is that elvis or a fetus? you decide

board games are fun.  when i say board games i am referring to any game really that involves skill, knowledge, or a combination of both.  games that depend too much on the non-skill/non-knowledge based trait of luck aren't that fun.  strategy games are fun, but they generally take too long.  card games are okay, but they involve too much chance.  and last, but not least, as i'm not a mouth-breather, role playing games have never interested me that much (which is surprising considering my affinity for star wars).  accordingly, board games are my recreational non-athletic game of choice.

mostly i like board games because i'm somewhat of a seasoned professional in this arena.  i'm pretty good with trivia and all of its iterations, as well as, guessing words and giving clues for other to guess words.  i also excel at spelling frontwards, but especially backwards.  i'm so-so at charades, but my high-level of skill in the other areas makes up for it.  i would have to say, however, that my specialty is drawing.

a co-worker recently told me about a game i'd never heard of: impossible pictionary.  naturally, i was intrigued and felt somewhat challenged as nothing pictionary had ever thrown at me proved to be impossible (just ask milton bradley as they tried for years to stump me until i unofficially retired).  impossible pictionary, though...

alright, i'll bite.  what is this impossible pictionary of which you speak?

basically, it's pictionary, but you split up into boys vs. girls (always makes for a good date night to have a battle of the sexes when it comes to board games and run the risk of driving your marriage/relationship to within inches of formal dissolution) and then each team tries to come up with impossible words for the other team to draw.  the only rules are no legal or medical terms... at least in her family since everyone is a doctor or lawyer.

i requested some examples of words they have used to see if i felt it would even be worth my time to throw my hat in the ring.

so, "falafel" she says.

difficult?  maybe.

impossible?  hardly.

i started a rough sketch of how i would approach the task of drawing a falafel and was well on my way to certain masterpiece that even a blind person could have guessed before i asked for another example.  my co-worker then explained that part of the strategy is to provide a word to the other team that might be somewhat embarrassing for them to draw.

take, for instance, the word "menopause".  now even i will concede that this word could be somewhat difficult, especially if one is attempting to draw it in the presence of mixed company.  another co-worker of mine, however, didn't seem to think it would be that tough and suggested that you just draw a uterus with a ghostbuster-esque circle and line through it.

brilliant.  the genius of the masculine mind.

then again, as nice as concept as it was; one little problem: how easy is it to draw a uterus?

well, in my experience, a lot easier than one might think.

i shall explain...

to date, my record in pictionary is like a bazillion and one.  but my near spotless record hasn't always been that way.  there was a time that it was actually completely spotless and as unblemished and pure as the snow falling on the streets of salt lake city on that cursed winter night when my unbeaten record fell.

this night took place during the early days of the courtship between the blogmaster and mrs. blogmaster-to-be.  it was a seminal event in our relationship that almost led to the ruination of the budding romance between us.

as it were, mrs. blogmaster and i were engaged (not to be married... at least not yet) in a heated battle of pictionary with a couple other couples.  it was a close match with each turn counting that much more than the last one.  we may have been teetering, we have been trying to secure a lead... i don't remember;  but, what i do remember was that it was finally my turn and just as sure as casey at the plate i was ready to spark our comeback or seal the deal depending on whether we were behind or about to run away with it (memory doesn't serve).

the following is the play-by-play:

the blogmaster has selected his card and it looks like the word is "elvis".  yes, we can confirm that the word is in fact "elvis".

shouldn't be a problem for the blogmaster seeing as how he is from las vegas and has seen his fair share of elvis impersonators.  what's more, if we consider his considerable skill in sketching caricatures, this one should be in the bag for his team.

here he goes.  the timer has been turned, the sands are flowing...

looks like he is starting out slow.  taking his time focusing on the details to ensure that the drawing is clear and unmistakable.  no need to rush.

good call.  it looks like he is going with elvis in his later years: a little more portly, big hair and big sideburns... these feature being more exaggerated and identifiable with elvis should make the drawing more identifiable and easy to guess.  he is a wizard.

the hair and sideburns are in place.  looks like he's moving to the face with some thick rimmed glasses.  unreal... glasses?  who would have thunk?

no guesses yet, i think his team is waiting for the whole picture to come together just for the drama of it all.

step-by-step recreation of the drawing from an upside down view as mrs. blogmaster-to-be would have viewed it.

wait... it looks like mrs. blogmaster-to-be is mustering up a guess...

here it comes:

mrs. blogmaster-to-be: "fetus!"

silence.

crickets chirping.

did she say fetus?  did she really say that out loud?  awkward.  the blogmaster is stunned.  it's as if time has stopped.  actually, it has... the last grain of sand just slipped through the birth canal portion of the hour glass.

in all fairness to mrs. blogmaster-to-be, the hair does somewhat resemble a gelatinous fetus, but i'm afraid i've never seen a fetus wear a pair of thick-rimmed glass, hold a microphone, or wear a one piece chest hair a-blazing jump suit.  but, we'll give her the benefit of the doubt since she's looking at the picture upside down.

we can't believe our eyes.  this can't be good.  in fact, it looks like the blogmaster is expressing his frustration towards mrs. blogmaster-to-be and i think mrs. blogmaster-to-be just told him where he can stick it.  ouch.  he better keep his pie hole shut and take the loss like a man.  double awkward.  their friends are staring at them.  we're all feeling a little uncomfortable now.

end scene.

okay, so fetus and uterus are two different things, but they both end in "us" and i had to have some kind of transition from one story to the other.

bottom line is that the blogmaster still needs to learn to be a gracious loser.  luckily, he doesn't have to be gracious too often.  however, the other night we played a game (girls against boys, of course) and the girls won.  i graciously accepted defeat and admitted out loud without any hint of rancor or resentment that the ladies had won.

mrs. blogmaster was so shocked that i had conceded defeat so willingly that she grabbed a video camera in order to film me with my tail between my legs.  i gladly admitted on camera that i was actually happy and somewhat relieved to see the ladies win as it was quite possibly the first time ever in the history of cooper family get togethers that the women had defeated the men.

in fact, i was so pleased at the outcome i encouraged mrs. blogmaster's filming of the momentous occasion for posterity's sake as i had once feared our kids would never see this day... at least now it was documented and even our youngest will be able to look back on a glorious moment he is unlikely to remember or ever experience again.  mrs. blogmaster was so geeked out over the win she even put the scoresheet on the fridge for a few weeks to make sure i could remember my defeat at the hand of the ladies.

it was a great day for female board-game players everywhere.

so, in closing, how's that for gracious defeat?  maybe next time i'll talk about the ultimate frisbee football game that pretty much ruined Christmas a few years ago.  stay tuned.

all words (we totally rocked barry manilow last weekend), no pics (but some comments on the ones below)

mis amigos, it's good to be back in front of the keyboard.  you should know that writing on the blog is therapeutic for me and, so, i thank you for allowing me to express myself on a no-charge platform that is available to anyone with an internet connection.  you're too kind.

couple things.  first, we totally rocked barry manilow.

thanks to some good friends of ours, this last weekend mrs. blogmaster and i did something totally crazy.  i'm talking wild stuff... way out there.... something we'd never done before.  in fact, i'm almost embarrassed to say just what it was, but since this is pretty private forum in which i often express my most personal and sentimental secrets, i'll share:

we went to a barry manilow concert on the strip.  there i said it.  it's out there.  now i feel so free and cutting edge.  hopefully none of you think less of me, but this is just who i am.  and this was no ordinary barry manilow concert... it really actually was your parents', or maybe even grandparents', barry manilow.

this was a once in a lifetime opportunity i couldn't afford to miss and so i passed up not one, but two invitations to go watch some boring mma fights.  as if.  that's just not how i roll.  i live life on the edge.  i wallow in places most of you would fear to tread.  i mean, c'mon, it's barry manilow we're talking about here.

i'm not sure how old barry is, but based on the way he runs across the stage i'm pretty sure he's had a couple knee and hip replacements.  the guy looks pretty feeble.  that being said, he can still sing and play the piano.  it's clear the guy is talented, but i've got to think there's a lot of extremely talented people that never get nearly as popular as he does.  i don't quite get it.

i also don't get older, more mature women who still coo over barry and his finely frothed and feathered hair.  it was kind of funny to see them stand up for as long as their prosthetic knees and hips would allow and wave their arms or cheer their longtime hearth throb along, funny in a good and bad way.  i half expected to see some depends or granny trow to be thrown up on stage.  although, i have to admit, i was up on my feet a couple of times myself feeling the love with mrs. blogmaster.  but, it was kind of nice to be able to sit for most of the concert.  very relaxing.  just the way a concert should be... if you roll an oxygen tank into the concert with you.

actually, the concert was pretty enjoyable even if we were the youngest people in the audience and i only recognized about 4 of the songs (the copacaban encore was sizzling).  barry puts on a good show and has some catchy tunes, so it was a memorable experience i will cherish for many years to come.  plus, we always have a good time with our friends... so, to them and barry, i say thank you!

as for the family pics below, it's kind of funny i ended up posting them because at the time we took them i was certain they weren't going to be any good.  let me set the scene for you: taking pictures on a sunday afternoon with our boys at an extremely dusty underpass.  not a good combination.

i didn't want to be there.  the boys didn't want to cooperate.  and dust was getting on everything.  aim, on the other hand, was all over it and kept us sharp.  and i'm glad she did because when i was checking the pics out on the camera a week ago i saw some potential in them i hadn't noticed before (which is most likely due to the fact that i was threatening the boys within an inch of their lives on numerous occasion during the photo taking).

taking group pictures with uncooperative kids.  i wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy.  there's a special place in hell for the most nefarious of satan's minions where such ilk are banned to an eternal damnation of being forced to try to get kids to hold still, look at the camera, and smile... and all at the same time.  maybe it's just my kids.

actually, i know it's not just my kids.  every year my parents, big jeff and special k, have this grandiose idea to take a pic of the litter of their grandkids for a Christmas card they send out to half the world.  they always have a theme that focuses on Jesus Christ given the holiday and so the kids are typically dressed up in nativity garb and playing the parts of those involved.  traditionally, the nativity is seen as a very holy, even sacred, event that is viewed as a hallowed moment in time to billions of people throughout the world.  our photo sessions with the grandkids are anything but that... and with the Christmas season fast approaching, i thought it appropriate to share some about our joyous experiences in snapping photos together.

first, there's the older kids.  now a days they're doing a lot better when it comes to holding still and looking at the camera, but they're not so great about leaving the younger kids alone.  it is virtually impossible for them to not irritate they're younger siblings.  then there's the younger kids who won't sit still or look at the camera.  and usually at least on of the younger kids is essentially on strike and boycotting the picture altogether by passionately crying and temper tantruming his/her way into the wonderful world of photoshop.

to make matters worse, special k is usually running the show which is kind of like the blind leading the naked.  big jeff, on the other hand, has become especially adept at spotting the futility of such situations and so he's long gone by the time the cameras start clicking usually at work on the day of thanksgiving or shortly thereafter.  he has gotten to the point where he contributes as a third party advisor to the end product and financier of the endeavor.  and then there's the rest of us, the parents.

every year, no matter how futile our attempts were the previous year, we all still stand behind kenna jo trying to get the kids to look up, hold still and smile.  herding cats is the cliche that comes to mind.  and it doesn't help that special k holds off on taking the pics until everything is perfect.  not gonna happen, mom... just fire away, shoot now and ask questions later.  and so in attempt to get the kids to look up in sync and smile, we've attempted many creative antics to catch their attention, but most of the time we just sit there and snap, whistle, yell, or clap at the kids.  it's as if we think that 5 adults all yelling at the kids from different directions to look at us is going to convince them to do just that.  it's pure chaos.  it's no wonder we can never get them to focus.

of course, there was the year that i put a pair of pantyhose over my head and ran around behind my mom like an escapee from an insane asylum.  the overall shock factor of seeing such a display caught the kids' attention for a few minutes, but that didn't last long and left most of them with a look of awe/horror.  then there was the year uncle ryan puled up his shirt and started slapping his belly to the children's utter delight.  this technique was met with great success at first, but once the novelty wore off we were back to the drawing board.

we've tried everything.  hiding fruit snacks behind the baby Jesus, having my sister strategically place herself in the photo to prop up a child who can't actually stand, bribery, threats, etc.  nothing seems to be overly effective.  but, somewhere between the mysterious workings of luck and the modern technological marvels of a program like photoshop and the paid professional efforts of a graphic designer, we get an acceptable pic and my parents are eventually able to put out a decent product.

however, i usually approach the entire experience with mixed feeling since my three boys are generally relegated to the stand-in roles of shepherd 2 or 3 or the non-gold bearing wise men.  it's rare they get the money roles of joseph or baby Jesus and i don't even have any girls to be mary or an angel, although that doesn't stop my mom from letting a baby girl be baby Jesus... something she and i don't see eye to eye on seeing as how i feel cross dressing at such an early age has to be contrary to the spirit of Christmas.  at any rate, with the recent influx of new grandkids in the greater cooper family, the boys have been moving up the ranks to take on such coveted roles as shepherd 1 or the wise man who gets to carry the gold... seems like we even expanded the angel role to include some dudes now.  joseph, however, has still been an elusive gig for us to land and colston ate himself out of the baby Jesus role his first year, but we're still encouraging the kids so that they know as long as they meet the right people, shake the right hands, and get a solid spray tan or two before the photo shoot that even they have a shot at getting a premier spot on the greater cooper family Christmas card.

back to the blog photos...

get excited, zombies.  there are more pics from that photo shoot on my sister-in-law's camera coming soon.  btw, thanks adam and t-cakes for putting up with us.  if i looked like i wanted to break your camera at the time, just know that it wasn't you, it was me... actually, it was my boys.

but, as the barry would say, "i can't smile without (them)" or "looks like we made it" through yet another photo shoot.

the 15 year itch: trophy husbands and high school reunions

first, and most importantly, mrs. blogmaster is doing much better.  she still has her moments and isn't quite out of the woods yet, but overall, i would have to say she has improved dramatically.  this is a good thing.  i'd like to blame my recent absence from the blog on my all consuming efforts to take care of my dear wife in her time of need, but that would only be partially true... depending on who you ask.  rather, i am caught yet again with my pants on the ground searching for a new inadequate excuse for neglecting my faithful followers... if there are any left out there.

so, on that note of reconciliation, i will attempt to jump start this idle blog from the dead in effort to see if i can regain the hearts and minds of the zombie nation.  and in my triumphant return to the keyboard, i will hearken all the way back to the summer of 2010 and recreate mrs. blogmaster's first outing in public following the epstein bar diagnosis.  it just so happens that said outing occurred for the sole purpose of attending aim's 15 year high school reunion in provo, utah.

for starters, before you fill up the comments section of this post with all types of "15 years? you don't look old enough to have a 15 year reunion already" let me just say, you're right.... at least for me.  aim is actually 7 years older than i am.  just kidding.  yes, we are that old... actually, i'm older.  i'll be 35 in december.

back to the reunion.  i've never attended any of mine and, in general, i'm not a huge fan of them.  more on that some other time.  but, being the good spouse i am, i was willing to support aim in attending her own as the dutiful trophy husband i've become so accustomed to being.  apparently, this is important to her and i've learned to accept the fact that mrs. blogmaster basically married me for my frighteningly good looks and unusually large head.

at first, i was slightly offended when she would ask me to not talk around her friends as i felt that i was so much more than a simple piece of eye candy... albeit a delectable, if not succulent, hunk of a finely chiseled gourmet chocolate... you know, the european stuff and not that plasticky american crap; but, eventually the whole charade kind of wore down when we moved back to vegas as she knew it was pointless to carry on as before since everyone already knew me anyway.

but provo is a different story... all her friends there still fall for the ruse.  and if it's important to her, it's kind of important to me as long as i get something out of it and it's convenient.  such was the case here because i got a new pair of sunglasses.  problem is, all of the stores in provo quit selling sunglasses in june and start stocking their shelves with their fall and winter apparel in july.  apparently, the sun doesn't shine during the fall and winter in provo and sunglasses are unnecessary.  i had to go to three different stores before i could find a pair that i liked enough without paying a grip of cash and then aim didn't seem to think they passed muster when i modeled them for her.  it's rough trying to fulfill the ideal trophy husband image when your wife doesn't think the sunglasses are up to par... i was feeling self-conscious already.

once purchased, and not a moment too soon, off we went to the park during the day (i would never wear my sunglasses indoors or at night even though i like the song).  having become comfortable with the glasses, i was able to take on a completely different persona and, as a result, slid right into the trophy husband character aim needed right then.

and for those who don't quite get where i'm coming from, you need to understand that as far as i can tell aim was something of a big deal at her high school back in the day and, so, i guess her friends need to see that she married someone that appears to be as big of deal as she was back then.  enter me.

actually, she will never admit to this stuff and will actually be quite upset at me for typing any of it at all, but that's what she gets for making me be her trophy husband for all these years... besides she doesn't know the password to the blog to get on and delete this, so she'll just have to deal with it.  no way i can give her that information... she'd delete the majority of my best work.  that's just the way it is... one of the perks of being a trophy husband i guess.

what?  i won't even give my brother-in-law the password to his facebook account i set up and manage for him, no matter how uncomfortable it makes him.  he pretty much freaked out when i set it up for him and invited a bunch of people to be his friend since he seemed to think that essentially meant he was asking each of them to go steady with him.

at any rate, the reunion was a success.  i tore off my shirt five minutes after i got there and did ab points for hours to the absolute delight of her high school buddies and then finished up with chris farley's chippendales routine to round things out.  i feel like it reinforces our children's sense of security to see their dad doing these kinds of things for their mother, so, all in all, i'd have to say it was a quality family outing.  add to it that before the event had ended, at least 43% of aim's friends told her she'd married the exact kind of guy they thought she would.  i saw her smile and beam with pride even though she was pretty wiped out from the epstein bar stuff.  that made it all worth it for me.

i guess that's about it... and just in case the satire is lost on all y'all, aim demands no such thing of me and i did no such things while at the reunion (my abs aren't even fully visible unless i get an artistic spray tan).  this much is true: we did go to the reunion and an attendee did tell me he's a zombie, but that as i type up my blog posts i need to be more vigilant in stopping sooner than i do and backing away from the keyboard.  so, with great reluctance, i will now stop and back away from the keyboard.



      

      

a series of unfortunate events for mrs. b

it all started with an innocent family friendly game of soccer on the greater cooper family vacation outside of zion's national park, but what i mean by friendly is really competitive.  whenever the cooper family in its most organic form engages in any kind of contest, sparks are likely to fly.  add in-laws and grandkids into the mix, and the stakes get even higher.

take for instance kenna jo asking me if i got higher on the climbing wall than my two brothers-in-law after a day of recreation in zion ponderosa.  then there's my brother (i won't say which one) taking out his own daughter at 3rd base during the kids versus adults whiffle ball game.  and it was during this same game a brother-in-law (i won't say which one) wasn't about to let the munchkins win and i wasn't about to let the adults mess up the batting order for the sanctity of the game.  of course, that was just during the last greater cooper gathering.  that's not even counting board games or political discussions during countless other group events, both of which rarely take place anymore.

fast forward to the soccer game the night before the family outing ended.  there was some mixture of my brother, my wife, myself and a kid or two against my sister, kathryn, and a few in-laws out on the pitch and it was intense.  we went up one early on, but all of a sudden the score was tied.  next thing i know mrs. blogmaster is taking a cross from someone and squaring up to launch a howler to the goal.

at once, mrs. b cocked her leg back ready to unleash that stay-at-home mom pent up fury on that poor futbol, when, somewhat unexpectedly, my sister ever so slightly tapped the ball just accurately enough to the point where mrs. b's bombastic kick connected not with its intended target but with my sister's shin.

i believe a certain law of physics states that no two solid objects can occupy the same space at the same time.  so it was with aimee's foot and kathryn's shin, with aim's foot being on the unfortunate end of that collision.  let's just say we all heard a sound and it sounded like someone twisting a grip of bubble wrap packaging in one swift motion... and it wasn't kathryn's shin.  snap.  crackle.  pop.

aim's a tough cookie, though, and she seemed to want to stay in the game so i suggested she play keeper since the goal was just one single garbage can and that shouldn't have required much movement.  so, she limped over to her new position and prepared for the ensuing battle.

play on?  maybe not.

in the fog of war, things become somewhat hazy and it's difficult to keep one's wits about him.  things are often said or done that push the boundaries of moral relativism under the guise that the ends justify the means.  such was climate of the remainder of the game that day as i attempted to instruct my wife on the finer points of being a goalie... after all, i did serve my mission in the futbol worshiping country of argentina.  i know a thing or two (but not three) about playing goalie.

first, when an opposing player is approaching you unmarked with the ball, and it's just you and him, i was taught to charge the ball and minimize the angles said player has to take a shot.  such action quickly limits the oncoming player's ability to get the shot off he wants and forces him to commit to a shot/pass earlier than he might like.

second, don't let the ball go in the goal.

third, there is no third.

the first time a player approached aim it was just the player and her.  i raised my voice instructing, or coaching as i like to say, her "to charge the ball."  no such luck.  apparently, mrs. b's foot was more injured than i thought... unfortunately, that thought didn't occur to me at the time (see the fog of war comment above).  mrs. b didn't take too kindly to my, as they say in argentina, speaking in voz alta (literal translation: high voice), and quickly reciprocated my verbal fiery darts with a few of her own, cautioning me to not say another word.

i recognized that tone and knew better than to push my luck, so i watched quietly as a brother-in-law raced down the field and scored again thinking certainly mrs. b would charge the ball this time.  not so, my friend.  it just wasn't meant to be.  thus, we left field on the losing side of the match that day... some of us sulking, others of us limping.

long story short, we made  a stop at the kanab general hospital the next day.  x-rays came back negative and the doc said it was a bad sprain, but mrs. b still got some crutches.  turns out after a few more x-rays in vegas, mrs. b had tore some stuff, little things called ligaments.  i wasn't surprised, her foot was like a balloon.  she got a cool little boot that she gets to wear around, but all in all, it looked like we'd be over this in a month or two.

that was then.

not long after mrs. b tried to kick straight threw my sister's shin, she woke up next to me in a hotel room in southern california with a swollen eye.  you'd have thought i punched her seeing as how she looked like rocky balboa during his first fight with apollo creed (the one where they had to take the razor blade to his eye because it was so swollen).  well, it wasn't the result of a fierce boxing match, it was a severe case of pink eye... and during our little get away sans kids.  what?  so, here she was with her little walking boot for her foot and a swollen and irritated pink eye.

but, wait folks, it doesn't stop there.

next thing we knew mrs. blogmaster woke up on another morning and couldn't hear out of her left ear or swallow too well with her center throat.  so, she does what any sensible person would and goes in to get it checked out.  apparently, everyone has a middle ear (everyone with ears that is) and, apparently, it can get clogged up which clogging can last up to two weeks.  such was the case with little aim.  well, yesterday was the two week anniversary of the date she was told this and the deafness is still going strong.  plus, she still thinks she's swallowing glass every time she gulps.

then there was a fifth ailment...

so, not only did mrs. b have the foot, the eye, the throat and the ear to worry about, close to a week ago, mrs. b starts feeling a little drowsy and out of sorts and she gets diagnosed with mono.  you know, that sickness teenage boys and girls get from open mouth kissing all the time.  here's what i can't figure out, i don't have mono and my allegedly monogamous wife does.  go figure.  the only conclusion i can come to is that edward or jacob must have mono.

and you thought we were all done...

not more than two days ago, the results of aim's blood test came back saying she's got this epstein barr virus thing.  it's a bit of a bummer because there's not much that can be done about it and there are strong links between it and two rare forms of cancer.  we're still waiting to get some more information on the whole deal, but it's surprising to me how many people suffer from this ailment.  luckily, it sounds like it's something that is treatable, although not curable, so we'll play the cards we were dealt the best we can (thing is, i don't know how to play any card games other than uno... but, at least i'm good at that).

anyway, i just thought i'd let everyone know what's happening with the queen of the house of cooper, not for your pity or so you'll feel sorry for us; but, maybe you can say a little prayer for the mrs. during her bout with the numerous maladies she now faces.

i would be remiss if i did not express a very sincere and heartfelt thank you to the family members and friends who have gone way over the top and out of their way to help us out.  i can promise you that it is much appreciated and will forever be remembered.  you are all true friends.  your acts of charity and kindness are both inspiring and uplifting to mrs. b and me.

one last thing to mention before i bid you all adieu for the week: as if the above weren't quite enough for the fair lady aimee to have to face all at once, when i rolled over in bed again this morning to catch a glimpse of the incomparable morning beauty of my muse, either there was a glitch in the matrix, i was having a strange bout with deja vu, or mrs. b was channeling rocky balboa... again; only this time it was the other eye that was swollen up.  that's right, aim's now nefarious nemesis, more commonly known as pink eye, had struck again.  is that even possible?

unbelievable.    

hurry... somebody write this down: bladder augmentations

in this day and age of elective cosmetic surgery where typically any and everything bigger is better, i think we might be on to something here: bladder augmentations. i know such a procedure would improve the cooperfive's lifestyle dramatically. especially during movies. especially during road trips. especially when you are the father of three boys which roughly translated means dad is the only one who can accompany the offspring to the loo anymore. more on this later.

before i get into what now might seem to be my quarterly post, i owe my loyal zombies an explanation. true, i may have let you down last month by not authoring a single post and then waiting all the way until the 21st of this month to finally go ahead and share my unsolicited opinions. i know it's rough trying to get by each day without the occasional sermon from the blogmaster and for that i apologize. i never meant to abandon or hurt any of you. all i can say is i'm sorry. that and i've been a little short on inspiration lately. and when the inspiration has come, the motivation hasn't been there. bottom line: it's hard out here for a semi-professional blogger trying to chase that dollar in this economy. please forgive me and return to the fold. i won't let it happen again.

now, as far as bladder augmentations, i really see a burgeoning industry about to blossom here. take for instance 4/5 of the cooperfive, that 4/5 being every member of the clan except for me, and their lima bean sized bladders. i can't relate. it's like i don't even know these people... i mean, they'd rather urinate and be comfortable than get to a destination more quickly or sit uncomfortably through a throw-away scene during a movie. i don't get it because i, on the other hand, have jedi-like internal discipline that gets me through just about any meeting, movie, or drive across half the big island of hawaii just because i was determined to hold it in.

my point in mentioning this topic has something to do with my recent jaunt in public restroom hell. said jaunt took place about a month ago when the greater cooper family was on one of its annual outings to go see the grand canyon. long story short, we never made it to the grand canyon, but that's a post for another day. we did, however, successfully arrive at the world renowned vacation destination more commonly known as jacob lake while en route to the grand canyon.

jacob lake is a little spot on the way to the north rim that has a restaurant with good milkshakes. we stopped here to regroup our family caravan after the cooperfive made a brief stop in kanab to get mrs. blogmaster's foot x-rayed (another post for another day). that was before mrs. blogmaster got strep throat which was before she got pink eye which was before she got mono (all posts for another day). meanwhile i have managed to escape the carnage of attacking viruses and germs unscathed. kind of like will smith in i am legend. or superman in everyday life.

anyway, the cooperfive got to jacob lake just as big jeff and special k were high-tailing it back into their car in an effort to catch the grand canyon before having to be back to st. george to see tarzan at tuacahn that night. this is how greater cooper family vacations go: a hybrid of boot camp and a field trip on steroids. i wasn't about to get out of dodge that quickly, though. we had just gotten there and i had to try one of the milkshakes at the restaurant there in town as we had been told these shakes were the stuff dreams are made of. for those who are unaware, i love ice cream and all its derivatives... including milkshakes.

for me, at least 50% of an enjoyable vacation hinges on the quality of food you are able to eat. if there is a reputable milk shake place in a town i visit, i must try it. it's pretty much natural law. and not only must i try it, but i will eagerly anticipate the cool soft creamy consistency of milk, whipping cream, and sugar touching my tongue over and over in my mind until i do, in fact, try it. ice cream is the ultimate game changer, mood swinger, and tool of bribery all rolled up into one. and so, such was the mood i was in while eating lunch, biding my time patiently, knowing it would only be a matter of minutes before it would be just me and a cup of frothy and delicious milk shake.

in moments like that, i can withstand just about anything as it seems that i'm in the departing gate of an airplane bound for some blissful make-believe world where the refrigerator is constantly stocked with quality ice cream and frozen yogurt dispensers are a standard fixture in every kitchen. deep down inside i know such a world does not exist, but sometimes it feels so real to me.

and so there we were. eating lunch and surveying the menu to decide which flavor of milk shake each of us would get. it wasn't all that different from opening birthday presents, but on someone else's birthday. everything was going just as i had dreamed it would until caleb says the words that when spoken in the public arena are like poison being slowly dripped into my ears.

"i've got to go potty."

maybe aim will take him. not a chance. he's way too old and it's always my turn when we're together, especially on vacation. plus, she was on crutches at this point.

i say something like, "fine, let's go. make it quick."

so, we go to the restaurant's restroom which, unfortunately, is in a very narrow hallway and roughly the size of two porta-potties glued together: not only difficult to get into and out of, but difficult to maneuver to the urinal and toilet once you are in there.

it was like negotiating a rubik's cube. say there, kind sir, can you take a step back while i open the toilet door? now you, stranger, over there take one step to the left while i slide sideways into the stall. once i'm inside, you'll need to move back to your original position so i can close the door. after that, you two are on your own. needless to say, we made it.

no big deal. i can handle taking one kid to the public restroom. no skin off my back, i've got a big fat famous milkshake coming my way. not so fast, my friend, for no sooner do i go to order when mrs. blogmaster tells me that now colston has to go to the bathroom, too. i feel a hint of frustration start to swell somewhere within my upper bosom, but i just tell myself "milkshake, man. keep your eye on the prize."

off i go with son #3 (luckily son #1 is fully potty trained and capable of using a public restroom on his own). of course there's a line for the restroom by now and we wait. we finally get in and navigate the internal labyrinth, more efficiently this time, but colston's the kind of kid (like his dad, i'm ashamed to admit) that has to drop trow’ all the way down to his ankles when urinating in the urinal. don't ask me why. we just do it because we can, i guess (not that i do it anymore, i quit years ago. he can still get away with it, though).

colston takes care of business. we exit. a load has been lifted off my shoulders thinking the only thing now keeping me from enjoying my milkshake is the speed at which those puberty loving teens behind the counter can whip it up. not fast enough, apparently, for no sooner had i secured my milkshake in hand and begun to enjoy every bit of it and its delectable divinity that mrs. blogmaster motioned over towards son #2 anew and said, "he's got to go to the bathroom again."

you've got to be kidding me. he just went 10 minutes ago. can't you see i'm eating a milkshake here? am i a pigeon? is this a hot dog? what's gives?

"i think he had a bit of an accident," she says. "he told me he thought he was passing gas, but something came out (pardon the detail, faint of heart zombies)."

you've got to be kidding me... did i already say that?

in that moment i literally felt the seed of frustration already firmly planted in my fertile bosom start to spring forth a mighty stem with powerful branches budding at a break-neck pace.

"caleb, let's do this." i resolutely demanded.

back to the bathroom, through the maze, into the stall, to grandmother's house we go...

"let's survey the damage, caleb." off came the drawers and sure enough, there was some skid markage.

"looks like you're going commando for the rest of the day, son." that didn't seem to bother him, but then again i'm the one who had to clean the underwear there in the enclosed stall. i guess i could have left them there, but that didn't occur to me. then another issue popped up: what do i do with the shorts once i wash them? do i just walk out of here with a pair of little boy's underwear in my hand? not a chance. that can mean only one thing: i've got to hide them in one of my pockets. so, i did. luckily, i had cargo shorts on.

that was no fun. but i did it and there was still plenty of time to enjoy my shake. what could possibly go wrong now?

maybe son #3 having to go to the bathroom again. that's right, my two youngest boys both had to go to the bathroom twice each within a 20 to 25 minute time period all while i was trying to enjoy my milk shake. not a good situation for me.

at this point, the budding frustration in my bosom had full-on blossomed into a mighty redwood as i marched over to colston who was standing outside the front door of the restaurant where several other old people had congregated to wait for a seat. i stepped up to colston and leaned over to ask him if he really had to go to the bathroom or if he just wanted to ruin his dad's life (just kidding, i just asked him if he really had to go or if he wanted to go because he had seen his brother go. it happens all the time).

unfortunately, he wasn't as interested in answering my question as he was in showing me the butterfly he had just noticed in the potted plant he was inspecting.

"look dad, a butterfly."

"do you really have to go to the bathroom?" was my uninterested reply.

"dad, a butterfly."

in my head: son, i'm about ready to stomp on that butterfly, although i'm starting to think you don't have to go due to your lack of a response. i must confirm this suspicion, though.

so, i ask again:

"colston, do you really have to go?"

he's still not looking at me or acknowledging my question at this point so i grab the top of his head and turn it until his face is facing mine in order to get his full and undivided attention. his eyes, however, stay fixated on the butterfly.

seriously? does it really have to be this hard?

i then ask him one last time, somewhat sternly, "hey, do you really have to go?" he nods his head, yes. at this point, i'm at my witts end and to make matters worse i hear one of the older ladies not sitting far from us, who apparently had been observing the entire exchange between colston and me, say, "oh, look at the pretty butterfly," in an effort to acknowledge the observation of the poor little boy whose dad couldn't have cared less about his precious discovery. for, here was an opportunity to enjoy the beauty of nature outside of one of earth's most spectacular stages with my youngest son and all i could think about was running him to the bathroom so i could enjoy my shake. but, it was a good shake. and so, for one last time in that span of just under 1/2 hour i made my way back to the hobbit sized public restroom, with which i was on a first-name basis at this point, so colston could hit the stall and take care of some grunts.

i sat there observing the boy with my arms folded thinking that if anything can redeem this series of visits to public restroom hell, it was my milkshake which i left safely in the hands of mrs. blogmaster. even then, i could picture it in my mind sitting there loyally waiting outside for my imminent return. that would calm the storm. that would put me at ease and cause me to forget all my worries and allay all my fears.

and with that thought in mind, we triumphantly made our way back outside to be reunited with my cup of ice cream. but then, as i reclaimed my milkshakelike, like a giddy little school girl, from my dutiful wife and raised the straw up to my anxious lips, i looked down into the cup only to see no more than a 1/2 inch or so of melted milkshake remaining. i was devastated. it was a betrayal of the most devious kind. i felt as though i'd been double crossed by both the milkshake and my wife. the milk shake failed to repel the glutinous sips of my dubious wife in an act of duplicitous, not to mention gratuitous, reciprocation. i was so disgusted i couldn't even finish the damaged goods left for me and i summarily discarded the cup into the closest trash can before stomping over to the family car.

the drive back to st. george that afternoon wasn't a pleasant one. it started with a vociferous lecture from me to the boys in which i established a decree in the family of cooper that never again would there be two quick trips to the bathroom in this family when there could be one. not on my watch. i tried to get them to understand this concept, but i'm afraid my pleas fell on def ears. on the other hand, my stink eye stares in mrs. blogmaster's direction were certainly not without merit as my message of supreme immaturity and rank selfishness was received loud and clear.

but, then to top it all off, it was as if the demons who dwell in public restroom hell, who seemed to be zeroed in on the blogmaster that day, ready and willing to torment me at every possible moment, had orchestrated one final act of mischief to put me over the edge. for at long last after we had trekked down and arrived at our seats towards the bottom of the tuacahn amplitheater to see tarzan, and as i set my drink down (which was then serving as a poor man's substitute for the milk shake that had been so coldly taken from me earlier that day) which subsequently tipped over due to my lackluster efforts to hide the drink from the grabbing hands of the kids who would have surely robbed me yet again of the blissful joy i was expecting to experience from another sugar-laden treat, and as the soda seeped across the ground like a spreading pool of blood oozing from a wounded body, mrs. blogmaster tapped me on the shoulder and pointed down at colston who was informing us anew that he had to go to the bathroom... again.

you can't make this stuff up.

that was just the start of it. after that whole ordeal we made the mistake of going to see a 2.5 hour movie with the kids and buying them adult sized drinks beforehand. i kid you not, jameson left the theater no less than five times to use the restroom. i think he missed one hour of the movie.

then most recently, on our way to idaho, mrs. blogmaster informed me she needed to use the restroom. duly noted, love, i thought at the time. but as we cruised up 1-15 and as my mind jumped back and forth among the myriad issues a driver at high-speed with multiple passengers in the car has to consider, i drove right by an exit leading to a perfectly suitable restroom facility.

my bad.

only then did i inquire as to whether mrs. blogmaster would be able to make it to the next stop, which who knew when that would be. she then informed me that when she says she has to go to the bathroom on a roadtrip, that she has to go right then and there is no time to wait. thing is, the time immediately before that request, some 30 minutes earlier, she told me she had to go, but that she could make it for another 15 minutes or so.

go figure.

after pleading my case for a minute or so, in an attempt to clear my good name as a husband who does want his wife to be able to urinate when she needs to, mrs. blogmaster stated that when she tells me she needs to go, she expects my one goal in life to become the deliverance of her to a restroom facility. thus, in summary, life, eternal salvation, my job, the safety of others, and much, much more can all take a back seat to aim's urge to pee.

and to think all of this could have been so easily avoided with a few bladder augmentations.

mrs. blogmaster is one year older

it just so happens that mrs. blogmaster's birthday is on easter sunday this year. i guess its bound to happen once every six or seven years, but i don't really recall the last time it happened... which is kind of surprising because mrs. blogmaster can be somewhat of a diva on her birthday. more power to her. it's her day and i'm happy to celebrate the moment of her birth to the greatest extent possible; as such, that other semi-important event... the resurrection... may have to take a backseat to the other important event i just mentioned.

i'm only kidding of course, but aim did inform me yesterday morning that she was going on a "mom hiatus" for the weekend which was her right due to the fact that her birthday fell on a weekend (meaning she gets the entire weekend off in order to celebrate). fine. following that logic then, i guess i get the rest of the week off when my birthday falls on a weekday. i'm not counting on it.

like i said, she deserves it... she's more than earned it; but, i don't know if i have the mental, physical, and emotional capacity to handle aim on her birthday when she is also sick. aim can also become a little diva-like is when she gets sick. i guess if someone gets sick, you should take care of that person and, for some kooky reason, that's what human beings have come to expect from one another. thing is, i never get sick and when i do, i downplay it as much as i can and don't expect any pampering. because of this, i typically, and maybe callously, downplay other people's infirmities, as well.

unfortunately, aim kind of takes the opposite approach to sickness and whenever she's a little under the weather she's usually within inches of losing her life. well, at least in her mind she is. and along with aim's said mortal illnesses, or as like to call them stuffy heads or runny noses, she expects the exact kind of care given to her that she gives to others. there's nothing wrong with that, she deserves it... i'm just not hard-wired that way, so i typically don't respond the way i should. rather than remain at her side all day long ,i'll usually come up with some lame excuse like, "i have to go to work" and then leave her on her deathbed. it's amazing she's survived all these years.

the reason i bring this up is because i have now mentioned two instances in which mrs. blogmaster has the potential to expect diva-like treatment (keep in mind, i'm not saying she doesn't deserve this type of treatment, i'm just telling you how it is). and so later last night, on the eve of mrs. blogmaster's birthday, she tells me she's not feeling well. uh oh, diva-like treatment to the second power. i all of a sudden felt as though i was staring down the double barreled shotgun of sickness and birthdays. luckily im shifty and can dodge the lethal spray of visceral buckshot coming from such a shooting iron and planned to give the queen of cooper manor a small slice of a poor-man's diva-esque treatment:

yesterday, or the day before aim's birthday, i realized i hadn't gotten her a birthday present. i had a couple hours at one point to do some shopping for her, and so i did. while i was shopping for aim's b-day present/s i found a great deal on some shoes and a shirt... problem is, they were for men and they just happened to be my size. being the bargain shopper i am, i couldn't resist. plus, there really isn't anything wrong with buying something for yourself while you're out shopping for someone else's birthday, is there? is still got her some gifts and spent more time and emotional effort looking for her stuff than mine. it's all good.

besides, i rushed around to three different stores to buy the ingredients for aim's birthday menu today which will be catered... by me.

it actually started last night with hagen daaz's chocolate and almond covered ice cream bars. maybe as close as you can get to balboa bars without going to newport. good substitute, but not nearly as good as the real thing. rich man's diva treatment: charter a sesna to newport just to get a balboa bar and then head back. poor man's diva treatment: the aforementioned. they'll do for now. oh, and she had a sparkling glass of grapefruit flavored perrier.

will do a light breakfast this morning: yogurt parfaits, some more perrier and the traditional cinnamon rolls.

then some brunch: eggs benedict. aim has become a big fan of eggs benedict ever since she had hash house a go go's eggs benedict. i will be preparing something similar to eggs benedict but instead of using canadian bacon i will be using prosciutto and a little spinach. mine are pretty good, but not as good as hash's. unfortunately, that's what the poor man's diva gets. we'll have some more perrier and the leftover birthday cake our friend stephanie made and brought by... possibly the best tasting birthday cakes i've ever had. and it looked really, really cool.

dinner: homemade pizza napoli style minus the coal-brick oven. i've got the ingredients to make some wannabe settebello's/grimaldi's pizza, unfortunately i don't have the know-how or the brick stove (and i forgot to buy some pine nuts) to fully replicate. we'll see how it turns out. finish off the perrier and maybe give aim a glass of her favorite: pellegrino (i personally can't stand that stuff).

twilight dessert: no we are not going to eat the book, edward, or jacob for dessert; rather, we will probably pour aim her final glass of pellegrino as the sun starts to go down, but not before we use it to chase down some lava cake and vanilla bean ice cream. should be good.

so, that's the menu. everything always sounds so much better in my head than when i actually taste it. we'll see how it turns out.

in closing, let me just say that although mrs. blogmaster deserves rich-man diva-like treatment, she married the man that only has the capacity to give her middle-income diva-like treatment... for now. all in all, she is the polish that makes the cooperfive shine. time and again she amazes me with her dedication to perfection and desire to be a good person. she won't allow anything of value to be cheapened by complacency or apathy. sincerity is key with her. she can be a very sensitive person and that keeps her keen on other people's feelings which is the catalyst behind her desire to help anyone in need. i love seeing that very motivated, yet selfless side of her. and i would be remiss if i didn't mention that aim is also a pillar of spiritual strength to the family whose dedication to our faith is nothing short of inspirational. row hi who, babe, you grace us all with your presence.

i also failed to mention that aim is pretty easy on the eyes... so easy i feel like my corneas are getting a massage every time i look at her. note to zombies: it always helps if at least one person in the relationship is smoking hot. it's done wonders for ours.

and with that i sing in a monotone key: happy birthday to you, mrs. blogmaster!!!

the anniversary but not before a quick political disclaimer

if you don't want to read about my politics, skip the stuff in ittalics:

i just got on the blog to post about phase 2 of the gauntlet and noticed an ad addressing health care reform linking you back to harry !@#$'s website (for those new to the blog, !@#$ is used in place of the four-letter word "reid"). as a disclaimer, i do not in any way shape or form endorse harry !@#$ or the healthcare reform bill that was recently passed. i also don't endorse any stake conveniently holding firesides for brother !@#$ during an election year, but don't get me started...

as for health care...

i, like anyone with a heart or conscience, admit that health care needed some changing and credit to the democrats for having the anatomy to actually do something about it. unfortunately, according to friends of mine who are native to other countries with the very kinds of health care systems the left covet but who have also lived in america as non-resident aliens (note to zombies: these friends are anything but conservative), something moving towards a universal system is not any better than what we have now... their words, not mine. in fact, more often than not, the reason some of these individuals came to america was to escape the health care of the other country, ie canada. both systems have their pros and cons, but more often than not I have heard negative commentary from people i know and trust who have actually lived in and dealt with both systems.

plus, i think there is also the issue of whose corruption and cronyism you trust more: the governments' or the capitalists' because you are flat out lying to yourself if you try to claim that a given side is immune from either. i tend to side with adam smith and the invisible hand because the market is less binding and generally responds more quickly and willingly to consumer dissatisfaction and similar market forces than the government does (those pesky set terms and the ability to make law and all); that being said, we need both forces at work as together they serve as a nice check and balance against each other.

this reform may bring some balance to the spectrum, but most of us gun-toting free market capitalists fear that this may be a step in the wrong direction (for the record, i don't own a gun, but i do own several light sabers). for if political geniuses like sean penn and bill maher get their wish and this system drives insurance out of business, eliminates competition, and leaves the government with all the power... well, you know what they say about absolute power and barney frank and fannie may and freddie mac. i'm happy to be proven wrong, but i am inherently incapable of admitting that politicians can get things right unless, of course, i agree with them.

last word on this, my main concern is that if this new system disincentives some of our best and brightest from the medical field, in other words if the quality and cutting edge advancement of our health care services goes down because the prestige/financial incentive evaporates from the field, the words that come to mind to describe my feelings towards those who passed this legislation in spite of major opposition to it are too strong to utter on this blog.

that is all. i've vented and now i'm going back to semi-professional blogging in the comedic arena full-time. politics gets me too riled up and into too much trouble with friends.

the cooperfive recently spent a few days in san diego while i was there for a work seminar. san diego is a pretty sweet city. we used to spend a week or so there each summer growing up in the mission beach area, but i'd never really spent much time downtown in the gas lamp district. i know they recently revitalized that whole area, so it wasn't as cool then as it is now, but i was really impressed. i kept having to ask myself why we don't come to visit more often, but then i'd remember that it's because it costs money.

not long before the san diego trip, aim and i celebrated our 12th anniversary. it was a fairly uneventful celebration this year as mrs. blogmaster requested that we not do much. being a guy, i actually thought she was serious about that... on second thought, she probably wasn't. but, hey, we've only been married 1 and 1/5 decades, how am i supposed to know that kind of stuff yet... give me some time to get to know her a little more.

at any rate, we spent the evening watching a show i don't really recommend called "diary of a mad black woman" or something like that. i'm almost ashamed to even admit that we had the dvd, but someone at work whom i trust almost implicitly when it comes to movie recommendations recommended it and actually gave me a copy of the dvd to watch, so after we'd had it for like 6 months and there was nothing at red box, the dvr, or on tv, we finally gave in.

it had a few funny lines here in there, but overall i felt like i was watching a seminary video or that love dare movie fireproof i wrote about a while ago, but for the bet channel. interesting, but not my cup of tea.

the movie is about some pompous wealthy lawyer who treats his wife like garbage and eventually kicks her out. she, in turn, finds true happiness through some young handsome thing with sweet cornrows who works for a moving company by day and the tv show criminal minds by night. there was a nice underlying Christian message throughout the show which is always nice to see, but watching this show before bed was kind of like hearing the mormon tabernacle choir sinker in on the ipod at an inopportune moment like i shared in a recent post... if you know what i mean.

thing is, the couple in the movie had a few fights which reminded me of the one or two fights mrs. blogmaster and i have had over the course of our marriage. right. and when i think that far back i am reminded of virginia and helen's house: the century and a half old house we lived in as newlyweds while attending school in provo, utah. lots of fond newlywed memories there. take for instance the time that aimee, being the good dutiful wife she is, made a special dinner for the two of us... perhaps an anniversary dinner.

for the record, i think mrs. blogmaster is an excellent cook. admittedly, cooking was not really something she'd had a ton of experience with coming into the marriage, but i didn't care... that's not what i married her for. over the years, however, she has become quite the culinary wonder, to her credit. she, on the other hand, feels fairly inadequate when it comes to this area of homemaking, but keep in mind, she's a perfectionist.

on this particular evening, aim decided to try her hand at little dish i like to call chicken cordon bleu. pretty ambitious for a novice. but when she brought it out and served it up, it looked and smelled great. in fact, it even tasted great, leaving me thoroughly impressed. after one bite went down smoothly i proceeded with little inhibition until i started to notice a minty fresh-like aftertaste. curious. no matter, maybe it was some new age recipe that incorporated some odd ingredient to give a traditional favorite a modern flare. i'm down with that. but the taste persisted and seemed to even get a little stronger. and then i noticed a greenish liquidy looking color that appeared to have bled off of the string holding the ham and cheese together and onto the chicken meant. it was at that point i either realized or had to ask, is that dental floss in the chicken?

sure enough, it was. ever the industrious woman, aim had made good use of our dental floss by incorporating it into the preparation of this celebratory meal (i'm not sure how much we were flossing back then). i couldn't have cared less. it still tasted great overall and the effort aims had gone to in making it to begin with was all that mattered to me. one thing for sure is that i had the best smelling breath i'd ever had after eating cordon bleu when i walked away from that meal.

back to san diego.

while driving in the car...

caleb: "dad, i've got a rash from colston's underwear."

me in my mind: what am i missing here? how the heck does that happen?

colston in his unassuming little three year old voice, with a slight lisp: "i've got my own underwear."

it was then that i remembered caleb had thrown on colston's underwear that morning because he had been too lazy to get his own out of his suitcase. these types of comments are commonplace during a road-trip with three boys.

then there was dinner at the mexican place on coronado island.

colston: "i've got to go potty."

i look at aim hoping she'll bail me out but knowing full well it is infinitely my turn given all the diaper changing and potty breaks she takes care of when i'm not around. i look back at coles.

me: "let's go."

we get in el bano and, of course, there aren't any kids sized urinals. great. not surprisingly, coles insists on using the urinal and he also insists on dropping trow to the ankles which means i have to pick up the kid and hold him on par with the urinal so he can keep the stream in the urinal while his pants are down. note to readers: this is an odd site to the common passerby, me standing there holding a kid with his drawers down to his ankles while he goes tinkles in an adult sized urinal.

as luck would have it, he gets stage fright and doesn't go. i wait patiently, trying not to make eye contact with anyone else in the bathroom, until time is up and we call it quits. we head back out to finish the meal. not more than three minutes later.

colson: "i've got to go poops."

i don't even bother to look at aim this time and grab the kid by the hand hurrying him along to the restroom again... those sizzling shrimp for the shrimp fajitas aren't going to sizzle forever.

we get into the bathroom and this time he has no choice but to use the toilet. we enter the stall and he refuses to let me put anything on the toilet seat as a buffer between the seat and his cheeks. fine. i place him on the seat where he braces himself from falling in by placing his hands on the seat itself. i try not to throw up. please tell me hand sanitizer is as potent as i'm hoping it is right now. a couple of grunts later he's done and insists on flushing the toilet even though it flushes itself. at this point i don't care what he touches in the bathroom and let him feel around for the flusher. he finally believes me when i say he can't flush it and we leave the stall and wash his hands like he's a surgeon prepping for surgery. now back to the fajitas if i can still muster up an appetite.

i sit down and start to eat. not more than four minutes go by.

colston: "i've got to go tinkles."

me: "that's it, babe. it's your turn."

let's move on to the pictures...