working hands

'My hands are worn, I know
but they're not yours, they are my own'

-- paraphrased from Jewel, "Hands"

I feel the strains of calluses trying to heal, but for a lost cause. I get minor burns, cuts and sores, thick pads which were once hands. I have appearing working man's hands. I haven't been "counting money all" my life.+ Granted, I do deal with some money, but mainly working with my hands, push, cut, burn, repeat.

+ Jaws

with a twist

Keith claims this ... the picture that shows a Cramer house.

After twister, Charlie practiced punching ... thankfully not Daddy's groin.

Charlie brings us the ghost of 70s past.

Girls on the sofa; Lori cuddles with Cheyenne or vice versa.

Charlie entices me to play twister -- ultimately, the dogs won as they had to get in on the action. Keith also encouraged them by throwing the tennis ball under my legs. The payoff was me falling on my butt.

Figure 4 position and you can see my bald spot. Cool, I wonder if I'll have hair at 50.

Echo chews on my neck ... no, really just wanting to kiss me -- on the face. Good buddy Charlie on my back.

Here, it's clearly looking like a chew.

Chew! I'll then chew on his neck, while Cheyenne bites him too. They like to cheat.

Dating bastards

Perhaps jaded, but at work, I am reminded that many women seek the "bad guy" to date. Chances are, he is a bad guy and will treat her like crap. Then, after years of abuse, in one form or another, she leaves to find another jerk or some poor fool who is in for the trip of his life. Gee, I'm the first guy who's nice and she treats me like crap. They need to air out reality here to people. If a person seems like a bastard, they might very well be a bastard. Come to use the term bastard, you might have one or two yourself after the bastard leaves you broke with kids to raise. I hear more stories at work of margarita families (blended) borne mainly of youth and abuse. After much tequilla you do stupid things that you may not remember but surely should seek forgiveness, and abstain from repeating.

Don't:
date crazy people
date bastards
marry either of the above
expect things to get better with children

Do:
set high standards for yourself
dismiss the little things
respect yourself and your lover
watch for signs of craziness/vindictiveness (jerk behavior -- both sexes apply)

and a word about genitalia

When children grow, they often openly discuss genitalia for they don't find it offensive. There is no taboo rating on it, until a "magic" but random age when "let's not talk about that, shall we ... it's rude". Until that time, you can hear wonderful stories about kids noticing differences in mommies. "She is taller", "she's got a bigger butt", "she has big boobies", might be some talk of the children.

Last night, a couple of event really will not soon leave my mind. A less-embarrassing event was Jared's, "I don't want them (the dogs) to smell my 'pee-pee'". I understand that later he was worried that they might bite it.

Both Jared and Charlie were armed with nerf-like guns that fired a nerf dart with suction cup. They had fun firing at each other and then at other items. The game got "great" when they hit the wide target of my butt, not once but repeatedly. "Ow! Ooh!" I complained, as if hurt. They giggled having shot me in the "bum ... the bottom."

They each tried to circle around and circle a more vital area that I sheltered with hands and a criss cross. Earlier in the evening, I was battled with lightsabers, swords, and random toys flung at me. One item was a lightsaber, that from a lofted bed's height to my fallen-on-floor position, landed square into my groin. I was lucky that it wasn't that heavy and it didn't have much speed.

I was also "sliced" and stabbed in the "balls". "Balls" was quietly voiced. It's funny, because Monkeyjack, in whose house this was happening, has a little story of saying "balls" quieted. The story is, though, "have you ever noticed that [Monkeyjack] lowers his voice when he says balls?" This was when he was young and his mother, bless her heart, despised vulgar language. Better still, I heard "lowers his voice" and followed up with a more baritone version of the "balls" not necessarily quieter. It stuck.

To finish off the genitalia stories ... sorry, Monkeyjack, you can write about it later -- better, there is the story of "adult game".

The two dogs there are brother and sister, both fixed. They have tons of energy and would tear the house and each other apart in their play and dominance fighting. Charlie saw Echo humping Cheyenne and later recalled to Lori that he saw them doing "adult games".+ Jawdrop and stunned. Both Monkeyjack and Lori, separately want and don't want to know what he means. Charlie exaplains what he saw and then says no more.

Oh ... fudge (the other word, perhaps more appropriate)! So, nearly a day later, either he submits an amendment to his statement or he is asked again, he suggests Conga dancing, like at weddings and the like, as the "adult game" they were playing. Whew! Otherwise, the TV programming they anyone watches will have to step back from PG to G, I suspect.

There is another story, far more embarassing, but I will hope that Monkeyjack sometime writes about it. It is a guy thing gone wrong. Boys will be boys will be boys, and then you have a situation, a mess, and the lesson was learned by incident rather than lecture. I might much, much, much later write on "pee pistols". It's a guy thing ... nothing gay about it, just embarassing.

+ Monkeyjack later revised it to, maybe "human games". Charlie once stated, "girls play with dolls; humans play with games." So there is the distinction between humans and girls.

twenty-three is a magic number

Schoolhouse Rocks didn't see this coming! Bachelor's degree -- now very common, yields "jack" for pay. Let's see. I owe $22,000 - 45,000 for student loans. This job is paying me $23,000. How? Why? What?
"I'm wonder'n if a shake come wit dem fries"+

Twenty-three should not be the magic number. Now, I wouldn't expect 42, the answer to the meaning of life, but between 23 and 42 would be more reasonable, especially if you have experience.

What colleges need to do is cut the waste classes or brochure classes which you pay for a couple of paragraphs of information and move on to practical and useful classes. I wouldn't even mind paying for them, if they were online and I could finish twelve of those in a semester or faster.

How about an MBA. Okay, but what if I'm not a master salesman? I'm a "betterer" as MR put it. I have lots of ideas and I can improve things ... business or otherwise. I can read and comprehend post-doctorate scientific journals and pre-school scrawling. I can examine my old ways and build on them, making learning and doing faster.

I guess I'm just burned because middle and high school were a waste, followed by the useless classes in college which were wastes. I got debt and the salary I'm offered isn't real. Then, I have other political grievances, and I get to shoulder the financial burdon of bad action and planning by the government. When the blood is dried my this stone, me, it goes to the next generation and so on.

I want companies to pony up to qualified persons. I'm not asking for $50,000, and not $40,000, but $22 or $23 doesn't cut it. Perhaps the companies are more like France in that the old, old, old persons there, older than the walls of the building are not keen on change and forget that education costs and that some people wound up paying for it through loans. Perhaps they forgot that when they were hired, they struggled with debt and no money and were thinking, "give me a break ... a raise, please". When the cost of living rises and the gratuities and raises do not ... the nation will become the welfare state.

Whereas the terrorists plot to overthrow the government and to destroy its finances, the government and its complacency with companies overpaying CEOs and shipping jobs out of the country, the US will overthrow itself given enough time. At some breaking point, there will be rebellion or the reversal of democracy, since the clothes-wearing pigs seem to forget that some are not more equal than others.

American companies need a swift kick in the backside. A bachelor's degree in a field, not general studies

+ great communicator 50-cent

Progress Smarter

That is my new philosphy, or rather my voiced philosophy. It has been one I have had. Progress, meaning to move forward. I try to gain something every day. I'd like to gain something from every experience, but sometimes I find little gain in some things. Today I had a two-hour interview. It went pretty well, I think. I don't believe in luck, but in fortunate randomness. I still not mention the name of the company for when I tout promise, even to myself, it often goes awry, falters then fails. Either it is related to my mentioning it, my subconscious dooming it, or it isn't in the stars (doubtful).

God willing, I will get a job soon -- better still, a career that challenges and rewards.

I learned quite a bit about a few things, hopefully I'll retain the important and remember the unimportant. I feel that today I can truly progress smarter.