Do They Have to Grow Up So Fast?

Get thee to a nunnery, go: farewell. Or, if thou wilt needs marry, marry a fool; for wise men know well enough what monsters you make of them.

-Hamlet, Act 3, Scene 1

Saturday, The Skating Gnu had her first date. Let me repeat that in case you missed it:

Her. First. Date.

When the hell did she get old enough to go out on dates?!?!? So, we agreed to meet her beau somewhere for sodas and hamburgers. His parents and me at one table, the two of them at another table, trying their best to wish us away or at least make us invisible.

All in all, it went off pretty well. Good, wholesome fun was had by all, hands remained on top of the table, daylight between everyone, etc. Nice kid, I should add, and just to answer the question written all over your faces, no, I did not bring semi-automatic weaponry. I left them all at home, well cleaned and polished. And loaded.

Dammit, she's growing up way too fast. There is talk of a second date sometime in the near future. Mrs. Gnu can chaperon the next one: my poor heart can't take anymore of this.

I feel old...

It's the end of the world as we know it.
It's the end of the world as we know it.
It's the end of the world as we know it,
And I feel fine.

-REM

Call of Duty

Mrs. Gnu is not feeling well this morning. So, being the loyal, loving husband I am, I decide to work from home. The office is 20 feet down the hall from the bedroom, same floor, no minefields, fences or Indiana Jones type of traps across the way.

So, here I am, just hacking away at the morning's to-do list, when my cell phone rings.

Me: "Hello?"

The Missus: "Hi Sweetie!"

Me: "Why are you calling me on my cell?"

TM: "I've been calling you for 5 minutes and you haven't responded!"

Me: (pure instinct) "That's odd, there's nothing in my voicemail..." (Checks both phones for missed calls and messages)

TM (growling): "That's not what I meant!"

Once a geek, always a geek!

Gotta run, duty calls.

The Cure For Boredom

School is out (for both of us - YAY!!!!) and the year is winding down. The Christmas shopping is all done, presents are wrapped up under the tree, and we're all settling in for a long winter's eve cuddled up around the fireplace.

Or in my case, hunched over the computer, surfing. Yeah, I'm a hopeless geek.

When what do my wondering ears behold but a cell phone ring, heralding an incoming text message...

...it's from my daughter, sitting not more than two feet away from me, texting away on her phone. Geek in training? Could be. Let's see what she wants...

The Skating Gnu (via text): "Hi"

Me (reply via text): "Hi!"

TSG(vt): "I am bored"

Me (rvt): "Oh... Reeeeaaallllyyyyy??? I can fix that REAL easy!"

TSG(vt): "No thanks"

Me (rvt): "You can thank me later... after you finish the task list."

TSG(vt): "What task list?"

Me (rvt): "Hmm... let's see..."

TSG(vt): "Oh no"

Me (rvt): "1. Dust and vacuum the living room. 2. Clean your room. 3. Take out the trash and recycling. 4. Put away the clean dishes and load the dirty ones into the dishwasher. 5. Put away your clean clothes and pick up your dirty clothes."

TSG(vt): "Okay, I am no longer bored, so no thank you."

Me (rvt): "You can thank me later. NOW GET TO WORK!!"

TSG(vt): "Aaaaa... I am dieing!"

Me (rvt): "You are also spelling things wrong. I can add to your list if you like..."

TSG: [Jumps up out of her chair and scoots out of the room like a Gnu on a mission!]

And that, dear readers, is how you cure "Winter Break boredom!"

I Love My Wife...

...she makes me laugh. More accurately, I've learned to push her buttons solely for the entertainment value. Slowly, she's learning when I do this.

Cue "24" ticking-bomb sound...

The following happened tonight between 6:47pm and 7:06pm

Mrs. Larriken (The Talking Gnu? I didn't say that...) and I are sitting on the couch, hungry, each waiting for the other to get up, so the one can say, "Fix me a little sup'm-sup'm while you're up, dear." I lost. Dammit, I'm hungry.

The Missus: "Dear, will you fix me a scrambled egg sammich, please? On toast."
Me: "Yes dear. One or two eggs?"
TM: "Two please. I love you."
Me: "I love me too, thanks for noticing. You want one or two sammiches?"
TM: (with warning look from aforementioned snide retort) "Two."
Me: "Salt?"
TM: "Nah."
Me: "Pepper?"
TM: "Nah."
Me: "Cheese?"
TM: "No..."
Me: "Bacon?"
TM: "No."
Me: "Mayo?"
TM: No. Just plain."

(pause, sound of pans rattling in the kitchen...)

Me: "Hot Sauce?"
TM: "What!?"
Me: "Hot sauce. Want hot sauce on your eggs?"
TM: "No, just two plain egg sammiches."
Me: "Okay."

(pause, cooking sounds...)

Me: "Sure you don't want hot sauce? I can make it mild..."
TM: "No, *dear*. No hot sauce."

(pause, toast pops out of toaster...)

Me: "Want me to mix your hot sauce with mayo, make a Southwestern sauce out of it?"
TM: (through gritted teeth) "No. No hot sauce. just two plain egg sammiches. On. Toast."

(pause, finished cooking...)

Me: "Okay, sweetie, here's your two egg sammiches, on toast with mild hot sauce, just like you ordered."
TM: "Oh for the love of - ARRRRRGHHHHHH!" (stomps off)

Friends, if you happen to see me running across the lawn in a zig-zag fashion, you'll know she's found the keys to the gun safe...