I am the oldest of three. Mitchell, is our oldest and the oldest child in his own right. Isaac, my youngest, has it pretty rough. I try to accomidate him but find myself fighting my natural instincts as an oldest child. This picture painted now? Poor kid, right? You better believe it. Let's go deeper into this one...

To be continued...