and the skies parted . . .

noreply@blogspirit.com (Pickle's Papa) — Mon, 21 Aug 2006 22:35:42 -0400

And behold god spake unto my wife saying on the eighth day I have created buying in bulk . . . and it was good.

I was not there to witness the epiphany or the act of giving herself to the goodness that took place, but the years of preaching the good word have paid off – and The Wife has seen the light.

For when I returned from my day at work yesterday I found a plastic container of 24 rolls of toilet paper, 16 rolls of paper towel, and a box of diapers that may have had its own gravitational pull.

Halleluiah!!!

For you see my brothers, I grew up in a world where the peanut butter jar had to be opened with a can opener, and the dog food at the bottom of the 55 gallon drum was so stale that by the time Dutchess got to it . . . it doubled as a plaque scraper.

And for years - I have argued the point that we. are not. going to stop. Not going to stop needing these items any time soon . . . So why not buy enough to keep from having to run to the store for the same shit over and over and over?

And I believe. I believe that my wife was convinced that she could cheat death out of that second loaf of bread. Yes that's right, because if she didn’t buy it . . . and she happened to die (HAHAHAHA!!!!).

But the bulk buyer doesn't work that way . . . no.

I owe this miracle to my devoted OCD counterpart "Mya’s Mommy" with whom The Wife went to Target and, with the subtle art of a hooker on prom night, nudged my wife toward the understanding that, “yes, . . . that roll is a dollar, and THAT one is sixty cents.”

Now you must understand, Oh my bretheren, for years this has been a point of contention. A strained fragment of the tension between the wife and I, and one I had accepted to never . . . never find victory. And yes, I had reached that lowest of low places where even I had assumed that The Wife was not going to ever give into logic on this - and to continue her battle of will. Her battle of will against having to spend that much on toilet paper (I’ll save her aversion to pay for parking for another post).

I cannot tell you the joy, Nay, the love I am filled with to see my wife come full circle and finally understand that in buying that much at once - you’re actually spending less. Spending less on toilet paper. Spending less on Peanut Butter. Spending less on Sanitary Napkins . . . and less on gas for having to run to the store every two days to get some stupid shit that you’ve run out of.

And lo though I walk through the valley of the shadow of the Dollar Store. I will fear no Drug Mart. Thy Costco and thy Sam’s Club shall comfort me. For thine is the kindom of bulk and I will buy by the PALLATE!!

Can I get an AMEN?!!?

Pickle’s Papa

Gone Fishin'

noreply@blogspirit.com (Pickle's Papa) — Wed, 12 Jul 2006 07:05:14 -0400

And yet again I’m ripping off Denver Dad to write a post after he’s already touched on the subject – here’s my justification . . . he only suggested the idea of this, and I’m going to tell a personal story about my own . . . OH, Nevermind.

The general idea is that it is important to try to have a life outside of being a parent.

Denver Dad’s point was that being a happier/healthier human will make you a happier/healthier parent. Now the way that I got to ‘my time’ – was actually in an effort to make The Wife a happier/healthier person.

The Pickle is starting to develop relationships. It is obvious to me – who is trapped alone with her 10 hours a day that she is starting to form bonds – at least with me, and Mr Crinkle Cow. As the wife is at work all week I thought it was very important to schedule alone time with mommy. This would help to develop their trust and relationship.

Why would one need to schedule this you may ask? Because every weekend since this child was born has been a whirlwind of social events – running from here to there and being juggled between here, there and dozens of adoring fans.

The Wife and The Pickle are never alone together. Even when I was in school it always turned into a time for people to come visit or take the two of them out, and I think that this is important.

On my end - since The Pickle has come home, and The Wife has gone to work - I haven’t really had any time that was truly ‘Mine’ . . . unless you count locking yourself in a library for two weeks to produce 120 professionally written pages ‘a break’. I don’t, but we've all got a different strain of masochistic pleasure. So run with it. You be you.

So in planning my Saturday, I looked back into the excursions of my youthful free days (all those months ago), and although the season is wrong I could think of nothing better than to pack up my waders, fly rods, and go stand in a river for a couple of hours to ‘find myself’.

Yes, Pickle’s Papa is a fly fisherman - or at least a collector of amazingly overpriced gear that would facilitate the faking of such a hobby.

The truth is I don’t fish to actually catch any fish. I fly fish for an excuse to stand in a river for hours on end – waving a hook about myself to keep random strangers from getting too close to engage me in conversation. I have never caught ‘the big one’, nor do I think I would know what to do if I even hooked him.

This is somewhat surprising as we live very near the ‘Rocky River’. It’s just west of us, and is home to some of the best Steel-Head fishing on the Great Lakes. For those of you who don’t know ‘Steel-Head’ are the Salmon of the Great Lakes, and travel up into the bigger rivers to spawn. They usually do this in Spring and Fall. It is neither of those.

I did however have a goal for the day, and over a thousand dollars in gear to justify that I must know what I’m doing.

As it turns out – I didn’t really need to pack my stuff up at all, because another of my equally tranquil life experiences comes from the simple act of driving itself, and I thought with gas prices so low – who needs to go fishing? I started driving in the morning, and saw what I think I can safely say was most of Northern Ohio by the time I finally got home.

I’m not talking interstate driving either. I was just haphazzardly turning down whatever road looked intriguing and taking it until I accidentally figured out where I was. I had a blast, and I think I figured some stuff out too. What, I’m not really sure of - but I do know that I have slept a lot better since then, and I’ve been a lot less nervous whenever anybody holds the baby. I did get a sunburn on one arm – but I guess that’s the price you pay.

So there you go.

The Wife has decided that this is something she wants to do on a regular basis now. I suppose that means I am actually going to have to get out of the car in the future to do something, but I think it’s a good plan. It will help to keep us both much more in touch with what’s important – balance.

Pickle’s Papa

. . . and then there was pickle. - parenthood

and the skies parted . . .

Gone Fishin'