Gavin's Birthday

Belated, certainly, but better late than never.  Tonight pumpkin carvin'.  Stay tuned...

We haven't had too many opportunities to open our doors to a myriad of rambunctious kids to run loose on our homestead gorging on sugar provided by yours truly while trying to maintain some sort of control so at the very least death doesn't ensue to one of our guests.  In short hosting a birthday party for a two year old is similar to owning a pool and watching people that have a solid handle on the doggy paddle do back flips off your diving board.  (This blog, regardless of similarities has no reference to real or fictional people).  Within 20 minutes of opening the door the place was filled with joyful noise, toys littering the room and candy wrappers strewn about the place like a minor nuclear weapon had exploded in our home.  All in the name of turning 2!

Gavin woke up at dawn like it was Christmas morning. The boy knew it was his day and he wasn't going to waste a second.  He began the morning, like usual on Saturdays, kicking dad in the face because he was sleeping in my bed instead of his own.  After making sure I couldn't sleep past 5:30 am he decided on a breakfast of waffles with a side of candle.  The kid had to practice making wishes and blowing out candles so he was prepped for his big afternoon.  Coincidentally I went back and checked the tape of Q and he spent his morning blowing out a giant candle on his pancakes over and over.

Gavin got geared up for the Wisco game and then happily watched as the Badgers dismantled the hapless Boilmakers into submission before noon.  The first birthday present! He hit the sack to get some pre-party shut-eye because he knew the raging was going to explode around 3 and wanted to look his rested best.  When the first guest arrived, Etta, he knew it was go time.  She, sporting her pretties, pony tails for girls around 2, and a stunning outfit of leggings, tutu and pink blouse, he in a Badger red sweatshirt and jeans .  There was definitely a moment there.  Too soon?  I mean the kid is two, he has to start some time. The grandparents, aunts, uncles, great aunts, great grandparents, more hotties and bros filed in picking up their birthday favors of dino-rings, tattoos, candy, balloons and kazoos.

We allowed the initial sugar high to settle in and opened up the house to playing.  After the first buzz started wearing down we moved into a competitive game of pin the cranium on the fossilized T-Rex.  We went with the dino theme because Gavin loves dinos and received lots to play with

We then decided it was time for sugar buzz number and two and unleashed the dino-cake.  We somehow managed to cram all two candles on the surface of the brontosaurus with only a minor objection from the herbivore.  Gavin huffed and puffed but couldn't blow that candle out.  We took a minor time out, moved the cake closer to Gavin and success!  We had a newly minted two year old and a wish was granted. 

We haven't had a birthday so close to family before so there was an influx of toys.  To provide the proper visual I'm going to have to ask you to use your imagination. Close your eyes, go back to 2nd or 3rd grade, remember writing that letter to Santa and now instead of childhood disappointment act like you received twice of everything you asked for.  All your friends were jealous - that was like Sunday morning, the day after.  Our kids played and played all rainy day with the new gifts they scored from all their friends and family.  Thanks to everyone for making Gavin's second birthday such a success!

Synergetic blogger?

My wife thinks she found the mom version of my blog.  You can find it here: http://www.momaical.com/.  The writer does have some pretty sweet wit.  She's a left coaster, though by transplant, so she uses a little more potty mouth than I but if you can roll with the PG-13 market it's worth a look.  I have only read a few posts but there is a pretty stinking hilarious bout with her local squirrel population complete with a shot of the momaical herself sporting a bottle of Jack (all bubbles - get it?) and a gun trying to get even.  And they say Cali is all liberal.  Little do they know about suburban mom's going all gangsta on the pesky wildlife.  Hit up the billionaire post as well.  If you have an email address you'll find it's worth the read.  I'll add her to the list of bloggers to your left.  Happy Friday! 

A Word to the MAN...

When you wake up on a crisp Tuesday morning before the sun rises as the Earth continues its awful rotation to darker and darker pastures you don't often ponder, today is the day I get an opportunity to stick it to the Man.  Today, on Stick it to the Man Tuesday, also Taco Tuesday down at the In the Drink a close and favorite watering hole, my wonderful, fantastic, super-duper awesome wife decided we would make it Super Spiegelhoff winning Tuesday. No, no, we don't care about Romney and his childhood with seven mom's growing up in Mexico where polygamy was legal. I'm talking about an old fashioned show down with the Tax Man.  You know this brings me back a little.  When I was seven and motoring through the second grade our teacher asked us what we wanted to be when we grew up.  I said I wanted to be awesome.  A dreamer, I know.  But the dork in the corner, Myron said, "When I grow up I want to be a tax assessor."  That was met with spitballs and interestingly 30 years later the tax man gets the same response. 

I note my wife was wonderful, fantastic, super-duper awesome because she received the letter saying, after we bought our a little northern cabin to escape the heat of the south to endure, excuse me, I mean enjoy a nice snowy freezing winter beginning in early October, said they (from this point on "they" known as the MAN) were raising our property taxes.  I remember coming home that day and remarking to my model-hot wife how that made perfect sense.  You know with all the home buying going on and the robust economy it was clearly logical that our house was going up in value 120 days after we purchased it.  It was slightly shocking, mostly since our house in Florida is worth about 70% less than the day we bought it, that in 120 days it had gone up in value $100,000.  Who could argue with results though!  I told the wife to not worry about a thing.  I got a realtor on speed dial and we're absolutely fantastic at moving and with all that extra cash in our pocket we could probably foreclose on our house in Tampa and buy it back within the same week in cold hard cash baby!!  Sometimes good fortune just falls right in your lap.

However, after coming down from that short but enjoyable psychotic escapade she explained to me how we either bought the nicest house in all of Lake Geneva or some drunk accountant accidentally added three zeros to our tax assessment.  You don't think they simply want more tax revenue for the coffers do you?  She decided she wanted to fight.  That's my girl! So, she diligently prepared for a showdown with the MAN and town board.  She researched comparable properties, figured cost per square foot, got a massage, formulated and perfected her prose for the big stage and with that we were off for our high 2pm show down.  C'mon it was close to noon.

We arrived a prompt ten minutes early but in typical government fashion, with no one else in the room, they waited until precisely the clock struck 2:02 to ask if we were indeed the "objectors."  Sir, I object! Too early? Right, right, we have to be sworn in.  This was gonna be fun! They explained the rules of engagement, swore us in, told us we were on candid camera, just kidding, told us they were taping this and off we ran.  Holy cow what an education!  I am nearly certain I could make a small fortune explaining to people how best to beat the tax man.  Please deposit $5 via paypal to continue reading the rest of this blog.  Seriously, did you deposit the money?  Okay, but I'm totally trusting you.  The honor system - still works!

It goes like this.  We get to go first, since we're the objectors.  We make our argument, present our evidence (it turns out you don't get your evidence back so do yourself a favor and make copies), then the board asks you questions, then the tax MAN gets his turn, presents his evidence (totally unprepared for my industriously zealous wife), woefully said he was finished and BAM! decision time.  There was much discussion. The board was unashamedly flirting with my wife at this point when yes, this actually happened, the tax MAN explained they couldn't just choose a more reasonable figure for our house.  They had to either say we were right and give us the named price we stated during our opening arguments or say we were wrong and, shiver, the tax MAN was right.  Holy @&#%!!  We missed that part of the instructions, because we clearly used the same method as the tax MAN to come up with our estimate - we arbitrarily made it up with what we deemed fair.  But, on Stick it to the Man Tuesday the tax God's were shining on my majestic wife. And it was shining bright, my friends. Kablamo! Board loves my wife. Tax MAN goes down swinging in a 10 round TKO. Shazam! We're rich, or rather we officially pay less in taxes.  And that is how you stick it to the MAN my friends.  And since this blog had nothing to do with my kids, here is a picture of them wearing their underwear on their heads. Kablamo!