Bumps Make Vacations Great!

Normally, during our yearly Kiawah Island vacations, something goes awry, amiss or just plain askew. This years trip, it seems, went exceedingly well. I even got along we'll with the rest of my family!

Don't get me wrong, though. Every good trip has its bumps, however minor.

Take the fishing, for example. My nephew caught several grunts, and I don't mean little kids. I caught bluefish, shark and a sting ray. Sadly, none of what was caught was cooked or eaten.

I also fished with my nephew in one of the ponds that litter the island. I caught tree branches, the bridge we were fishing on and no fish. I did, however, manage to hook an alligator.

This, incidentally, is the gator a mere moment before he attacked my fishing lure!

Go figure, right? Now, everyone knows that you're not supposed to mess with the gators. I didn't really mess with him, per se, but I certainly didn't think he'd take my fishing lure! He took two lures, in fact! I had to cut my line twice simply because I didn't think I stood much of a chance at landing a four foot gator.

And then there was the bike ride. Instead of being chased by the tide (like last year), this time around we were chased by a storm. One family member in particular felt certain we could outrun the storm. That prediction proved slightly erroneous.

As luck would have it, we found a large metal tunnel to keep us dry and safe while it lightninged and thundered. My son and I joined my father, older sister and nephew, who were already huddled inside! After five long minutes, my 15 year old decided to take his chances playing out in the rain.

The only other 'bump' would be the bike ride back in the driving rain. The fact that one member of our little group was grossly out of shape, whined, moaned and complained the rest of the way didn't make the ride any easier. But at least it gave me something to do!

Hi-ho! Hi-ho! It's Off to...

It's that time of year for my family's annual beach pilgrimage to Kiawah Island. We usually partake this trip under the guise of a vacation.

I always look forward to these trips, but I'm even more excited about it this year than usual. Due to strange events that have happened previously, certain precautions will be taken.

Take the beer, for example. Last year, the Coronas I purchased shrunk down to Coronitas at the North/South Carolina border (see the related blog post from July last year!). I've switched cars and put a safety aura around my Volvo. That should fix it!

There was an issue with a large pack of peanut M&M's I tried to sneak in the house, too. Originally, it was determined they disappeared about the same time that the beer shrank. Then there was a question concerning pilferage within the family ranks.

Those M&M's did finally appear after the vacation. I don't quite recall where they were located, but, having spent the better part of a hot week in a vehicle, they were NOT in good shape.

Also, this crazy group of individuals I call my family simply doesn't understand the true wealth of knowledge I possess. I diligently try to impart this knowledge upon them, but they don't listen.

One year, a bag of chips went missing. I told them it wasn't me, but they didn't listen. I told them they could cool the pool with the faulty heater with ice. They either didn't listen, or didn't believe me. Funny, it was never determined who mistakenly cut the pool heater on that July.

I've even told them -- for years -- how to repel mosquitoes naturally. It's simple. You just don't shower.

I took it a step further one year and demonstrated how well this worked. I am happy to tell you that I was the only family member who didn't complain about the mosquitoes.

Not only did my family not listen to me that year, they wouldn't sit near me either! Unless I was immersed in the pool. Or a steady breeze was blowing. Such an ungrateful bunch, my family.

However, they are my family. No matter how crazy or bizarre they are, I love the whole big, prickly pack of them!

Flea Eradication or Entertainment?

Flea season has been pretty rough this year. Multiply three fuzzy, black dogs by 100 fleas. Now multiply that number by 50, the number of eggs each flea can lay a day during it's lifetime. Now multiply... Never mind. You get the idea.

For some reason, fleas seem to be more attracted to my wife and my teenage son than to me. While this is puzzling, we won't be conjecturing as to why this is.

Regardless, I'm the lucky one, or unlucky one (depending), who gets to treat the floors and house for the fleas!

I started out with friends and family, soliciting any advice and helpful tips.

Someone told me to treat the dogs, then keep them in the affected area. The idea is that the fleas will be attracted to the treated dogs, jump on them and die. It doesn't get much cheaper and easier than that. However, the fleas thus far have refused to cooperate. Next!

Having received nothing helpful or useful, I turned to the Internet. You know, you can find anything on the Internet!

Refocusing on the eradication of pesky, tiny, jumping insects, I found a plethora of information on the subject. After reading about the life cycle of a flea, as well as a few close-up photos of these itchy creatures, I read that fleas are hard to kill. Terrific.

However, I also learned that if you mix dishwashing liquid with water, fleas can't swim in it and, ultimately, will drown. Now, if you use an upside-down flying disc, it will be easier for the fleas to jump into the solution.

How do you entice the little pests to jump into it? Why, thank you for asking. You use a bright light! We placed a small spotlight lamp directly over the small, shallow disc of water and dishwashing liquid.

It's proved most entertaining watching the pesky little buggers jump to their doom! My wife, however, seems concerned with the speed and efficiency of this plan. Next!

If you would like to hear my son's opportunistic views on the same subject, you can visit his vlog below.

Parenting Advice for Fathers: Part II

So you think you're ready to have a child, or children.

Considering the fact that this post is directed towards fathers, you're going to be a bit limited here, unless you are all ready married. This is also assuming you and your... Significant other have discussed the topic of offspring. Babies are not like fishing rods. You can't sneak them in past your wife.

First of all, don't worry about the number. You might say you want six kids now. But at approximately 3am one night, when the first baby has finally gone back to sleep and you're still mopping throw up off the walls and floor, that projected number will decrease considerably and quickly!

Of course, next you have to ask yourself why you want to have kids.

Perhaps you're hoping for someone to perform yard work, or someone who can drive you around town. Sadly, you have a lot of work and a long time before you get to that point. And besides, by the time the get to that point, they go through a phase where it's not cool to be near their parents.

Maybe you just want a reading buddy. Or you might want a little one, or a few, to round out the family. Maybe you even like kids and enjoy watching them learn, grow and develop.

Regardless, children of all ages get sick. Prior to 13 years old, they don't care who or what they toss their cookies on! You have to change diapers, or else they get smelly. Really smelly. Babies cry. They cry in planes, trains, cars and anywhere else morning, noon and/or night. Keep in mind that is how babies communicate.

There is much more that can be said, both positive and negative, about having children. If I've already scared you or sown serious seeds of doubt for you, then you're not ready for rugrats in your life!

If I haven't scared you off yet, then stay tuned for my next installment. We'll either chat about prepping for the baby or coming up with names, two very important topics for expectant parents!

New Diet Means No Pizza!

You know something is not right when your new doctor tells you that you need to have a blood test done. Immediately.

"But I just had a blood test done with my previous doctor, doctor," I told her, attempting to lighten the moment.

What's even worse is, post-blood test, when your doctor tells you your cholesterol is elevated and you'd best be taking medication in order to bring it down. How elevated? Am I going to die in the next 27 minutes or 27 days?

It turns out that it's only 'slightly' elevated. Loosely translated, that means there will be many more blog posts to come, my esteemed readers! It also means I'm 'mostly' healthy, but that is me paraphrasing the doctor's words just a wee bit.

So now my new doctor has called in a prescription that will reduce my cholesterol quickly and efficiently. There was no talk of weight loss, diet or exercise. We jump straight to medicine. Quackery.

Luckily, my father is a doctor. I had him look into my numbers and the medicine that has been prescribed to me and, as these things often are, it's quite problematic.

Why is it problematic? Allow me to tell you. Some of the side effects of Pravastatin, the medicine the doctor was so quick to prescribe, include general pain, fatigue and chest pain. News flash -- at my age, those are the same symptoms of exercise, which is supposed to have a positive effect upon my cholesterol.

Some of the other side effects include dizziness, cough, rash and diarrhea. And these are just the common reactions. I, the English major, can't pronounce or spell many of the less common side effects! What the heck is lupus erythematosus, anyway?! How do you say that?

And yet another side effect is cognitive impairment! I certainly don't need any medicine to impair my abilities to make my subjects and verbs agree. Or, even worse, the medicine could cause me to split my infinitives!

The saddest part of this whole sordid affair is my diet. I've been told that I may... Okay, delete 'may.' I will have to change my diet. And, unfortunately and most grievously, the first thing to go will be my beloved pepperoni pizzas and hot dogs!

Fuzzy, Soapy, Black Dogs

I'm a horrible and mean dog owner. I don't starve my dogs. I don't beat them with the garden hose. I don't stick their noses in it when 'accidents' occur in the house. I do something even more nefarious and cruel. I bathe them!

The staging area for bath time is the walkway that goes from the front of my house to the road. Translation -- fuzzy, black dog baths are a spectator event for all to see in my neighborhood!

Just so you know, bathing one dog really isn't so bad, depending on the dog, of course. If you've got more than one dog, though, you have to keep going, obviously. Bathing two dogs could be best described as a debacle. Three dogs, and one of those dogs just happens to be a spaniel, could be best described simply as a chaotic frenzy!

Dog bath prep time is considerable. First I have to change into a swim suit and an old t-shirt. Then I have to kennel all three foul smelling quadrupeds. This merely prevents escapes. Then the leash and shampoo must be located and placed in the staging area. And, finally, I have to dredge out the dreaded garden hose.

Once the garden hose is out and the water flowing, it's game on! There's pulling, tugging, whining, cuts, scrapes, bruises, leash burns and fur and water flying. And the dogs even cause some of that!

My wife likes to watch. She's even been known to help out. She helps by reminding me that I'm outside and there are neighborhood kids when the muttering and cursing reaches an audible level.

And the dogs? They put up with it, mostly. They always survive bath time, albeit without the stink.

Ace, my best bath dog, dutifully deals with it and doesn't give me a hard time. Lilly, the orneriest of the bunch, gives me an icy stare like she'll sever my jugular vein in my sleep.

And Bob, the water spaniel who hates water and bath time, has learned a new trick.

He stops and gives me that cute, sweet spaniel look and edges closer to me. As soon as our noses are inches away, he utilizes his long floppy ears. He shakes quickly, slapping my face with his now wet, soapy weapons.

Luckily, it's summertime now. Dog washing is so much easier in the summertime. No walls to clean. No floors to mop. No plumbers to call to pull hair clogs. No evil hair-dryers.

Until I win the lottery and can pay someone to groom the fuzzy, black dogs, I'll just have to do it myself. In fact, I'm looking for my swimsuit right now.

Surprise! Happy Father's Day!

I love the month of June. It usually means warmer weather, swimming and other water sports commencing for the season. It also means Father's Day, which ranks as pretty cool in my book!

I'm a little worried about Father's Day, though. The spousal and teenage units in my household have not asked me what I want to do. They haven't even asked me what I want! This worries me.

"Don't worry," they both tell me. "We've got everything under control. It's planned out and ready to go."

Like I said, I'm worried. What's planned out? What's ready to go? My Karman Ghia ragtop I've dreamed about now for... Well, I don't know how many years!

Perhaps the plan includes a publisher. And a kidnapping scheme. They'll tie him up and hold him hostage until he agrees to publish one of my incredibly cool children's stories I've written. But that could backfire, so probably not.

I feel certain that it involves dinner, though I'm not sure where. Instincts, and the fact that I've whined about wanting to go for more than a year, tells me that we may be eating dinner at Shane's Rib Shack in Greensboro. I certainly hope so. However, my wife and son can be quite unpredictable.

Sadly, I have not put 100% effort in to extracting this information from either my wife or my son. It just wouldn't be fair to pit my considerable wit and intellect into such a nefarious scheme. I like a challenge, but sometimes I actually like to be surprised, too.

Regardless, I'm sure it will be most enjoyable since it's been planned and in the works now for more than a month. If my son or wife ask me about tying knots, then I'll start to really worry.