Pierced Ears and Such

Side note: I also don't love Democrats, but I love my wife. (It'll make sense, trust me.)

Next time: The tale of the missing tooth...

Piercing My Soul (and filling it with iron)

Consistency has never been my forte and this blog is just another perfect example: no post for three weeks and then 2 posts in 3 days. What do you do?
Anyway, my good wife has opened a discussion on her blog concerning the piercing of our infant daughter’s ears at the tender age of 3 months or so. (It’s 3 months because that’s as early as any reputable place will do it.) In less than 24 hours the buzz has exploded and she has 8 comments the last I saw.
Not to digress or switch tracks, but that’s more than I’ve ever had on any post of mine. Interesting.
It’s true. Paula and I are at opposite ends of the spectrum on this. I don’t come from a ‘culture’ of piercing; Rachell got her ears pierced sometime in high school and my mom around the same time – when Rachell was in high school. And Paula’s polling of the students at MHS trying to build an argument for the cause didn’t leave me brimming with confidence. The overwhelming majority of those polled aren’t going to graduate, much less contribute anything to society except 25-to-Life.
Without attacking the supporters of early infant mutilation…er, ear piercing…I’d like to lay out my position. It’s important to note I held all these views long before I married the wonderful woman in my life known as Paula. Also, doesn’t my wife look incredible at 6 months? What a babe.

First, I want my child (XX or XY) to be as innocent and untouched by the world as long as possible. Maybe it’s naïve. Maybe it's old-fashioned. So be it. But all too soon I’m going to wonder why my little girl is asking about things that’ll make me blush and I'll be passing her on to her mother. Let me keep her pure and unscathed until she's embarrassed to hug me in public. Next, I can’t help shake the feeling that earrings early are like the gateway drug of jewelry to looking like a hooker. I know it’s unreasonable because my wife isn’t a hooker, nor is her sister and probably five or six other girls out there who had their ears pierced early on; but it’s just there in the back of my mind. I mean, Isaiah 3:16-24.
Also, shouldn’t she have a choice whether or not she wants to have a pair of holes punched in her ears? USA!! AGENCY!! USA!! AGENCY!! Who are we to make this decision for her?
Furthermore, I’ve seen several comments on Paula’s post about it being such a great idea as something to distinguish the sex of the baby. Come on. So for 2 of her 70+ year life, some fools who can’t register pink/purple=GIRL are going to mess up the sex of the kid. Big deal. It’s not like their putting holes in her ears.
Concurrently, I don’t buy the ‘culture’ thing. Not because I don’t love my wife or her heritage, but because I’ve always been opposed to the assertion of people doing things because it’s ‘culture’. For clarification, I’m not against culture; I’m against making important decisions with that as the underlying logic. If I was Polynesian and tattooing our first born son was part of the culture, should I do it?
(Speaking purely philosophically, should culture really be the underlying reason we do something? Forget ear piercing. I’m talking about anything. If that’s the case, such practices should be reexamined because it’s not a sound premise for action.)
Finally, I’m just stubborn and old-fashioned.


Regardless of these sarcastic (but amazingly true) comments, our daughter will have her ears pierced before she can control her own bowel movements. Why? If I feel so strongly about this, how can yield? Admittedly, it’s not like Paula wants to tattoo-her face with the word ‘Culture’ in pink across her face. And I am a wonderful husband.
But it's much simpler.
Quid pro Quo.
Our daughter isn’t going to be given a middle name. Some scared, anonymous commenter alluded to this in a comment on Paula’s post. “Who cares about piercing her ears just give the girl a freaking middle name!!!” this person said.
I immediately dismissed this person’s comment as a moron because they used three exclamation points. Evidently they have a double-digit IQ. (My administration has always been clear on the excessive usage of this punctuation mark. If you are one of my friends, Anonymous, you should have put your name. Then I’d only have called you a moron in my mind.)
Like I said, she’s not going to be given a middle name; she’s going to inherit one. She’s going to have a middle name for about virtually all of her adult life – and that middle name is going to be ROBERTS.
This has nothing to do with culture.
It has everything to do with family. There aren’t very many women in the Roberts family – my mom and sister, to be exact – and in my opinion Rachell has first dibs on my mom’s name or a grandmother’s name as she is the only girl in the family. I don’t want my daughter to drop our family name when she gets married because it is a name that has been honored and protected and defended by her progenitors; her children and her grandchildren should know of their ancestors and this is a way to preserve that.
Hence, the exchange is early piercing for prolonging Roberts through the generations. Because I love my posterity, I'm stepping back from this. That is a price I am willing to pay. In the words of Papa Burgundy, "When in Rome..."

Shout Out: The Birthday Girl/Wife

It was Paula’s birthday this week and I would be remiss if I did not give her a shout out. She’s not as young as she used to be - she's gonna get all flustered when she reads this, but it's a given as it is her birthday – but like a bottle of the finest Chardonnay, she simple gets better with time.
I really don’t know what to write; I’m sure something will come to me. My M.O. doesn’t’ include mushy sentiments, poetic lines and the like...the fact that it is a Friday and a three-day weekend (y’all holla back for the no work on Monday) doesn’t help, putting me in a jovial mood. I'll try too eek out some sentimental musings for this special occasion. Rest assured there'll be a spattering of witty lines.
Let's just say I rocked the house for Valentines Day and her birthday - a day at Spa Sydell and and 2 GB iPod Nano with some of that hip-hop mess she likes to work out to. (I snuck in some OkGo and AFI for good measure.) With this 1-2 combo, I've basically solidified myself among the upper eschelons of great husbands everywhere. There have been some negative ramifications from these gifts. You know those kids always walking around with their MP3 players, oblivious to the world? Paula's regressed to a 15-year old. I've been home for like 20 minutes and I've had to answer the phone (I was in the study; the phone was in the kitchen with her) and go tap her shoulder when I need to talk to her because she's busy listening to Earth, Wind and Fire. I can tell we're going to have to set some ground rules...
Last year we went to Shout and had sushi with the gang; this year will be a lower key sans raw fish as Paula is carrying Logan, Jr. (that’s not going to be his name…just speculating). We’ll probably end up back home around 8-9 tonight and that’ll be our weekend extravaganza. And who cares? Everything I want/need is will be there with me.
I couldn’t have found a better match for me than Paula; it’s cheesy as heck and overdone (Thanks, Jerry Mac) but she really does complete me. Serious. And that’s how it should be when you find someone you want to spend eternity with – someone who pushes you to be your best, loves you in spite of your faults, makes you laugh and smile; you need someone who, when they make you mad (or vice versa), it doesn’t alter the relationship, just provides opportunities to grow. That’s what I found in Paula.
So, here’s to you, sweetheart: that dimpled smile, three Broadway shows together and your mild case of OCD; the Kids Meal at Frontera, our love of raw fish and your never-ending affection for your baby blanket; to your constant 10-2 on the steering wheel, our unforgettable first Christmas together and your road rage; to your love of reading, our standing date Thursday at 8:30pm for The Office and our common disdain for the excessive use of exclamation marks (Note: there's only one in this entire post); to you loving me at my worst and best…and back atcha…
In the words of two of the greatest poets of our time - so great they don't need first names - Brooks and Dunn, "There ain’t nothing about you that don’t do something for me."
And in the words of this poet...






To quit, break up and move in a flash;
Some might say that was a little rash
No...
It was the best decision of my life;
Now I have a wonderful, beautiful wife.

Happy Birthday!

Appliances and Condos

The newly formed Logan and Paula Roberts family made its final move towards autonomy yesterday through the acquisition of a functioning washer and dryer. We had acquired a washer and dryer via Will and Natalie; however, they had obtained these items via freecycle.com and neither was working. Not one to nix a free washer and dryer, I moved them into the apartment and, with my feeble knowledge, attempted to repair them. The washer wasn’t much of an issue; the dryer was. After throwing the breaker – not the little one in my apartment, the big one outside it – during my mechanic fix, I but the dryer on the back burner to such things as a wedding, work, a trip to Wyoming, etc… Paula ended up switching off weeks between doing laundry at the Giddens’ and at her parents.
So, Paula found this nice washer and dryer on Craigslist and I shot the person an email, yada yada yada, we got it.
I made my way to Midtown, and to the 2300 square foot corner apartment of the Hakes family. Mrs. Hakes was very gracious, offered me a beverage and we chatted for a little bit until the hired help arrived…Kurt and Paul…and we loaded the appliances into the truck. Mrs. Hakes even helped with the tying down of the appliances, as she ‘grew up on the ocean’ and had an in depth knowledge of knots.
While I was visiting with Mrs. Hakes she mention her husband was writing a book and was about to be published. This peaked my curiosity, as I am interested in that area. So I Googled Mrs. Hakes in an effort to find her husband’s name and see what kind of author he was. And this is what I found:
Mrs. Hakes has a PhD and taught at FSU and USF. She has written a ton of articles concerning children and education and was/is on the board of directors for multiple organizations, mostly in Florida.
Her husband is the director of the Jimmy Carter Museum and Library, served in the Department of Energy under Carter and through 2000.
So, unbeknownst to me, I was hobnobbing with some of the crème de la crème of society. And our washer and dryer washed their clothes. Sweet.

The XYZ on XY and XX

I love working in a project room! The discussions are "both compelling and rich", provide for some wonderful blogging material.
We had a discussion the other day about women and men and the differences. Here are some I have noted throughout the years.
Traveling
XY: When going on a trip, a man makes note of how many days the trip will be; next he will determine the nature of events planned and plausible; following this simple analysis he packs accordingly. Three day trip: Two pairs of shoes – one business, one pleasure; two-three shirts; two-three pairs of pants; three pairs of socks, three pairs of underwear.
XX: When going on a trip, a woman makes note of hominy days the trip will be; next she will determine the nature of events planned, plausible, possible, remotely possible, possible if meeting a movie star, possible under condition of planetary alignment and possible if meeting the man-of-your-dreams-and-going-to-Vega-to-get-married; following this complicated analysis she pack accordingly. Three day trip: Ten-twelve pairs of shoes – three brown (stiletto heel, flat, pump) three black (stiletto heel, flat, pump), three green (stiletto heel, flat, pump) three red (stiletto heel, flat, pump), three blue (stiletto heel, flat, pump); ten-twelve shirts (see shoes); ten-twelve pants (see shoes);…yada yada yada, you’re paying extra for because the luggage outweighs the limit.
Shoes
XY: Depending on his profession, a man needs two colors of shoe – black and brown – and at most two of each; a pair of athletic shoes; maybe one more for a miscellaneous occasion. Total number of shoes: four-six.
XX: Depending on her profession…no, it doesn’t matter. A woman would not hesitate to have 40-60 pairs of shoes and there would still be different shoes ‘needed’ for other outfits. Women will buy shoes and leave them in the closet with the tag for months. I am not making this up; I’ve heard this from multiple girls, not the Paris Hilton-types either. Real girls, like your sister, girlfriend or wife. Check the closet. The unworn shoe is there.
Clothes
(See Shoes)
Purchases
XY: XY”s first questions are: “Is it needed? Is it comfortable? Will it get the job done?” If all of these questions are answered in the affirmitive it will be purchased. If some are answered in the affirmative, more thought will go into it. If none of the questions are answered in the affirmative, the item will not be purchased.
XX: XX’s first questions are: “How does it look? Does it match? Can I accessorize?” If all of these questions are answered 'Good, Yes, Yes' it will be purchased. If some but not all are answered in this way, it will not be purchased. If none of the questions are answered in the affirmative, the item will not be approached, and definetly not purchased.

So basically, there are a couple of observations. I am not saying women are bad or dumb or inferior to man; I don’t believe that. As a rule, women are prettier (more aesthetically pleasing), and smell better than men. They are beautiful and wonderful. But they’re thought process and decisions are not based on reason and logic.

Wedding 101

Paula and I are getting our engagement pictures taken sometime this week. I have mixed feelings about that, mostly because I'm not looking how I'd like to and this picture is sent to (literally) hundreds of households across the US and Canada. To be totally honest, it's a bit disconserting. My face and waist have amassed girth over the last couple months.
And basically, this is it. There will be people who will judge everything that I am by this picture: Relatives will judge if I'm family material; Paula's female friends will judge if I'm good enough looking for her; her guy friends - most of which have crushed on her at one point or another - will wonder 'Who's this goon?'; family friends will smile in approval or cringe in disbelief. All from this picture.
I've noticed some stuff about this wedding planning.
No one really cares about the guy. Seriously. Case(s) in point:
When the engaged female is seen for the first time after the engagement, everyone was like 'Let me see your ring' and there was squealing and hugging and more squealing. Meanwhile, the guy's just chillin' and as an afterthought, he's introduced. maybe.
When planning the wedding, the guy is asked for his opinionm but only rhetorically because if he doesn't like it, it's not his day.
The gifts registered for are 99.9% hers. They try to make the guy feel like a man by being able to pull the trigger of the radar 'gun' and 'shoot' the UPC code.
This isn't a sob thing. Frankly, the guy doesn't even care about the guy. He bought the ring, he'll shell out some cash for honeymoon, write a couple other checks and his job is done. I know when my opinion is asked for it is out of courtesy more than anything else.
And I'm fine with that. (sometimes for fun I'll voice a fake opinion and watch mayhem ensue)
Just show up at the appointed place, on the appointed day at the appointed time.
With the ring. Clean shaven. Without a baseball hat.
That's why I think a gay marriage would be impossible to plan. I think it's morally wrong, but just from a logistical standpoint, can you imagine the conflicts in the planning? Two people with actual opinions about color schemes, flowers, invitation styles, and dancing? The only reason a wedding can be planned in under 10 years or without it being called off is because one person does it and the other person nods their heads.