Paris, anyone??

A question has come to mind this morning, and I have no way of really knowing the answer on my own. It's not important, and it's not going to make my day either way. It's not going to change the outcome of the Super Bowl (Sorry, I thought I was over it...), and it’s not going to melt the snow. The question is this - do the French do French Toast? Do they enjoy it with a glass of Merlot? Do they take one of those canisters filled with powdered sugar and sprinkle it, ever so carefully, over the yummy goodness?? I have a vision of French couples, sitting in the shadow of the Eifel Tower, downing French Toast with some French Syrup and French Coffee, while using French phrases that are supposedly romantic and elegant, but are probably announcing which American they now want to see hit by a van. So, do they? Do they eat French Toast? Or, is this just something else that Americans have decided to give credit for to someone else? Like Moo Shi Pork. Or pizza. Or weapons of mass destruction....

I made French Toast this morning. In case you were wondering. The attack on the French? Not sure where that came from. Although I must say I had a French teacher that enjoyed throwing desks out the window. Seriously. More on that later, I suppose.

Anyway, French toast. I received a griddle as a wedding gift years ago, and have probably only used it a dozen times or so over the years. Mostly because it is a pain in the butt to clean. (Do the French clean their griddles?? I've heard they don't shower...) Anyway, when I can find a food that Chloe will eat, I stick to it like glue. Peanut butter sandwiches, chicken nuggets, French toast. That's pretty much it. Throw in the occasional slice of pizza, and you have Chloe's menu. Chloe trying a new food consists of her putting in her mouth, nodding her head, smiling for my benefit, and then spitting it out on her plate. She follows this dramatic moment with a declaration - "I tried it! Can I have a snack now???"

I really don't mind the French. I don't even know a French person, so I shouldn't be critical. Since I live in a state that borders Quebec, however, I have spoken to my share of French speaking people. Nice people. Very down to earth. I have no idea what they are saying. But they are smiley. And that makes me happy. Why am I telling you this?? I don't know. But I made French toast this morning. And it was damn good. As was the Merlot.

A New Day Has Dawned

It took a week, but I am ready to move on. I have put away my Patriots stuff and am looking forward to pitchers and catchers reporting to Spring Training. While the disappointment of losing has been palpable, I am also awash in disappointment in what the Patriots may or may not have done in the past regarding certain videotapes. I don't like cheating. I don't like the idea of someone gaining an advantage over someone else by means other than their own ability, technique and preparation. Whether through steroids, spitballs, stealing signs or videotapes, I believe that the sanctity of the game, when compromised, presents a quandry to us all. If the Patriots have indeed gone beyond the scope of the rules on more than one occasion, and if they are found to have blatantly cheated beyond what other teams are doing themselves, I will find it hard to root for them. While I have been a Sox fan since the embryonic stage, I have only really become a fan of football in the past 13 or so years - in other words, I don't think it's going to take alot to turn me off. I am hoping beyond hope that the things they are being accused of are false. Regardless, it is time to move on. It is time to remember that it is just a game....

In other news, Shea is voting for Barack Obama. In his own mind, at least. Shea wakes up every morning needing to know the score of every NBA game from the night before. He has his favorite teams, and he knows who plays for them. Upon waking up on Sunday morning, and after a day in which Washington, Louisiana and Nebraska voiced their opinions on the candidates, Shea awoke and asked if the junior senator from Illinois had "won". He also wanted to know the "score". Ahh, if it was only that easy to explain. Shea is an extremely analytical thinker, and there are moments that I find myself torn between giving an answer that will quickly dismiss the question (usually used when I have not a clue what the answer is), or answer the question honestly and directly, seeing what he makes of the explanation. Knowing that I could not explain the inner workings of the American political process, I took a stab at the basic points. I think he actually understood alot of what was being said. I think he now understands that there are people who are attempting to better our country by becoming our president. I think he now understands that everyone has a right to their opinion. And I think he now understands that we shouldbn't be critical of others opinions. And, as it is at the end of many of our conversaions, I walked away shaking my head at the scope of his knowledge - and wondering what incredible things he has in store for this world.....

The Time Has Come

I have heard alot of opinions about the actual moment that a man truly becomes a dad. Is it when the firstborn makes his/her way into the world? Maybe when you change your first diaper. Maybe when a milestone is reached - first step, first solid food, first time throwing a ball through the living room window, etc. Maybe it doesn't happen until your own father has passed away, and you become the patriarch of the family. These are all wonderful ideas, and I'm sure that we can find merit in all of them. But I now know that I have arrived as a father. I now know that I am worthy of the title. I have faced a brick wall, and have proceeded to walk through without so much as a scratch....Because as of today, I have more than one package of toilet paper sitting under my bathroom sink. The significance of this moment cannot be overstated. For years I have been a typical man. No - a typical bachelor-type man. I buy toilet paper (toilet tissue for those of you with more tact than I - whatever - it all does the same job...) Anyway, I buy a pack, and if I'm lucky, it lasts through the week. If not, I hope that there are enough napkins left to do the job until grocery day. If not napkins, paper towels. If not paper towels, prayer....A new day has dawned, however. When I went to get groceries this morning, I found myself grabbing for a second package. Why, I asked, are you grabbing for that second pack?? You've never done this before, I thought. What is the purpose of this over buying, I pondered. Why do women go crazy over Tom Brady, depsite the butt-chin, I wondered. Before I knew it, the deed had been done, and I was staring at a cart full of toilet paper. Tissue. Whatever....

What then does this have to do with becoming a father??? Well, here's the deal. When I was growing up, my dad would have multiples of everything. Cereal, soda, chips, napkins, coffee, and yes, toilet paper. Tissue. Some of these things were kept in various places around the kitchen, while some ended up in our barn, in the cold, in order for them to stay fresher. As a teenager, I was often amused at how our cupboards resembled a grocery store. And God help you if you opened a new box before the old one had been finished. I still remember one of these conversations like it was yesterday.
"Ashley, why did you open a new package of Duplexes??" (Cheap Oreos for anyone that was wondering)
"I didn't know that we had any open."
"They're in the cookie jar, where they always are."
"I didn't look in there, sorry."
"Well now I need to buy a whole new package."
"But Dad, there are 5 more bags in the cupboard."
(Pause)
"Do you really think that's enough?"
This was my teenage life in a nutshell. Now keep in mind, I love my dad. I think he's a good guy with incredible intellect and a decent sense of humor. But up until the past couple of years, I didn't think that we had much in common. I have, naturally and inevitably, come to see the real truth. And today, I stared right into the face of oncoming dad-hood when I looked in my cart at my two packs of toilet paper and thought - "Is that really enough?"

The new world has been conquered. Long live the king of toilet tissue. Paper. Whatever....