And So It Begins

I Will Not Tease The BoysAnother school year began this week. There are sounds of school buses outside my window, children at the bus stop out front, piles of papers to be signed and returned, $15 notebooks that will be destroyed in a month, the smell of new textbooks in the house, and all the ambiance of another summer left behind.

And of course, there is the usual plethora of issues to be worked out.

First up, Kayla’s much beloved high school principal retired at the end of last school year. He will be sorely missed by every person with whom I’ve spoken. Replacing him will be Dr. Doom (as she is (un)affectionately monikered), formerly the principal at James’ middle school.

I’ve always liked Dr. Doom. She seems friendly but stern (as a principal should), intelligent, and capable. I was delighted for her when I had heard she received her doctorate a year or two ago.

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Sunshine Behind The Trashcan

It's Too Soon, by Face It @ FlickrIt’s 11:30 on a Sunday night. I’m just catching up on a few blogs, and then I’m going to get ready for bed. My wife and daughter are in the living room veggin’ in front of the idiot box, the dog is laying in my spot on the bed all calm and peaceful for the first time in hours, and my son and his best friend are in the back yard in a tent. It’s summer time, so no school, I’m cool.

My wife sticks her head in the bedroom door and tells me there’s sunshine in the front yard behind the trashcan.

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The Moment For Which You’ve All Been Waiting

Half A Leg Trimmed

Yes, yes, I know. You want to see the damned pictures of Lou FCD in the red dress he wore to his Aunt Helen’s viewing.

I warn you, the utter provocative sexiness inherent in the pictures below the fold may be hazardous to your libido.

I assume no liability for any damage the pictures may cause to your relationship, and I must politely decline any offers of marriage or sexual favors as I am quite happily in a monogamous marriage. Head below the fold at your own risk.

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Twenty One Guns

21 Gun Salute

I was holding up pretty well. Fortuitously, whenever I began to feel the pain creeping up, someone would come by and smile and hug me and laugh about the red dress and how much that would have meant to Aunt Helen. Family members from near and far, Aunt Helen’s friends and fellow nurses from the Navy hospital on base where she worked as a civilian for years and years before she retired, funeral home staff, some people I didn’t even know.

It was warm, but not yet uncomfortably so just yet. Standing in front of the funeral home this morning, smoking a cigarette in my blue pinstriped suit with only a red silk tie to symbolize her defiance, I was still holding it together.

Watching my cousin gave me comfort. She wore her loudest red dress, great big tropical flowers on it, bright red nails on fingers and toes, and a red sweater. It was a beautiful dress on a beautiful woman, and more than that it was a great big “Fuck you – Love, Mom” to anyone brazen enough to consider opening their yap about it. She was simply stunning.

Though she was the most redly dressed of us all today, a quick glance around told who was saying what with their wardrobe. Red hankies, red socks, and even a pair of red sunglasses flashed here and there. It was quiet solidarity, and it was moving.

I was relatively calm inside until I saw them. It was only when I saw those nine faces that I began to lose it.

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The Priest, The Queen, and The Road Trip

The Road to Ragged Mountain, by Chris Seufert @ FlickrAunt Helen’s funeral is later this morning, the viewing behind us now.

It went as well as could be expected. Aunt Mary and some of my cousins, and both of my sisters were a little shocked upon seeing me, not having known about The Red Dress. (Janie’s got the full story here.)

It went over well, better than I had expected. A few sarcastic comments from Aunt Mary at first, but then she got over it, mostly.

The Catholic priest seemed a bit unsure, and tried to be politely discreet about inquiring of The Admiral (Aunt Helen’s eldest) about the dude in drag. There’s nothing discreet about Luis. He took the priest by the arm and marched him right over to ask for himself. Loudly.

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corner, by Bukutgirl @ Flickr

Half a tank of gas looking for a red party dress in my size that didn’t look like it belonged on a 75 year old big tittied grandmother in a bad wig:


Strapless red satin party dress at Ross, size 8 (eat your hearts out ladies, I’m rubbing it in):

$6.50 – marked down from $59.00

Generous opinions and assistance from Ross’ changing room attendants, cashiers, and stock girls who came to watch me try on several different dresses and help me choose the one that looks best on me:


The look on the face of the cashier who checked us out and was not in attendance through the fittings and who was about to smack me on the forehead and start speaking in tongues to heal me:


I have to go start shaving now. It’ll probably take all night.

From whence came the art:

That photograph is titled corner, by Bukutgirl.

Ladies On The Sofa

Ladies On The SofaI don’t know who actually snapped this photo. I’m guessing by the appearances of the ladies and their dresses that it was taken sometime between 1954 and 1956 or so. You can click it for a larger version at my photostream at Flickr.

From left to right, Aunt Helen, Grand Aunt Elaine, Grand Aunt Louise, and Aunt Catherine. Because my Great Grandfather died rather young, my Great Grandmother remarried, and Aunt Elaine and Aunt Louise were a bit younger than my Grandmother. Because of their (lack of much) difference in age, these four girls were more like sisters than Aunts and Nieces.

Lovely girls, no? Aunt Louise is now the last of them. I expect I’ll see her in the next few days, if she can make the trip down.

I wonder what they were thinking when this photo was taken.

From whence came the art:

That photo I call Ladies On The Sofa, and it was sent to me by a cousin, photographer unknown, and resides at my Flickr page.

WP Working on Garland Theme?

Somebody must be working on the Garland theme.  I apologize for any inconvenience, but apparently they’ve screwed up comments and any posts using the “read the rest of this entry” feature.

This problem is occuring on both this blog and Kissing Corporal Kate (both use the Garland theme), but not on UDoJ, which doesn’t.  If it’s not cleared up shortly, I’ll switch themes to one that works.

Two Thousand, Nine Hundred, Thirty-Eight Miles

Mourning Tree, by Destiny's Agent @ Flickr

Garrapata State Beach, California.

It sounds lovely, even though that’s not where this first picture’s from.

From Wikipedia:

Garrapata State Park is a California State Park operated by the California Department of Parks and Recreation which has two miles of beach front, with coastal hiking and a 50-foot climb to a beautiful view of the Pacific. The park is located on Highway 1, 6.7 miles south of Rio Road in Carmel, 18 miles north of Big Sur. The park offers diverse coastal vegetation with trails running from ocean beaches into dense redwood groves. The park also features outstanding coastal headlands at Soberanes Point. Sea lions, harbor seals and Sea Otters frequent the coastal waters and California Gray Whales pass close by during their yearly migration.

Aunt Helen left for California about 3:25 this afternoon. I got the call a few minutes later.

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Death, by Tanakawho @ FlickrNaida and Carol were cousins of Aunt Helen and my Pop and their siblings. In point of fact, they were daughters of Aunt Helen’s Aunt Helen, which I find kind of funny to say.

Aunt Helen used to spend some weekends at her grandparents’ home when she was young. When she did, she’d go with her cousin, Naida. Some weekends Aunt Helen and Naida would go, some weekends Aunt Catherine and Carol would go. It was sort of a double tag team cousin kinda thing.

I don’t really remember my great grandparents. Great Grampop Thomas went to California in 1963, four years before I was born. Great Gramma Mary Elizabeth followed in 1973 when I was six. I have only the vaguest of recollections of her and her cookie jar, in the upstairs half of their duplex that smelled overpoweringly of cedar. I’ve always loved that smell. Nobody else seems to remember that, though.

Before moving to North Carolina, I happened to rent half a duplex from my boss in a little town called Horsham. I didn’t know it at the time, but I was two blocks from my Great Grandparents’ home. The one that smelled of cedar and had a cookie jar and a red and white checkered tablecloth on the kitchen table. My Pop pointed it out to me just after I moved in. It’s smaller than I remember. I guess that’s because I was just shorter then. I wonder what happened to the big cabinet stereo. There was music without words playing on it back then. I didn’t know there was music without words, but I liked it.

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drunken blogging, by vanz @ FlickrBlogging Under the Influence.

Turns out that Blair really is Blair. She called earlier today, and we had a lovely interview about blogging drunk, although as I warned her, I’m not half as interesting on the phone as I am in print.

Janie thought it was a riot that of all the things for ABC News to call up little ol’ me and interview me about, inebriated rantings was what fate had in mind. Oh, and not the local guys here in town, we’re talkin’ ABC News from New York. Ok, that really is pretty funny, and I can laugh at myself.

I don’t really drink a lot, but the pain meds I’m on produce the same effect. So although I don’t blog drunk very often, I do in fact BUI all the time. In fact, I plan on B’ingUI a little later this evening. (Note: If I say something that you find offensive during that time, it really sucks to be you.)

And just to add one more funny-if-it-were-someone-else note, I sat back in my computer chair this afternoon after grocery shopping (my daughter drove, don’t worry), and wound up on my butt. Somehow, someway, Shakespeare Da Bard Dawg managed to remove a wheel from my chair without tipping it over. I have no idea where it is. That damned Retriever is too smart for his own good.

It’s been a very ungraceful day for me, but one of the funniest in recent memory.

If you have a funny drunken blogging story, or if you BUI, email me at loujamesdad AT yahoo DOT com, so I can put you in touch with Blair.  She’d like to talk to you.

::From whence came the art:

That image is called drunken blogging, by vanz on Flickr.::

Welcome Diana

Wonder WomanSo the blogosphere just became a little bit richer for a new addition. A personal friend of mine has set up her very first blog. She’s just getting going, and still fiddling with the controls, but take a moment to stop by and say hello.

Themyscira, Island of a Wonder Woman, by Diana.

Where the artwork comes from:

::That illustration is called Wonder Woman, by

Teenagers Bearing 6 AM Gifts

Breakfast In BedBreakfast in bed.

Sounds wonderful, right? I’ve always been a morning person, and watching the sun come up is one of life’s greatest pleasures. For most of my adult life, I’ve been God’s alarm clock. She’s a party Gal, and tends to stay out too late, drink too much, and arise hung over sometime in the mid-afternoon. There’s nothing wrong with any of those things of course, and I’ve always done the best I could as Early Morning Stand-In (EMSI or “MC” for short). Somebody has to keep an eye on the universe after all, and if she’s disturbed before noon after an all-nighter, bad things happen.

Remember that whole Noah/flood/genocide thing involving an ark? Man was that ugly. And Job never did that twice, let me just tell you. He learned the first time, too.

But since I’ve become disabled, I tend to have stints of pain that keep me up late, and that leaves me in bed with her drunk naked butt and whoever she brings home until well after dawn. There was one time she brought home the entire Greek pantheon. That bunch can be pretty bawdy when they’re plastered. Lots of fun, but annoying if you’re the only sober one in the bed.

Oh, sorry. Tangent there. Where was I? Oh yes, last night.

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Lou Simpson FCD

Well everybody in the universe had done it, even Timmi Toler. I might as well do it, too.

Lou Simpson FCD and Shakespeare, as rendered by SimpsonizeMe. (I know you’re jealous, Mikey.)

At The Kwik E MartLou Simpson FCD

Family Updates

Livin Life in J-villeI know it’s rare that I post here more than once or twice a week, so I’m hoping I don’t cause any cardiac issues for anyone.

I just thought you’d like to know what’s been going on in the FCD family.

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Suggestions For A Friend

ConfusedA friend of mine approached me by phone about starting a blog. Apparently, she was somewhat impressed with my writing skills and blogging skills, and also apparently she has too much free time on her hands needs to occasionally vent.

I offered to help her out, ’cause I’m good like that.  Plus, having started at least ten blogs (off the top of my head) for myself and/or others, I think I can safely say I know my way around a publish button.

First thing I told her she needs to do is think up two names – one for herself, and one for her blog. I just happened to remember that Kevin over at WhoreChurch came up with a really kickin’ list of blog names, which should at least spark an idea or two. Check that out. 450 great unused WP blog names, yours for the taking. Just don’t be a jerk and take one you’re not going to use, because once it’s taken no one can ever use it again.

If you have any good ideas for her that you don’t want for yourself, put ’em in the comments here.