Valentines' Day

(My post from 2009... I am poet, and didn't know it. Glad to say that I am one of the ones with love.)

Those with love
Smile in the joy of having what so many of us desire
Embrace this perfect gift and remember what brought it to you
Every detail and loving gesture that lit the heart's fire
Should be continued through and through by you two

Those without love
The hope of love can be the greatest love of all
Beating inside you with what you seek out
Never compromise youself, never fall
For one day you will find love, there is no doubt

Help us all

(I have been super busy with work and working on another project to write lately. So, here is an older post that relates to the weather we are currntly experiencing in Southern California.)

If you turn on the local news in Southern California the last couple of days, you would think that we were under attack.

News vans in every suburban city, residents rushing to the local Walmart to grab supplies, conversations in line at the bank yesterday centered on how long the suffering would continue, and cable/satellite and internet services flickering off and on had it's customers wondering how long it would it last.

What's going on in the land of movie stars, surgically-enhanced body parts, and just your every day quacks that reside with me in one of the most populated regions in our country?

Rain.

That's it. Fucking rain. I am embarrassed to even admit it. Rain is turning Southern California into a scene that resembles one you would find in the movie Independence Day.

It started on Thursday and has continued sporadically ever since. In my desert community, we even had some hail. I even had to pull out a jacket with a hood last night when I went to my basketball game.

Where is Barack Obama and government assistance when you need it?

Already a bitch to drive in and around Los Angeles, the weather has made local drivers even harder to handle. A trip that normally takes five minutes to take, now takes 30 minutes as drivers limp through every intersection at the first sign of rain.

Throw in the want-to-be NASCAR drivers who continue to drive 20 miles over the speed limit and you get a reported 104 accidents in Los Angeles in the first nine hours of the storm. Makes you want to just stay home and watch TV.

The news is what entertains me the most on raining days.

The first 15 minutes of the newscast is dedicated to the weather. The economy and the Senate's impending vote on the recovery plan would have to wait. Forget about getting any real news.

Thanks to TiVO, I couldn't help but continually rewind reporters interviewing residents and how they are dealing with the phenomenon of water falling from the sky. Here is my favorite:

Reporter: "How are you handling all the rain?"

LA resident: "We are trying not to go out in it. I know we need it, but it has just been so much. I am afraid to even go out and drive in it. My husband has been in the garage making sand bags just in case we need it. We just hope we can make it through the weekend."

Reporter: "Well, thank you. Good luck to you and your family."

Make it through the weekend? Are you kidding me? It's rain and according to the Los Angeles Times, LA has had a grand total 1.47 inches in two days. Reports are a new storm is supposed to hit Southern California some time Monday.

Please pray for us as we go through this tough time.

Girls will be boys?

There are times as a single father that I think God is looking down at me and laughing his butt off. In so many ways, he really did play a cruel joke on me.

Four girls. Four of them. Not one little boy in the whole litter.

When I found out that I was going to be a father for the first time in 1997, I continually daydreamed of playing catch with "little Brett". Day after day, me and the little guy outside laughing it up while throwing around the pigskin.

Then, after nine months of playing out this fantasy, came Kern. A beautiful, healthy, blue-eyed girl. Disappointment was non-existent as I was thrilled to be a father. Besides, I had plenty of time to have a boy.

Then, came Savannah. Followed by Shelby, And, finally, Alani. Four girls for the football coach. There would be no more trying for the elusive boy. I was done after four.

I'd like to think that I have done a pretty good job of raising girls on my own. I do as much as any man can be expected to do to allow girls to be girls. The last thing I have wanted to do was to try and raise my girls as boys by only introducing them to what would typically be classified as "boy" stuff.

I have let them apply make-up to my face, have played Barbies with them, and have watched endless amounts of fashion shows. I have even participated in a conversation with them over who would be a better a boyfriend, Troy from the High School Musical trilogy or Jackson from the Hannah Montana television show.

I picked Troy because he was the better athlete, while they picked him because he was "cuter". Whatever.

So... Sunday morning I stood in the hallway watching my girls pretty themselves up on their own while getting ready for Church. They were facing a full-length mirror on the closet door, admiring their outfits and hairdo. It was one of the cutest things I have seen as a father.

With a great sense of pride, I continued to watch while thinking that I was actually playing a role in raising girls who would one day grow into beautiful women. I finally turned around and began to walk back to my room when Alani said something that made me stop.

"Hey Vannah," she said.

"Yea?"

"Fart on my face, then I will fart on yours. OK?"

"OK."

Damn. Looks like there is more work to be done.