CHOICES OF MY FATHER

I was in one of those ice cream places the other day.

You know the kind.  It has 500 different kinds of ice cream, and 4,000 different combinations of toppings.  It also has yogurt and candy and Christmas presents.  Soon they’ll be offering a selection of small, foreign cars.  How handy.

The moment I walked in, I knew I was in trouble.  In line in front of me was a little kid, about 4 years old, and his mother.  She was leaning down next to him, slowly reading each of the 4,500 possible ice cream combinations from the huge sign behind the counter.

“So which ice cream do you think you want, Sweetie?  Black bean?  Black bean and cherry?  Black bean chocolate cherry bark chips?  Black bean cherry bark chipmunk chip choo choo train razzmatazz tootie fruitie?  Or...oh wait.  You hate black bean, don’t you?”

I was doomed, the mother was frazzled and the kid was on the edge of a mental breakdown.

He had no idea what this woman was talking about.  How could he?  None of us did.  She thought she was being nice, and a good mother, letting him make his own choices.  I get it.  But it was more than he could handle. 

I couldn’t help but remember how my Father used to deal with me in similar situations.  He too wanted to help me make my own choices, but instead of reading me an entire menu, and watching my little, fat head explode, my Father’s technique was slightly modified.  It went more like this:

DAD: “OK, son, do you want vanilla ice cream or nothin’?”

ME: “Ummm...vanilla!”

DAD: “Great.  Now, would you like a hamburger, or nothin’?”

ME” Um...hamburger!”

DAD: “Another fabulous choice, son.  Now, would you like milk or nothin’?”

ME: “I think I’ll take...nothin’!  No, wait!  Um...ah....Milk!”

It was a terribly effective system.  I got to make my own choices, my father got to not be driven crazy, and people in line behind us were able to continue on with their lives.

I’m convinced the LACK of choices my father often gave me was one of the reasons my life was so good. 

DAD: “Do you want a spankin’ or nothing?”

I didn’t figure THAT one out until I was 13.

Thanks Dad -

As together we stand and sing.

BP

Milk and Honey and Mormons

This morning I was lying in bed with my beautiful wife Gidget, discussing the same three topics we always discuss at that time of day:

1.) Are you up yet?  If not, then why are you talking to me?

2.) Where did all these Thin Mint cookie crumbs come from?

3.) Is it gonna be coffee or tea this morning?

The first one is easy to answer. Simply put: Gidget is a perpetual liar.  Always has been.  Especially in the morning.  She can't help it, runs in her family.  She knows good and well that if she's talking to me, she's already awake whether she likes it or not, so what are we discussing?   Get off my back and let's chat!

The second quesiton is harder.  Thin Mints tend to follow me around WHEREVER I go, just to make me look bad.  I honestly don't know where they come from or how they get in the house, let alone the bed.  I blame the Girl Scouts.  Girl Scouts can be tricky.  They've been known to sneak Thin Mints into people's houses at night so that they get in trouble from their wives.  I am living proof of this conspiracy.  I've never trusted 'em. 

Weebelos are my game.  But Webelos don't sell Thin Mints, and they have a name that's  impossible to spell the same way twice.  Weebellos.  Three times.

We can only hope they will soon go away.  The Thin Mints, I mean.  Not the Girl Scouts.  Anyhow, back to the blog!

The last question is the hardest of all to answer, but if not answered correctly has the potential for reeking havoc on a day, a marriage and the world.  That question is:

Coffee or Tea?

I must admit, this is the only time I seriously consider converting to Mormonism.  Mormons don't have this problem.  They just pop out of bed, have some orange juice, feed their 29 kids, get on their bikes and get to preaching.  Oh, the joys of being an orange juice-drinking Mormon!  That and the preachin' on bikes thing, of course, which always looks so fun.

I'll say this, if Mormons came to my house a 5:00 a.m. in the morning, I would convert faster than you can boil a pot of delicious hot coffee.  And I already HAVE my own bike.

Speaking of which: I LOVE 'em!  Mormons, I mean.  Well I love coffee too, and bikes, now that I think of it.

Coffee smells so wonderful.  Though I must admit it smells better than it tastes.  Unless you put so much cream and sugar in there that you might as well have a scoop of ice cream and call it a day instead of coffee.  THEN it tastes pretty good.  Like coffee favored ice cream.  Which would be great if it didn't taste like coffee.

Tea doesn't taste like anything really, though if going with the herbal variety contains no cortisol - which is good.  Cortisol inhibits lean muscle mass, which you should probably be concerned about, if you've got Thin Mints crumbs mysteriously showing up in your bed at night.

You can also drink tea with a saucer and holding your pinky out which always makes me feel English.  I don't know what it makes me LOOK like. 

But while the "Coffee VS Tea" question pervades my martial morning discussion, there are other decisions throughout the day that require just as much thought from all of us.  Questions like:

Creamy or nutty?

Potato or other kind of potato?

Bubbly water or flat water?  (careful, pick the wrong one and your head will spin).

Little onion or big garlic? 

Lemon or spoon?

So many decisions, so many choices so early in the morning before I've had my coffee. I need help.  So what does the Bible say about all this?  Well not much.  But I did find this:

Exodus 3:17
And I have said, I will bring you up out of the affliction...unto a land flowing with milk and honey.


So there you have it.  When in doubt...do both.  I guess.

I've tried milk and honey together- and I have to admit, not a top ten fav of mine, lemme tell ya.  Weird.

But I will say this, if you have milk and honey mixed up in cup enough times in the morning, soon anything seems better, coffee...OR tea...ANYTHING.  Problem solved!

As together we stand and sing.


PREACHER'S NOTE
Before I go, I DO wanna thank all of you for reading this new blog of mine.  It's so exciting, so earth-shaking.  I appreciate all the comments - good or not so much.  I have to agree with those of your who recognized the importance and value of this kind of blog.  It is true - the world will never be the same.

I would love to reply to your comments but as of yet can't figure out how to do it.  Until I do figure it out, I preach on.  With typing.  And hopefully, some day...a bike.

Thanks to to my so far 4 followers.  If I can at least get 12 I think I'll be onto something.

In closing I leave you with this:



Weird-lookin' table, or weird lookin' table?