O'Mike

Oh my Owen, the stories that will be told about you will be legendary...

Last Friday, I had the good fortune (meant completely seriously) to pick up #6 of 6 (whom will soon reach a *height of 6' 6", so his birth order is apropos), and take him to Bass Pro for a few hours of fun.  His older brother WP was quite sick, and I was just trying to be the good Pappy, and help out however possible.

*In case you don't know Owen, he is very tall.  At age 3, he was taller than 50% of the 5 year old's.  At age 3 7/12th's, he towers over kids his age.  He is constantly being asked how old he is, and for quite some time, he answered 5, and the asking person just kind of shrugged, a yeah, that's about right, never once questioning his answer.  But, Owen, ever on the look out for a bribe, made a deal several months ago with his Mom that if he could be 5, he would agree to potty train in one day.  She made the deal, and he stuck to his end of the deal too; potty trained in one day, and then proceeding to tell everyone that he was 5.  Yep, true story.

Not too many minutes had elapsed when o'Mike blurted out "Hey Pappy, you want to hear my arm pit fart?"  Well, caught completely off guard (though why should I have been?), this little (ha) guy proceeded to unzip and demonstrate his adroit skills of arm-pit-farting.  So, who taught my little (ha) cave man how to perform this skill?  My mind was quickly drawn to Steven, his Neanderthal father.

Yes, my Owen, my o'man, my o'Mike (I love that nick-name, though I am truly the only one in the family that uses it).  Most folks call him Owen Michael Kueny!!!, just to make sure that he knows all the parts of his name.  Surely it is not because he just about filleted the trout that just swam by... (man he was close to landing that 2 lb.'er, with his bare hands!) Or is it because they don't think that a simple Owen will garner his attention?

Anyway, I ramble, and digress.  Owen the arm-pit farter.  I'm so proud he has that talent.  Truly, he will go far in life with that skill.  It ranks right up there with peeing naked in the back yard (oh I love it when he does that), and I also love how he demonstrates 'poopy-head'.  Wow. 

Thank you Steven, (aka 'The Lost Bigfoot'), though we'll not start any part of the conversation about BigFoot with him ~ unless you want to see him flip out his autographed copy of the only picture known to exist in the entire world...

 

 

You can't really tell so much in this picture because my camera phone is good, but not great; but every time I see this boy, he's got new cuts/bruises, which I'm sure as he gets older will turn to casts and stitches.  This boy is rough.  He loves to rumble and tumble.  He loves to do things that gentler boys don't.  This pic shows some of his markings, but mainly I snapped the photo because he looked so cute in my cowboy hat.

 

Prior to hair, the head was obviously shaped like mine, crowns, dents, horns, etc.  That's not as noticeable now as it was then, but the heavy eye lids are still there, and when he smiles he looks like a mini-me clone of his Daddy 'the missing link' Kueny.

 

If you've been in the same church for very long, you realize after several years that you've heard the same stories and illustrations from your pastor many times over.  Well, parts of my blogs are like that, and I can't help myself but to bring up the DNA story again.  O'Mike has 25% of my DNA, but I sure have a hard time figuring out where 1/4th of his physical and mental parts are that share my DNA.  Head and eye lids; check.  Calves; check.  Shoulders; check.  Posture; earlier yes, but not sure now.  Legs; probably, but not completely sure.  Laugh; absolutely.  Diaphragm; without question.  Boldness; check.  Olive skin; probably.  Appetite; most likely. 

 

That's a pretty short list; as our other physical and mental differences are a plenty.  

 

 



 

Oh my little Romeo, my Casanova.  This boy is going to be a player.  Look out ladies, "Magic Mike" is in the house.

 

For as long as I can remember, Owen has gravitated toward the ladies, but he has discriminate taste, he only gravitates towards the prettiest ones.  That is a serious, absolute, 100% fact, and I chronicled his history with Haley at Bass Pro last December.

 

Well, big R or big C, take your pick; he allowed several little girls to pass by with nary a glance; but he struck gold with Brittni.  Yep, we found out she was 7, and she was cute, super cute (she had to have gotten her cuteness DNA from Momma, because it sure wasn't Daddy ~ just sayin'). 

 

Brittni was more than twice his age..., and completely enthralled at his tales of yore (soon to be lore).  She would have eaten out of his hand, had he had something to eat.  For the better part of 20 minutes, he and Brittni were fast friends.  She did some talking, but mostly she was the one doing the listening, and following, and clinging.  O'Mike had her in a trance; I missed the part where he did the Vulcan mind-meld, but as enamored as Brittni was, he had to have done it.  I snapped the pic after o'Mike had told her to go sit down, and she obeyed! 

 

Owen was telling her all about the fish, their feeding habits, the water temp, why salmon swim upstream, the trout that he almost caught by hand, which fish were going to be on the menu that night at Uncle Bucks, etc.  And, he was in the process of talking her into getting suited up with some snorkeling gear and go swim with him and the fishes.  Wow, this boy can talk!

 

 

 

So, 10-15 minutes have passed, and Brittni has left.  But wait, what's this?  Yep, that's right, it's our Casanova moving in for his 2nd act of the day.  But this time, he was going after jailbait.  She was 2.  According to her Dad (hot Mom's must not come to Bass Pro), his daughter had just turned 2.  I do not remember her name, but ask Romeo, he probably will.  Horrible focus on this pic, but when I was analyzing it, it looked to me like a 5 year old was moving in on a 2 year old, and 'jailbait' came quickly to mind.

 

Anyway, jailbait is way more than a full head shorter than o'Mike, but when their eyes lock, she melts.  Seriously, how does a 2 year old melt?  I didn't think it possible.  But remember, (disclaimer; I've told this story before), I was VERY slow in the ladies game.  I didn't even look sideways to notice a girl until I was 16, and even then, it was strained for me to do so! 

 

Yes, I was blessed and fortunate to have married the most beautiful girl in the entire high school, and this July will mark 36 years :-), but I'm telling you, I was slow.  When it happened though, it was fast.  Age 16, I saw a girl.  Age 19, I was married after dating my beauty Queen on/off for 2 of the 3 years in between. 

 

 

 

O'Mike and Jailbait, take 2.  This little girl had an infectious smile and big brown eyes as big as Ava.

 

 



 

 

Magic Mike getting ready for his audition.  Yep, he's 3.  Good gosh, look at the size of those feet on that 3 year old!  This picture is courtesy of Jackie, as Owen was about to show Momma his latest series of scratches; though Mom did not know that Owen had stripped in order to accomplish this.

 

O'Mike, o my.  Reminds me of my little brother Ken who used to run up and down the streets of our neighborhood when he was 3; completely naked.

 

Yep, I was so proud of Ken too.  I remember running into the house as fast as possible so that no one could see me.  Mom would ask "Mike, why are you in the house?, and I would answer 'because Ken is outside running up and down the street naked."

 

It was a different world then..., or is it?

 

 

 

  

Snow: Another Perspective

A picturesque scene of grande sized flakes floating to their destinations while I look out from my garage porch this morning. 

Pretty? Yes, I guess.  Needed moisture? Absolutely.  Good for business?  Hardly.

Snow is the bane ('source of harm' for those of you that don't play WWF) of our business.  It is hard enough to work outside in cold conditions; snow makes it impossible.

As long as I can remember, I have never liked snow, and I never miss it.  Maybe it is because of 12' drifts against my door while living in a mobile home in Dodge City 30 years ago.  Maybe it is because of not having gas or electricity in the same mobile home because of snow.  Maybe it is because of relentless freaks buying up every carton of eggs, milk, cheese, and 50 lb. sacks of beans whenever the forecast calls for snow.  Or maybe it is because it gets so dirty when it melts. 

Rain is easier to deal with as rain outs are common, especially in spring.  But snow? No, until today, we had dodged the snow bullet this year, and I was counting down the days to spring at being only 8 days away on March 1st; thinking we might escape it.  But nope, it got us.

Snow is a double whammy.  We don't work while it is snowing.  We don't work while we wait for it to melt.  We don't work while we wait for it to dry.  A good rain might delay our work for up to a week.  A good snow will delay us 2x to 3x that long.

So, going to have plenty of time in the office ~ not that that is a bad thing; as there is plenty to do and get caught up on.

Hey, what's that?  Do I see ELO's 'Mr. Blue Sky', yes, I do!  Hallelujah, bring on the sun! 

A 1948 Nickle

If this nickle could talk, what would it say about where it has been?  Born in 1948, it just now made it to my hands in 2013; a full 65 years later.  (The date is barely discernable, and is placed in this photo at 12:00.)

Nickles are historically the longest lasting of all of our minted coins; and I have held older ones in my hands, but never held onto them as I might with this one for awhile longer.  I do not spend coins, I save them for bulk redemption later, or drop them into those slots in the McDonald's drive-thru; as I do not like the feel of coins in my pockets.

There was something about this nickle though that drew me to it.  Maybe it was the rust; it just felt different in my hand.  Was it the fact that it is 10 years older than me?  It has nicks, cuts, bruises; and I was going to polish it up before placing in my coin bottle, but decided to hold onto it, give it a little breather before placing it back into circulation.

But seriously, what would it say about where it has been?

How many 1,000's, or 100's of 1,000's, or millions of times has it been used in 65 years?

How many times has it been in the pocket or purse of anyone 'famous', and who would that be?

What types of items has it been used to purchase?  Good gosh, the list could be nearly endless; let your imagination run wild.

What countries of the world has it visited?

How many times has it been deposited into a bank?

How many times has it been 'lost'?

How many times has it been run over?

Who is the oldest person to have held it; who is the youngest?

It used to buy a cup of coffee.  But the .05c cup of coffee has been replaced by the $5.00 cup of coffee at many haute couture coffee shops across the USA.  That's a big difference in price increases over 65 years.

It used to buy a bottle of pop.  The trendy stores are trying to bring back the real sugar versions of the 8 oz pop bottles, but they sell today for well over $1.

A nickle, I don't remember my first nickle.  But, I still remember the exact spot where I found my first dime, on the sidewalk next to Loma Vista Bowl, on a Saturday morning, from which, I promptly walked 25 yards to TG&Y and bought a tube of airplane model glue with it!  And, I still remember literally my first dollar, and doing 100 chores worth .01c each to earn it; wishing now that for memory purposes that I would have kept it.

And that's my trip down memory lane for today, and yes, I am thankful that I still have a memory...

Saint Valentine

Saint Valentine is a widely recognized third century Roman saint commemorated for his death on February 14 and associated with a tradition of courtly love.

Nothing is known reliably of St. Valentine except his name and the fact that he died in the north of Rome on February 14.

The Catholic Encyclopedia speaks of three Saint Valentines that appear in connection with Feb 14th. One was a Roman priest, another a bishop; both buried outside Rome. The third was a saint who suffered on the same day with a number of companions in the Roman province of Africa, for whom nothing else is known.

Though the exact accounts of the martyrdom's of the first two listed saints contain legendary elements, a common nucleus of fact may underlie the two persons and accounts; but that they may refer to one single person.

According to the official biography of the Diocese of Terni, Bishop Valentine was born and lived in Interamna and was imprisoned and tortured, and then died in Rome on 14 February 273. His body was buried at a nearby cemetery and a few nights later his disciples came and carried him home as a symbol of love.

Τhe Catholic Church's official list of saints, shows for February 14 and gives only one Saint Valentine; a martyr who died on the Via Flaminia; whose death has now been celebrated for 1,740 years.

Now that's what I call a "Love Connection."

Happy Birthday Angela!

And Mom exclaimed "that's NOT my baby, that's a black baby!"

 

Thankfully, Nanny and I where there to allay Mom's fears, and to confirm that Angela was indeed hers, and not switched with the black family that wanted a white blond...

 

See, at the time, Mom only thought that babies where white and blond, as she and Jackie had been.  How could it be possible that she would have a daughter with dark skin and black hair (despite the fact that the majority of the contributing family members in the genetic pool had precisely that!)

 

I love this picture because it shows Angela's awesome smile.  Her smile is something that we share, together with our black hair (mine has since flown the coop or turned gray though), and we also share "the captain of the toes" (picture withheld on purpose), and our love for music is nearly exact; though she will rock out to Beiber because of Ava, and I refuse too.

 

We both love to cook.  We both worked in restaurant management.

We both love numbers.  We both love Oprah.  We both love to read.  We both like guy movies.  We both like cats.  We both love to rest and relax.  Hmmm, need to change the station, I see a pattern.

 

Angela is a great Mom, a great wife, a sister in Christ, and above all, she is my favorite black-headed daughter.  I love you Angela Corinne.  I will forever be grateful to call you my daughter.

 

Happy Birthday!  - Dad 

 



Babies & Birthdays

So I was sitting alone the other morning pondering the perplexity of why so few people are born in February; other than in our family when we celebrate Ava on Feb. 6, and Angela her Mom on Feb. 10; as I have not known many others with February birthdays.  And, if you know me at all, you know that I love trivia, so with my inquiring mind, and with my curiosity completely piqued, I set out to find out the reason(s).

My sources for these facts came from DailyMail.com, FunTrivia.com, and WierdFacts.com, and what I found was quite interesting; at least to me, and definitely satisfied my curiosity.

World wide, February has the least number of births of any month.  No wonder I don't know many others with February birthdays.

In the United States, more babies are conceived on Dec. 31st than any other day of the year, and Oct. 5th is the date with the most births.  Guess that explains what happens when you mix millions of gallons of alcohol with young adults on New Year's Eve..., and it also explains why I know more people with birthdays in October than any other month.

However, in England, more babies are conceived on Dec. 11th than any other day of the year, and Sept. 16th is their date with the most births.

But, world wide, more babies are conceived on Nov. 6th than any other day of the year, and Aug. 4th is the world wide date with the most births.

Also, world wide, August is the month with more total births than any other month of the year.

Sadly, in 2011, just in the United States, for the first time ever, more than 40% of U.S. women gave birth unmarried, and we as a country have the dubious distinction for having the highest percentage rate for this of all 'civilized' nations.

And, now you know...

Happy Birthday Ava!

Ava Corinne Franco

Age 6 months then. Age 7 today.

Happy Birthday Ava!

 

You are the one that first made me a grandpa, though I definitely prefer Pappy, and love it when you and all the others call me Paps!

 

I am so proud of you honey, and love the memories that can never be removed from my brain of being blessed to be your Pappy for the last 7 years.

 

I look forward to watching you grow even more this year.

 

I love you, - Pappy