The Mock Dock

ENOUGH SAID!

Please keep in mind that the tale I am about to tell in no way diminishes my ultimate manhood…it is possible that many of you are pregnant for just reading this post. My virility is legendary! So, here it goes…

One of the true joys in my life as a single father comes with each and every weekend that my children and I get to spend together. This past weekend was one of those very times.

Upon picking them up from their mother’s home on Friday afternoon, we went home to an evening of bike riding and playing tag in the wonderful warmth of the late, Spring sun. After baths, snacks, and stories it was indeed time for bed. With hugs and kisses and the well-wishing of sweet dreams, my son and daughter, 6 and 3 respectively, trundled off to the land of sugarplums and metered breathing.

After two hours of them laughing from bed to bed, playing games with each other as we all did growing up and being over-excited, my daughter slinked her way down the hall to the living room where I was watching television. She looked at me adoringly and said, “Here daddy. You look tired and you need to go to bed soon. I brought you Bobo to help you sleep.”

With these words she produced the teddy bear given to me when I was her age, which now resides in her bedroom with her teddy bear collection. She handed it to me and raced back to her bed.

After waiting for some time, and not hearing any more chatter, I went down the hall to check on them. Each was nestled in his or her bed, but sleep had not taken them. I lazily tossed Bobo in to my bedroom and went back out toward the living room to watch more stand-up comedy, my true love.

Not 15 minutes later, I heard a distinct rustling in my darkened bedroom and felt the urge to investigate. As I entered the room, I startled my daughter, and she…me. She began to explain that, “She didn’t approve that I threw Bobo and she wanted him to have a nice place to sleep.”

I looked and saw that she had found him in the dark and placed him, ever-so-lovingly on a pillow on my bed, so that he may help me get a good night’s sleep. This made me well with pride, the empathy that my daughter, at only 3, could have for a 31-year-old bear and her 34-year-old dad. So, both Friday and Saturday night, Bobo slept on his pillow, as identified, in my bed.

I would like to say that it ends there. However, last night, as my children had returned to their mother’s home for the week, I was left alone, I found myself tossing and turning restlessly as I always do when I sleep alone. Upon waking up this morning to start a new day, I discovered that I was not alone, however. For tucked gently under my right arm, I found Bobo.

That’s right folks. As I lay in my boxer shorts dreaming of swimming in pools of syrup with bikini-clad women, I was hugging my childhood teddy bear.

Bobo has been returned to his place in the bevy of bears that my daughter has. My son will never know that his father, the manliest man since man got all manned, slept with a teddy bear. My daughter, however, will always have my gratitude for being so dang sweet!

I have now told you my tale. My calf-muscles are so awesomely developed that they are practically mocking me for this event. I must go…now and save a damsel tied to a train.

Absurdly your,

Holmes

This weekend, I wanted home-made pizza. It has long been one of my favorite meals. So I set out on my weekend alone to create the Greatest Pizza Ever Made (by an Irish-boy from Wisconsin).

I visited my local market, Greenbag in tow, and carefully selected the ingredients for the sauce and toppings: tomatoes, red onions, green peppers, italian sausage, pepperoni, black olives, fresh mushrooms, and a block of mozzerella (freshly grated is always best).

As I checked out from the “Self-checkout” lane, a true sense of exhiliration rushed over me. And for those that know me well, my immense apathy toward all things does not cotton well with exhiliration…this was truly a red letter day.

I trudged home along freshly cut grass, soaking in the smells of Spring. As I arrived home, I unloaded my shopping bag and began the tedious preparations. I will not bore you with the details here, but be aware…I might have been whistling.

After constructing an absolutely gorgeous pizza pie, fit for the even the most bourgeouise capitalist, I relished the aroma as the timer clicked on toward pizza perfection.

Removing it from the oven, I sliced 6 perfectly gooey slices, cheese dripping, vegetables hot and tender. I slowly raised the first slice to my mouth and burned all of the interior-mouth-flesh that I was granted upon my entrance to this mortal coil.

As all the tastebuds fell away and my awesomely developed calf muscles tensed in frustration, I moved the pizza to the cooling box so that I might enjoy it after my mouth heals.

It was then that I remembered why I get so excited when I order a pizza from a local delivery establishment…cooling off time.

Absurdly yours,

Holmes

I had a friend stop by the other day. She helped me move my new piano into my room at the “Y”. She said that I needed to get some flowers to sit atop the instrument. So, I saw this guy in a van under some overpass and bought a dozen yellow roses.

Do you know what I love even more than roses on my piano? Answer after the jump…

Continue reading ‘Forgive me…I am a 10-year-old!’

This was a conversation that started at a bar I was visiting recently. I would like to continue it here…

WHO IS THE BEST “HIDE AND SEEK” PLAYER OF ALL TIME?

I answered… “not Anne Frank.”  Your thoughts.