My Dad

I had a good dad growing up. He made time for us, taught us right from wrong, and loved us. He still is a great dad, and loving Grandfather to my kids.

If I could pick one attribute of my father to display to my kids, it would be the love he showed to us through the time he spent with us. It taught me a lot about the love God has for us, and I would guess that much of what I believe about my heavenly father came as a result of my relationship with my dad. 

Every now and then my pops makes his way over here to read these posts, and I want to say a public "Thank You" for the security you provided, the display of Godly manhood, and the things you continue to teach me about loving my own children. I love you Dad, you were and are a blessing from God!

What about your father do you want to mimic to your own children?

NEVER on a plane

I learned a couple of valuable lessons on this trip to Ecuador. The first was that you should never plan two trips back to back. It's too much! Another thing that I learned was far more sinister, and unforgettable. If you don't like my posts about bathroom things, now would be a good time for you to look away, and read someone else's blog. For the majority of you that find great joy and pleasure in my pain and stomach fails you may want to stick around.

I can sleep anywhere. Under any circumstances. Every trip that I ever took with students wrought a new picture with me asleep in interesting positions and places. The hum of a plane's engine might as well be Nyquil or Benadryl to me. I'm lucky if I make it off the runway awake. But on the flight home from Ecuador, I could not get comfortable. Then IT happened. Let me clarify...

Ecuador has possibly the best ice cream in the entire world. My stomach responds quite negatively to dairy products, but Ecuadorian ice cream is worth it. I had eaten massive amounts during the week with no consequence, but I couldn't let sleeping dogs lie. Saturday, late in the afternoon I made a poor decision. Someone said, "Let's go get one of those big ice cream cones one last time before we go home." At the time, this sounded like the greatest idea I had ever heard. Sure, I had a passing thought that it would be VERY bad to have an "episode" on the plane ride, but what could go wrong? I had eaten my weight in the stuff during the week, and nothing happened. This time would prove different.

At 3:30 am, 36,000 feet up, I awoke from a not-so-peaceful slumber mortified by what I knew was about to take place. There was no emergency landings, or turning the plane around. This was going to happen. My old friend, Cold Sweats was there with his good buddy Grinding Intestinal Pain. I spent a few minutes begging them to go away. I tried to rotate in my seat, sit up, lay back, lean forward, but there was no avoiding the inevitable. I was in a window seat, so I woke everyone up on my row as I scampered to the back of the plane praying for a miracle. God did NOT answer my prayer that night.

As I entered the 1 ft. x 1 ft. bathroom, I speedily made the necessary arrangements one does to be able to feel comfortable sitting in a place where others have stood, with bad aim. I quickly sat, and began to relieve pressure as quietly as possible. I thought things would be ok. I was wrong. We hit turbulence. Heavy. Turbulence. I gripped the sink and adjacent handle to try and hold myself down. Outside the lavatory I heard the Captain cut on the seat belt sign. I began to pray FERVENTLY something like this, "Dear Lord, I am begging you! Please commission an extra amount of gravity in this place right now. Let what has entered this toilet stay FIRMLY planted, never to rise! Lord, I will have a hard time giving thanks if you don't answer this prayer. Please send your angels to protect me...Amen!" Moments later things died down, but I was afraid.

As I left the tiny area, where I had confessed every sin, and made many promises and deals with God, I noticed people solemnly sleeping. They were oblivious to the danger that had existed only feet from them. They did not know of my torment and agony. They were ignorant of my groaning and near destruction. I made my way back to my seat angry with them and their peace. Soon, however, the hum of the turbine lulled me to sleep.

I record these things because in a month, I will be back in that land flowing with milk and honey almond ice cream. I will be faced with the same dilemma: To be overcome in the awesomeness of such a tasty delight, where evil is waiting, or to abstain and sleep well along with the others on my row. I want this to be here to remind me, so that I don't repeat former mistakes. But man, that cookies and cream was AMAZING...

The Dentist

Have you ever stopped and thought about the dentist? It's one of those things that if you weren't brought up in this culture you would think was extremely strange. We're conditioned to believe that it's completely normal, but it's not. 

They drill in your mouth. Every drill I've ever handled had pictures of marred stick figures that got the drill too close to their face. This tender cartoon was intended to let those who can't read know that drills should not be used too close to your face, much less in it. They stick sharp objects in your mouth. Pretty sure my mom told me never to do that. While all of those tools are in your mouth, they ask you questions, but somehow still know what you're saying when you respond. Personal space issues seem non-existent. This is all terribly strange.

To top it all off, we pay for these things. "Yeah," we think, "you deserve compensation for this." Nice. Real Nice.

Rats!

I have written ad nauseam about my dislike of animals here on Pertaining to all things Robertesque, but I once again feel the need to print that my least favorite of all the animal kingdom is rats. I mean, I really hate them! Not only that, if you like them, there is something wrong with you. Pet rats? Come on!

Anyway, today one was by my feet on the sidewalk outside. Holly spotted it and I shrieked like a little girl. It was tiny, but really, is there such a thing? There's no mice, only rats... and I hate all of them. So, I grabbed the shovel and in one swift move cut off it's head. I was slightly afraid that it might somehow jump on me. Not taking any chances, I left all of its body on the sidewalk in hopes that others might see it and continue past our house realizing that sure and certain demise meet all rodents in this abode. This is not true, because at the moment I see a rat in this house we are moving, plain and simple. But I want them to really wonder if coming in the Hope residence is the best choice for their little rat lives, with their crooked big teeth and beady eyes.

Gall Bladder Update

After all my tests came back, turns out there's nothing wrong with my gall bladder. It is fit as a fiddle. The doc said to watch what I eat. Haha. That's funny. I do that anyway. Not in the sense that I monitor a strict diet, I just post statuses on twitter about every meal, so I can later examine all that has been eaten. He also told me not to eat things that upset my stomach like Papa John's Pizza. That's not happening. In the future, I'll continue to decide if what I'm eating is going to be worth the pain I'll feel later.

Nice, real nice!

My First Photo Attempt

So I was commissioned to take some city photos for my first shoot. Here's the result. Some of my photog friends, begin your critique. I would like very much to improve.

Small

Last Saturday night Holly and I were hanging out with some friends of ours named Greg and Lisa. We like them. They are cool. 

It was during a very heated game of Spades (which Greg and I dominated), that the aforementioned Mr. Harper alluded to the fact that he recently began tracing his family lineage. This has always intrigued me, but I've never gotten too involved in the necessary actions to actually do a family tree. After we got finished destroying Holly and Lisa, Greg showed me ancestry.com. This was around 10 pm. At 2:30 am I had traced my Grandmother's maiden line back to 1279 in England. 1279. Unbelievable. That's like during the time of the Crusades. A contemporary of Genghis Khan (almost). It was before the Black Plague. America had not even been found, and would not be for another 220 years! I met some of my forerunners. They were an interesting bunch. The Hope family has had it's share of escaped convicts, aristocracy, and loons. 

Perhaps the thing that struck me the most while sifting through all of that history was how small I am. One in the midst of multitudes who were before me. The way that different families came together and produced offspring, that most of the time found a wife from a different family, to produce more offspring for generations and generations began to blow my mind. It is a miracle that I'm even here! I haven't been able to get over that feeling of smallness since that time. In the grand scheme of things, I'm quite insignificant. On the other hand, God is rather big... and long lasting. I wonder perchance if this is one of the reasons that lineages are mentioned in Scripture. To remind that generation in Israel that they were no big deal. God has been doing this for a while, and as much as we want to think that the world revolves around us, we are not the end all, or the pinnacle. Just another name in the line. 

The Zoo: Honey Hide the Kid's Eyes!

Saturday we went to the Montgomery zoo, which, by the way beats the pants off of the Birmingham zoo. We were having a lovely time when we passed the monkey exhibit. They were lounging around looking at us as we were looking at them. It was quite awkward. Many of you know how I feel about animals, but monkeys are a step weirder because they are similar to humans. They have hands like us, and a striking resemblance to that distant cousin that lives in Shelby. You know what I'm talking about. 

I like the small monkeys. The tiny ones are really cute until they throw their little doo doo balls at you. The big ones are not so nice. How about this one? He's a BAD monkey. He exposed himself to all the passersby, some of which were children. Parents covered their kids eyes as they laughed that embarrassed, awkward laugh on their way to see the white tigers, who coincidentally do NOT have opposable thumbs.

Gallbladder Non-Update

Would have posted this yesterday, but youtube just published the video. Enjoy!

Easter baskets

This was my Easter basket last year. Do you notice anything that you would not typically see in an Easter basket? How about the Hall's cough drops? Perhaps it would be beneficial to mention that I had no cough or medicinal need for them when I got this gift last year. I don't mean to seem ungrateful, one just never expects to receive cough drops in their Easter basket, unless of course they need it, which I didn't. 

I gave my mom such grief over it this year that I anticipated getting some again, but I did not. It almost didn't even seem like Easter without their cooling, mentholated comfort. This year I got some good candy and the new U2 cd. 

Two questions: 1. What did you get for Easter? 2. When did your parents stop giving you an Easter basket?

Gall Bladder Fail

Perhaps you missed last nights warning, but for some of you who are just now tuning in, tonight's story is not for the faint of heart, or gut. The tale I am about to divulge has not been altered in any way from the reality of what took place one fateful night. Let me set the stage.

Holly and I had enjoyed a nice, quiet dinner at Wings in Patton Creek. The food was fantastic and the atmosphere as always, was quite festive. Holly mentioned that she would enjoy a nice stroll around the local Toyota dealership, and ever the giving person, I politely obliged. Had I known what lay a-brewing I would have promptly ushered her to the car and we would have driven home as speedily as possible. This night, however, I would not be so lucky. Upon arrival at the dealership I felt this familiar gurgle in the deep recesses of my gastrointestinal region. I knew what was going to happen, it was just a matter of time. I told her to go ahead, I wanted to sit in the car because my stomach didn't feel right. She said, "Do we need to go?" "URGENTLY" I thought, but "No I'm ok, you go ahead and look" is all that came out of my mouth. Five minutes passed and the onset began. I put my feet up, I turned on my side, I laid back, but no position provided comfort. I could take no more. I got out of the car, and could see Holly on the other end of the parking lot. Two joyous couples were lazily strolling around hand in hand. They seemed so content and peaceful, until I shouted, "WE NEED TO GO!"

Holly could not have walked back fast enough. As she approached the car, she said, "Are you ok?" "I tend not to cause a scene in public when I'm doing ok. Please just drive home, and fast." As we got on I-459 the pain really hit. The kind you can't avoid. My intestines screamed out, "RELEASE OR ELSE!" Cold sweats. Discomfort. I speedily undid my belt and pants to relieve some pressure, but nothing helped. I cut the A/C on high and every vent in the car was pointed at me with my feet on the dash. "I'm not going to make it home." "What do you want me to do?" Holly asked. I instructed her to get off at 119 and make her way to the Racetrac. In my mind, I thought they would have the least dirty bathrooms, but at that point, the cleanliness began to concern me less and less. My friends I tell you a great truth in life. No person should ever consider going to the bathroom in their pants just to get some relief. But there, on that ironically beautiful night, I pondered, "If I just go, there will be a massive clean up effort, but at least the pain will be gone."

As we approached the gas station, I feared the worst. Holly did not get the car in park before I jumped up and ran into the building one hand on my pants holding them up. I was completely undignified, and unashamed as I barreled through the store. When I got in the bathroom I reached to clasp the door, but the lock was broken. "Oh no! There can be no witnesses to this crime!" I speedily moved back into the hallway and with a finger pointed at the door to the girls bathroom I yelled at the man behind the counter, "Is there a lock on this door?" "Is there some..." "IS THERE A LOCK ON THIS DOOR?!?!" I interrupted. He nodded and I exploded in the door...to the shock of the 70 year old woman currently using the facilities. (Not really. I made this part up, but what an ending that would have been.) I slammed the door behind me and fastened the lock. The events that came next I can not begin to describe in mere human terms, nor would you want me to. Allow me only to say that what I did in that place was a SIN. There's no two ways about it. It's the only way I know to describe it, sin. 

As I left that place I didn't look at anyone in the face. I had desecrated their porcelain throne room, and they knew it. I got back in the car and we sped away never to be seen again. From time to time I pass by that fine establishment on warm spring days filled with peace in my belly and with a wry smile tip my hat in gratitude for the now fond memories of once uglier times. I'm not proud of these events, but relay them only to let you know that this illness is not so funny as to be casually joked about on Facebook statuses by unsuffering minions who know the Ractrac as only the place to get cheap gas.

Look Away

Seriously, just turn away and read no further. I do not know why I post this, but here goes. I have stomach issues. I have had them ever since I had a horrible case of Mono after my freshman year of college. At that time, my body was producing too much bile and I've had problems with my stomach or gall bladder ever since. If I eat pizza, lettuce, butter, wings, etc. I will hate life about 8 hours later. Until now I've been able to deal with it, but it is getting out of control.

Holly had a friend who just had her gall bladder removed this week. They were discussing the symptoms over Facebook when Holly mistakenly posted this as her status instead of a wall post to her friend: "He has an attack probably once or twice (sometimes more) a month. Pizza definitely does him in! He has cold sweats and lots of pain. It usually happens between 4 to 6 hours after he ate whatever sets it off." And oh how the comments poured in on this one. Laughter seemed to be a common theme among all those who chimed in.

Well laugh it up buddies! I'll show you! Tomorrow night I'm going to relay one such story of pain and agony due to gastrointestinal failure that will forever change your life. I make no apologies for the dichotomy that exists here at Pertaining to All Things Robertesque. In fact, what did you think "All Things" meant? Only spiritual? Only serious? Oh no, I relate stories about my kids pooping in the tub right next to a discourse on faith. That's just how I roll, or role. So anyway, I warn you now that if you are weak at the stomach (like me) look away tomorrow. I'm going to unleash a true tale of just one episode when my malfunctioning gall bladder went haywire, and I annihilated a local convenience store wash room. We'll see who's laughing then. Hasta mañana.

Yummy

Most people know that I have a pretty weak stomach. I always thought that I would be better when I had kids, but not much has changed. My gag reflex is pretty immediate upon something that looks or smells pretty gross. Kids tend to manufacture these smells and displays of grossness on a daily basis.

Anyway, tonight after church Holly and I took the kids to a carnival at the church where Holly grew up. When I got there I was starving, so it didn't take me long to find the food line for some delicious BBQ. I had a pork plate with some delicious slaw and baked beans. The sweet tea was awesome and I even scored a bag of Fritos. I was doing alright!

Trey got a bag of Doritos (possibly his favorite chip) and began to chow down while sitting in my lap. He loves chips, but often tries to swallow them before they have been properly chewed. Tonight was no exception. As he was sitting in my lap, he became choked on a chip that he inhaled. I had the last bite of my sandwich in my right hand, and had my left hand around Trey holding him, when his choke turned to a gag. Then it happened. He, um, purged. Out of instinct I caught it in my left hand. All of his dinner and chips lay in an orange liquid in my hand. Insert my gag sound here. I poured out my hand onto my plate, speedily handed Trey to Holly, and ran into the kitchen to wash my hand. I did not puke! 

I suppose that being a father really has helped my guttural weakness after all!

Why I love Daylight Savings Time

I know there are many naysayers out there who HATE the time change, but I'm a fan. I like during the Summer when it doesn't get good and dark until 8 pm. I'm not a morning person, so I don't really care what time the sun rises. I also like the time change because we use less energy in our house, and thus lower electrical bills. More daylight=less lights.

Do you have a time preference?

Barnicles of Beardia, or Last of the Mohicans

Dueling Floaters

Tonight was one of those nights where I was gonna be a great husband. I let Holly go to Walmart by herself, which I have found earns me MAJOR brownie points. While she was grocery shopping I was gonna surprise her by having the babies bathed and ready for bed with a load of clothes already in the washer and the trash out to the street by the time she got home. I came in and everything was right on schedule. I put Trey and Claire Kate in the tub, and they were clean. I ran to their room and got Trey's pajamas and diaper, then ran back to check on them (at which time I had to tell Trey to quit pouring water on sister's face). Then, I ran back to their room to get all of the same stuff for Baby Girl. As I re-entered the bathroom, Trey said, "Uh oh Daddy doo doo!" I looked and there by the drain of the tub was a man sized stinky. Claire Kate, not to be outdone had managed to work up a little carrot colored doo doo of her own. Hers however was piled up on her bath hammock. This, by the way, is the first time they have ever both pooped in the tub at the same time. I paused. What do you do first in this situation? In all my years of schooling and growing up, this had never been addressed. Now I faced two babies under two in a steaming pool of their own feces. I did what any man would do in this grave situation. I walked out of the bathroom. I closed the door. I walked over to the cellphone and frantically searched for Holly's number. 

"Where are you?" 

"In the check out line." 

"Crap!" I thought as I hung up. "I will have to face this on my own!" So I got Trey out and laid him on his towel. I grabbed the wet wipes and speedily cleaned the hanger on from out of his behind and put his diaper on him. I instructed him, "Trey, listen to Daddy. Stand right here. Daddy has to clean Sister up and you don't have your pajamas on." He looked at me with a smile and a quick chuckle as he said, "Sisty doo doo."

I got CK out and cleaned up. She had cakes of baby lotion on her as I slathered her into her pajamas. Trey was then given the same quick and mostly thorough treatment. As I walked them out of the bathroom I noticed Holly coming in the door. By the time I got them settled down she had already cleaned the tub, took out the garbage, unloaded the groceries, and washed and dried 3 loads of clothes. It was like magic! How she does this day in and day out so effectively I will never know. One thing I am certain of, I won't soon forget the night Trey and Claire Kate treated me to a game of dueling floaters!

Barnicles of Beardia Part 5

My wife is a stinky cake eater, and Trey speaks Spanish!

Valentine's Edition of Barnicles of Beardia

Barnicles of Beardia Part 3

A Deer Story

Yeah, I haven't had a chance to tell you all about this, but two weeks ago today I shot a deer. She was beautiful! Her name was Betsy, and she was 112 lbs. Actually, I named her Betsy. In all likely hood, she didn't have a name, or if she did it would be some kind of deer name, and thus unintelligible to humans like you and I.

I shot her right at dark, and tracked her for an hour and a half Friday night. I couldn't find her that night, and it made me sick to my stomach. Luckily it was the night that the temp went down into the teens. The next morning I got up and tracked her for another 3 1/2 hours until I found her. She was about 400 yards from where I shot her, and when we got back from Dallas, we picked her up. She graciously provided us with a lot of delicious meat. If you would like to taste Betsy, give me a call and you can come over for dinner one night. Here's me dragging her out of the woods. I got caught on the game camera.