OOGIE BOOGIE CENTRAL - Featuring Steve's Vent

It’s over. Thank God. We did the Christmas Eve family thing, the Christmas Day family thing and the Day After Christmas work thing, but today the family and I did the let’s stay in bed till Noon thing immediately followed by the laze around the house all day thing. That’s a lot of things. Almost everything worked the way it was designed; the sole exception being the set of speakers my father purchased instead of the Surround Sound system I requested.  Blame it on an over-zealous, under-trained salesman and my Dad’s unfamiliarity with modern technology, but it’s all good.  That’s why God invented receipts and 30 day return policies. Lex was pleased with her gifts; the Bratz Festival (her description, not mine) satisfied on all levels.  Rhonda liked her DVDs, will like her new Razor phone and should like all her new clothing (that’s a mortal lock because she selected everything before her mom plunked down the charge card). Me?  I’m a happy gamer and...

Yet another thing that sucks about getting older: The steady flow of beloved actors, artists and writers crossing from this world to the next. I hope there are stages and libraries on the other side of the Pearly Gates. But Then Again, You'll Have This . . .

Suddenly, I understand. It’s not the aches, pains or old man sounds I emit at the slightest movement. It’s not the grey in my beard or the chrome on my dome. It’s not my oldest son crossing that final threshold to adulthood tomorrow (Happy Birthday Nate) or my youngest son’s continuing struggle toward the same. It’s this: Gorgeous, isn’t she? In less than a month, she’ll be 10 years old. Double digits baby, and we all know what that means. Pre-teen is the technical term, but there’s nothing technical about dealing with a young lady. Technically, the same applies to dealing with any lady, but that’s a different Vent. Thanks to a convergence in weather and work, I have a rare Thursday off and was able to attend Lexy’s Holiday Concert, which showcased the burgeoning musical talents of her and her school mates. The preparation phase of today’s performance was interesting, as I watched Lexy choose an outfit and fuss with her hair (which is one of –if not the only- best thing about her devel...

Two weeks and counting and it’s all over but the shouting. Early mornings and late nights; low balances and high bills. It’s beginning to feel a lot like Ch- Uh, uh uh.  You can’t make me say the WORD, and not because of inclusionary, non-denominational political correctness.  I won’t use any of the other words either. People in the mall call me Scrooge, but I quickly point out their error.  I’m not a Scrooge.  I wouldn’t make Bob work on the 25th and I’m quite fond of a hot stove filled with plenty of coals. No, in the twelfth month of every year, I’m struck by the sudden urge to hitch up the dog and head into Whoville. Peace?  Joy?  Goodwill to men?  Catch me after 2:00 PM on the twenty-fourth. Until then? You’re a mean one, Mister Grinch. But Then Again, You’ll Have This . . .