Fish and Cows

I love surf and turf.

I think it’s so cool,
The Ying Yang,
Swim, walk.
The agility of the fish,
Yet the sloth of bovine.
And oh, those omega 3 fatty acids.
But it’s not in the cows
That supposedly can kill you.  

They're there.
Side by side on my plate.
My anticipation great.
Yet, they don't know one is the other.
Does one?
As they slather both with butter.

 

60 Seconds Inside a Blonde's Head

I’m so excited. Independence Day is coming and it’s on the 4^th of July, again. I love it when that happens…I’m sure glad I’m independent… and young… and pretty… I don’t answer to anybody but my sugar daddy…Gosh, I remember having to answer those pageant questions. They were tough.  I mean, come on. ”What do you think about global warming?” Well duh, in the winter it’s OK …I am so glad July’s not in winter, I wouldn’t be able to wear red, white, and blue and it’s not very slimming… unless you wear it in a bathing suit competition… and you rock it out…yeah! Rock it out, for all the people, oh come all ye faithful!…Wait a minute, that’s Christmas…Well then rock it out with fireworks and Katy Perry, Woo hoo...Humm, I wonder what my sugar daddy’s gonna bring me for Christmas…

Dad 2013

Dear ole’ dad I’ll never forget

The day you taught me how to drive.
And the way you put your foot
Right through the passenger side.

I’ll never forget the talk we had

About the birds and bees.
And that a girl can’t be with child
If she stays on her knees.

In high school you said I can go

From here to eternity.
And you didn’t get mad, when at college
I majored in fraternity.

The day I wed you gave advice,

"Love through thick and thin.
It won’t be easy, even queasy
But in the end you’ll win.”

The morning that my child was born

We cried and hugged so tight.
Eyes of blue now sparkle and
Look back with your bright light.

I’m middle aged now dad, I’m scared.

I don’t know what to do.
My life has changed so much
And I’m only half way through.
Please send a message, let me know
Help me find my way.
Wait…that cloud…it smiled at me,
Thanks dad, I’ll be okay.

Weekend Dad

           With Father’s Day approaching I wanted to tell you a story of a nine year old boy who loved his weekend dad very much and missed him dreadfully when he was gone. Interestingly though, his father wasn’t a weekend dad because of divorce, he was a weekend dad because of his quest for more.
            His father would leave each week, work hard, and come home with all the things he thought made his family complete. His wife was long satisfied with the new things she received and enjoyed the status quo. His teenage daughter didn’t care if he was gone anymore, and hung out with her high school friends. Even his older son had long ago quit wondering about what his dad was up to and was now looking to get out on his own.
             So, to keep himself busy during the week, and out from under his mother’s feet, the young boy would do odd jobs around the neighborhood. He’d cut grass or go to the golf course and help out there, collecting golf balls that were hit out of bounds, even give a few to his father and sell the rest. He even made cupcakes with his mother and would sell them to kids in the neighborhood who wanted them as an afternoon snack. He learned by example and worked hard just like his dad.
             Father’s Day was weeks away and instead of giving his father the usual gift such as a tie or pen set, he started listening to his father more intently on weekends; in case he mentioned something that he might want, so he could surprise him with something extra special, something he would really enjoy. The weekend before Father’s Day he got the idea for the perfect gift.
             It was Father’s Day morning and he waited for his dad to awake for he would never wake his dad on “sleep” day.  A hot cup of coffee, fixed the way his dad enjoyed it, was sitting on the table.
             His dad, groggy eyed, smiled when he saw the coffee and a present haphazardly wrapped in paper that had a golf design. “That’s my hard working boy,” he thought.
              “Good morning dad. Happy Father’s Day.”
              “Good morning to you, too son. Is that for me?” He asked, playing along with the morning’s event.”
              “Yeah, dad, I got it special.”
               “Well, let me see inside.”
              His father ripped the paper off the box, opened it, and saw an envelope. Reaching into the box he heard his son say, “Go ahead dad. Open it. Hurry, dad. I know it’s what you want.”
              His father opened the envelope and inside was money.
                “Do you like it dad? Do you like it?” he asked, happy at what he did.
               “Well, sure I do son,” he replied, but confused he asked,” Why did you decide to give me your money

              The little boy looked in his father’s eyes and said, “It’s what you always say you never have enough of.”

 

It...Happens

My wife and 3 yr old granddaughter were in Wal-Mart.
A woman next to them dropped an item and said, “Oh, sh_t!”

Granddaughter:  Granny, why did that lady say sh_t?

Wife:  Talia, don’t say that. You know you shouldn’t say that.
Granddaughter:  I didn’t say sh_t. That lady said sh_t.
Wife: Talia, I said you’re not supposed to say that.
Granddaughter: I didn’t granny. She said it.

My wife shook her head and rolled her eyes, then asked the kid, “What would you like for dinner?”

I guess you have to pick your battles.

 

The Old Broad Looks Good at 75

Dreams of the young don’t die with age and when they’re dreams of the stage they may never turn the page.

             I know firsthand the sound of the darkness, the applause that beckons the thespian who craves approval. When thunderous, and heard in the rafters, it can bring an acceptance like no other. I’ve also known the more quaint laughter and the subtle tear of a smaller group, an audience one might call petit.

            This weekend Le Petit Theatre De Terrebonne celebrates 75 years in existence and to all that have graced that playhouse, on stage and off, I thank you. I’ve seen many and with Facebook have discovered dreams are still alive. I like that.

            Thank you Terrebonne for your community theatre, the dramas, the musicals, rehearsals, backstage conversations, the wishing for another week, the laughter, tears, and especially the memories of sharing a passion with people who also continue to have a love they can’t explain, a love with which we cannot turn the page.