Thirty three and the Thunder Chief

Yesterday I turned 33 years of age. Thirty-something. The same age as Jesus, so I’ve been told. Thirty two was a little ho-hum. I think 33 is going to be THE age to be this year. It’s hip, it’s in, it’s the new 25 except with more defined love handles and thicker, coarser ear hair.

This year there was no planning. I decided yesterday morning during the drive to work that I just wanted to go out for steaks for dinner. I texted Elise to tell her we had reservations at 7 p.m. at III Forks. Then I pretty much forgot that it was my birthday for the remainder of the day. I even missed 2:51 p.m., the exact time that I was born. I haven’t missed 2:51 p.m. in I don’t know how long. I didn’t even realize that I missed it until much later in the evening.

Jenny was kind enough to come over and watch Maly for us so Elise and I could go to dinner. Dinner was okay. Elise had the 8 oz. filet cooked medium. I went for the 10 oz. medium rare. We shared a bottle of wine (don’t recall the name) and just talked. A couple times during dinner I lost hearing in my left ear, so I would just look at Elise and nod as I pondered the sensation of the left side of my head feeling like it was under water.

It was nice, just her and I out alone, although the majority of our conversations were about the Zombie Eater. That little kid is our world, and I wouldn’t want it any other way. We’re charged with preparing her to make her way, understand, discern, interact and change the world. I think that’s what most parents want to do.

We were home by 9 p.m. Jenny hung out with us for an hour or so before going home. Elise got Guitar Hero World Tour for me which I’m hoping to spend substantial time with this weekend.

All-in-all, good birthday. Thirty three is going to be a good one.

Oh, and “33 and the Thunder Chief” is what I always heard in AC/DC’s song “Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap”

Holy crap!

Elise had to take an class at her church tonight so it was Daddy/Maly night tonight. We got home after dropping Elise off and I made dinner for Maly. She ate as I was preparing my own dinner. She finished her dinner pretty much before I really started making mine (I’m totally out of practice in the kitchen).

And then she disappeared. I peeked around the hallway and saw that the bathroom door was closed and the light was on. I just assumed she was tending to business as she’s been learning to do so the past week and half. And by business, I’m only referring to front-end business at this point.

The house remained virtually silent for about five minutes. I was predisposed still by prepping my own dinner. I finally walked to the bathroom door.

“Hey, everything all good in there?”

“Yeah! Water really hot.”

I opened the door to find Maly with a hand full of suds and only the hot water running.

“Oh, sugar, that’s because you’ve only got the hot water running”

“I went poo poo and pee pee.”


“And now I wash my hands”

“You pooped?”


“In the potty?!?!”


“All by yourself?!!”


“AND YOU WIPED YOUR ASS?!?!… uhhh, ahem, I mean, you wiped your, err, butt by yourself?”


“What? Seriously? You wiped yourself? Not just the pee pee, but the poop, too? You wiped your butt?”


And the celebration began. I told her how proud I was of her. We danced a little jig. We chased each other around the kitchen and screamed and laughed. Finally, after ten minutes, she stopped in front of the stove and said, “Daddy, hoewdge me.”

I obliged. I lifted her up into my arms as she put her two fingers in her mouth and then nestled her little head down on my left shoulder.

“I’m a big girl.”

Resolution denied

5:45 a.m. Maly had awaken half an hour earlier after apparently having a bad dream. Elise went into her room and rocked her back to sleep. I dozed during that time. When Elise came back to bed, I decided it was a good time to get up and go for a bike ride at the Veloway. I got up, brushed my teeth, got dressed, all the while trying to be as quiet as possible, but Elise kept stirring and, at one point, quietly yelled at me to either shut the bathroom door or turn off the bathroom light. I eventually made it to the garage where I had to open its door and back out the Jeep, which I’m sure woke Maly up. I semi-gracefully pulled the bike down from its ceiling hooks only to find that both tires were flat. I grabbed the Schwinn Airdriver 1000 to pump up the tires and found that the Schwinn Airdriver 1000 is a useless piece of airdriving crap. My only alternative at that point was to fire up the air compressor, which would do a great job of waking up the entire block.

So, no bike ride this morning. I’ll try again tomorrow.

Another day with the Maly way

Last night I was giving Maly a bath and I was trying to wash her hair. She’s hit or miss if I can get her to wash her hair. I started to get her hair wet when she freaked out and started screaming and crying. I left the bathroom for a minute and came back with a loose plan to distract her:

“Hey, Maly! Who is my mommy?”


“Who is Daddy’s mommy?”


“Yeah! That’s right!”

“And who is Daddy’s daddy?”



“And he’s with Jesus.”

And that’s when I had to leave the bathroom for another minute to shed a couple tears while reveling in my lineage and my little girl, sitting in that bathtub, for whom I want to live forever.