Enjoying dinner, our 8-year-old son Sam posed the following question to Charlene and me, “What was your first favorite song?”  Well, that answer was easy.  The year was 1981 and the song was “Centerfold” by the J. Geils Band.  Really, it was hard to resist their sing along hook that went something like this, “Na na na na na na na na na.”  I loved it.  I even had a 45 record of “Centerfold.”  This, plus Eddie Rabbitt’s “Drivin’ My Life Away” comprised my entire record collection and as you can see, I had varied musical tastes for such a young lad.

As for “Centerfold,” I was 9-years-old and had no clue as to what the song was about.  “Those soft and fuzzy sweaters, too magical to touch.  To see her in that negligee is really just too much.”  Yep, the whole thing went over my head.  This of course begs the question, “How did a 45 of ‘Centerfold’ end up in my sparse record collection?”  Hum.  I think it may have had something to do with my teenage sister, Kathy.  Perhaps some sort of payback for the time I promised to tape all 100 top songs of the year on New Year’s Eve, while Kathy went out with some friends.  I made it to about song number 96 before I lost interest and joined my parents in the living room to watch a bowl game on television.  Epic little brother fail and not to mention all of those cassette tapes that went unused.  What a sad tale.  My guess is that I was never paid for taping those four songs, so in some ways getting that 45 of “Centerfold” was really more than I ever deserved.  “My blood runs cold.  My memory has just been sold.  My angel is a centerfold.”  Yep, all over my head.

So back to the question at hand, the one posed by my 8-year-old son, “What was my first favorite song?”  Looking back at Sam and with all sincerity, I answered, “I was into sports.”

 

Every night, I go into each of my boy’s rooms and tell them goodnight. Over the last month, 8-year-old Sam and I have developed a routine where I enter the room, close the door, Sam jumps out of bed, I chase Sam around the room, eventually catch him (I’m batting 1.000), pick him up, and return him to his bed.  Consider it as a little pre-bed father-son cardio time.

This evening, I entered the room to see that Sam had already crawled into bed. Closing the door, I gave him a look as if to say, “It’s time.”  Sam exited the bed and then ran straight into me.  Easy pickings.  Returning him to his bed and somewhat surprised, I asked, “What kind of a move was that?”  Pulling up the covers, he responded, “It’s the ‘I’m Tired’ move.”  Ah, sometimes even the gazelle needs a little sleep.

 

 

For Christmas, my third grader’s class made ceramic tiles as presents for their parents.  As a result, Charlene and I received some cute decorative tiles under the tree.  Of the three tiles, two had holiday themed decorations and the third showed a charming little picture of our son Sam.

While cleaning up the Christmas goodies, I packed up the two Christmas themed tiles, but left out the other one.  So there is Sam’s face smiling up at me from the side table.  Nice, but the function perplexes me.  Is it a coaster?  I think so.  Is it a decoration?  Certainly.  Am I overthinking it?  Duh, yes.

Heading over to sit down with my cup of morning coffee, I was faced with a dilemma.  Do I see if it really is a coaster?  Do I dare set down a piping hot cup of coffee on it?  Even worse, do I set a burning hot beverage on my son’s head?  Even if it is just the image of my son’s head?  Speaking of…  It’s all in my head!  The whole dilemma is just in my head!  Snap out of it self-perceived bad daddy.  Live life, use the coaster.

Simulated hesitation, while placing a hot beverage on an image of my beloved child.

One of 8-year-old Sam’s football socks was spotted on the kitchen table…

Soon moved to relax on a chair in the living room…

Then apparently wanted to catch up on world events, by reading the Sunday paper… (By the way, why doesn’t any member of my family ever pick up these socks?  By the way, why don’t I?  Why do I take a picture of them, instead?  Why doesn’t the sock get the digital edition of the newspaper?  Why, indeed.)

The next day, it was spotted on the kitchen counter…

Then not seeing the sock for a few hours, I had a flicker of hope that the sock was actually placed in the hamper.  I was wrong.  Later, it was spotted under Sam’s bed and was dangerously close to a lightsaber.  Don’t do anything foolish, football sock.  (Oh by the way, I spotted it, when I changed the sheets on Sam’s bed for the second time in two days.  The second time, because the first time, I accidently placed a fresh fitted sheet directly over the old dirty fitted sheet already on the bed and did not realize it until doing the laundry, which by the way still did not include the football sock.  Troublesome times in the Paulsen house.)

What in the world was going through this sock’s head (even though socks of course just have heels and not heads)?

Then I walked onto the sun porch to put away a toy into a toy box that also doubles as a coffee table (the dogs does not seem bothered by any of this).

Opening the box, I saw there under Captain America’s shield, next to some Legos, and on top of a crown was the sock’s mate.

That poor wandering sock had been in anguish, as it searched the house for its mate.  Yes, I have a heart and yes, I knew what to do next.

The socks were soon reunited on the hamper and later sent to the wash.

Smiles and hugs all around.  The world is right again.

The End.

 

The conference call had gone well. A few action items had been developed.  The group had made forward progress and I was able to hear most of the meeting.

As the call wrapped up, however, I was unaware of a once loyal body part that had suddenly turned against me. Apparently, I had not provided my left earlobe with the care and attention that it felt it deserved, because it was struck with an urge for rebellion.  The need to thwart my attempts at professionalism.  For as my name was called on the other end of the phone, “Dave?”  I glanced at my phone to turn off the mute function and discovered that my mischievous earlobe had placed me on some random status screen.  Far, far away from the mute button.

I was there, but I wasn’t. Present, but absent, in one soul.  I fumbled through menus and screens, as my co-workers around a distant conference table repeated their plea, “Dave?  Dave?”  Then, chuckles.  Had Dave fallen off the edge of the Earth?  No!  Damn it!  I’m here!  I live!  More thumbs desperately trying to return to the right screen.  More requests into the empty void, “Dave?  Dave?”

A strikingly unpleasant ten seconds must have passed (gasp!). Desperate, I located the phone screen.  My thumb stretched for the mute button.  Another “Dave?”  More chuckles.  Then pressing down, I pleaded for mercy with a humble, “I’m here.”  Meek and embarrassed, I picked up the pieces of my tattered dignity.  Damn you, wayward earlobe.  No soft pillow for you tonight.

 

COFFEE BROWNIES

“While pointing to this recipe, Charlene oh so subtly asked me, ‘When are you going to make these?’ The beauty (other than my wife) is all you need to do is ask.  Well, as far as cookies go.

Coffee, plus brownie, what’s not to like? It’s all good and it may be all you’ll ever need.

Just a few notes… the brownies do come out a little gooey for my taste, but they are yummy.  My batch came out overdone on the edges, but plenty of brownies were salvageable from the interior.  Overdone and gooey at the same time?  Things that make you go hmmm.  Some of life’s mysteries, you just need to accept and move on.  Enjoy!”

2 teaspoons Espresso Powder

1 Tablespoon Hot Water

1 cup Butter

1½ cups Brown Sugar

½ cup Sugar

2 Eggs

2 teaspoons Vanilla Extract

1 teaspoon Grated Orange Peel

1¾ cups Flour

1 teaspoon Baking Soda

1 teaspoon Salt

½ teaspoon Cinnamon

1 cup White Chocolate Chips

1 cup Semi-Sweet Chocolate Chips

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

Stir the espresso powder into the hot water. Let cool.

Cream butter, brown sugar, and sugar.

Mix in the eggs, vanilla extract, and grated orange peel.

Mix in the flour, baking soda, salt, and cinnamon.

Stir in the white chocolate chips and semi-sweet chocolate chips.

Pour batter into a greased 9”x13” baking pan.

Bake for 25 minutes or until golden brown.

Let cool completely.

 

Makes about 30 brownies.

Revised Source: “Cappuccino Crunch Bars” recipe from “The Cookie Bible” from Publications International.

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Congrats! Although you didn’t win last night’s Powerball Lottery, you just won a bonus post from www.CookiesbyDave.com.  Enjoy!

 

So, I was putting away the Christmas stuff and as I packed up the Christmas CDs (yes, we still have some CDs, please don’t judge me), I noticed this “Lifetime Music Guarantee” from “The Wall” music store. Chuckling, it looks like the lifetime music guarantee turned out to be for the lifetime of “The Wall” music store empire.  Sayonara, lifetime music guarantee.

Thinking I was oh so clever to observe this, I did a quick search to confirm that “The Wall” was indeed out of business. Soon I found out that they were indeed absorbed in a merger and approximately 100,000 people also found the now defunct “Lifetime Music Guarantee” funny and had already posted about it on the Internet.

Oh well, here’s post number 100,001. Just another brick in “The Wall?”  100,001 seems about right and now I guess that we can all stop and let the “Lifetime Music Guarantee” rest in peace.  No more bricks in “The Wall.”

I really don’t care who you belong to, please just change the channel.

#WhyDoSocksNeverDoWhatYouAsk #EvenIfYouAskItNicely

“Where in the world are Dave’s socks?”  Good question.

Sock selfie.

Tonight, they are on my feet, but here’s the thing, they perfectly match my sweater. Not just a close match, but perfect. Same colors, patterns, and DNA match. Everything. Plus, get this, they were purchased separately. I know! Pow! Mind blown!  Good thing you have the weekend to recover.

 

Great news!  The cold storage moving van arrived and now our family has been reunited.  All of the frozen and warm blooded Paulsen family are once again at the same address.

Snow doppelgängers.  The best type of doppelgängers.

The last word on snow.  Packing snow is not to be wasted.

Words to live by.

Seeing one of my boys a little down in the dumps, I approached him calmly and proceeded to surprise tickle him. Thinking that this treatment would lift my child’s spirits, I was disappointed and somewhat embarrassed to see that it made him gently cry.  Hmmm.  Loser dad?  Not necessarily.

Later, my wife kindly spoke to me and asked me not to take it the wrong way, but sometimes I can be a “lamp without a shade.” No worries, I get it.  Sometimes my supernova attempts at happiness might not be the best tactic.  Hmmm.  Shall I hide it under a bushel?  Not all the time.

Different situations call for different solutions and sometimes even bright happy lights sometimes need a shade. Hmmm.  Get it, pops?  Yes, slowly getting it.