Summer nights are for friends, fire flies, and flashlights
It is officially summer time.
Now, I love the cold weather but I also love the hot evenings as well. What makes me feel all warm and fuzzy is seeing the sun tuck itself behind the trees, turning the sky a calming pink-blue-gray color and the clouds slightly darker than the sky behind them.
Around this time of the evening there are a few things that I like to do. One of them is that I like to sit outside in the quiet. When I get the time to sit on the porch with a cold drink and a cigar and watch the dragonflies hunt gnats, watch the fireflies light up the wooded area around the pond and watch the sky turn from its pinkish blue to a dark purplish black, I find myself at complete peace.
When I was growing up, around the age of twelve or so, I lived outside during the summer. Really, my parents wouldn’t let me in the house at night.
No, the neighborhood kids and I would have to be dragged in or threatened with not going out the next night in order to get us inside at the end of the day... or night.
I lived in a neighborhood that had, let me count, about fifteen rug-rats plus me, my brother and sister. We all ran Woodglen Drive like a gang in the Bronx back in the ’20s
After dinner and dishes, our parents would let us out for round two.
Prior to all of us having to go in for supper, we would talk and plan phase two of our summer day.
Flashlight Tag.
The sport of kings.
This was a game that required great skill, a cunning sence of strategy, and physical stamina that would rival that of a Roman gladiator.
Flashlight Tag was based on the rules of regular hide-n-seek. The only differences were that you played outside, at night, in a pitch-black yard and used a flashlight to “tag” the person. You had to call their name when you spotted them.
As soon as the fire flies started to illuminate the dark air that held the trees in their place, we would start the game.
The first person “it” was determined by a tried and true round of paper, rock, and scissors.
Everyone would then decide on a “base” and we would set the boundaries of where we could hide. The latter was a rule that no one ever seemed to abide by.
We took this game seriously. Actually, at twelve years old, we didn’t have anything else in our lives that was serious and that was the beauty of it, there was nothing serious in our lives... no cares.
When the counting started, we scattered like cockroaches in a quickly light room. Some darted for a bush, others sought refuge under a car that was parked near the woods and there were always a few weak players that would just hide close to base so that they could run and be safe as soon as the “it” person turned their back.
Not me. I would climb trees, shimmy into drainage ditches and my favorite thing to do was to scale the back of a van and then leap from the roof of the van to the roof of the garage that it was parked close to. This would allow me to quietly go from one side of the peak of the roof to the other and watch the entire game unfold without being seen.
Sometimes a friend and I would switch shirts and hats so that when the person doing the “tagging” would shine the light on us and call our name, they would have the wrong person and we would be safe.
... Sigh.
What a carefree time. I miss it.
It was a great time of my childhood. I felt so alive then.
Now when I sit on my porch and smell fresh cut grass and watch the fire flies do their illuminated dance around the pond, I often find myself looking around the yard for the best hiding spots.
As soon as Ethan and Nash are old enough, I plan on introducing them to the game that their old man was once the king of.
Although now, I doubt, you will find me climbing into the drainage ditch in the pitch black or leaping around like Spiderman, but I will know the best places to find them.
Bryan Pinkey can be found hiding close to base or at bpinkey@nccox.com.
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
7-16-09
Free strikes again: Giving a dog a home comes with a price
Free has struck again. This time, with a vengeance. I think it heard me talking about it last week.
We have a new dog. A “free” one.
I do need to back track a little bit.
We had a real pretty, all white, bird dog my son named Susie. She would run around the yard and hunt dragonflies and crickets all day long. When I was painting motorcycles, she would sit in the shop with me and curl up in the open storage space in the bottom of my rolling tool box.
Although she liked to eat my airbrush hose as I painted, I still liked her.
One day, in the old cemetary across from our house, a funeral was held. That evening, she was gone. Yes, I am blaming someone for taking Susie.
My son was heartbroken. We all were.
Last year, after a year had already gone by since Susie left our family, Ethan asked me, “When is Susie going to come back?”
Do you know how hard it is to tell a four-year-old that his dog is never going to come back?
Well, Leigh and I knew that we were going to have to find another dog.
Fast forward to about two months ago. An opportunity came along for us to adopt a German Shorthaired Pointer.
A young man who had good intentions of hunting a young dog found himself going off to college.
Good for him, good for us. I didn’t want to pay the premium for a bird dog and I prefer to “rescue” a dog anyhow.
After a few phone conversations, a delivery date was set and a rendezvous point was picked, The Pinkey family found itself with a new four-legged member of the family.
Ethan kept telling us that when we got a new dog, he was going to name it Susie. I asked him what its name would be if we got a boy dog.
With a little bit of thought and then a look as if to say, “Dad, there is a tree growing out of your head,” Ethan said, “Susie.”
But When the dog came to live with us, he already had a name. So for now, “Jack” is our dog and Ethan seems to like the name.
I forgot that even “free” dogs come with a price.
We had a hard time keeping Susie in our yard when she was with us... obviously... she is gone. This time around we decided to be proactive about the situation. A hidden fence system was purchased.
I had the honors of installing the system. After laying out the wire and realizing that we needed twice the amount, another trip to the hardware store was in order. While there, small wire nuts, more electrical tape and a new jug of small engine oil for mixing with gas to run the borrowed trenching equipment.
The “free” dog required a bag of food, a collar and, of course, dog bones.
Free. I forgot about the fine print.
I got the wire laid out around the yard, installed batteries in the collar and connected the power source. Everything was working.
After I attached the leash to Jack’s collar, I walked him around the yard and then toward the white flags that indicated the boundary of the “fence.”
I pointed to the flags as we got close and let him hear the beep that the collar was emitting.
Zapp! It shocked him when he walked to the edge.
After a couple of times of this he got the idea that the flags were not a good thing to get close to.
I let him off of the leash and he stayed. Not once did he go to the edge of the yard. I wouldn’t either if I had an electric shock device hooked to my neck!
So our free dog is loving life. He eats his food, hunts dragonflies and sleeps outside of his doghouse.
I do need to read the fine print a little better because I also missed the part about the “free” services that he offers back to us.
Jake has decided to clean up around the outside of the house by getting rid of shoes, forgotten toys and scratching old paint off of the side of the car when he greets us as we come home.
It’s OK, I guess. I needed new shoes and Nash was outgrowing the big wheel anyhow. I think I understand why we didn’t pick the dog up at the owner’s house though. There is a No Return policy on free.
Bryan Pinkey can be found buying rubbing compound, shoes and replacement toys or at bpinkey@nccox.com.
Free has struck again. This time, with a vengeance. I think it heard me talking about it last week.
We have a new dog. A “free” one.
I do need to back track a little bit.
We had a real pretty, all white, bird dog my son named Susie. She would run around the yard and hunt dragonflies and crickets all day long. When I was painting motorcycles, she would sit in the shop with me and curl up in the open storage space in the bottom of my rolling tool box.
Although she liked to eat my airbrush hose as I painted, I still liked her.
One day, in the old cemetary across from our house, a funeral was held. That evening, she was gone. Yes, I am blaming someone for taking Susie.
My son was heartbroken. We all were.
Last year, after a year had already gone by since Susie left our family, Ethan asked me, “When is Susie going to come back?”
Do you know how hard it is to tell a four-year-old that his dog is never going to come back?
Well, Leigh and I knew that we were going to have to find another dog.
Fast forward to about two months ago. An opportunity came along for us to adopt a German Shorthaired Pointer.
A young man who had good intentions of hunting a young dog found himself going off to college.
Good for him, good for us. I didn’t want to pay the premium for a bird dog and I prefer to “rescue” a dog anyhow.
After a few phone conversations, a delivery date was set and a rendezvous point was picked, The Pinkey family found itself with a new four-legged member of the family.
Ethan kept telling us that when we got a new dog, he was going to name it Susie. I asked him what its name would be if we got a boy dog.
With a little bit of thought and then a look as if to say, “Dad, there is a tree growing out of your head,” Ethan said, “Susie.”
But When the dog came to live with us, he already had a name. So for now, “Jack” is our dog and Ethan seems to like the name.
I forgot that even “free” dogs come with a price.
We had a hard time keeping Susie in our yard when she was with us... obviously... she is gone. This time around we decided to be proactive about the situation. A hidden fence system was purchased.
I had the honors of installing the system. After laying out the wire and realizing that we needed twice the amount, another trip to the hardware store was in order. While there, small wire nuts, more electrical tape and a new jug of small engine oil for mixing with gas to run the borrowed trenching equipment.
The “free” dog required a bag of food, a collar and, of course, dog bones.
Free. I forgot about the fine print.
I got the wire laid out around the yard, installed batteries in the collar and connected the power source. Everything was working.
After I attached the leash to Jack’s collar, I walked him around the yard and then toward the white flags that indicated the boundary of the “fence.”
I pointed to the flags as we got close and let him hear the beep that the collar was emitting.
Zapp! It shocked him when he walked to the edge.
After a couple of times of this he got the idea that the flags were not a good thing to get close to.
I let him off of the leash and he stayed. Not once did he go to the edge of the yard. I wouldn’t either if I had an electric shock device hooked to my neck!
So our free dog is loving life. He eats his food, hunts dragonflies and sleeps outside of his doghouse.
I do need to read the fine print a little better because I also missed the part about the “free” services that he offers back to us.
Jake has decided to clean up around the outside of the house by getting rid of shoes, forgotten toys and scratching old paint off of the side of the car when he greets us as we come home.
It’s OK, I guess. I needed new shoes and Nash was outgrowing the big wheel anyhow. I think I understand why we didn’t pick the dog up at the owner’s house though. There is a No Return policy on free.
Bryan Pinkey can be found buying rubbing compound, shoes and replacement toys or at bpinkey@nccox.com.
Thursday, July 9, 2009
7-9-09
My new dirty, four letter word that starts with F is FREE
I love free swag as much and maybe even more than the next guy. I was trained well.
I grew up watching my old man go out of his way to acquire free items. If he heard that you could get free blood from a rock he would walk away with a full pint.
Sam’s Club is the mecca for free samples. My dad and I would go there on a Saturday and walk the aisles. We would visit all of the ladies at the end of each aisle and snack on the free samples they were handing out. The two of us ate everything from shrimp, crackers, trail mix, tuna fish... you name it, we ate it.
The one thing that I quickly started to see is that free comes with a caveat. Free tends to cost you money.
When we would leave Sam’s Club, there was normally a cart full of items that we never really needed. The free food turned into about $150 worth of junk.
Once, when I was in high school, a friend of mine gave me a stereo receiver that he couldn’t get to work. First of all, I am a stereo junkie, second, I am a “free” junkie.
I took the thing apart and checked connections. I couldn’t do anything to get it to work, so I took it to Circuit City. Eighty dollars later it was working.
Now, I can justify the $80 by saying that I saved because the stereo would have cost me about $250 brand new.
My uncle Al made a comment once about lottery tickets that has always stuck with me. When asked if he played the lottery he said, “No. I don’t. I save a dollar every day that I don’t play.”
Such wisdom. It holds true to taking free stuff. If I didn’t take the free items, I would save my money. This pearl didn’t seem to stick for me in this scenario.
Recently a new friend of mine offered me an old pick-up that was junking up his back yard. I am in need of an old truck for the dump and utilitarian needs around the house and ponds.
This nineteen seventy-something Dodge with a police Interceptor engine (that is a real big engine) has the cab redone and runs decent. Buuuut it needs body work, needs to pass inspection, needs insurance, and a new battery and some fresh wiring.
So, once again, here I stand at the proverbial crossroads. Do I take the gift or save my money.
I can’t wait to mash the gas on that old truck!
Something I never gave much thought about in this arena is children. Technically, they are free but, man, do they come with a price tag!
First you have to pay to bring them safely into the world. Diapers, clothing and toys follow. Add in a little bit of day care, school pictures and snack money.
You would think that as they got older that maybe they would get cheaper to maintain. Wrong. They break more stuff. Now you are maintaining children and broken toys.
One thing I have found out is that children like to play with stereo equipment. They also like to pull the knobs off of free stereo equipment.
My old trusty free stereo might end up costing me some more money in new repairs but as long as it doesn’t go over $250, I am still saving, right? Maybe I’ll even save enough to afford a free truck.
Bryan Pinkey can be reached at bpinkey@nccox.com and an archive at jbryanpinkey.blogspot.com.
I love free swag as much and maybe even more than the next guy. I was trained well.
I grew up watching my old man go out of his way to acquire free items. If he heard that you could get free blood from a rock he would walk away with a full pint.
Sam’s Club is the mecca for free samples. My dad and I would go there on a Saturday and walk the aisles. We would visit all of the ladies at the end of each aisle and snack on the free samples they were handing out. The two of us ate everything from shrimp, crackers, trail mix, tuna fish... you name it, we ate it.
The one thing that I quickly started to see is that free comes with a caveat. Free tends to cost you money.
When we would leave Sam’s Club, there was normally a cart full of items that we never really needed. The free food turned into about $150 worth of junk.
Once, when I was in high school, a friend of mine gave me a stereo receiver that he couldn’t get to work. First of all, I am a stereo junkie, second, I am a “free” junkie.
I took the thing apart and checked connections. I couldn’t do anything to get it to work, so I took it to Circuit City. Eighty dollars later it was working.
Now, I can justify the $80 by saying that I saved because the stereo would have cost me about $250 brand new.
My uncle Al made a comment once about lottery tickets that has always stuck with me. When asked if he played the lottery he said, “No. I don’t. I save a dollar every day that I don’t play.”
Such wisdom. It holds true to taking free stuff. If I didn’t take the free items, I would save my money. This pearl didn’t seem to stick for me in this scenario.
Recently a new friend of mine offered me an old pick-up that was junking up his back yard. I am in need of an old truck for the dump and utilitarian needs around the house and ponds.
This nineteen seventy-something Dodge with a police Interceptor engine (that is a real big engine) has the cab redone and runs decent. Buuuut it needs body work, needs to pass inspection, needs insurance, and a new battery and some fresh wiring.
So, once again, here I stand at the proverbial crossroads. Do I take the gift or save my money.
I can’t wait to mash the gas on that old truck!
Something I never gave much thought about in this arena is children. Technically, they are free but, man, do they come with a price tag!
First you have to pay to bring them safely into the world. Diapers, clothing and toys follow. Add in a little bit of day care, school pictures and snack money.
You would think that as they got older that maybe they would get cheaper to maintain. Wrong. They break more stuff. Now you are maintaining children and broken toys.
One thing I have found out is that children like to play with stereo equipment. They also like to pull the knobs off of free stereo equipment.
My old trusty free stereo might end up costing me some more money in new repairs but as long as it doesn’t go over $250, I am still saving, right? Maybe I’ll even save enough to afford a free truck.
Bryan Pinkey can be reached at bpinkey@nccox.com and an archive at jbryanpinkey.blogspot.com.
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
7-2-09
The master of audio / video equipment almost meets his match
I’m a pretty smart guy. I know when to get out of the way of an oncoming car, I know when to come in from the rain and my wife has helped me learn how to shut my mouth at just the right moment. I also have a fairly good aptitude for figuring out how things work.
TV and stereo equipment have been a closet fetish of mine for a very long time. I have this uncanny ability to just look at the stuff and be able to follow input and output paths, read speaker impedance labels and I can also figure out how to set flashing clocks on VCRs.
Once in awhile my father would come home with a new TV, VCR or some other piece of audio/video equipment. Normally, he would just leave it in the box and wait until I came home. “Think you can hook this up?” Dad would ask.
“Wow, a new stereo... with 5 channel output and Dolby Pro Logic!” I would shout.
With a clueless look on his face, he would tell me to hook it up after dinner.
I haven’t changed at all to this day.
The somewhat new technology of being able to program and record shows and entire seasons on a video recorder that comes standard from Direct TV was a great addition to my collection of A/V equipment. This piece of equipment, however, has given me a little bit of trouble.
Maybe it is just a learning curve or maybe my skills are being phased out and I am slowly becoming one of those people who just can’t keep up with technology.
I think it is the learning curve.
Leigh and I have a few shows recorded and some have been programmed to record for the whole season. We haven’t watched them yet.
Not too long ago, we realized that there were some strange shows on our list that neither of us would ever watch.
I chalked it up to a mishap until Leigh and I were sitting down together one evening to watch a recorded program. She turned and looked at me and said, “When did you start recording cage fighting?”
“Uhhhhh, never.” I replied.
“And when did you start watching Days of Our Lives?”
My reply was the same.
We deleted them and watched the desired show.
Over a few weeks, we noticed more of the same thing happening. Strange shows at strange times showing up on our recorder. I also noticed the bright orange recorder light on while we were at home.
I would turn it off and thought either we had a ghost or a malfunctioning recorder.
One night, after the unit’s memory was full, I sat down and began to delete and reprogram.
The next morning was a Saturday and we were all relaxing and cartoons were on. The children were watching TV Leigh and I were enjoying the calm.
Leigh and I left the room for a moment and came back in. The recorder’s bright orange light was on again. A little bit angry at my time wasted the night before, I walked back to the room to tell Leigh that the recorder was still acting up and I was going to throw it out the window.
She laughed and I walked back out to the living room.
When I rounded the corner I quickly realized what was causing my dilemma.
A 22-month-old girl was laying on the book case in front of the A/V equipment pushing a bright orange button on and off.
Quickly, I leaned back and yelled down the hall to Leigh, “The recorder is fixed. I got it all figured out!”
I knew I could fix it.
Bryan Pinkey can be found reading his owner’s manual over and over while his daughter giggles or at bpinkey@nccox.com.
I’m a pretty smart guy. I know when to get out of the way of an oncoming car, I know when to come in from the rain and my wife has helped me learn how to shut my mouth at just the right moment. I also have a fairly good aptitude for figuring out how things work.
TV and stereo equipment have been a closet fetish of mine for a very long time. I have this uncanny ability to just look at the stuff and be able to follow input and output paths, read speaker impedance labels and I can also figure out how to set flashing clocks on VCRs.
Once in awhile my father would come home with a new TV, VCR or some other piece of audio/video equipment. Normally, he would just leave it in the box and wait until I came home. “Think you can hook this up?” Dad would ask.
“Wow, a new stereo... with 5 channel output and Dolby Pro Logic!” I would shout.
With a clueless look on his face, he would tell me to hook it up after dinner.
I haven’t changed at all to this day.
The somewhat new technology of being able to program and record shows and entire seasons on a video recorder that comes standard from Direct TV was a great addition to my collection of A/V equipment. This piece of equipment, however, has given me a little bit of trouble.
Maybe it is just a learning curve or maybe my skills are being phased out and I am slowly becoming one of those people who just can’t keep up with technology.
I think it is the learning curve.
Leigh and I have a few shows recorded and some have been programmed to record for the whole season. We haven’t watched them yet.
Not too long ago, we realized that there were some strange shows on our list that neither of us would ever watch.
I chalked it up to a mishap until Leigh and I were sitting down together one evening to watch a recorded program. She turned and looked at me and said, “When did you start recording cage fighting?”
“Uhhhhh, never.” I replied.
“And when did you start watching Days of Our Lives?”
My reply was the same.
We deleted them and watched the desired show.
Over a few weeks, we noticed more of the same thing happening. Strange shows at strange times showing up on our recorder. I also noticed the bright orange recorder light on while we were at home.
I would turn it off and thought either we had a ghost or a malfunctioning recorder.
One night, after the unit’s memory was full, I sat down and began to delete and reprogram.
The next morning was a Saturday and we were all relaxing and cartoons were on. The children were watching TV Leigh and I were enjoying the calm.
Leigh and I left the room for a moment and came back in. The recorder’s bright orange light was on again. A little bit angry at my time wasted the night before, I walked back to the room to tell Leigh that the recorder was still acting up and I was going to throw it out the window.
She laughed and I walked back out to the living room.
When I rounded the corner I quickly realized what was causing my dilemma.
A 22-month-old girl was laying on the book case in front of the A/V equipment pushing a bright orange button on and off.
Quickly, I leaned back and yelled down the hall to Leigh, “The recorder is fixed. I got it all figured out!”
I knew I could fix it.
Bryan Pinkey can be found reading his owner’s manual over and over while his daughter giggles or at bpinkey@nccox.com.
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
6-18-09
A schedule-free Father’s Day weekend is trumped by the honey-do list
Father’s Day and Mother’s Day were always special times in my family when I was growing up.
This was a time that my brother, sister and I would make cards for our parents, do chores to help them out, try our hardest not to argue and do our best to be on our best behavior.
I remember one year my father was asked, “What do you want for Father’s Day?” With a little bit of deep thought, he answered, “Good kids.” With a look of bewilderment and a brief pause I asked, “No. Seriously, something we can buy.”
That would have been a tall order, more fitting for his birthday or Christmas.
Now that I am a father, I completely understand. To have one full day of “good” kids, that would be awesome. A day of no running through the house, no fighting, no tattling, and “yes sirs” all day long.
Last year, Will and I planned a local horseback riding trip. When we do these trips we stay out all day and tend to come home worn out and tired. Early bedtime is soon to follow and a slow morning the next day.
With Leigh’s infinite wisdom, she decided to take the children to the beach for the Father’s Day weekend. I was going to be gone and worn out anyhow. We both figured that if they came back on Sunday morning, then we would have the same amount of family time as if they stayed home.
This year, Will and I planned another trip but wanted to head out to the mountains. We were going to leave on Thursday and come back Saturday night or Sunday afternoon.
Once again, Leigh planned her own trip. She and Will’s wife decided to take all of the children to D.C. for a long weekend. Hit the museums, take a tour of the Capitol and take in one of the best zoos in the nation.
Well, I found out recently that I will need surgery on my neck and my doctor told me to, “Go to work, come home, go to bed. Quit trying to be Evil Knievel for a few months.”
My horseback riding trip in the mountains was quickly shelved.
Leigh and the kids are still going to D.C. I would like to go but they are leaving on Thursday and I now need to save up my time off for recovery time.
Turning lemons into lemonade, I looked at the situation a little differently.
I have a weekend to myself. I can watch the History Channel and the Science Channel all weekend long. I can hop on my bike for the day and not feel guilty about leaving the family behind. I can sleep in late. I can eat junk food for dinner. This isn’t going to be so bad after all.
Having time alone might just be a great Father’s Day present after all.
Leigh asked me the other day, “I feel bad that you are going to be alone on Father’s Day weekend. Do you want us to stay home?”
I told her not to worry about it at all. I would be just fine and I then explained to her all of the benefits that I just mentioned.
“Well, if you are going to have time undisturbed, why don’t you fix the sink in the hall bathroom. Oh, and do you think you could take a look at the dryer vent in the laundry room. Maybe you could measure the wall, while you are in there, for some new shelves. You should also have a nice weekend to trim around the pond... If you want to.
It looks as though my plans have been changed for the weekend. It seems that I will be too tired in the evening to watch the History Channel.
For Father’s Day next year, I think I will just ask for good kids.
Bryan Pinkey can be found finishing his honey-do list or at bpinkey@nccox.com.
Father’s Day and Mother’s Day were always special times in my family when I was growing up.
This was a time that my brother, sister and I would make cards for our parents, do chores to help them out, try our hardest not to argue and do our best to be on our best behavior.
I remember one year my father was asked, “What do you want for Father’s Day?” With a little bit of deep thought, he answered, “Good kids.” With a look of bewilderment and a brief pause I asked, “No. Seriously, something we can buy.”
That would have been a tall order, more fitting for his birthday or Christmas.
Now that I am a father, I completely understand. To have one full day of “good” kids, that would be awesome. A day of no running through the house, no fighting, no tattling, and “yes sirs” all day long.
Last year, Will and I planned a local horseback riding trip. When we do these trips we stay out all day and tend to come home worn out and tired. Early bedtime is soon to follow and a slow morning the next day.
With Leigh’s infinite wisdom, she decided to take the children to the beach for the Father’s Day weekend. I was going to be gone and worn out anyhow. We both figured that if they came back on Sunday morning, then we would have the same amount of family time as if they stayed home.
This year, Will and I planned another trip but wanted to head out to the mountains. We were going to leave on Thursday and come back Saturday night or Sunday afternoon.
Once again, Leigh planned her own trip. She and Will’s wife decided to take all of the children to D.C. for a long weekend. Hit the museums, take a tour of the Capitol and take in one of the best zoos in the nation.
Well, I found out recently that I will need surgery on my neck and my doctor told me to, “Go to work, come home, go to bed. Quit trying to be Evil Knievel for a few months.”
My horseback riding trip in the mountains was quickly shelved.
Leigh and the kids are still going to D.C. I would like to go but they are leaving on Thursday and I now need to save up my time off for recovery time.
Turning lemons into lemonade, I looked at the situation a little differently.
I have a weekend to myself. I can watch the History Channel and the Science Channel all weekend long. I can hop on my bike for the day and not feel guilty about leaving the family behind. I can sleep in late. I can eat junk food for dinner. This isn’t going to be so bad after all.
Having time alone might just be a great Father’s Day present after all.
Leigh asked me the other day, “I feel bad that you are going to be alone on Father’s Day weekend. Do you want us to stay home?”
I told her not to worry about it at all. I would be just fine and I then explained to her all of the benefits that I just mentioned.
“Well, if you are going to have time undisturbed, why don’t you fix the sink in the hall bathroom. Oh, and do you think you could take a look at the dryer vent in the laundry room. Maybe you could measure the wall, while you are in there, for some new shelves. You should also have a nice weekend to trim around the pond... If you want to.
It looks as though my plans have been changed for the weekend. It seems that I will be too tired in the evening to watch the History Channel.
For Father’s Day next year, I think I will just ask for good kids.
Bryan Pinkey can be found finishing his honey-do list or at bpinkey@nccox.com.
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
6-11-09
The call of my biggest fan can be heard from afar, “Haaaaay Daa-de!”
How many people can say that they hold rock star status. Not too many, but I can.
I have heard people say that the relationship between a baby girl and her daddy is something unique and special. On the radio, not too long ago, I heard the hosts talking about how excited one of their daughters got when he came through the door in the evening. He said that it was almost like he had been gone for a month the way she got so excited.
In the past, when I came home, it was a very lack-luster event. A “Hello, how was your day?” from my wife. Ethan, while staring at cartoons on the TV, would mumble a robotic “Hey.”
Now that my daughter is here, my greetings have escalated to pure enthusiasm. It is more along the lines of when a child knows that someone is bringing a present over to them.
The funny thing is that no matter where I go or how long I have been away, she is thoroughly excited when I come back in the room.
There are times that I leave for the afternoon on a Saturday and come back to the house a few hours later. As soon as I open the front door and head up the stairs, I can hear her little feet running through the house and making her way to the gate at the top of the stairs. All the while yelling, “Haaaaay Daa-de!” in a muffled speech with her pacifier dangling out of her mouth.
No matter how long I am out of her sight, the reaction is always the same.
If I take the trash out and come back in, “Haaaaay Daa-de!”
If I go to get something out of my car and come back in, “Haaaaay Daa-de!”
If I walk down the hall to go to the bathroom and come back in the room, “Haaaaay Daa-de!”
Slowly I have realized that Nash is a true daddy’s girl. She will sit on my lap in the evening and watch the History Channel with me when no one else will. She sits there spinning her pacifier around, switching it out only for a sippy-cup full of milk. She will stop, look up at me, and smile.
When I ask her, “Who loves their daddy?” She responds, “Meeeeeeee” or, “Mine do.”
As time goes by I know this rock star status will fade away and she is going to be interested in everything else but her daddy. For now I will take it all in. I love being the person that makes her so excited. I just hope I can live up to it when she gets older and realizes that I am just a dad and not a star.
I have a sticker on my motorcycle helmet that says, “Lord, let me be the person that my dog thinks I am.”
I think of her every time I read it, not that she reminds me of a dog, it just reminds me that I need all the help I can get in order to live up to her image of me.
A lot of time has passed since I was actually living like a rock star. The days of going to clubs all night to see bands play are a thing of the past. I miss them from time to time but things are different now.
A new corner in my life has been rounded. My whirlwind, rock star weekends consist of playing dolls, coloring, and watching Nemo.
Nash wouldn’t have it any other way and neither would I. After all, who wants to see a thirty-six year old try to act like a rock star... except Nash, of course
Bryan Pinkey can be reached at bpinkey@nccox.com.
How many people can say that they hold rock star status. Not too many, but I can.
I have heard people say that the relationship between a baby girl and her daddy is something unique and special. On the radio, not too long ago, I heard the hosts talking about how excited one of their daughters got when he came through the door in the evening. He said that it was almost like he had been gone for a month the way she got so excited.
In the past, when I came home, it was a very lack-luster event. A “Hello, how was your day?” from my wife. Ethan, while staring at cartoons on the TV, would mumble a robotic “Hey.”
Now that my daughter is here, my greetings have escalated to pure enthusiasm. It is more along the lines of when a child knows that someone is bringing a present over to them.
The funny thing is that no matter where I go or how long I have been away, she is thoroughly excited when I come back in the room.
There are times that I leave for the afternoon on a Saturday and come back to the house a few hours later. As soon as I open the front door and head up the stairs, I can hear her little feet running through the house and making her way to the gate at the top of the stairs. All the while yelling, “Haaaaay Daa-de!” in a muffled speech with her pacifier dangling out of her mouth.
No matter how long I am out of her sight, the reaction is always the same.
If I take the trash out and come back in, “Haaaaay Daa-de!”
If I go to get something out of my car and come back in, “Haaaaay Daa-de!”
If I walk down the hall to go to the bathroom and come back in the room, “Haaaaay Daa-de!”
Slowly I have realized that Nash is a true daddy’s girl. She will sit on my lap in the evening and watch the History Channel with me when no one else will. She sits there spinning her pacifier around, switching it out only for a sippy-cup full of milk. She will stop, look up at me, and smile.
When I ask her, “Who loves their daddy?” She responds, “Meeeeeeee” or, “Mine do.”
As time goes by I know this rock star status will fade away and she is going to be interested in everything else but her daddy. For now I will take it all in. I love being the person that makes her so excited. I just hope I can live up to it when she gets older and realizes that I am just a dad and not a star.
I have a sticker on my motorcycle helmet that says, “Lord, let me be the person that my dog thinks I am.”
I think of her every time I read it, not that she reminds me of a dog, it just reminds me that I need all the help I can get in order to live up to her image of me.
A lot of time has passed since I was actually living like a rock star. The days of going to clubs all night to see bands play are a thing of the past. I miss them from time to time but things are different now.
A new corner in my life has been rounded. My whirlwind, rock star weekends consist of playing dolls, coloring, and watching Nemo.
Nash wouldn’t have it any other way and neither would I. After all, who wants to see a thirty-six year old try to act like a rock star... except Nash, of course
Bryan Pinkey can be reached at bpinkey@nccox.com.
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
6-4-09
A good dose of History Channel and ‘Jeopardy’ are cure for a noisy house
UREKA!
After all of these years. I have finally figured out the ingredients to a long sought after repellent. As soon as I get a pitch man, I am selling it.
Ever since my brother, sister and I were old enough to all want to watch something different on the television at the same time, there has been a constant struggle for viewing time and the remote control... well... control.
Now that I am married and have children of my own, it hasn’t changed.
Allow me to explain.
Nobody wants to watch what I want to watch, ever. My dad will, and sometimes my brother will but if you throw my mom, sister, and definitely my wife in the same room when I am sitting down and choosing the TV show to watch, well, let’s just say there is usually a mutiny at hand.
I had always been the black sheep in the family, until my sister came along. I was the one who got bad grades in school, didn’t like studying and always seemed to be getting sat down to have a “talk” with my dad.
The funny thing is that I was the one always watching National Geographic, Discovery Channel and that loved to watch Public Television.
My dad and I always found a common ground on this topic. No matter what we were up to, we could always find a comfortable spot in the den and get sucked into a show about the hunting and survival tactics of the South African prairie dog or some intriguing show of that sort.
As time has passed me by, probably from watching too much TV, I have come to realize that only the male species seems to get sucked into these types of shows - like a Star Trek tractor beam.
Whenever I flip the channel over from the news to let’s say, the History Channel, I notice that my family lets out a huge unified sigh and they all walk away.
For the longest time, I have tried to get them to understand that watching these shows broadens their horizons, allows them to interact in higher conversation and, most of all, allows them to answer more questions on Jeopardy.
These reasons haven’t moved them to sit on the couch with me.
They don’t like learning, I guess.
The other day I found myself turning on the National Geographic Channel to watch Planet Earth. I was looking forward to seeing this episode on the world’s deepest places. An hour devoted to exploring some of the deepest caves on the planet. How could you not want to see this?
Two minutes into the show, my family was nowhere to be found. Leigh was doing dishes, Nash was doing a wooden puzzle and Ethan had run to his room to draw a picture at his drafting table.
UREKA!
I figured it out. The first female-, child-, and lots of questions-repellent.
I was alone and watching my show. Enjoying it. It was quiet
I did it. I am selling my secret formula for $19.95 and if you act now I will throw in a 6 oz. bottle of my “Can I get you something while you watch your show” spray and a sample of my famous “yes, Daddy, I will take out the trash for you” balm while supplies last.
Try it, you’re sure to be satisfied.
Bryan Pinkey can be found in History Channel bliss or at bpinkey@nccox.com.
UREKA!
After all of these years. I have finally figured out the ingredients to a long sought after repellent. As soon as I get a pitch man, I am selling it.
Ever since my brother, sister and I were old enough to all want to watch something different on the television at the same time, there has been a constant struggle for viewing time and the remote control... well... control.
Now that I am married and have children of my own, it hasn’t changed.
Allow me to explain.
Nobody wants to watch what I want to watch, ever. My dad will, and sometimes my brother will but if you throw my mom, sister, and definitely my wife in the same room when I am sitting down and choosing the TV show to watch, well, let’s just say there is usually a mutiny at hand.
I had always been the black sheep in the family, until my sister came along. I was the one who got bad grades in school, didn’t like studying and always seemed to be getting sat down to have a “talk” with my dad.
The funny thing is that I was the one always watching National Geographic, Discovery Channel and that loved to watch Public Television.
My dad and I always found a common ground on this topic. No matter what we were up to, we could always find a comfortable spot in the den and get sucked into a show about the hunting and survival tactics of the South African prairie dog or some intriguing show of that sort.
As time has passed me by, probably from watching too much TV, I have come to realize that only the male species seems to get sucked into these types of shows - like a Star Trek tractor beam.
Whenever I flip the channel over from the news to let’s say, the History Channel, I notice that my family lets out a huge unified sigh and they all walk away.
For the longest time, I have tried to get them to understand that watching these shows broadens their horizons, allows them to interact in higher conversation and, most of all, allows them to answer more questions on Jeopardy.
These reasons haven’t moved them to sit on the couch with me.
They don’t like learning, I guess.
The other day I found myself turning on the National Geographic Channel to watch Planet Earth. I was looking forward to seeing this episode on the world’s deepest places. An hour devoted to exploring some of the deepest caves on the planet. How could you not want to see this?
Two minutes into the show, my family was nowhere to be found. Leigh was doing dishes, Nash was doing a wooden puzzle and Ethan had run to his room to draw a picture at his drafting table.
UREKA!
I figured it out. The first female-, child-, and lots of questions-repellent.
I was alone and watching my show. Enjoying it. It was quiet
I did it. I am selling my secret formula for $19.95 and if you act now I will throw in a 6 oz. bottle of my “Can I get you something while you watch your show” spray and a sample of my famous “yes, Daddy, I will take out the trash for you” balm while supplies last.
Try it, you’re sure to be satisfied.
Bryan Pinkey can be found in History Channel bliss or at bpinkey@nccox.com.
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