March

March. Such a strange month. If March were personified I am convinced it would be a pimply faced, squeaky voiced, pre-teen. Jr. high was a horribly, disturbing and awkward time of my life. It stands to reason March would be in Jr. high school. Probably gets stuffed in his locker by a bully... named Old Man Winter.

You see, December comes around and we are all excited for Winter. It's the Christmas season and you can't have Christmas without snow. It snows in December and we all jump around and shovel our driveways and make snowmen and have snowball fights.

Then January comes and we still sort of smile because the snow is so pretty, even though we have to put on coats and it makes our feet wet and we track slush all through our houses.

Then February comes. The snow is gray. The sky is gray. our summer tans have faded and we are all gray. It is freaking cold outside and we are tired of staying inside. We ate way too much candy and we wouldn't mind running around outside and melting off a few pounds. We put a holiday in the middle of February to not make us not feel bad about cuddling under a warm blanket, preferably with a significant other and eating more chocolate, which naturally releases endorphins and makes us feel better about the otherwise gloomy month.

February fades and now we have March. A March is what? An extended begrudging and rhythmic walk. A method to arrive at a desired destination. Spring! Warm weather! Sunshine! Vibrant colors! Anything but gray and dreariness.

Yep, Old Man Winter pretty much shows up when he wants. Leaves when he wants. Sometimes he leaves and then pops his head back in the door to make sure no one is trash talking him after he leaves. People hide inside and peek out their blinds and whisper to each other "Shhh! don't go out there! Winter's out there! You want him to bite your nose and nip at your toes?" Winter even scares away the sun, and the sun isn't a regular ol' pushover either. Big ball of burning gas. Really hot. Gives you sunburns. Get too close to the sun and you die. That sun, is afraid of Winter.

By about mid to late March Spring arrives. Starts to set up camp. Winter says his goodbyes and pretends to yawn and then he ducks behind a tree. Spring rolls out a beautiful tapestry of daisies. There's a tap on Spring's left shoulder. Winter cackles in a withering and crackly laugh and runs around Spring's Right shoulder and quickly defecates a layer of slush on the daisies. Spring slaps her forehead. She can't believe she fell for the same trick again. Just like the past 128 years in a row! Spring sighs and it appears as if Winter has left. Hopefully for good this time. Spring carefully sprinkles out green pastures and thoughtfully places tender flowering buds on the trees. The sun sees Spring's progress and mumbles sheepishly "Well... I really should stop by and see what you've done this year Spring" But just as the sun comes skipping around the corner Winter jumps up from a ditch he was hiding in. The sun is startled. Not only does he stop. He runs cowardly away. Poor Spring always becomes so disappointed when this happens.

I'm so glad it is April now. April is such a refreshing and zesty month. I personally think Winter is a bit afraid of April. I heard once that Winter and April dated for a few years. But then April dumped Winter. Some say April and Spring had a fling (that's where the term 'Spring Fling' came from you see) and that April dumped Winter for Spring. I think this just adds to the uncomfortableness Winter has for April.

Sometimes Winter will stay out late drinking with his crony Jack Frost. Sometimes, when winter and Jack get that glazed look in their eyes and they start sloshing their drinks around and slurring and stumbling. Sometimes Winter will say "Hey Jack!" and then he will look around like he doesn't remember what he was about to say. Then he will continue after a few seconds "We should go 'nta town and just freeze everything. ah'm talken' snow... and... icicles and the whole bit!" and then he will mumble under his breath "Show that April what kinda man I can be!" and Jack will laugh in his fast pitched, giddy laugh. "Yeah! Let's go!" And so they do. And that's why sometimes it snows in April. Because Winter is an ass, and a bully and a drunk and I don't like Winter anymore and I wish he would just go away. I want sunburns and to walk outside and feel sweaty and sit in the shade and sip lemonade. That's what I want. Maybe I'm just saying all of this because it just snowed on the last day of March

New Facebook

I just love the new layout of Facebook. (Shaking my head "no" and with disgust)

It is like this:

At work we have a small Men's bathroom. It's a one seater and has standing room for one. It is generally occupied when you need it most. But it could be worse. I have visited restrooms that when the door is opened, everyone in the hall is allowed to see your... um, performance.

A few years ago, the restroom had a plastic soap dispenser. It broke. It became plugged up. Rather than replacing the old dispenser with a replica a new style was installed. This left a gaping hole in the wall where the old dispenser was. Not really feeling like patching a hole the right way, a metal plate was screwed into the wall over the hole left by the old soap dispenser.

After years of service the "new" dispenser developed congested arteries. Layer upon layer of soap built up in the pump of the dispenser. The amount dispensed, diminished until this soap Scrooge stopped giving anything at all. Most of us, myself included resorted to angrily slamming the button on the dispenser hoping soap would be awarded on merits of frustration. It really only needed a clean out. a pipe cleaner run through it and it would be fine. A solution was finally found when some poor restroom patron finally resolved to bring in a bottle of hand soap from home and place it next to the sink.

This offering was accepted by the bathroom gods and a new-new dispenser was installed... above the old one. So now there is the hole in the wall covered by the metal plate from the old dispenser. The old-new dispenser that died of congestive heart failure and the new-new dispenser.

Next to the sink is one of those stainless steel, in-wall towel dispenser and garbage can combos. I'm not entirely sure why but the bathroom gods deemed this process either too cumbersome or too expensive, but it was abandoned. a new motion activated towel dispenser was bolted right to the old stainless steel dispenser.

Eventually the batteries died in the new towel dispenser. It was then decided that a new-new towel dispenser would be a better solution, rather than new batteries in the old-new dispenser. The new-new towel dispenser was stuffed in the corner directly over your right shoulder when you are using the sink. Being motion activated it would spew out a length of towels every time you moved your shoulder while scrubbing your hands. By the time you needed towels there was an eight foot length of towels piled up on the floor next to the sink. The new-new dispenser went through towels REALLY fast. This was solved by adjusting the amount of paper towel it dispensed to 6 inches. By the time you needed the towels, there was a good 3 feet for you. New problem with the new-new dispenser. It was now going through batteries really fast. This was solved by putting batteries in the 0ld-new dispenser.

Now we have the new-new towel dispenser that is plagued with problems. So when that one dies, you fall back on the old-new dispenser that only had the problem of needing batteries, that is bolted onto the old-old dispenser that did not have any problems.

Next to sink we have the gaping hole from the original soap dispenser and the old-new dispenser and the new-new soap dispenser that is doomed to the fate of the original two because it is always filled with cheap soap that has too much wax or glycerin in it.

With the new version of Facebook, I can't find a way to shut off all of the Farm Wars, Mafiaville, and "Ralphie Pencilarms took the 'how much can you bench press?' quiz and found out he would loose a fist fight with an earthworm. " notifications. I only like to see my friend's status updates so that I can make peanut gallery comments. Wading through all of the crap, is becoming surprisingly mundane. I participate less. I can see other people participating less and to be honest, I just want to take my potty break and get back to my life without all of the extra features that don't work.

That's all. This gripe session over. Insert your comments here ->

100

Last week was Walker's 100th day of school. To mark the even they centered the day around activities involving the number 100. One of the activities was to fill out a book about 100. I enjoyed his book so much I thought I would share.

I wish I had 100 arms and hands.

That would be awesome! Forget walking! I would just roll everywhere I go. When people looked at me strange, I just say "That's the way I roll"

I wouldn't want 100 zombies

There are a lot of things that I don't want, but 100 zombies ranks right up there with Nancy Pelosi as a neighbor or getting in a fist fight with a 100 armed man.

I can make 100 germs.

It's true! He can! Sometimes when he can't get to a booger with his index finger he will switch to his pinkie for better depth.

Having 100 monkeys could really be a problem.

I think this is a good call. Owning 100 monkeys would be hilarious for the first 10 seconds until one of them flung some poop and hit you in the face.

I can lift 100 germs.

I know he can lift a lot more than just 100. It is where he puts them that keeps me up at night.

I could never eat 100 brains.

So very true... again. I can't imagine brains tasting very good. They are grey. That is most likely why zombies are groaning most of the time.

I can eat 100 chocolate chips.

I've seen him eat 100 chocolate chips per handful. I wonder how he would feel about 100 chocolate brains? Mmmm! chocolate brain!

First grade journal

It could be argued that I led a sheltered life. I never did drugs. Was completely unaware of anyone doing drugs when I grew up. I was never offered drugs, never saw drugs or for that matter did not know where I could have found drugs if I did want them. This is a good thing. I don't know if I could have handled loosing any more brain function than I already lack from. I come by this naturally. Until last week I merely hypothesized this. Yesterday I found out I have always been this way.

I was cleaning out my closet and came across a journal I had kept in first grade. I would like to share.

Today is Monday. We have no heat in our room and it is foggy outside!

Apparently this is DYNAMITE! with my teacher. Perhaps she was trying to plant ideas into my fertile brain that if I were to blow up the school the tight wad school district would have to build a new school with better than sub-standard heating.

From the moment I picked up a pencil I knew how to endlessly ramble about nothing. I still have no clue what this says. It reads:

ICOTFISFRUMMYGRAPOTHAOORSmoLI SaSd tnnwodritwosdgauthaorFunuithywEFrsh

in.

I think it says something about fishing and grandpa. I was right. Some grandpas do smell like rotting fish.

Today is Friday. Last night I usnpewinmy mom said wieorGoenswmin.

I think my teacher was starting to work on spacing between words. Still I think I confused the both of us. There are a lot of question marks here. but hey! I spelled "said" correctly! This afforded me another stamp on my paper and a hopeful subconscious suggestion to dynamite the school. My mom said something about going swimming. Mankind will never know what exactly she said though.

Today is the last day of January. I think the fog stays here because it likes to stay.

I think I had issues with the fog.

Today is Jerry's birthday. Tonight the fog.

I make it sound so ominous and foreboding. like a zombie attack. Today is a good day because it is Jerry's birthday and we will have cupcakes and sing happy birthday! But don't get too cheery because tonight the fog will come, and steal all of your happiness away and make you dark and gloomy, just like the fog.

Today is Friday. It is snowing hard. Tomorrow I want to get the snow and spit in heaven.

Um... OK? Maybe this repels the fog?

When I grow up I want to sit in space.

Oh yeah! Sitting in space is where its all at! Really, who doesn't want to grow up to be a couch potato that just happens to do all his couch potatoing in SPACE!

Last night it snowed. It is snowing now. Today we will eat marmalade jam. We think my fish is going to have babies. I got my finger slammed in the door.

That's a rather strange collection of sentences. That was a busy day for me, a lot going on. Snowing, (thank goodness it isn't foggy!) marmalade jam, pregnant fish and a crushed finger. I don't know how I had time to pencil all this in.

Mrs. Parker brought sea horses to school. They might die.

WHAT??? Did we kill the sea horses? Why did Mrs. Parker stamp "GREAT" After I said they might die? was she going to kill them? Was the fog going to come in the night and murder them? Oh, those poor sea horses! They just wanted to gallop around in the ocean or sit in space and now they were sentenced to death!

Today is Monday. I got new shoes. one of my fish that was going to have babies and it died this morning.

Aren't Mondays the worst! Yeah, new shoes definitely rock and you can run so fast in new shoes and WHAT??? My pregnant fish died? First the sea horses and now my pregnant fish? Is there no end to my aquatic misery? At least in space I won't have to be troubled by such heinous things like fog and fish pandemics, I can just sit there... and float.

Let's move on.

The leprechaun keeps knocking on the door.

Was I the only on that saw this leprechaun? Add leprechauns to the list of things that won't bother me in space.

Today is the first day of Spring. I like Spring but when summer comes you get stung by a bee.

Were bee stings like a right of passage into summer? I sure was pessimistic about spring. Spring is great, but Spring leads to summer and that's when the bees attack you and sting out your eyeballs and then after summer comes winter and then the fog that steals your happiness and murders your fish. I am going to go sit in space where none of this happens.

I don't like G force. They think they are a hero, but they aren't.

I don't remember what G force was, but I thought they were hero imposters.

Today is Tuesday. I got a kite. I can't find the string.

You see in space you don't need string. Kites just float. You can just sit there and watch them float.

Substitute Judy is talking too much. Hat.

Long winded substitutes are ruthless! I don't know what "hat" had to do with anything. Maybe it was one more thing I was going to add to my list of things I didn't have to worry about in space. My list must have been pretty long. Add substitutes that talk too much.

Space is going to be so great. I can't wait to grow up.

One more thing

I can tell you are a person of superior intellect and extremely web savvy. How do I know this? You are here, reading this silly. Deductive logic dictates that you are sharp witted, classy and possess an affinity for the finer things in life as all of my readers are.

I however wish I were more like you dear reader. I am slow witted, often become confused and distracted by shiny lights and sparkly objects and am plagued with frail thought processes.

Last week I detailed a few things I do not like. Allow me to add another item to my dislike list. Drive-thrus. Let's explore a typical drive-thru experience for me.

Driving down the road in the car. From the back Walker says "Dad, I'm hungry. Can we go to McDonalds?" to which Mandy replies "No, you didn't eat anything last time I took you there" and I add "Besides that, you just want to go inside and play in the play area and that McDonald's doesn't even have a play area AND I HATE McDonald's food"

Suddenly there is a whining noise that sounds like a wind-up siren on an antique fire truck "DaaaAAAAADDDDDD! I'm zursty" (Shelby's way of saying "thirsty") I look over at Mandy "What do you want to do?" She portrays the most realistic look of despair that she can manage "I don't know? I'm pretty hungry too. Do you want to stop real quick and get something?" Then she begins bouncing in her seat so fast it is almost like a vibration as she claps her hands "And maybe -- we could get some ice cream!" Her eyes flare really big like the heavens were parted and she just caught a glimpse of an angelic choir serenading her. The smile stays fixed on her face like someone sprayed it with super-mega-ultra hairspray, that was designed to hold up the 80's wing style and standing bangs hairdos.

"All right, where do you want to go? We could go to oh -- nevermind, there goes Wendy's. How about Taco Bell?" Mandy says "No, there's nothing there the kids will eat." "Well, Walker has somehow lived to the age of 8 on just scraps of candy that he could beg off of strangers and tubs of yogurt." I add. "Well there's..." "No" Mandy interrupts. "Or there's..." "Uh uh!" I reply. Finally we decide on a destination. Joe's dead animal grill and/pet salon. Home of the free burger with every doggy bath.

As usual we are pressed for time, so the drive-thru is the only option. The car hasn't completely rolled to a stop and I am frantically scanning the menu for something edible. "Welcome to Joe's would you like to try a dead meat burger with a side of fried mange clippings?" Of course the answer is "No" but there is that awkward social moment where I don't know if I should acknowledge the question or just pretend they asked me if they could help me. I sigh and reply "No I would not like a dead meat burger with a a side of mange clippings" The autonomous speaker in the menu garbles out "Would you? Could you? in a box?" I shake my head angrily "No! I don't want a burger, or green eggs and ham or fried mange clippings! Just ask me if you can help me and we can get on with this!" Slowly the speaker in the menu says "Can I help you?" Or at least that is what I think it said. It sounded more like Charlie Brown's parents than anything. Having waded through the formalities of the process I proceed to my next step. "No you can't help me! I haven't even looked at the menu yet! How's somebody supposed to just drive up and know what they want? Do you honestly get that many return customers that they have your menu memorized and know what they want before they even veer into your drive thru? Are there that many sadistic and wantonly suicidal people out there that consume your food on a regular basis?" The voice behind the menu is silent for a few seconds "Go ahead and order when you are ready" "Thank you!" I reply. "What was that? You want a number 2?" the speaker says "NO! I said 'THANK YOU'!" Another pause from the voice "Sir" The voice continues in a nasaly drone "I have every right to refuse you service for talking inappropriately to me" "NO!" I giggle with a frustrated twitch "I said T-H-A-N-K YOU!" Another pause "Sir, you don't have to talk so loudly. I can hear you just fine. Are you ready to order?" "No, I haven't even looked at your menu! Give me a minute please!"

By this time 3 cars have pulled up in line behind me. I can see the driver of the car behind me glancing at his watch. He looks nervous and tense like he only has 30 seconds to eat something or he will expire and deflate into a lifeless goo on the floorboard of his car.

Nothing looks good. The number 7 looks palatable. But for $8.99 for the "value" meal? I look at the price of the sandwich alone, the toasted toenail clippings that come as a side, and the price of a drink individually and add them up to see if I can just save money by ordering them separately. "Have you had a chance to decide yet?" the menu says to me "No, just one more minute" I can hear the person with the headset taking orders say quietly to another coworker "This guys like taking forever! What kind of moron doesn't know what to order? Just look at the menu and order something!"

I glance in my rear view mirror. There are 12 cars lined up behind me. One of the cars has Jack Bauer and McGyver in it. They both have ticking bombs in their laps and are looking hopelessly at me because apparently the only way to disarm their bombs is with a dead meat burger, no onions, extra mustard. The gravity of the situation begins to weigh heavily on me. I can feel the fate of the planet is weighted on my prompt decision here. Nothing looks good, so I spew out the first number I think of "42!" The menu asks "What drink would you like with that?" In my frazzled state of mind I had neglected to even read their drink menu. I scan, scan again and yet a third time. I don't see any drinks on the menu. I stammer out "Uh... the red one!" I secretly hope it is a fruit drink, artificially flavored fruit drink or even flavor that is inspired by fruit flavor. I curse myself because I realize you can get Coke anywhere, even at Joe's dead meat shack and pet salon.

Satisfied I prepare to pull forward until it occurs to me that I am only 1/4 the way complete with my order. Fortunately Mandy usually knows what she wants. There are usually strange requests with her order and I try to talk her out of them because I don't think they will do it, and I am usually wrong. "Um, I would like, um, a steamed squirrel salad... and some Fettuccine sauce... on the side. In a mickey mouse cup" I glare over at her and whisper "They won't have fettuccine sauce and they certainly won't have a Mickey Mouse cup!" She bats her eyelids at me and simply says "Just ask" And so I do and they respond like everyone that comes through orders that.

Then I move on to the kids. They look around like they didn't even notice we were at a fast food restaurant. "What? Can we go inside and play in the play area?" They ask. "No! They don't have a play area! Now do you want boiled foam shaped like drumsticks that are lightly breaded or do you want the hot dog that I am afraid is really dog meat?" "What toy does it come with?" They ask "GR...pft...IKGHT..." Is all I can say. By now my face is bright red and a vein is bobbing to the beat of my heart on one side of my head. There are now over 37,000 cars behind us waiting. They guy right behind us has died and Jack Bauer and McGyver have left their bombs in the car and can now be plainly seen running each in different directions as fast as they can before their bombs explode.

The menu says "What else can I get for you?" "And I'll take two orders of the kids chicken couch foam thingys, both of them with Sprite" I say "We don't have Sprite" "7-up?" I plead "No" "Fine just give me the clear carbonated stuff that has lots of sugar in it. The kids will like that" The menu replies "OK, so that's our Kaboom high potency energy drinks" I look over at Mandy "Is that the drink that has more caffeine than 163 cups of coffee?" She shrugs back. I look back at the menu "Uh, yeah sure, whatever" "OK, that'll be $187.34 at the first window" I look back at Mandy as I put the car in drive "Did he just say $187.34?" From the back seat I hear "I don't like chicken foam drumsticks!"

Things I like and don't like

Things I like: (not all inclusive)

- The sounds to be heard in a grove of aspens.
- A good bike ride
- The way my clothes smell after a bike ride (besides the sweaty zones)
- Sugar sludge in the bottom of my bowl of cereal
- Four-wheel drive
- Substituting the word "Squirrel" for "girl" whenever possible
- My dear sweet squirrel Mandy and my little squirrel Shelby.
- Sunday naps
- The way my hair feels after a haircut
- A warm shower after working out in the cold
- Watching a summer thunderstorm roll in
- The smell of rain on dry pavement
- Tax returns

Things I don't like

- Mornings
- Running
- Donny Osmond
- Plain milk
- Country music
- Glitter
- nose hairs
- Seeing myself on camera
- Getting eaten by an alligator

This is just a list of things I do and don't like. If you have things on your own personal "like" list that I have on my "don't like" list. I don't think any less of you. Let's say for example you were to tell me that your dream day would be waking up really early, going for a run with Donny Osmond, drinking a tall glass of milk, while listening to country music, then getting showered with glitter as a film crew records your lush forested growth of nose hairs and then you getting eaten by an alligator. Then I say "Good for you!" This is merely a list of items that I have for either logical or completely irrational reasons collected.

Donny Osmond for example I can't explain. He just embarrasses me and I think he is too -- um, smiley? He makes me want to do something to him that would make him not smile. Like feed him to an alligator. Country music. I don't know? It just grates on my senses. (However, for reasons I can't explain, I like bluegrass music) Milk. Tastes like the smell of cows -- which I happen to not like the smell of.

A few weeks ago Shelby started coming into our room early in the mornings and climbing in bed with Mandy and I. Formerly, Mandy would snuggle with the child that came in to our room at night for a bit and then put them on the floor with a pillow and a blanket. A few weeks ago this stopped. I was forced to confront my morning with elbow jabs, head butts, kicks to the kidneys, slaps to the face and "Dad, I'm hungry!"

A morning is something you have to ease into. Kind of like getting onto a moving freight train. You can get onto the front of the train by standing in the middle of the tracks and waiting for the gap to close or you can ease into it. Run along side, get yourself going the same speed and grab the hands of one of the hobos cheering you along. In a sense I was getting kicked, punched and slapped onto the tracks. I haven't been very happy about it.

I quizzed Mandy about her recent change in policy. She dismissed my questions with a half baked excuse. "I don't want to accidentally step on her when I wake up in the morning!" "Hmm..." I grumbled. Later we were travelling together in the car, I was flipping through the radio channels. I stumbled across a country station. Mandy blurted out "NO! STOP! I like this song!" I grumbled loathing mutterings quietly to myself as a song twanged along and the singers voiced creaked out the lyrics. "Let them sleep in the middle" I looked over at Mandy and she was gazing sentimentally forward. She had that look like tears were bubbling very close to the surface. Somehow she had found a connection to this song. I receded back to my happy place where I was plucking Donny Osmond's nose hairs out one by one and he was not smiling. When the song was over I quickly changed the channel before another one of Mandy's favorites might have come on. and said "This is why you let Shelby sleep in our bed now? Because of a song? A CoUnTrY song?" Mandy looked suddenly ashamed. "Well, it's such a sweet song" she pleaded.

I hate it when items on my dislike list combine forces. I sigh with a tinge of gratitude that my dislike list is not so lengthy and complicated as it could be. I mean -- somebody, somewhere out there wakes up to the stark reality that they in fact, live next door to glittery and persistently sparkly personality that just won't go away that we all know as one Mr. Donny Osmond.

Women

You hear it all of the time, and we laugh that men just don't understand women. In all honesty I am wondering, what are you girls thinking?

I recently overheard some people talking about being single and dating. Holy crap am I glad I don't have to worry about that anymore. I am truly, deeply, DEARLY, sorry for those that do.

My dating career was as short as I possibly could manage, yet still fraught with countless embarrassing and confusing moments. Dating is a lot like being dropped in a department store in just your underwear with the objective of picking out a pair of clothes that you like, and every three feet there is someone standing with a cattle prod who gets to zap you when you come into their reach. That is a bad analogy though because after you made your selection, you have to hope your selection chooses you also. I am happy to report that I came out of the ordeal having made a great choice.

Here was the confusing part. I thought I was pretty understanding, caring, funny, good looking and most of all humble. One of the blessings of marriage is that you later find out, those things you that you thought you were -- you aren't. (Well, because your spouse is silly!) In short I thought I was a good catch. I wasn't really, but I knew guys that were. I and them received some attention but the moment some guy strolled into the room with a guitar and started strumming a single chord and singing out of tune, the girl's eyes glazed over and they fawned around him like he was the pied piper. The rest of the guys and I would roll our eyes at each other and grumble "Who's the knob with a guitar?" We all knew it was game over at that point.

Another time I was standing at a street corner on campus waiting for the light to turn so that I could cross. There were some girls standing next to me and a dude with a motorcycle rolled up to the light. One of the girls stepped out of the crowd and shouted at the motorcycle rider "Hey! Can I have a ride?" He smiled and said "Sure!" and she hopped on the back and off they went. He could have been Jefferey freakin' Dalmer. She didn't care.

There are others, but those two seemed to mystify me the most. Dudes with guitars and motorcycles. They just seemed to put women in a trance.

Looking back, I am not sure why I didn't get me one of either of the two. If you are a single guy out there, I would encourage you to learn how to play the guitar while driving your motorcycle. Just learn one chord and sing about any ol' thing you want. "I'm playing my guitar! ridin' my broken down crappy Suzuki! It's really hard to steer, with my hands off the handle bars. And when all of these women are throwing themselves at me! Oh, I'm playin' my gee-tarrrrr! Drivin' my bike that says rarrrrr!..." It really won't matter.

If we look at the selection process, on it's most basic levels, I can honestly see why a female would choose a male that is tall or short. black or blonde haired. Brown or blue eyed. Has money, influence, charismatic, muscular, or even as frustrating to me at the time... can throw a football really far. They all show certain ability to produce or provide for offspring.

I think I know the answer now, but it doesn't mean I understand. I know now, but I'm not any wiser. It boils down to one thing. Emotion. Making a decision based on emotion seems so foreign to me, I have little concept of how it works. Which is why I am grateful that I have Mandy to help me out there. I am truly appreciative of the fact that she has that ability. She has a marvelous talent in making an emotional decision and then explaining it to me logically. I am also glad she can make a decision based on pity, because that is surely the reason she chose me even though I don't ride a motorcycle or strum a stupid guitar.