Footprints (A Conversation With God)

Wednesday, March 19th, 2008

One night I dreamed I was walking along the beach with the Lord.

“Lord?” I asked.  “Why are you following me?”

“I’M BORED.”

“Lord?” I asked.  “Why are we on a beach?  I’m pretty sure Kansas City is nowhere near an ocean.”

“I BROUGHT YOU TO A BEACH.  I THOUGHT IT WOULD BE NICE.”

“Isn’t that kidnapping?”

“WHAT?  NO, NOT REALLY–OKAY, MAYBE.  BUT I AM THY LORD AND I HAVE PRIVILEGES.”

And lo, He took out His wallet and flashed me His Almighty Express gold card.  Membership has privileges. Said so right on the back.

I looked back along the path we had just walked, and I noticed a funny thing.  Mostly, I saw two pairs of footprints, but occasionally I only saw one. This concerned me, because I noticed the one pair appeared during those times when I was sad in life or suffering from defeat.

“Lord,  I just noticed–”

“IT’S ABOUT THE FOOTPRINTS, ISN’T IT?”

“Why, yes.”

“LISTEN, THOSE ROUGH TIMES YOU WENT THROUGH?  YOUR MOM DYING, YOUR PUPPY BEING EATEN BY THAT CRAZY KID DOWN THE STREET, THE MULTIPLE LESIONS ON YOUR UVULA?”

“Yes?”

“I TOOK OFF.”

“What?”

“YEAH, YOU WERE A RIGHT BASTARD.  ALWAYS WHINING, ALWAYS CRYING, ALWAYS COMPLAINING ABOUT SOMETHING.  I COULDN’T GET ANY SLEEP.”

“Was it too much to ask for you to carry me during those rough times?”

“LET’S BE HONEST.  YOU’VE GAINED A LITTLE WEIGHT.”

“But, you’re the Lord! You can do anything!  You can create a rock even you can’t move!”

“THAT’S WHY YOU’RE REFERRED TO AS ‘THE ROCK’ AROUND MY HOUSE.”

“Okay, okay, how about there–see it?–right there, what’s with my footprints and only one footprint of yours?”

I WAS PLAYING HOPSCOTCH WITH THE HOLY GHOST.

“But that was when my dad and my girlfriend literally ate each other in a murder-suicide-steak tartare crime!  That was the single most lowest point in my life!  Couldn’t you have stopped hopping for one moment to help me out?”

“MY CHILD,” He said, holy and tender concern lighting up His eyes.  “THE HOLY GHOST BET ME DOUBLE-OR-NOTHING.”

“You’re a real dick, Lord.”

“PRAISE BE TO ME.  HERE, PULL MY FINGER.”

Two Whole New Photos

Tuesday, March 4th, 2008

Two’s a lot, right? I’m not going overboard, am I?  I’d hate to be one of those fathers who drags friends and family over to his website so they can look at three, sometimes four, photos.  ‘Tis an endless chore for the viewers, that’s all I’m saying.   One’s usually enough, but I’m edgy; I’m bold.  I rock.

On with the show!

The last is my favorite.  Mostly because he’s not crying.  Oh, and he’s adorable.  But adorable and not crying.

Look What We Found On Our Doorstep! (In a basket. With a note attached.)

Tuesday, March 4th, 2008

The note read:
“Cower, mortals, and rejoice in the arrival of your new overlord, Wiggy!”

And, here’s a slightly better photo of Wiggy:

Not only does he have red hair (like his devastatingly handsome Pa), but he came into this world weighing a whopping 10 pounds and standing tall at 21.5 inches. Can I say that I’m thrilled I’m a guy? Despite the glorious help of an epidural, that just looked painful!

By the way, it was hilarious to see the tiny fold of flesh at the top of his head crown for a few minutes, and then one mighty push later, his GIANT noggin’ comes pushing out, making it look like someone just inflated a huge doll head. Plus, he came out sunny-side up, looking at the ceiling, so all I could think of when I saw his squalling face for the first time was the first coupla words from Peter Gabriel’s Big Time: “Hi, there!”

Ma Kettle is tired, of course, but doing well. She’s thrilled to no longer be pregnant. Pa Kettle stopped off at home this morning to take care of the dogs, but will be headed back to the hospital shortly.

So, yay for baskets!

The Invasion

Monday, March 3rd, 2008

Wiggy, my friends, is now officially on his (or her) way today.  Get ready to fire up your cigars!

I bought a cigar, by the way.  Dropped by one of the swankiest cigar places in town to pick it out and up, too… but I’ll probably never smoke it.  Because I don’t know how.  And because I’ve never smoked before.  But, I could light it if I wanted to–just this once; after all, Google has presented me with many a page of instructions on how to set fire to that stick o’ tobaccy, so I’m sure nothing could go wrong.  The Internet is full of experts!

Anyhoo, the Insta-Princess and I have been at the hospital since last night, so we’re just waiting for Wiggy to stop slacking and make his way to Delivery Depot.  Today, some time, we’ll have a new squaller in da’ house. (Besides me.)

Stay tuned for pics and whatnot. (The Insta-Princess says if I actually save any bona fide whatnot from the delivery, she’s leaving me.  But she needs a ride home first, so she’ll proably wait until after that.)