Giving thanks

So we’re a day before Thanksgiving and as a columnist, I will share with you what I am thankful for, as is required by the U.S. Constitution. (Columnists who do not write such a column are ordered to write TWO Christmas wish columns.)
That said:
1. I am thankful for my daughter, Allie, who is now at the age where she gets embarrassed by her father, meaning I get to see the priceless look of horror on her face when we run into a classmate in public and I say, “So, are you her boyfriend?”
2. I am thankful for my son Parker, who is still at the age where he has little cares, and may wander into a room wearing nothing and say, “Daddy, I got tired of wearing pants.”
3. I am thankful for my wife, who tells me I talk in my sleep but says I only babble. She has a prime opportunity to have some fun at my expense, yet never does.
4. I am thankful for each and every one of you who returns your shopping cart to the corral (double thanks for actually taking it back to the store). For those of you who leave them in parking spaces, I hope you step in something.
5. I am thankful that my mother-in-law forced me to watch a show on the Food Network a while back, as I was introduced to the world of Hot Brown sandwiches, something I will make with my leftover turkey.
6. I am thankful for college football coaching rumors not involving Alabama. Sure, Nick Saban’s name gets dropped out on some fringe elements, but to see the fans in College Station, Baton Rouge, Ann Arbor, Auburn and Columbia teetering on the verge of insanity is... well, having endured it too much recently, it’s quite enjoyable.
7. I am thankful that Tom Glavine is back in a Braves uniform, as his five-year prison sentence has concluded.
8. I am thankful that Britney Spears makes $700,000 a month. It reminds me that if great things can happen to pointless people, then certainly moderately good things can happen to me.
9. I am thankful for Sirius satellite radio, as it is one of the greatest inventions of all time, and anyone against the merger between XM and Sirius not only hates America, they hate puppies. It’s a fact.
10. I am thankful for the opportunity to share songs that are stuck in my head. For example, all morning I have been singing the Slinky commercial song. Now you are. “It’s Slinky! It’s Slinky!”
11. I am thankful for YouTube, as it allows such little-known shows as “Exit 57” to live on. Most of you are not familiar with the show, but it’s a sketch comedy group from about a decade ago. Stephen Colbert was on it, and let me tell you – his work as a Dancing Muchacho is second to none.
12. I am thankful for my dogs, who remind me that sleeping away your day can be a very rewarding experience.
13. I am thankful for my memories of the time I drove down to the coast to cover Hurricane Fran in 1996, because I believe that is the last stinking time it rained in South Carolina, and I would hate to forget what rain is.
14. I am thankful for Coke in a glass bottle. I am not sure what the difference is, but it definitely tastes better.
15. I am thankful that Downtown continues to grow. Having grown up in Aiken, it’s nice to see a far different Downtown than years ago, in particular in terms of restaurants. Oh, and as for the parking problems? My neighbor said it best: If you can hit a golf ball from your car to the front door of the business, you didn’t have to park far away. That said, I do not recommend actually testing this.
16. I am thankful for you, dear reader, who is kind enough to offer the occasional nice word on a column. Or call me a parasite. Which I haven’t forgotten. Thanks, sir.
17. I am thankful for stuffing. It is the single greatest food ever created, and it is a tragedy that it gets one, maybe two appearances a year on America’s dinner tables.
18. I am thankful for TiVo, because I can watch “Boston Legal” when I want to, and I have yet to see a commercial during it. Also, I have a never-ending supply of “Go, Diego, Go” at my fingertips.
19. I am thankful for wireless internet, as my home office is wherever I want it to be.
20. I am thankful that we have reached No. 20, as I have to go. I feel the need to go buy a Slinky.

Card shark

It’s a simple matter of order.
Things have a place where they should go. And if they are NOT in said place, they will not be found. Am I right? Finally, some people agree with me.
It all started the other day when I went to the store. When I opened my wallet to pull out my credit card, I was a little miffed to find nothing but a lonely leather pocket. (I assume my wallet is leather. I have no idea, since I bought it some time around the Clinton administration, and let’s be honest – I’m not the most discerning consumer when it comes to buying items, much less something that will spend the bulk of its time in a back pocket or a car console.)
Most people’s first reaction in not finding their credit card would be to assume someone stole it.
My first reaction was to hurriedly move stuff off the counter and apologize to the people behind me, lest I be That Guy, the one who (a) picks his lottery numbers while holding up the line or (b) waits until reaching the counter until even looking at the fast food menu that has barely changed in 20 years or (c) writes a check on the counter right next to the “NO PERSONAL CHECKS” sign. You know, That Guy.
Anyhow, I ended up going to a nearby cash machine to get out money to pay for my purchase, as I knew full well where my credit card was: in my wife’s clutches.
I remembered earlier in the day when we had been at the store with the kids. The kids decided it was a perfect time for freeze tag, so I decided it was time to leave public shopping areas with them. I pitched my wife my wallet to pay for our purchase and took the kids outside to run free as nature intended.
My wife returned my wallet when we got in the van, and I failed to check for my credit card as I should have, but I was distracted (and frozen). So it never occurred to me that the card would not be there. Of course, I planned to address the issue immediately when I got home. Unfortunately, I have the attention span of a hyperactive terrier, so forgot by the time I was home, which was all of about two blocks away.
Just to prove a point side note: I keep index cards in my car visor so that I can jot down things I need to do. On the occasion people have seen them, they think I am, well, off my rocker. They will say something like, “Crazy Brad Pitt; gluttony; popcorn” and I will have to explain that I was listening to the radio and I heard someone talking about Brad Pitt, which made me try and remember the name of the movie where he played the crazy guy, and I’ll need to look it up later. (It was “12 Monkeys.”) And that will then make me think of the movie “Se7en,” which had me trying to name the seven deadly sins and blanking on “wrath” so I had to remind myself to look THAT up. And then all of the movie talk has me thinking popcorn, so I remember that we’re out at home so I start an impromptu shopping list. It’s not a world you want to visit, folks.
OK, anyhow, I did not write down to get my card back, so it floated out of my brain. It occurred to me about two days later when I needed it.
I swung by my wife’s school to get it from her. She insisted that she did not have it, and that she had put it back in my wallet. I told her she was clearly delusional, and I would go find it in her purse. Nothing.
I told her that she must have quite irresponsibly left it sitting in her car. She assured me that she had put it back in my wallet. I told her a search of her car would prove her wrong. Nothing.
Just to humor her, I flipped open my wallet. Nothing.
And then I looked in the middle pocket, the one behind where I normally keep my card, and there I saw what certainly did resemble a Master Card logo. Indeed, my card had been there the whole time. But, as I maintained, it was not where it was supposed to be. Therefore, there was no reason I should have been able to find it.
“If I go to get my mail and open up the box, and you have instead delivered my mail to a neighbor’s tree, I will NOT find my mail!!!” I stated with great confidence that everyone would be on my side.
Unfortunately, they turned on me: “That is true,” offered one of my non-supporters, “but in this case, it’s like your mail is usually on the right side of the mailbox, and one day I put it on the left side. It’s still in the mailbox.”
I refuse to accept their flawed reasoning. I am a change fearin’ habit creature. If it’s supposed to be in the front right pocket, that’s where I’m looking. No more. And you see where that’s getting me.
I know you’re thinking I should have looked a little closer. And perhaps you’re right. Maybe I need to break some of my routine on occasion. It could be good for the soul to get out of my repetitive ways. I’ll write myself a note.

Christmas cheer

I suppose there is nothing groundbreaking about letting you know that I, like most of you, feel that Christmas should be celebrated during Christmas.
Trust me, I do not claim to be the first to bring this forward. Little known fact: There are cave drawings of cavemen lamenting the fact that the holiday season had leached over into the mammoth hunting festival.
Christmas coming earlier and earlier and earlier is one of those accepted things now, where everyone enjoys making the observation, myself included.
I did my first observation of the year in the middle of a home improvement store a week before Halloween.
There, surrounded by Christmas decorations stacked to the ceiling and Christmas music ringing through the aisles, I made this lovely announcement to my children: “STOP SINGING CHRISTMAS SONGS!!!”
Plenty of customers turned and eyed me and my grumpy edict to my kids. They also were a little suspect when they then saw me shopping for axes.
A quick side note for those of you who cast those odd looks at me: We came to the store looking for an ax, as mine broke.
When it gets to be fire time, I would like to be able to split the wood in the woodpile, so I would appreciate it if you would not stare at me as though I am homicidal.
But back to the Christmas songs. That is the one thing I can continue to control.
You can throw up enormous inflatable snow globes at every store in the middle of June for all I care.
I can still not allow Christmas songs to be sung until the day after Thanksgiving.
And I can shout it in the middle of a home improvement store, drawing curious stares from other people, in particular ones who don’t see my kids but just see me, several aisles away, shouting, “NO JINGLE BELLS!!!”
I guess am sort of giving into the early Christmas season this year, as I am planning on getting my Christmas decorations put up early this year. Not saying I will turn them on. But I want them up by the time my neighbor’s lights come on.
His house is two doors down, and each Christmas he puts up the most beautiful and classy Christmas display you will see, brilliant and organized, the entire house awash in Christmas cheer.
And it’s always fired up before anyone else’s.
Invariably what happens is I come home one night, turn the corner and see the display. And then I look at the dark void that is my house, and realize that not only am I not showing Christmas cheer, I am actually creating a cheer vortex, where joy and happiness get sucked away into the abyss.
Then I end up trying to decorate frantically at 10:30 at night just to try and light the darkness.
So this year, I plan to bring all of the lights and decorations down from the attic early and start sorting.
First off, I will pull out all of the net lights, the single greatest Christmas decoration invention since that big tube thingee that Christmas tree places use to wrap up your tree in net.
I currently have enough nets to cover the bushes along the front of my house.
However, I have a fairly large azalea bed that, by my estimate, I could cover with about 50 more net lights.
I am fairly certain I will not get the OK to proceed with that acquisition because (a) it will be a little pricey and (b) it will look like my front yard is on fire.
But I will look for some strategic places to put new lights and head out and buy them (pending management approval).
One thing I will NOT do is anything involving the roof line. As I have told you in years past, my roof is no longer a place for lights.
I applaud anyone and everyone who wants to do it at their home. Knock yourself out. Heck, if it means that much to you, you’re more than welcome to come do mine.
And it has nothing to do with heights. Heights don’t bother me, even after I saw my neighbor, while trying to hang Christmas lights, plummet from his roof and break his ankle a few years ago.
Rather, it is the extreme annoyance that I get from having to wiggle the ladder between bushes, and then fight tree branches near the house, and then lean all the way back to reach back to the roofline, only to have the long string of lights pull free of the clasps and go crashing to the ground, leaving me to spread some very un-Christmas cheer through the neighborhood.
Hopefully my early preparation will pay off, and I will be able to sit back and enjoy the true Christmas season.
But if I do it right, once I plug the lights in and see the house light up, it will mean it is officially Christmas season.
And I guess that means I can let the kids sing again.

Life lessons

Before my first child was born, my wife and I went to parenting classes. They taught us all kinds of valuable things such as the names of various body parts that I did not even know existed.
Sure, they touched on some of the basics of child care (you should feed them, etc.). Don’t get me wrong – it was all important information. It’s just that nothing can ever truly prepare you for being a parent.
It’s just something you have to experience, like the Grand Canyon or shingles. And now that I reflect on my years as a parent, I think it may be time to perhaps add some more sections to the classes.
Or, perhaps, another class, one that kicks in after your child can walk and talk (and therefore run from you and argue with you). Among those added sections:

1. Hairstyles for Little Girls: For those of you who are not females or fathers of daughters, you may not know that little girls’ hair contraptions are among the most complicated devices on the planet. Used incorrectly, they will inflict exceptional pain on a little girl, leaving you to try and convince her to wear a baseball cap to school.
2. Interpreting Children’s Clothes Sizes: I am still lost here, based on conversations such as this:
MY WIFE: Look at the tag. It says 6. So it’s for a 6-year-old.
ME: So I can get rid of the 5s and shelve the 7s?
MY WIFE: No, some of the 5s and 7s fit, too, and some of the 6s don’t.
ME:
I am guessing there is a better way to figure it out other than dressing your child and having your wife or mother or a random gas station attendant ask why you dressed your son in Capri pants.
3. Reasoning With Children: This would be a short section. “Don’t bother.”
4. Answering Impossible Questions: You don’t need to come up with an answer.
You just need to figure out a way out of it.
For example., the other day, my son said, “Daddy, if yellow and blue make green, what makes yellow?” “Excellent question!” I said. And then I followed up with, “Hey, let’s go buy a puppy!!!!”
5. Naming Pets: This would help you take proactive approaches to making sure you don’t have a goldfish named “Goldie,” a dog named “Doggie” or a Chewbacca action figure named “Yoda.”
6. Sports, and Why It’s OK Not to Start Them Out When They are Two Weeks Old: By my estimate, Allie was in roughly 8,000 organized sporting activities by the time she was 5. And when she finally said, “Uh, is it OK if I don’t play soccer/basketball/bobsledding this year?” we realized we were maybe stretching her a little thin.
Parker has done a few activities, but would much rather spend his time kicking around in the backyard climbing trees and looking for bugs.
Don’t get me wrong – if it works for your kid, great. But there’s nothing requiring you to put your child in sports from day one. It’ll wait. I promise.
7. Parenting Books, And What To Do When They Are Wrong: Parenting books are fine guides. But there will come a time when the book does not agree with your child. And you cannot reason with your child (see No. 3) and say, “Uh, yeah, you need to go back to sleep, because page 234 says that you should be sleeping through the night.” As a supplement to all of your parenting books, I recommend you pick up my best selling parenting advice which I will reprint in its entirety here: “Figure out what works for your kid. Do that. The End.”
8. What Baby Food Tastes Like: They should go ahead and just do a tasting so you get that little inquisition out of the way ASAP, rather than stretching it out for the duration of the food introduction. Oh, and in case you’re wondering – it tastes gross.
9. Screams of Pain, And How To Determine What Is Real: To the untrained ear, screams of children all sound equally horrible. But with a little work and practice, you will have no trouble determining the scream of “I am pretty sure my knee doesn’t bend this way” between the scream of “Hey, that’s my Barbie!”
10. Helping Siblings Get Along: If my wife had her say, this would be the part where you learn to sit down and talk with your children and iron out the issues. I would refer you to No. 3 and say, “Let ’em fight it out. Last man standing wins.”

I am sure there are many other things that could help parents as they journey down the path.
Of course, part of the joy of parenting is finding out what you know and you don’t know, and teaching and molding your children. I guess it’s something I learned from my parents. I just wish they’d taught me where yellow comes from.