From writer's block to my Dad is pretty cool.

So its day three.  I had a whole list of stuff to write about, but it was in my head... guess I shoulda wrote it down.  Hmmmm.... don't need much more testosterone, since none of the women have updated their blogs, well except PW, but its her job and she was talking about a cow.  That one isn't too high on the estrogen level anyway, unless she's taking pictures of her husbands butt.  I ignore those like I do the "What I wore Wednesday's."  Sorry Jodi, but its the truth, I can't get much out of that one.

I could go with the age old war about the toilet seat.  Personally, if I have to put it up, she can put it down.  Halfsey's (that was girly).  I was telling my Mom that I may write something about that, then she took a totally different angle and said, "It just looks better when people come over if the seat is down." Thanks Mom... that little blindside totally shot my arguement to heck.

Parents have a knack for that.  A knack I totally can't wait to use on my kids.  If I couldn't beat my folks at logic, I might as well stew about it until my kids are the age I was (read 5 through 20, give or take 10 years).  Maybe that's how they got so good at it.  Forget about years of knowledge they mysteriously gained, happened into or just flat out learned on their own... they were stewing, plotting and sitting over a fire, wringing their hands with one of those grins.  One in particular was when I was 15 or 16 years old, when I knew pretty much everything (also read 5 through 20, give or take 10 years).  Dad was getting on me about cleaning MY room.  Well that wasn't right because it was MY room and I told him that.  He informed me that my room was in HIS house that HE paid for, so until I paid him rent it was his room.  Ummm.... well.... Uhhhh.... Crap, alright I'll clean my room.  What could I do?  I knew I lost at that point. Knucklehead.

Here's where it takes a weird twist though (read "foiled again").  So we tell Connor to clean his room, now I know he's only four and probably hasn't gotten to the point of thinking it through enough to use the same arguement as I did, and at best I get a little grumble if we don't help.  So when he gets over it, in less than a minute, he cleans his room then asks Amy or I to check it out to make sure its ok.  WHAT!!!!!

So here's a little breakdown. 0-23: I don't want to ever sound like my dad.  24-30: I come to the realization I'm virtually a clone.  My enlightenment grows exponentially (read "alot" - yeah, I know I'm over using it, but MY blog) year by year in this period.  30-35: I want to sound like my Dad.  You know I'm ok with that.  Looking back and then to now, I'm glad I'm his kid and really I always was... there were just a few times a while back I had my head up my rear.  I hope Connor and Olivia come out of it feeling the same about me. Love ya Dad.

Ok since that got kinda sappy, check this out... its pretty cool man stuff.  Seismic literally...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x0WYsKYy0ag&NR=1

Crowd noise shook the ground enough during this run that it registered at a seismic sensor thing 100 yards from the stadium for 30 seconds then dissipated over the next minute.  Man stuff.

Oh and when we build our big house on property... I'm installing a urinal in every bathroom.