The hap, hap, happiest Christmas since Bing Crosby tap-danced with Danny &#$*@&% Kaye

Bethany: Is your house on fire, Clark?
Clark: No, Aunt Bethany, those are the Christmas lights.

All of the above is from the Holiday classic Christmas Vacation. Not only does it nail a lot of the goofy holiday things people do, it also has a lengthy scene involving a squirrel, and well, you know how I feel about squirrel(s).

I felt like the main character, Clark Griswold on Thanksgiving. I was stringing holiday lights for the first time in my adult life. I'm not very good at such things. There's also the fact that in the past I've not been a big fan of putting out our holiday lights. See, Our block does luminaires. You're not forced to put them out, but you know how it is, short of being Jewish or a Hindu, everyone expects you to put them up - Merry Merry. I usually put them up - begrudgingly, feeling forced to do anything is a major pet peeve of mine. I was further irked by the fact that around our Casa, the East end of the 800 block for those keeping score at home, that most of our neighbors didn't do it. To my left (that would be West) the neighbors are Jewish. Can't very well expect them to deck the halls. To my right (that would be East) Magaret is a senior citizen, and doesn't do the lights. She usually goes on a cruise over the Holidays. Across the street, it was the same, older neighbors who didn't feel very merry, and or weren't up to the task of stringing a bunch of luminaires (which is a bigger pain in the ass than you might think.)

This year all of that changed for me. We have a lot of young blood on the East end of our block, who now do lights, but more importantly, Ethan was excited about Christmas, and well, that energized me. Add in the Little Warrior, and I felt like the before mentioned Clark Griswold, stringing lights, your basic dork, and quite inept Dad, with his heart in the right place.

My first time at stringing lights (on the house) was pretty smooth (for me.) I only had to go to Wal-Mart three times to get what I actually needed to do the job. I didn't fall off the ladder. The lights actually WORKED. Same dealio for the Luminaires. I was pretty dang dog successful. Had a nice time doing it too, which I think is the point. Ethan helped me (for as long as a nearly three year old can help) and then played cars/trucks in the front yard while I worked my way around the front of our house on the ladder stringing the lights. Ethan would occassionally interupt by saying: "be careful daddy." Cart and the Little Warrior came out front from time to time to visit and enjoy the lovely, sunny, yet crisp Thanksgiving day. It was a Hallmark moment if there ever was one, and sitting around the Thanksgiving dinner (for about a second before the Little Warrior decided he didn't want to be there) that night, I was thankful for the day, and Team Tinsley. I was also thankful that the lights WORKED! By golly, you cruise by Team Tinsley's this Season you're going to need to be Cory Hart, Wearing your sunglasses at night for those not versed in 80s music trivia. My mind is so full of useless info.

The day after Thanksgiving, and my own thoughts about how I was Clark Griwold...one of our new blood neighbors told me that he felt like Clark Griswold. How is that for a big old serving of sychronicity! Why did he feel like Clark Griswold? Bringing home the family tree which was tied to the top of their family roadster, he attempted to pull into his garage...and well, he didn't have the clearance, clarence. Classic.

Good to know that I'm not the only dipshit on the 800 block of Westwood Drive.

Until I BLOG again...Merry Merry.

Don't it make my brown eyes blue

The Little Warrior hit the 11th month mark today. He also graduated from baby to toddler (since he's walking.) Big changes at Casa Tinsley. Wyatt walking turns our crazy level to 11. Wyatt can freely roam the house - and does - getting into everything. He likes to disappear when the rest of the Team is in the family room, usually heading straight for Suki's (the cat) food bowl. He likes to play with the pieces, while eating a bite or two. With the Christmas tree now up ($5 bucks says it gets knocked over at least once before Santa comes to town,) well it is as I've said, crazy. This is especially true for my Lovely Bride who is on call 24/7. If you have Carter on your X-Mas list and need a gift idea. I got one word. Valium.

To quote Ferris Bueller.
"Life moves pretty fast. If you don't stop and look around once in awhile, you could miss it." Amen Brother Ferris. Dig this.

A week or so ago, Carter had a few of the ladies from her Bunco (read: Drunco) posse over to our house for a Friday night Pizza fiesta. Boy(s) gone wild. All the ladies have Boy(s). We had five Boy(s) ranging from 4 months to nearly 3 years running amok in our casa. A few of the Mommy's made the comment that the Little Warrior was looking a lot more like his Big Brother. We've (me and the Bride) have always thought they looked a lot alike. Others, have said the same, but I think for most, the eyes threw them. Ethan has dark brown eyes. Wyatt hazel. Windows to the soul - or some such shit, many couldn't get past the notable difference.

A day or so after the Pizza fiesta, I was doing something with the Little Warrior and noted that his hazel eyes were darker than normal. Curious, since he was wearing a blue top. The Little Warrior's eyes have been like a mood ring, changing with the color of his clothes. Carter's eyes are hazel. Her youngest brother, Wren also has the same eyes. Same deal for my Pop, the Boy(s) Pops...hazel. We assumed Wyatt's eyes would be hazel. Then I noticed that his eyes looked dark, almost brown another time and BAM - the comments from the Pizza fiesta hit me. Were Wyatt's eyes changing color? The instruction manual (What to Expect - The First Year) says that it could be up to a year for a baby's eye color to manifest. Ethan's were brown by six months. Thus, we had just assumed that Wyatt's eyes were hazel since that is what they were at six months.

Both Tinsley Boy(s) at the 11 Month mark. WT top. ET bottom.

It now seems that he might in fact be turning brown eyed, which is bittersweet for me. You see, I liked Wyatt having a different eye color than his Big Brother, and me for that matter. Different is good, not to mention the fact that they were the same as his Mom's (my Pops, Wren, etc.) eyes so we had more genes from the pool on the dance floor. The thing that is sweet about it all though - and on the 11 month mark none the less, the surprise.

Wyatt being the 2nd - you've seen the development stuff before. That doesn't diminish any of it. Same as you like a blue sky, sunny day the first, second, third, etc. time you see it. The stuff isn't as surprising the second time around is the point.

The Little Warrior threw me a curve ball with that this week. I actually got out the instruction manual for only the second time since since December 28, 2003. I had that damn book out weekly with Ethan. Silly as that may sound, or seem, I dug it real hard.

Until I BLOG again...Peace

Incredible(s)

The Elder Boy is 34 months today. I only know that because I got an automated email reminder from some baby/parenting website that has me on an email list. I try to be a good Dad, but I'm not such a great one that I always remember the day of's- I miss quite a few actually. So, don't get thinking I'm super Dad with some gargantuan advent calendar dedicated to the Boy(s) Bday(s). I do however, pay careful attention to certain things that I consider milestones on the safari of life. In fact, Team Tinsley has had two of note in recent days. Dig this.

The Little Warrior is walking. This very morning, he walked from our recliner in the Den all the way into the kitchen to get into the dish washer that his Mom was unloading (she wasn't pleased by the way.) So, the Little Warrior is ambulatory right at the 10.5 month mark (which happen to be the same time that Ethan started walking.) He reminds us of Clyde from Every Which Way But Loose (and, Any Which Way You Can) fame. His gait that is. He'll be 11 months a week from this Sunday. About to graduate from being a baby, to a toddler. Amazing that this little Guy was mashing down on his Mom's bladder (from the inside) a year ago this time. Incredible. (danger - heavy handed segue - danger) Speaking of incredible...

On Monday (I took the day off for those keeping score at home) I took Ethan to see The Incredibles. It was our first movie. My Lovely Bride had attempted to take him to see Shrek 2 this Summer, but it didn't work out for reasons I won're bore you with here. End result, they didn't make it through much. So, for all intents and purposes, and certainly for yours truly, this was his first movie at the movie theatre.

I was unsure on how he would do in a theatre, with me, etc. The movie is longer than most Pixar fare. Clocking in at 2 hours. Add 10 trailers to that, and, well, it is a long time to ask a 34 month old Boy to sit still, and be relatively quiet. Loaded up with nearly $15 dollars worth of Popcorn, Pop, and Candy, we hunkered down, and I'm proud to say, watched the entire thing. Ethan was exceptionally good for his age, as was the movie. I had a hard time watching it though, I was to stuck in the moment with my Elder Boy. Amazed actually, that in a blink of an eye (to me at least) he went from being this little guy, to this big kid sitting by me in a dark movie theatre. It was, if you'll pardon the pun, incredible. At a few points in the movie, when the Incredibles step up for their team, my eyes welled up with tears. I'm not sure if the movie is that emotional, or if it was more my being a sentimental Dad - Hell, it could very well have been sugar overload from the 40 ounces of coke, and a shitload of M&Ms, not to mention the fat laden popcorn. But, the point, it was a great experience. One that I always will remember. Add Wyatt walking into the mix, and, well, my cup runneth over. La dolce vita.

Until I BLOG again...Gobble Gobble.

They Say It's Your Birthday...

On my 10 year wedding anniversary BLOG entry I promised to tell the story of how Carter and I first met at some other time in the Buck Rogers future. That I would explain the meaning of real date, which is engraved on the inside of my wedding band. Well, Dear Reader, the future is now for such a BLOG. You see, Tuesday, November 9 is my Lovely Bride's birthday. It is also happens to be the same day I asked her to marry me. The timing is perfect. Dig this.

If you haven't realized by now, I'm a dork. I have goofy habits, one of which is trotting out what I call stock jokes. Example. If I hear talk about a hysterectomy, my stock joke is this: does that mean their rectum is history (insert laugh track.) If you see me, try it. I guarantee I'll say it to see if it gets a laugh. The reason I tell you that, is this - another stock joke is how I met my Lovely Bride. If someone bothers to ask me, my reply is this: (it is especially funny if the person asking doesn't know me very well) we met while she was giving me a table dance at The Million Dollar Saloon (read: infamous Dallas titty bar). Funny (to me at least), but not true. The truth is actually funnier (in more ways than you yet know.)

In late Fall 1991, on a cold November night, I was walking down Elm Street with two friends. Heading East as it were. The woman who would one day be my Lovely Bride was walking West with a friend. Happenstance, one of the guys I was with, knew the lady Cart was with - so we stopped on the sidewalk and talked. We did the usual, quick intros, etc. while the two that knew each other chatted. Since my friend was into Carter's friend we decided to all head back up Elm Street to a now defunct club called The Frig(erator). Since the guy and girl were interested in each other (they would soon date), that left me and another friend and Carter to talk, dance, drink, etc. I'd like to romanticize this first meeting. Say that our eyes met and we knew. Or we accidently brushed against each other and felt a jolt of electricity. Again, it would be pure (and bad) fiction.

The real deal was that, although friendly, Carter didn't seem interested in me. She was friendly and nice. At first she seemed into my other friend. This changed after we all left and went back to my friends (the two guys I was with lived together) apartment. She soon was equally disinterested in him too. Meanwhile the future lovebirds were in what was called the Love alcove (a strange ante room to the bathroom in their apartment) hooking up (as in kissy kissy, not fornicating) while we hung out in the living room.

Again, and even under the influence of demon malt, I got the vibe that Carter just didn't dig me, dig me. I found that curious, but what the hey, I'm not an overtly, "How you doin'" kind of a guy. Not my style. I wasn't Johnny Lee (read: looking for love in all the wrong places - for the Urban Cowboy fans in the audience.) I figured I wasn't her type. So be it. We could be friends. Which we became as the love birds took their romance out of the love alcove into the great wide open. They started dating, with an end result of Carter and I seeing more of each other through our mutual friends. It wasn't an everyday kind of a thing. Sporadic at best. But, I did continue to see Carter, usually going out - and the more I saw her, the more attracted to her I became. Still, she was not interested in me. I could just pick it up on my radar. Friends. That was us.

A few months later, I learned that Carter thought that I was funny.
Not, ha ha funny. Queer funny.

From the get go, Carter thought that I was a card carrying homosexual. So much for my self image as a stud. Note to self: don't match! Kidding. As a favorite song goes, unbeknownst to fools like me, by the time I learned the above, she no longer thought that I was 100% gay, because I had, how shall I say, exhibited heterosexual tendencies with a friend of hers. She might have wondered if I was in the closet? Bi-sexual. I wasn't clear. The one thing I did know was that I was doing damn near everything I could do to keep Carter from ever wanting to like me, like me, while I was liking her more and more each time I saw her. Still we were just friends, so we still saw each other out and about, etc.

By Spring 92 we had become good enough friends that we would go out together - usually in a small groups - no longer just meeting because of mutual friends. Still, these 'dates' were anything but, just friends going out on the town.

After a few months of this, I started getting the vibe that she might actual like me a bit. Because of our history, I was a little worried, hell why lie, afraid to ask her out on a date. Carter was wonderfully tough (she's still pretty tough actually) back then. Big ass Leather coat. Boots. Wearing a F (bomb) You were from Texas Loco Gringos T-Shirt. She has those wonderful, smoky, hazel eyes (Wyatt has the same eyes.) Pale (in a good way) smooth skin, RED lipstick lips. As I said, I was smitten, but also a bit scared to ask her on a date. Hell, she thought I was gay! Why would she go out with me? Self doubt. Afraid of rejection. We stayed friends.

Then one night, at a party with Carter (as friends) I talked to someone that said I should ask Carter on a date. That we would make a great couple, and that she did like me. Never mind the fact that I was a 25 year old man acting like I was in 7th grade - I didn't give a shit. I had clearance that she probably wouldn't say No if I did ask her out on a date. Was it a set-up? I couldn't be sure. All I knew was that I had to ask her out, and soon. I decided then and there that I would ask when I took her home that very evening. As I drove her home, my biggest concern was that she wouldn't realize the difference of going out like we had tonight vs. a more romantic outing...a proper date. So, sitting in front of her house on Wycliff Ave. in my little Red Geo Storm (yes, I owned a Geo Storm - DORK!) I said this:

Do you wanna go out on a real date?

Thankfully, she did, and on May 21, 1992 we had our first real date. Fast forward to November 11, 1993, her 23rd lap around the Sun on Mother Earth. That was the day I asked her to marry me. She said "I do" on July 30, 1994.

It has been nearly 13 years since we met on the street in Deep Ellum. As you've just read, I remember it well. Much has happened since then. For instance, She no longer has her F (bomb) You were from Texas t-shirt (I'd love to see her wear that taking Ethan and Wyatt to their day school.) She sold that big black motorcycle coat in a garage sale. Begrudingly I might add. We've been married for 10 years. We have two wonderful Boy(s). So much has changed it would be impossible to write it all here. So I won't. Instead I'll leave you with two things that remain the same: I'm still smitten, and she thinks I'm gay.

Until I BLOG again..Happy birthday to you!

Team Tinsley Shutterfly Action

Uploaded a lot of photos on Shutterfly if you care to look see - click here.

Until I BLOG again...VOTE!