Showing posts with label children. Show all posts
Showing posts with label children. Show all posts

Tuesday, December 20, 2016

TMI Tuesday: December 20, 2016

Happy TMI Tuesday. You know what to do. . .

Life and Being

life-and-being_tmi
1. Why do you live where you live?

Because I feel at home here.


2. Do you want to have your sins forgiven?

Define sin. However I have always tried to treat others with kindness and not do to them what I would not want done to myself. But I have taken requests.


3. Do you believe in heaven and hell?

It's all what you make of it. But I always remember there is a lie in the middle of every thing that we believe.


4. After life, where do you think you will end up?

Somewhere else. Something will happen. Something different. 


5. If you have children, would they say you are the favorite parent? Why do you think this?

I wish nothing but the best for the base fruits of my burning lust. I did the best I could with the tools I had available. What I think is irrelevant. If they think? I did my job. Favorite is just perceptual score keeping. Often flawed. Rarely reliable. Just like the other half of this equation.


6. Has anything ever happened to you that was dramatic, personal or spectacular enough to cause you to be believe in a God?

Many things. But it may not be the who of whom you are thinking. Oh the stories we tell ourselves.

Bonus: What is something you consider to be a great personal success? Why was it so significant?

Letting go. Clutching extra baggage carries unnecessary and exorbitant fees and tolls.


About TMI Tuesday blog

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Thursday, May 16, 2013

Petey's Stoopid Thought for the Day


Why am I not in a relationship now?

Because I have not found anyone I could make or would enjoy making as miserable as I had made my ex wife.

Monday, January 9, 2012

Heidi Klum's Massively Flared Jeans (PHOTO, POLL)

Heidi Klum's Massively Flared Jeans (PHOTO, POLL):

From the baseless rumor and innuendo desk: Heidi is merely hiding her now hideously swollen calves after a freak plastic surgery misadventu­re.
The misinforma­tion always starts with me.

'via Blog this'

Sunday, June 19, 2011

Fathers Day

bedtime paradox http://ping.fm/cNIYb

Just the kind of thing I would pull while raising the base fruits of my burning lust. 


I wonder if any of them will call today?

Thursday, January 13, 2011

Also Sprach The Planet

Also Sprach The Planet


There we were. The planet and I were locked in each others gravitational pull. Each dependent on the other. The inevitable exchange of energies both expressed and unexpressed. Communications continue on all levels of existence, aware and unaware. Things are communicated and exchanged always, over distances vast and small. Effects are caused and visa versa.

The use of resources expends them, does replacement ever really keep up. The important question should always be are they being squandered, or wisely used for enhancement of the sojourn. Just as natural resources can be expended in decades while taking millions of years to create, so leveraging futures of satellites for the Planets and my goals can make the balance show a negative flow. But then was paying attention to the net loss flow creating more of the same. Was not acknowledging it going to change that trend? When do you stop throwing good energy after failed outcomes? When you start looking at the world and begin to feel total connectedness of all things many things become apparent. I wasn't looking or feeling, so nothing was apparent. As for my present hindsight? Delusion, deduction, or dementia? But whilst in the gravitational pull of the Planet, either needy, selfish, or on a mission and not aware of the total interconnectedness of things, one only feels drained.

Yet as merged as we both unknowingly were, looking back on things that you can never change much becomes apparent. Or so it seems now. The Planet and I were wearing each other out. Hopefully some of that energy was transferred to the satellites. Because they were just that. Open and receptive little sponges soaking in all around them. Bless the little sputniks hearts. While the Planet and I were draining all our energies in some sort of gravitational fracas, just as the earth from a distance may appear the calm blue marble spinning in the vastness of open space; while on ground level the dirt is full of rot, decay, and festering malignancies, so all appeared serene on the surface of our existence. But from such things birth comes forth.

As the unchanging landscape of the bleak and economically depressed South Shore panorama snaked by dailey, these were the thoughts that would fill my brain. I felt less and less connected to the world of business, more and more drawn to the world created in the depths of Indiana. My heart was drawn to what I really cared about. The Planet and the satellites. The next eye candy moving picture show to hawk and maintain market share of the newest snake oil or must have widget that must be possessed for fulfillment and prosperity was losing it's importance to my existence. But the cash flow this generated did not. Twenty years of success, which felt effortless, had lulled me into to a false sense of security. But our DNA demands competitiveness. It also gives us awareness of damage being done to it's structures. The pain, the demands had given me had made me numb to what was a living chronic infection. Only I could address the pain because it was mine. Each step was being counted. Measurements were taken on the necessity and benefit each step would produce. But the seeping festering wounds must be cauterized.

I knew what I had to do.

Tuesday, December 7, 2010

The Little Lords of Doom

Is it inevitable that they visit every Planet? I don't know. What are the first signs? Is it the increasing signs of neglect. Showing up not only on the physical side of the household, but on the satellites as well. Is it the first time you get home early and discover that the drapes have not been opened all day and the house is still dark. Even though the hasty claim of “closed for nap time” is made. There was a lot of napping going on in those days, and not by the two little lads. They obviously had vast amounts of time, especially Addison, to create huge crayon based murals on walls all over the house. While I have always been an advocate of the arts it never dawned on me to question that toddlers would have the swath of unsupervised time to create such masterpieces on walls as opposed to supplied paper. But I trusted.

Was it the vast number of self help books and novels of all sorts that piled up in the two places the Planet orbited most that should have heralded the stealth arrival of the Little Lords of Doom. Or was it just the piles of everything that gathered on counters, stuffed into closets, piled on desks, thrown into the garage. The vast amount of fast food wrappers that seemed ubiquitous on the floor and in the back of the mini van. Or should I have been concerned about the mail that was picked up at the mail box on the corner, but never made it into the house. After all, the Planet had the care and feeding of the beloved Clark and Addison to contend with. Who could not understand the leaving of a few bills that have fallen behind the seats of a mini van inhabited by the two celestial terrors that are young boys in the throws of the terrible twos and beyond. Even if the bills contained large charges that where not mentioned either in passing or in family finance discussions. Was this screening of mail a tactic learned in one of those ever present self help books.

However meals were always prepared, The Planet was a born earth mother southern girl in the kitchen. I never thought twice about my arrival in the door and her saying take care of the boys I have to get out of here. That, from what I hear, is very common amongst mothers in the last decade of the Twentieth Century. It was quite enjoyable to care for my young sons. Quite refreshing after having to deal with advertising people all day, and strangely similar in more ways than I care to mention. Battle though it was with the apparent lack of routine things like brushing teeth and picking up toy's was hard to enforce when it was unknown to the lads on a daily basis. You pick your battles after all. But Planetary battles pick you in reality.

And thus the Little Lords of Doom continued their insurgency.

Tuesday, October 5, 2010

Ball-Less

Rene Uhbaduh said that all my meanness got cut off with my foot. She was wise for her years, but maybe a little low. I sometimes feel that my balls were removed at the same time. If nothing else poor body image, not that I ever was a pretty boy. But the Planet had body issues of her own, both before and after childbirth. Add latent evangelical Christian backgrounds and children to the mix there wasn’t a lot of naked, grape sharing time to be had. Perhaps a more intact me would been more amourously aggressive which might have been just what the doctor ordered for the Planets evangelical prudery, and the conflicting emotions in me combining the reverence for the sainted mother of my recombined DNA and the object of my burning lust. Then again maybe not. What may be a concise summation of the 14 year marriage to Judith Janet Planet?

As the daily trip upon the South Shore wore down my body and soul, so did the ever growing divide between our orbits. At first there were huge upsets about finances, household chores,and time for each other. Unfortunately many of these raged silently within both the Planet and myself. Like volcanic activity, only occasionally bursting forth from either one or the other, but rarely simultaneously. In retrospect it seemed neither of us wanted a confrontation, and there was so many other things to do. Work schedule kept me away long hours each week day, and the satellites growing and becoming mobile filled the Planets daylight hours.

Another aspect was playing out, the ramifications of which I was not aware of. The Planet herself came from a fractured solar system, a state of affairs I was unaccustomed to having come from what was, if nothing else, a more outwardly stable orbit family. More of the old school of stay together because of the kids, and then stay together because we have nothing better to do. Which arrangement is of greater or of lesser value is beyond my judgmental capabilities. The Planets Paternal Planetoid had contracted cancer. The conflicting emotions that were playing beneath the Planets surface were in full eruption interuptus. If such emotions were attempted to be shared with me, I obviously missed the signal. So they remained below the surface and festered.

I busied myself with trying to stay ahead of the ever increasing out flow of income, weekends of landed gentry maintenance activities and praying the Planet wouldn't be to demanding on social commitments allowing me a few moments rest on my days at the ranch. I found pleasure spending time with my sons, the Planet had it up to her polar ice cap by the weekends and felt no more time of hers was necessary with the little moons. She lit out of there Saturday mornings like a comet with a mission. Usually missions of the gapping maw of senseless consuming I would discover.

Within a year the Planet called for some counseling. So it was off to the counselors we went. We had three sessions together with the counselor, after that the Planet was chosen to attend on her own because Sigmund's brother French felt she was emotionally blocked. Well, that was it for that counselor. It was back to spinning within the vast emptiness of space for the both of us.

Can you hear a Planet scream in space.

About Me

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Purveyor of paralogical compliance to verbally mediated reality, artisanal smut, with a pinch of full time flâneur tossed in to taste.