What's wrong with this?

Hey Liberal women's caucus , I have a hint for ya, if you think fathers would like you to be a role model for their daughters, your sadly mistaken. For one thing I'd like mine to think with their head not their crotch. Oh and here is a pic of my girls preparing homemade gnocchi for Sunday dinner(they may actually be barefoot).
What a terrible thought my intelligent young ladies someday pregnant and barefoot cooking Sunday dinner for their family, with a smile on their face. I don't know maybe that beats chasing some ladies husband for happiness and a sense of self?
One of the main reasons I do this on Sunday is that maybe my girls will take one day out of their busy week as mother's someday to notice how lucky they are, and pass it on to their family in their bare feet, and flour covered face. I don't see it having anything to do with government handouts, or equal rights. Nothing trumps a sweet proud woman barefoot, pregnant and cooking anyways. Its not rocket science........ simple things that really mean something to the soul usually aren't.

Succumb to the $ea$on

I'm not trying to be cruel , well maybe I'am a little . For those of you that hold out to the last second to get in the Christmas mood I'd thought I'd share a wee bit of the Christmas spirit early.
Yes I live in a basement apartment, but not with my mother, and I usually blog (when I do) in my pajama's ( Warren).

Days Forgotten

Darcey has a story up about a man catching a HUGE catfish which is remarkable in itself, but what I found most interesting is a story left in a comment from Fergy.

It left me to thinking how many boys these days get to go off by themselves and explore the neighbour hood stream, river or pond?

I can relate to Fergy’s story involving the big purple beasts called channel cats. The excitement , real innocent excitement as natural as a sudden thunderclap, and so eye opening you can look back years later and remember that day and unlock those wonderful feelings and memories of what it was like to be a innocent life loving boy.

I can still see those days spent back at Roder’s pond fishing for sunfish, and seeing the big looming black shape of granddaddy bass lumber close by the shore with four or five boys all chasing it casting to beat the band never being blessed by a strike. We camped their the first night Friday The Thirteenth ( number 1) played and the older boys from town scared the shit out of us, and I even kissed my first girl there (Candy was her name) and god was I innocent and stupid. I guess though that’s how nature intended it all once upon a time. Just like the day my cousin made a cast out in the middle of that two acre pond and got a bite, set the hook and eventually brought to shore a beautiful purple channel cat. Who would belief us, a channel cat this big from this pond in the middle of no where, we thought? All we had to do was land it.

Somehow I was delegated to grab the beast only knowing to well those barbs built in to the fins hurt like hell , and that was just from little bull heads. As I pictured the barbs from this big “cat” going clean thru my hand I reached out gingerly to grab the leviathan, but missed it - then the line broke and the beast defiantly slipped back into the deep. As if to say sorry you little shit’s better luck next time.

I can’t exactly remember the colorful words sent my way, if I remember right, they where very colorful, and I survived.

All this near a pond deep enough to drown in at the age of 8 to 13 and never an adult, a fence, or warning sign around we where just let be as boys, to explore.

So we could dream and weather the storm when we became men.