tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-63152712012-02-16T06:14:37.737-06:00"You forget the things you were certain you would always remember, especially the tiny things, and all too often they're the things that matter" Neil Gaiman.Stuart Tinsleyhttps://profiles.google.com/103417969161761690345noreply@blogger.comBlogger2721100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6315271.post-10768466092099991792010-01-11T09:56:00.013-06:002010-02-02T06:18:16.536-06:00

We interrupt this BLOG entry to apologize to anyone who has stumbled (or returned) upon this BLOG in the hopes that there would be something new to read. This BLOG is officially done. Archived, but no longer serving up fresh content. I created top of the pop type lists for anyone who wants to read (or revisit) posts that I feel are the best of each year this BLOG was open for business. Click

Stuart Tinsleyhttps://profiles.google.com/103417969161761690345noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6315271.post-7130242292104464042009-12-28T09:19:00.003-06:002009-12-28T09:20:25.994-06:00

Finally, the final recapitulation ---- 2009 style. Click hard for the recaps of these years: 2004, 2005, 2006, 2007 and 2008. This whole omphaloskepsis exercise has been interesting. The early years were relatively easy to recap. I think because more time has passed, which lends itself to more perspective. Then we have 2009, which was hard to recap, mainly because I'm still too close to

Stuart Tinsleyhttps://profiles.google.com/103417969161761690345noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6315271.post-41393325215686592372009-12-21T10:13:00.001-06:002009-12-21T10:15:20.837-06:00

To recap the recaps: 2004, 2005, 2006 and 2007.2008I'm in the sky tonightJanuary 18, 2008A historical (from a family point of view) entry that brings up the question of what those that remain behind should do with the remains of thier loved ones.BarracudaMarch 15, 2008Another favorite of this here BLOG that I forgot even existed (that's what happens when you have 269 entries.) Brings back

Stuart Tinsleyhttps://profiles.google.com/103417969161761690345noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6315271.post-50672545487413440152009-12-11T10:52:00.006-06:002009-12-16T13:55:30.067-06:00

Sweet mother of all that is good, there is nothing more fascinating to me as a breeder, than the difference in the Boy(s) personalities. And the way certain personality traits mirror My Lovely Bride or my own.Take the Younger Boy. He's a chopped down version of me. Both in appearance and personality. But the thing is Dear Reader, when I was his age, I was more like the Elder Boy. Quiet.

Stuart Tinsleyhttps://profiles.google.com/103417969161761690345noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6315271.post-73319409569268261882009-12-09T10:03:00.003-06:002009-12-09T12:18:10.200-06:00

"I wrote a story." The Elder Boy said, apropos of nothing, as he was getting ready for school a week or so in the rearview."Really? What about?" I asked.Nothing. Just an ornery smile."What about?" I asked again. With his shit-eating grin I knew there had to be more to the story about his story."About Rudolph." He said. "We had to draw a Christmas picture and then write a story to go with it.

Stuart Tinsleyhttps://profiles.google.com/103417969161761690345noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6315271.post-40124584691313676942009-12-06T11:15:00.003-06:002009-12-06T13:35:04.430-06:00

Another recap post, 2007 style (Click hard for the 2004 recap & 2005 recap & 2006 recap.)The only way to explain 2007 is to lift some words someone wrote about me on their blog: "...and had my heart break as I read about the death of his mother and the waves of aftershocks he continues to feel."Indeed.2007Save you from yourselfJanuary 16, 2007A 'kids eat free' rant morphs into a somber tale of

Stuart Tinsleyhttps://profiles.google.com/103417969161761690345noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6315271.post-36822617664303075212009-12-01T16:38:00.002-06:002009-12-01T16:44:09.506-06:00

As promised in that end is nigh BLOG, these recap posts are self serving, and really nothing more than my dumb ass trying to make some sort of sense out of 265 entries on this here BLOG (Click hard for the 2004 recap & 2005 recap.) Which brings us to 2006.If two words can define a year, my two words would be this: Fuck Me. 2006 sucked. Hard.Looking back from the vantage of now, it is

Stuart Tinsleyhttps://profiles.google.com/103417969161761690345noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6315271.post-32462332891851327892009-11-18T17:08:00.007-06:002009-12-21T09:46:58.364-06:00

Omphaloskepsis, 2005 style. I got away from the dear diary vibe of 2004. Experimented with content outside the realm of Team Tinsley. And penned what is probably one of the funniest things that has ever happened to me (Hope Springs Eternal.) Actually two (If you smile through...) I also started using the term Mr. Mom (something I still do.) And penned what I consider my first truly good blog

Stuart Tinsleyhttps://profiles.google.com/103417969161761690345noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6315271.post-30591473129222353072009-11-17T17:11:00.004-06:002009-11-17T17:26:58.546-06:00

Omphaloskepsis. Better known as navel gazing. That's what I've been doing lately. Looking back over 263 entries on this here BLOG. Getting ready for that final post (I do have my final song selected for anyone out there that gives a shit.) But back to now, I'm sick of myself, quite literally, after reading so many Team Tinsley posts. Some are good. Many bad. Some funny. Others sad. It's a

Stuart Tinsleyhttps://profiles.google.com/103417969161761690345noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6315271.post-17919152143149338112009-10-27T16:47:00.001-05:002009-10-27T16:47:59.923-05:00

I've never enjoyed connect the dot games because my monkey brain does nothing but connect dots. Like the other night. My Lovely Bride had (D)runco at our casa which meant no penises on the premises. I took the Boy(s) to the dollar (fifty) movie to see Ice Age 3: Dawn of the Dinosaurs. Sitting across the aisle from our seats was a young mom and her small boy who laughed, hard, every time the

Stuart Tinsleyhttps://profiles.google.com/103417969161761690345noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6315271.post-63959834223776870402009-10-19T16:49:00.007-05:002009-10-19T17:16:04.202-05:00

The beginning of the end starts now Dear Reader. My first in a series of posts that will culminate in what will be the final Team Tinsley BLOG entry. It's hard for me to believe I've been at this since 2004. When I started the Elder Boy was just shy of the two year mark. And Wy Wy. He wasn't even two weeks old!Back then this BLOG was intended to be a way to keep the growing Team Tinsley

Stuart Tinsleyhttps://profiles.google.com/103417969161761690345noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6315271.post-73197593952100484872009-09-12T13:55:00.006-05:002009-09-29T16:34:32.439-05:00

Another half-ass epilogue. It might help to read 42 first."Never apologize for showing feeling. When you do so you apologize for truth." Benjamin DisraeliDeath smells like curry. That was literally the first thing I thought as I walked into my parents house for what ended up being Mom's death watch.The scent of multiple Reunzit Adjustable Air Fresheners mixed with the smell of decay. Pungent.

Stuart Tinsleyhttps://profiles.google.com/103417969161761690345noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6315271.post-1459482523320587062009-09-10T13:45:00.003-05:002009-09-10T13:52:59.169-05:00

I read this on a friend's blog on September 1st: Someone recently told me that their blog was compromised by it readership. OMG! Yes! Yes! Yes! I know exactly what you mean. I mean, we want readers, but then when we have invited our friends, family, co-workers, the occasional student, and an internet full of strangers into our house that is our brain, how it is not compromised? It is all

Stuart Tinsleyhttps://profiles.google.com/103417969161761690345noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6315271.post-60048435762583087892009-09-02T15:10:00.004-05:002009-09-02T17:14:26.968-05:00

If we needed to discipline Wyatt. I mean really teach him a lesson. We wouldn't bust his ass. Or put him in time-out. We wouldn't even take away one of his favorite toys. What we would do is this. Make him wear jeans. Seriously. Only he doesn't call them jeans. He calls them hard pants. Which goes to show you how damn right freakish he is when it comes to tactile sensations from his

Stuart Tinsleyhttps://profiles.google.com/103417969161761690345noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6315271.post-60807771998397391782009-08-27T13:21:00.003-05:002009-09-22T13:04:16.223-05:00

Long ago, when I was a young man, my father said to me, "Norman, you like to write stories." And I said "Yes, I do." Then he said, "Someday, when you're ready you might tell our family story. Only then will you understand what happened and why."A River Runs Through It"Why did Granny buy me this?" Wy asked.Such a simple question. One that would lead to a powerful epiphany. But that came seven

Stuart Tinsleyhttps://profiles.google.com/103417969161761690345noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6315271.post-49845578330024651812009-08-21T05:44:00.004-05:002009-08-22T09:07:55.625-05:00

E: We didn't have dinner?!?!Me: Are you hungry?E & Wy: No.Me: Then what's your point?Wy: Mom feeds us dinner.Me: I'm not Mom.----------------Wy: I don't want to go. If I go with you he won't play with me.Me: He will. He'll forget.Wy: No. He won't.Me: Yes. He will.Wy: No. He keeps a list so he won't forget.----------------E: I'll take a shower. But I don't want to use soap.Me: You need

Stuart Tinsleyhttps://profiles.google.com/103417969161761690345noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6315271.post-84335698557024473472009-08-14T08:53:00.003-05:002009-08-14T09:14:00.134-05:00

I'm a fucking hypocrite. I had just called the Elder Boy out for playing the blame game when less than 24 hours later I was playing the same fucking game in my feeble ass attempt to ascribe blame for my mid July melancholy funk. The contenders? A. Farrah Fawcett, B. Otitis media, and C. My birthday (which is more about the person who gave me life no longer being around.)Seriously.God knows

Stuart Tinsleyhttps://profiles.google.com/103417969161761690345noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6315271.post-24359503678992069792009-08-13T10:03:00.004-05:002009-08-13T10:21:25.383-05:00

"Do you trust me?" Nothing. Just a stressed look on the Elder Boy's face followed by jerky nervous foot to foot action as he hopped from pile to pile of detritus strewn all over his bedroom floor."Boy," I said much more forcibly than I had intended. "Do you trust me?"Nothing."What are these?" I asked holding up a ziplock bag full of cardboard pieces. "Did you cut these out of a toy box?"

Stuart Tinsleyhttps://profiles.google.com/103417969161761690345noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6315271.post-50712813070893614662009-07-30T13:34:00.002-05:002009-07-30T13:39:45.689-05:00

Although I often bemoan my birthday, and play my goofy age games, my 42nd lap around El Sol on Mother Earth last week hasn't really made me feel all that old. Today however, does. It is my (our) 15th wedding anniversary. Seriously. 15 years. Our love is old enough to get a learner's permit. Amazing. Especially considering that My Lovey Bride thought I was gay when we first met. And I don't

Stuart Tinsleyhttps://profiles.google.com/103417969161761690345noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6315271.post-7242508454948709762009-07-24T16:12:00.003-05:002009-07-25T07:43:03.573-05:00

We were watching the Simpsons one night when Ethan saw a scene with Bart and Rod Flanders climbing down a tall building. As they are starting down, Bart tells Rod a lie about what gay means so Rod shouts down to his Dad that Mrs. Simpson made him gay."What does gay really mean, Dad?" Ethan asked."Gay is when boys like other boys." I explained."Really?!?!" Wy asked incredulously."Yep. Women

Stuart Tinsleyhttps://profiles.google.com/103417969161761690345noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6315271.post-2094385475275895842009-07-07T12:43:00.008-05:002009-07-09T13:31:37.157-05:00

Above you will find a slideshow movie thing I did for our vacation. If the YouTube vid is jerky or doesn't play well and / or you want to see even more photos (30% more Team Tinsley action!), check out our Flickr slideshow.And for those that want to do neither I offer you this pictorial example of just how fast time passes us all by. The first shot was taken in July 2007. The second July 2009.

Stuart Tinsleyhttps://profiles.google.com/103417969161761690345noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6315271.post-73354515810976992212009-06-20T11:45:00.002-05:002009-06-22T11:27:32.878-05:00

Because of some recent praise regarding my fathering skills, and Father's Day (a bullshit holiday if ever there were, no doubt created by a consortium of card and tie manufacturers,) I'm going to share my most infamous Father of the Year moment of 2008.Our story starts six months in the rearview. December 2008. That is when the shit hit the fan when it quite literally hit our hallway floor. My

Stuart Tinsleyhttps://profiles.google.com/103417969161761690345noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6315271.post-4759980005303919842009-06-18T06:22:00.007-05:002009-06-18T12:55:16.298-05:00

Shoeless Joe Jackson: Hey, is this heaven?Ray Kinsella: No, it's Iowa. Field of Dreams"Where is she?" Wy asked a few miles north of Stringtown, Oklahoma. We were driving home from Oklahoma after our quarterly visit to see Old Granny. My Mom's Mom. "She's probably sitting in her chair." My Lovely Bride replied."Not that Granny, the other one." Wy explained. "The one who died."That's how Wy

Stuart Tinsleyhttps://profiles.google.com/103417969161761690345noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6315271.post-42766854120496185692009-05-27T06:30:00.001-05:002009-05-28T09:38:31.880-05:00

"Dad!" The Elder Boy called out from the stall next to mine. "I think I got a flea."We were both taking a crap in the public restroom and shower near our camp at Cedar Lake in the Ouachita National Forest."A flea?" I asked."Yeah," he said. "Wait. I got two?!?"A flea? Dirt would be more like it. The Boy hadn't bathed, or shit for that matter the entire trip, and God only knew what he had

Stuart Tinsleyhttps://profiles.google.com/103417969161761690345noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6315271.post-86758861978944770432009-05-25T09:36:00.002-05:002009-05-27T14:09:16.667-05:00

"What's graduate?"That was the question the Younger Boy asked me and My Lovely Bride numerous times as we went into his final week at Arapaho United Methodist Dayschool. The Boy, like his older brother, has been attending the school since they were toddlers in the Mother's Day Out program.Those early days were hard for Wy. He hated to go into the Fireplace Room where they kept all these Mother's

Stuart Tinsleyhttps://profiles.google.com/103417969161761690345noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6315271.post-3260474820414642232009-05-13T11:56:00.005-05:002009-05-14T15:55:31.882-05:00

"Which one would you get?" The Elder Boy asked for the fifth time as I prowled up and down the Hobby Lobby aisle wondering if any of the people in the store were infected with Pig Fever. "I pick fast." Wy said to no one in particular.I smiled at Wy Wy as I walked past him sitting on the stocker's rack ladder thing parked in the aisle and said, "Yes, Wy Wy, you do," and looking at the Elder Boy

Stuart Tinsleyhttps://profiles.google.com/103417969161761690345noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6315271.post-75600478994267011762009-04-23T16:03:00.015-05:002009-04-25T07:17:54.270-05:00

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Well, here we are, Mr. Pilgrim, trapped in the amber of this moment. There is no why. Slaughterhouse-Five, Kurt Vonnegut, Jr.--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------"It's about two o'clock in Tulsa," I heard Dad's disconnected voice playback on my cell phone voice

Stuart Tinsleyhttps://profiles.google.com/103417969161761690345noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6315271.post-28157832277461902682009-04-12T15:42:00.007-05:002009-04-12T16:04:20.996-05:00

"Now, the making of a good compilation tape is a very subtle art. Many do's and don'ts. First of all, you're using someone else's poetry to express how you feel. This is a delicate thing." Rob GordonThe Boy(s) Papa, Buddy, celebrated his 72nd lap around El Sol on Mother Earth this past week. A few weeks in the rearview, My Lovely Bride asked him what he wanted for his birthday. His answer.

Stuart Tinsleyhttps://profiles.google.com/103417969161761690345noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6315271.post-24234813405070809512009-04-08T16:55:00.007-05:002009-04-09T10:56:25.119-05:00

If I was better in real time. And life was funny like on TV and smart like it is in books. I would have seen the Elder Boy's drawing for what it was. Foreshadowing.But I'm a dumbass. Who sucks in real time. So I didn't make much of his alien space ship shooting a death ray into a cartoon version of the church which graced a label which was affixed to the front cover of his lap pad

Stuart Tinsleyhttps://profiles.google.com/103417969161761690345noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6315271.post-72822530087664410662009-03-27T10:42:00.005-05:002009-05-14T13:46:43.949-05:00

"I don't like Dora," Wy said. "It's boring."I smiled, looking at the TV, and dropping Wy's clothes onto the floor next to him as Dora the Explorer started on Nick. Before I knew it, my old friend Tico was on screen driving me down memory lane."You like Tico, don't you Dad?" "Yeah," I said remembering how I often told Wy that Tico was my friend. It was a running joke with me and the two year old

Stuart Tinsleyhttps://profiles.google.com/103417969161761690345noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6315271.post-47427783091999840762009-03-17T20:38:00.001-05:002009-03-18T13:16:32.596-05:00

"Here," the Elder Boy said, giving me a not so toothy smile and handing me a shucked baby tooth (his third.)"Wow," I said walking into the kitchen and grabbing a sandwich bag. "You're losing them fast now." I sequestered the tooth into the bag and dropped it on our messy bar."Mom missed it...again," I said. "She's O for three with you losing your teeth.""Yeah," he said."You can call her if you

Stuart Tinsleyhttps://profiles.google.com/103417969161761690345noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6315271.post-91606842389473674832009-02-27T06:07:00.003-06:002009-02-27T15:16:04.293-06:00

I have a bad sense of humor which is why I find it extremely funny when I hear the Boy(s) sing along to this: "Tonight I wanna give it all to you...In the darkness...There's so much I wanna do...And tonight I wanna lay it at your feet...cause girl, I was made for you...And girl, you were made for me.Is it any wonder that My Lovely Bride's biggest beef with me is what she calls my,

Stuart Tinsleyhttps://profiles.google.com/103417969161761690345noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6315271.post-15263600316828626532009-02-17T17:03:00.001-06:002009-02-17T17:05:23.474-06:00

"Are you still mad at me," I asked the Elder Boy. "Or do you think it's funny now?"I could see the Boy consider my question. Furrow was his brow, revealed in the rearview mirror as he watched Sherman, Texas speed by."Mad at what?" Wy asked."Mad at me." I answered. "I played a trick on Ethan a few weeks ago.""YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND!" Wy screamed at me."Dude," I said. "Don't talk to me like that.

Stuart Tinsleyhttps://profiles.google.com/103417969161761690345noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6315271.post-7417792402701053742009-01-30T15:55:00.005-06:002009-01-30T16:17:32.390-06:00

"Is she ever sad?" I asked. "In class?"Nothing. The Elder Boy gave me a look that was so coy my Lovely Bride said to me, "That's a look of denial."I nodded my head in agreement as she walked out of the room.The Elder Boy's coy smile made me think of a guy I haven't thought of in over twenty five years. John T. His Dad died when we were in second grade."You know, when I was in second grade," I

Stuart Tinsleyhttps://profiles.google.com/103417969161761690345noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6315271.post-65260469939053621922009-01-26T12:16:00.002-06:002009-01-26T12:22:14.418-06:00

I decided to take my annual backing up photos up a notch this year and create a slideshow using some of my favorites. Until I BLOG again...wild wild wild youth!

Stuart Tinsleyhttps://profiles.google.com/103417969161761690345noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6315271.post-84884199926330806542009-01-15T11:58:00.006-06:002009-01-15T16:05:47.875-06:00

I know many take comfort in the thought that a departed loved one is watching over them, in a guardian angel sort of way. I do not. To be perfectly honest that thought bugs the shit out of me, and has always caused me more consternation than comfort. Looking back, I know that this curious quirk has always been part of my make-up, my nature, although I was lucky enough in my youth to not lose

Stuart Tinsleyhttps://profiles.google.com/103417969161761690345noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6315271.post-79646666826970133482009-01-07T11:24:00.005-06:002009-02-11T07:37:20.790-06:00

Prologue"Is Granny really dead?" "Excuse me." I said, clearly taken aback by Wy's out-of-the-blue question in route to a friend's birthday party."Not Old Granny. The other Granny. Is she really dead?"When we hit the red light at Hillcrest I turned around in my seat so I could look the Boy in the eye to get a read on his expression, so out of nowhere was the question.Wy gave me a sheepishly

Stuart Tinsleyhttps://profiles.google.com/103417969161761690345noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6315271.post-89978180253279477852008-12-18T08:52:00.005-06:002008-12-18T09:48:08.237-06:00

The Tooth Fairy isn't the only one effected by the tough economy. My Lovely Bride made the command decision that we'd skip a Holiday card this year. Do something else with that money. Which is why she asked me to do a Holiday card we can send out via email. Which I didn't do. Instead I compiled photos from Christmas past and made a video. The Boy(s) even helped me pick the photos and

Stuart Tinsleyhttps://profiles.google.com/103417969161761690345noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6315271.post-41224882398885216792008-12-16T10:40:00.001-06:002008-12-16T10:46:31.817-06:00

"I don't want to be a vampire.""What?!?""Is this my blood?" Ethan asked holding up a napkin that was pink from a combination of his blood and spit."Yeah." I said. "That's your blood.""I don't want to be a vampire." he repeated."You can't be a vampire by drinking your own blood." In hindsight this wasn't the smartest thing to say since it implies you can be a vampire."Look." Ethan said pushing

Stuart Tinsleyhttps://profiles.google.com/103417969161761690345noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6315271.post-69996874248211501502008-12-01T13:28:00.010-06:002008-12-02T10:09:59.907-06:00

I'm not big on contemplating my own navel on this here BLOG. It is, and always has been about my love of writing and my goofy ass attempt at a chronicle for the Buck Rogers future. That is why I do what I do, or write what I write. But then I read a post about Team Tinsley over at Martin Randomness that shocked me. The nicest things were said about my goofy ass chronicle. It was rewarding

Stuart Tinsleyhttps://profiles.google.com/103417969161761690345noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6315271.post-62442576144354450532008-11-17T17:29:00.005-06:002008-11-19T11:41:45.915-06:00

"Was Ethan born first?" Wy asked."What do you think?" I said clearly annoyed. "You know the answer to this question. It doesn't change.""Yes." he said giving me the same mean look I would have given him if the tables were turned."Yes." I said. "Ethan is older than you. Ethan was born first.""I want to be born first." Wy cried.--------------------"Its not fair." E complained. "Wyatt

Stuart Tinsleyhttps://profiles.google.com/103417969161761690345noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6315271.post-34156096063157115872008-11-07T13:02:00.013-06:002008-11-09T06:32:09.610-06:00

You can read Part 1 of I'm not running anymore by poking that magic finger here."Daddy, are you going to buy beer?" Ethan asked as we walked into Kroger."Yes." I said as Wy Wy climbed up onto the shopping cart. "Wy Wy. Do you have to hang onto the cart like that?" I said pointing at the warning label thing on the cart. "Everyone will give me dirty looks for being a bad father. It's dangerous

Stuart Tinsleyhttps://profiles.google.com/103417969161761690345noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6315271.post-22258984252491466672008-11-01T08:46:00.006-05:002008-11-02T07:42:28.455-06:00

Weeks ago Wyatt saw a zombie costume in a Halloween catalog and asked if he could get it. The costume was pretty expensive and included a mask. Masks suck, especially in Texas. It usually is warm and the mask makes the trick or treater hot. Then there is the issue of visibility. The trick or treater can't see, it is dark, they trip, and fall, spill all their candy. Then you have to try and

Stuart Tinsleyhttps://profiles.google.com/103417969161761690345noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6315271.post-76892401283034630332008-10-27T16:36:00.007-05:002008-11-07T13:23:53.047-06:00

While My Lovely Bride was in Georgia for her Uncle Jimmy's funeral, I played Mr. Mom for four whole days. As regular readers of this here BLOG know, me solo with the Boy(s) equals hilarity in some shape or form. I'm not sure what it is, but seriously, they need to strap a video camera to my head and make a freaking sitcom. Hollywood. I'm ready.Here's a scene. Me and Boy(s) driving back from

Stuart Tinsleyhttps://profiles.google.com/103417969161761690345noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6315271.post-9670982773591054422008-10-22T10:05:00.004-05:002008-11-19T11:25:21.520-06:00

"Are they going to burn him?"Not a question you'd expect from your garden variety 6.5 year old boy about his Mimi's (My Lovely Bride's Mom for those playing along at home) brother's funeral arrangements. But for the Elder Boy, who's first question to me after my Mom died was, "Where's her head?" not so unusual."No" I said. "They aren't going to burn, errr...cremate your Uncle Jimmy. They're

Stuart Tinsleyhttps://profiles.google.com/103417969161761690345noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6315271.post-73661183561178053892008-10-10T11:33:00.005-05:002008-10-10T14:05:23.273-05:00

Does it bother you?" My Lovely Bride asked.You being me. It being talking about my Mom who died on October 18, 2006. "No. Not really." I said as I took a sip of beer and stabbed a sugar coated Wing Stop french fry into a side of atomic sauce."We're going to see the other Granny, not Old Granny" Wy said. "The one who didn't die." "Yes...when we go to Oklahoma, we'll see Old Granny, not your

Stuart Tinsleyhttps://profiles.google.com/103417969161761690345noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6315271.post-75265434028279473742008-10-08T13:48:00.002-05:002008-10-10T13:57:33.511-05:00

"It's diarrhea poop, Dad." Wy yelled from the fetid stall at the Tushka truck stop and casino. "Don't touch anything." I said."I'm touching my penis." Wy answered."Don't touch anything else, son, this bathroom is filthy." I said."Can I go out into the mingo store?" Ethan asked."No." I said, "I want you in here with me." "Dad." Wy yelled."Yes." I said as a trucker walked into the bathroom

Stuart Tinsleyhttps://profiles.google.com/103417969161761690345noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6315271.post-70700607013162993302008-09-17T16:55:00.005-05:002008-09-17T17:16:40.363-05:00

"Know what's weird? Day by day, nothing seems to change, but pretty soon...everything's different." Calvin from Calvin and HobbesSaturday morning coming down, I was in the midst of watching weather porn (hurricane coverage) when the Little Warrior ran into the room and shouted, "Today is today.""Excuse me?" I said."You said we'd go Saturday, and today is today." he explained."Yes, today is the

Stuart Tinsleyhttps://profiles.google.com/103417969161761690345noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6315271.post-85834071859945891882008-08-26T12:36:00.010-05:002008-08-28T06:41:27.263-05:00

Another goofy ass attempt at an epilogue (one 3 1/2 years in the making,) as I stare down the end game strategy on this here BLOG. The BLOG was always intended as a chronicle for the Boy(s). My remember when, for then. The operative word being my. As the Boy(s) get older, the need for this chronicle lessens. I don't want my memories to overwrite their memories, or turn into a Team Tinsley

Stuart Tinsleyhttps://profiles.google.com/103417969161761690345noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6315271.post-2898435912587072782008-08-02T13:44:00.004-05:002008-08-03T06:55:48.110-05:00

Until I BLOG again...Season ticket on a one-way ride.

Stuart Tinsleyhttps://profiles.google.com/103417969161761690345noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6315271.post-4786007389890752532008-06-21T13:21:00.003-05:002011-10-10T08:02:40.802-05:00

There wasn't any Memorial Day when I was young. I had Decoration Day, which is what we called Memorial Day, which made sense since that was the day we drove to Vernon Cemetery to decorate my maternal Grandmother's grave. The fact that there was this whole three day orgy of fun to kick of the summer going on with everyone else was lost on me. I don't remember going to the lake. Or swimming

Stuart Tinsleyhttps://profiles.google.com/103417969161761690345noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6315271.post-17058374747764335042008-06-17T11:22:00.009-05:002008-06-19T15:57:46.045-05:00

This is my goofy ass attempt at an epilogue for the Barracuda and Swallowed in the Sea posts. It would help to read them first, if you are new, or want a refresher. Point that magic finger here (Barracuda: Part 1,) and there (Swallowed in the Sea: Part 2.)I'm slow. Which is why it took two days of Ruby and me walking E to school before I realized what I immediately sensed was wrong that

Stuart Tinsleyhttps://profiles.google.com/103417969161761690345noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6315271.post-74080772630899939102008-05-29T17:08:00.004-05:002008-05-30T06:10:42.633-05:00

Earlier this week, after a not-so-fun day at work, I drug my weary ass into Casa Tinsley and did the usual status update thing with My Lovely Bride as I stowed all my shit. At some point the Little Warrior tore ass into the room to tell me about his fun filled school's out for summer (for him at least) day. A day that included swimming and some hot tub action at his Mimi and Papa's pad.

Stuart Tinsleyhttps://profiles.google.com/103417969161761690345noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6315271.post-81388876422804707552008-05-13T17:06:00.002-05:002008-05-13T17:28:11.860-05:00

We have friends who, even though Roman Catholic, send their children, a boy and girl, to the day school at our church . A United Methodist Church. That's not unusual. Many of the families that send their children to the day school do not belong to the church in which it resides.What is unusual though is this. Their boy thought our senior pastor was God. Not a god. Capital G God. His

Stuart Tinsleyhttps://profiles.google.com/103417969161761690345noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6315271.post-2093401437620116282008-05-10T19:37:00.002-05:002008-05-10T19:44:00.752-05:00

Until I BLOG again...But if you'll sit down in that chair, right there, and let me show you how its done.

Stuart Tinsleyhttps://profiles.google.com/103417969161761690345noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6315271.post-47466982051458627362008-05-09T08:58:00.007-05:002008-05-09T17:19:52.159-05:00

Last Mother's Day, my first sans Mother, was a motherfucker. Bad. This year, fast approaching my second Motherless Mother's Day, not so much. I don't feel the same pain. Or hurt. It's there of course, whenever I think about my Mom, and what I consider her untimely death. But this year, my thoughts of her through that filter of anger and pain, quickly segue into something else, and that

Stuart Tinsleyhttps://profiles.google.com/103417969161761690345noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6315271.post-58953160648863757742008-05-01T11:20:00.004-05:002008-05-09T13:47:57.048-05:00

Wy Wy brought a friend home from school yesterday, and boys being boys, ended up in the backyard on the rope swing. At some point, probably showing off for said friend, Wy scraped his right knee. It wasn't that bad of a scrape, and it certainly didn't slow him down, that is until rub-a-dub dub time.As soon as the water hit the wound, the Boy cried. Not bad at first, but then the Elder Boy,

Stuart Tinsleyhttps://profiles.google.com/103417969161761690345noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6315271.post-41132375856355188202008-04-11T19:48:00.007-05:002008-05-01T08:31:56.293-05:00

The Little Warrior is a rock-n-roll pirate if ever there were. Seriously. The Boy is 4 and two of his favorite songs are, I Wanna be Your Dog by The Stooges and Dead Man's Party by Oingo Boingo. Which is why I wasn't surprised when Wy told me the song that was playing while he was swinging in the backyard after dinner was his new favorite song."Really," I said, "I like this song, it's called

Stuart Tinsleyhttps://profiles.google.com/103417969161761690345noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6315271.post-60507903004866189362008-04-02T13:13:00.006-05:002008-04-03T08:21:47.913-05:00

Back in the day when my body was busy, I had people from all over the U.S. of A. who wanted to send me their media kits and/or advertising packets in order to entice me to advertise with them. Since these were the dark darks before email, these salespeople wanted to snail mail their packets to me. This meant I had to give them my mailing address, which was problematic, because my office was on

Stuart Tinsleyhttps://profiles.google.com/103417969161761690345noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6315271.post-44132695474320263142008-03-24T12:20:00.007-05:002008-05-13T09:11:38.396-05:00

"Is Wyatt's song my song?" Ethan asked on Sunday night as he brushed his teeth."No." I said. "His song is you're nobody 'till somebody loves you by Dean Martin. Your song is I Rise, I Fall by Ricky Nelson.""Oh." He said, spitting toothpaste into the bathroom sink."Did you hear me sing his song last night?" I asked. "When Mommy read to you." "Yeah." He said, looking in the mirror and trying

Stuart Tinsleyhttps://profiles.google.com/103417969161761690345noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6315271.post-86180325206100327472008-03-15T20:59:00.007-05:002008-03-22T13:39:54.535-05:00

Back in the day, when the Elder Boy was only the Boy, we watched Finding Nemo a lot. On VHS. Which sucked. He liked Crush the Turtle. I liked Crush the Turtle. The Boy and I would often watch Crush's part, over and over. Be kind and rewind, my ass, when talking VHS. Rewinding is a beating. As is fast forwarding (which is also an oxymoron.) But fast forward I did, ever time we watched the

Stuart Tinsleyhttps://profiles.google.com/103417969161761690345noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6315271.post-85640012892174399402008-03-07T18:57:00.014-06:002008-03-09T16:30:54.259-05:00

I think to hard. So hard, that after I typed that, my first thought was that you might think I'm implying that I'm smart. Or a deep thinker. Wrong. I think I'm a dipshit. A dipshit who thinks to hard. Which is why I was thinking of an early morning exchange between Wy Wy and his Mom on my way to work a week or so in the rearview. "Mom, why don't you ever play your game?" Wy asked.The game

Stuart Tinsleyhttps://profiles.google.com/103417969161761690345noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6315271.post-88007671900533962172008-03-04T13:32:00.004-06:002008-03-05T10:01:12.000-06:00

Super Bowl Sunday was anything but for the Elder Boy. It wasn't my finest moment either. I told two grade school kids they were being dicks. Father of the year. Not.But fuck me, I hate bullies. Seriously. I get angry if I see someone I don't know being bullied, let alone my first born son who was being jerked around by these two kids who were being dicks. Still, at first, I knew that I

Stuart Tinsleyhttps://profiles.google.com/103417969161761690345noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6315271.post-11852445314941495142008-02-22T10:33:00.006-06:002008-02-23T10:03:29.924-06:00

The Little Warrior, who's favorite song is Dead Man's Party often dreams of zombies. When the Younger Boy awakens in the morning he almost always yells, "Can I get out now?" It's not like we lock the Boy down at night, he's in his bed, with his bedroom door closed. Still, he won't get out of the bed or leave the room until either me or My Lovely Bride go in and get him. When we get there, he

Stuart Tinsleyhttps://profiles.google.com/103417969161761690345noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6315271.post-33149064718491903802008-01-29T10:04:00.000-06:002008-01-29T10:27:52.935-06:00

Archiving old photos on Saturday was an unsettling experience for this Boy named Stu. That whole, I wish I didn't know now, the things I didn't know then, kind of a vibe, as I looked at the time and date of the various photos I archived and/or added to Flickr. Many of these photos brought tears to my eyes. Made my heart heavy in a Monday morning quarterbacking sort of a way.The next day,

Stuart Tinsleyhttps://profiles.google.com/103417969161761690345noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6315271.post-19931940207906282392008-01-18T11:00:00.001-06:002008-02-22T12:58:44.325-06:00

My Dad's Grandpa and Grandma were married twice. Their first marriage produced one child, Dad's Dad. Later, after they divorced, my Great Grandmother remarried and had children with her second husband. After he died, my Great Grandparents hooked up again, and lived the rest of their lives together. When my Great Grandmother died, her children from the second marriage made sure that she was

Stuart Tinsleyhttps://profiles.google.com/103417969161761690345noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6315271.post-68184826386330832842007-12-19T11:11:00.000-06:002007-12-20T08:58:24.106-06:00

I suck at gifts. I think because I'm an only child, and I pretty much got what I wanted as a kid. At some point, I started feeling guilty about that, and figured I had pretty much what I needed. Thus, to this day, if you ask me what I want for my birthday, Christmas, or Kwanza, I say, "Nothing. I don't need anything." My Lovely Bride is the exact opposite. She loves gifts, and gets that it

Stuart Tinsleyhttps://profiles.google.com/103417969161761690345noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6315271.post-40879022811474532292007-12-07T11:25:00.000-06:002007-12-10T13:19:06.108-06:00

Life doesn't offer up many second chances, which is why I said, "Yes," when My Lovely Bride asked if I would read at E's storytime the following Monday. No wait. Back up. Let me start earlier.I thought it was funny, in a 'tis the season sort of a way, that the reason My Lovely Bride spaced out and forgot her guest reader spot at the Elder Boy's school storytime was because of elfa shelves.

Stuart Tinsleyhttps://profiles.google.com/103417969161761690345noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6315271.post-79464757616444067312007-12-03T21:45:00.000-06:002007-12-04T08:34:35.715-06:00

My unforgettable fire finally occurred the night of November 22nd, on a narrow and dirty spit of beach on Bolivar Peninsula that is wedged between North Jetty and Fort Travis. It happened on Thanksgiving. The moon was even full. Not that I planned it that way. I'm a dipshit. Serendipity is more like it. You see Dear Reader, I didn't intend to burn my bag of shit that night. I built that

Stuart Tinsleyhttps://profiles.google.com/103417969161761690345noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6315271.post-73206028010220124512007-11-12T13:07:00.000-06:002007-11-19T09:25:35.039-06:00

As we were taking a bath, long about Saturday night, a week or so in the rearview, Ethan said, "Daddy do me first."I turned the cold water up a bit and pointed at E who was shucking his clothes next to the toilet and said, "Please pee, and make sure you hit the water.""NO," screamed Wy Wy, as he barreled into the bathroom and yanked his pants and underwear off, "DO ME FIRST!!!""Nice," I thought,

Stuart Tinsleyhttps://profiles.google.com/103417969161761690345noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6315271.post-67525535029235230582007-10-24T13:25:00.000-05:002007-10-24T14:22:43.306-05:00

A few weeks in the rearview, I asked the Elder Boy how school had been that day. After the initial, 'I don't know' I got a story about some kid's Mom coming to the library for storytime and reading to his class. E thought that was super cool. But what was cooler, once storytime was over, the librarian, Mrs. Nowacki, gave the kid a Lego Bookmark and a Lego Magazine."Boy," I said, "I signed up

Stuart Tinsleyhttps://profiles.google.com/103417969161761690345noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6315271.post-90768006105384122872007-10-18T09:29:00.000-05:002007-10-22T15:35:04.924-05:00

Wednesday morning Ruby and I were walking Ethan to school, when he asked, "Daddy, is it one or two?""I don't know what you mean." I said."Is it ONE or TWO," he said."One or two what," I said."You don't understand." He said, as Ruby dropped on her haunches to take a crap."No, I don't. What are you talking about?" I said."Until you read," He said, as Ruby did her I just took a good shit dance."

Stuart Tinsleyhttps://profiles.google.com/103417969161761690345noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6315271.post-38535282328829377762007-10-05T13:46:00.000-05:002007-10-09T17:32:15.144-05:00

Déjà vu kicked me in the nuts, hard, the third week in September. I was planning a solo Galveston trip, to spend some time by myself, for myself, something I had not done since Mom died last October. With the one year anniversary looming on the horizon (as well as October 10, which was (is?) her birthday,) I wanted my own brand of closure. To get my head right before October began, and to say

Stuart Tinsleyhttps://profiles.google.com/103417969161761690345noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6315271.post-33762723596331751292007-09-19T21:02:00.000-05:002007-09-20T07:06:05.720-05:00

Read Part 1Wy: "I hate Sea World!"Me: "What? Why???"Wy: "They don't have Transformers."Me: "What? It's Sea World Boy. They aren't going to have Transformer toys here, they have Shamu toys and Shamu shirts. Stuff like that."Wy: "I hate Shamu!"Me and Wy in a gift shop at Sea World on my 40th birthdayWhoever designed Sea World is a genius. An evil genius. Consider this. It is nearly

Stuart Tinsleyhttps://profiles.google.com/103417969161761690345noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6315271.post-30313812774456651532007-08-27T12:23:00.000-05:002007-08-29T09:26:08.279-05:00

I love Rick(y) Nelson. Always have. Even as a Boy named Stu, living in Oklahoma, I would watch The Adventures of Ozzie and Harriet, and especially dig the episodes in which Rick(y) sang a song.I tell you that for this. My parents bought me Legacy, Rick(y) Nelson's box set for my 34 birthday. That was July 2001. My Lovely Bride was just out of her first trimester with the Elder Boy.Naturally,

Stuart Tinsleyhttps://profiles.google.com/103417969161761690345noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6315271.post-5910301917256131502007-08-21T10:48:00.000-05:002007-09-19T21:10:42.924-05:00

"Wow. It looks like we actually had a good time."My Lovely Bride's reply upon viewing our vacation photosTraveling with small Boy(s) is hard.Those shiny happy people pics I posted, are only one side of the vacation coin, and a disservice to anyone crazy enough to compare their vacation to the pictorial presentation of ours. Sure, we had fun (the Boy(s) are still talking about the trip, which is

Stuart Tinsleyhttps://profiles.google.com/103417969161761690345noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6315271.post-80938572191409563122007-08-03T09:38:00.000-05:002007-08-23T13:42:06.010-05:00

My 40th lap around El Sol happened while I was on vacation. Depending on how you score, I either turned 40 in San Antonio, or New Braunfels, which is where I was at 6:01pm, which is when I was born on July 25, 1967. I was premature by at least a month. In a hurry then. In a hurry now.40 was hard for me. On one level, it was this big, black, over the hill, round number, birthday. Then, on

Stuart Tinsleyhttps://profiles.google.com/103417969161761690345noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6315271.post-14237105571841029502007-08-01T10:09:00.000-05:002007-08-01T10:12:53.328-05:00

For those that care, Team Tinsley Summer Vacation Photo action.Until I BLOG again...These are the dreams you will savor.

Stuart Tinsleyhttps://profiles.google.com/103417969161761690345noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6315271.post-56258614268326931652007-07-17T13:04:00.000-05:002007-07-17T13:41:05.006-05:00

I turn 40 on July 25. Forty. Over the hill. Middle age. 40.A week ago, which was the two weeks until I turn 40 mark, I found myself watching Thundarr the Barbarian with the Boy(s).Thundarr rocks. Seriously. I loved that cartoon as a kid, and even though I hadn't seen it in over 20 years, I still dug it, hard. The Boy(s) too. They really got into Thundarr, which was icing on the birthday

Stuart Tinsleyhttps://profiles.google.com/103417969161761690345noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6315271.post-88410717058647256132007-07-06T16:59:00.000-05:002007-07-06T17:17:49.587-05:00

On my fifth father's day as a father I found myself on the phone with my father who was on his thirty ninth. I had just wished him a happy father's day, to which he had replied, same to you. I always find that odd, when he turns the happy father's day wish back at me. As soon as our happy father's day circle jerk was over, the conversation turned to how his high school reunion was going in

Stuart Tinsleyhttps://profiles.google.com/103417969161761690345noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6315271.post-31492015049341742432007-06-15T13:39:00.000-05:002007-06-17T08:49:19.623-05:00

The Little Warrior loves Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. Being a second child, many of the things that Wy has, or likes, are what his big brother liked or had. Not Ninja Turtles. They are Wy's alone, even though he can't say 'ninja' --- Wy pronounces it 'jinjun.'The other night found me in the front room trying to explain the plot of Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest to the Elder Boy when

Stuart Tinsleyhttps://profiles.google.com/103417969161761690345noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6315271.post-12721930826741762972007-06-06T16:01:00.000-05:002007-06-07T08:22:07.491-05:00

Considering I only had drank a couple of beers, I was surprised that my monkey brain had a love monkey on it's back as it compared Rick Springfield to Nostradamus. But there I was, at the Old 97's show watching a guy dance with his cell phone, thinking to myself how prescient Rick Springfield had been way back in 1984.At first I thought the guy, let's call him Rick, was trying to snap a picture

Stuart Tinsleyhttps://profiles.google.com/103417969161761690345noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6315271.post-67183489262138267262007-05-21T19:54:00.000-05:002007-05-22T09:16:36.026-05:00

Mother's Day was a motherfucker. I'm still reeling from it. No big surprise I guess. It was my first Mother's Day sans Mother. But still, I tried so hard to brace myself against all that. I didn't want to give in to it. I didn't want to take anything away from the other Mother's in my life. My Lovely Bride. My Mother-In-Law. My Grandma. I thought I could, I thought I would, be able to

Stuart Tinsleyhttps://profiles.google.com/103417969161761690345noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6315271.post-42871333520031488242007-05-14T08:37:00.000-05:002007-05-14T13:01:11.657-05:00

God bless Ruby the dog. I love her. The Boy(s) love her. I think My Lovely Bride even loves her, although she won't kiss Ruby. My point -- believe when I say, Ruby is loved at Casa Tinsley, even though she's crazy. Seriously. Ruby is nuts.The dog is is a kleptomaniac mongrel who loves nothing more than to destroy items made of wood, plastic and rubber. Ruby has destroyed numerous flip

Stuart Tinsleyhttps://profiles.google.com/103417969161761690345noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6315271.post-36738532682406567412007-05-09T09:19:00.000-05:002007-05-09T09:25:18.141-05:00

"Bye Ethan," I said, "Give me a kiss.""Bye Daddy." "Have a good day at school." I said as I walked out of my bedroom where the Elder Boy was watching Avatar.Remembering the date, and that his graduation from day school was next Friday (he goes to Kindergarten next year!), I stopped at the bedroom door and said, "You know Boy, you only have about a week of school left. Until summer. Did you

Stuart Tinsleyhttps://profiles.google.com/103417969161761690345noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6315271.post-68628832380306456062007-05-04T17:07:00.000-05:002007-05-07T13:20:34.119-05:00

Frank Sinatra was right. Saturday night is the loneliest night of the week. Or was, for me, wiping shit off a Boy in the parking lot of a dirty mingo store in Centerville. I guess it isn't a totally awesome Mr. Mom trip unless we have urine, shit, or puke.This misadventure, like most, came out of nowhere. We were enjoying a peaceful drive back home after a busy weekend in Houston. Even

Stuart Tinsleyhttps://profiles.google.com/103417969161761690345noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6315271.post-55715404054196313382007-04-05T09:53:00.000-05:002007-04-06T10:00:13.818-05:00

I'm an idiot. Seriously. Who else, but me, uses their fingers to count out six months? Most could do the math in their head. Not me. I am an idiot. Which is why I sat, hands under the table, and counted on my fingers the six months Mom had left to live.March. That was the answer. Not that it mattered. Mom died in October, six weeks after she told me she had six months. Not that that

Stuart Tinsleyhttps://profiles.google.com/103417969161761690345noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6315271.post-52115160399899871512007-03-27T10:29:00.000-05:002007-03-27T15:09:48.845-05:00

Even though we had some tough moments on our recent journey from whence I came, the trip overall was by no know means an abject failure. Me and the Boy(s) had some great times. One of the cool things we did on the first leg of our trip was drive down memory lane, so to speak, in my home town of Sand Springs. I even took the Boy(s) to the cemetery to see my Grandpa's grave. Granny too. Pops

Stuart Tinsleyhttps://profiles.google.com/103417969161761690345noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6315271.post-69983992118432926452007-03-20T15:25:00.000-05:002007-03-20T16:36:55.360-05:00

Considering we embarked on our trip to Oklahoma on the Ides of March, I really wasn't all that surprised to find myself riding down the escalator at the OneOK Building in downtown Tulsa Oklahoma covered in puke. It wasn't my puke. It was the Younger Boy's, who was in my arms. The Elder Boy was there too, only he was a good 10 steps behind us, I'm guessing because of the smell. Perhaps it was

Stuart Tinsleyhttps://profiles.google.com/103417969161761690345noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6315271.post-81194793818791363422007-03-07T11:48:00.000-06:002007-03-08T13:04:15.458-06:00

How can it go from zero to crazy in 60 minutes? Only an hour before, I had entered my version of domestic bliss. I'm talking 21st century Norman Rockwell painting come to life. Fast forward 60 minutes and my Rockwellian dream had morphed into that famous Munch painting. I'm talking crazy train crazy. Dig if you will a picture, the entire Team in The Little Warrior's room. Wy Wy, fresh from

Stuart Tinsleyhttps://profiles.google.com/103417969161761690345noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6315271.post-70498348908404283332007-02-21T20:49:00.000-06:002007-02-23T06:57:06.636-06:00

"He who remembers nothing but facts and past events, and is never brought back into the present, is a victim of amnesia." - Thomas MertonMemory is a double-edged sword. I didn't say that. Robert Cooper Pond did. He was right. He has a hard time remembering certain things. I hope he doesn't mind me writing that. I on the other hand, do not. I remember nearly every trivial thing that ever

Stuart Tinsleyhttps://profiles.google.com/103417969161761690345noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6315271.post-40956499435364719492007-02-15T16:13:00.000-06:002007-02-19T12:22:30.016-06:00

The Little Warrior, like the Elder Boy before him, went from 0 to 60 in potty training. Literally from shitting in the sink on Sunday, to asking that we vacate the bathroom so he could vacate his bowels on Thursday.Even though potty training is it's own reward, Wy's newly minted Big Boy status awarded the Team a new member. Ruby the dog. We met Ruby, née Gretchen this past Saturday. She was

Stuart Tinsleyhttps://profiles.google.com/103417969161761690345noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6315271.post-80237873420387825302007-02-01T09:17:00.000-06:002007-02-02T13:47:28.721-06:00

Pride is hard. Uncle Bob said even a cowboy's got to swallow his pride sometimes, because, you know, pride's one of those seven deadlies. Uncle Bob was a wise man. It was sad about him dying in that fiery explosion over at the oil refinery. You know, the one caused by the lightning strike? Ok. Not as sad as trying to glean life lessons from Urban Cowboy but still, pride has always confused

Stuart Tinsleyhttps://profiles.google.com/103417969161761690345noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6315271.post-40227426286306544502007-01-16T16:40:00.000-06:002007-01-18T11:20:34.527-06:00

I should have said no. Sweet mother of all that is good, I had sat in that very dining room a week in the rearview and told myself that The Black Eyed Pea sucked. That I should never come back. Kids eat free my ass, shitty service exacts its own price which affirms yet again, nothing in this world is truly free.But there I sat, ever the dumbass, in the kids eat free ghetto, surrounded by all

Stuart Tinsleyhttps://profiles.google.com/103417969161761690345noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6315271.post-55993363162583715432007-01-15T10:30:00.000-06:002007-01-16T16:21:56.025-06:00

When the weather outside is frightful, the Boy(s) like nothing better than to hunker down with a mug of hot chocolate. The only problem is they don't really like it all that hot, so making hot chocolate is harder than you might think. In fact, if you don't perfectly time getting the kettle off the stove, you have to add ice to their drink.Actually, you always have to add ice to The Little

Stuart Tinsleyhttps://profiles.google.com/103417969161761690345noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6315271.post-1167433126143968412006-12-29T16:41:00.000-06:002007-01-03T13:46:26.026-06:00

"Where's her head." That was the first thing the Elder Boy asked upon my return from Houston. He was in the bathtub, naked. His brown eyes, a testament to Mom, were wide with anticipation."With her body. At the morgue, er' funeral home..." I shuddered at that reality. Mom's physical body in some refrigerated drawer like I had seen on television. "She might already be cremated at this point.

Stuart Tinsleyhttps://profiles.google.com/103417969161761690345noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6315271.post-1166548484609733782006-12-19T11:12:00.000-06:002006-12-20T11:25:07.563-06:00

Oh, irony, you sadistic mind fucker. How you love to push my buttons. How you must have loved seeing me sitting on that crappy exercise bike on the third floor of the Hampton Inn preparing to exercise in the hope of burning through some of my Mom's memorial morning anxiety. The look on my face must have been Mastercard priceless as I turned the television on and realized that not only was Four

Stuart Tinsleyhttps://profiles.google.com/103417969161761690345noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6315271.post-1165855844398639062006-12-11T10:44:00.000-06:002006-12-11T10:50:44.423-06:00

Until I BLOG again...that everyone you know someday will die

Stuart Tinsleyhttps://profiles.google.com/103417969161761690345noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6315271.post-1165521366149092862006-12-07T13:49:00.000-06:002006-12-10T12:12:05.530-06:00

Turn, Turn, Turn my ass, I think the Byrds are full of shit. I know they didn't write that song, but they did take it to number one in 1965, so I'm holding them accountable. Plus, that is a much better choice than the actual songwriter who cribbed most of the lyrics from the Book of Ecclesiastes. I'm uncomfortable calling that book full of shit, since, stop, drop and roll doesn't work in hell.

Stuart Tinsleyhttps://profiles.google.com/103417969161761690345noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6315271.post-1163180622477445702006-11-10T11:34:00.000-06:002006-12-07T12:01:33.013-06:00

I first heard about the purported Five Stages of Grief in March, while watching Scrubs. It was a good episode. John Boy's Mom, who was a patient at Sacred Heart Hospital, was dying. It wasn't really John Boy's Mom, just the actress that played her. I have a hard time thinking of Michael Learned as anyone other than Olivia 'Livie' Walton. I guess I'm in denial, which is the first stage of

Stuart Tinsleyhttps://profiles.google.com/103417969161761690345noreply@blogger.com1