Paul's blog...

[Paulpate]

The suspense is KILLING me!

They said they's let me know in a "couple of weeks".

[Paulpate]

Clothing!

You know these backward nations, governments and cultures over in Afghanistan and such, like the Taliban for example. The men are in charge and they require their women to wear these sheets that totally cover their body. I can't think of the name of the clothes, but you know what I'm talking about.

Anyway, obviously these guys are outta whack in their thinking in the first place. But, I think they are more outta whack than you might think. Huh?

Let me explain. If they are in charge of their women's wardrobe, why are they all covered up the way they are? They should have a government institution, say the Ministry of Women's Clothing, that is in charge of determining the required attire for each individual woman in the nation. Of course, many of the women would be required to wear bikinis, lingerie, daisy dukes, and the like. Some women would continue to be covered. It all depends on the descretion of the clowns in charge.

Let's see if I can extend this to the Pate household. I think it would be cool if I could control what my wife wears around the house. I would be a completely different husband! Suddenly I would take a profound interest in what my wife is wearing. In fact, I might spend the majority of my free time dealing with this particular issue. It would be THAT entertaining!!!

Of course I don't have to tell you that I have absolutely NO control over what my wife wears. In fact, it seems quite the opposite lately. Now that I think of it, I can't remember the last time I bought myself a shirt. I bought a pair of pants a couple of years ago and they are mysteriously missing. Shoes? Nope. She's in charge. It seems the only decision making power I have is when it comes to socks. I can buy more white socks so I can wear white socks EVERY day, or I can mix in a few of the nice colored pairs that she furnishes.

Somehow this whole idea of the Ministry of Women's Clothing has gone strangely awry and I am living in some sort of psychological thriller movie set in a J. Crew or Gap at the world's largest mall! Ugh!

Forget it! I'm finishing this post naked. Later...
Paul

[Paulpate]

I came home from work last night to find my wife and son in the backyard. Nate was playing in a beautiful new sandbox full of perfectly textured, store-bought sand. The sandbox was one of those plastic jobbies in the shape of a frog.

I found this to be interesting because my wife and I used to have rather extensive conversations about our neighbor last summer who had a sandbox for her two kids. The sandbox was a "really bad idea" because it got sand everywhere and "makes such a mess". Of course, what he hell do I know? I can only guess that, since our neighbor has moved, it is not a "really bad idea" anymore because it "makes such a mess", but it is OUR mess? Who knows.

Okay, fine. A sandbox. It will most certainly provide hours and hours of entertainment for Nathan. This is where things get wierd. What follows, really happened. Not more than five minutes after I was home from work Kim had to "go to the store..." I'm sure there were some words after "go to the store..." But, as soon as I hear "go to the store..." my lovely wife becomes background noise.

Well, an hour passed and Nate and I ate dinner and played in the sandbox some more. Kim arrived home with yet another sandbox! This one was red and was in the shape of a ladybug, I think. Nate loves ladybugs! After about a half hour of getting Nate to stand in the sandbox, now sit down, now put some toys in it, etc etc etc, Kim decides the red one needs to be returned. I can only shake my head in dismay and return to my drawing. The sandbox is a really good idea cuz it keeps Nate entertained while I draw!

Well, an hour later, it's getting late, like 9 PM, my lovely wife arrives home with a third sandbox! This one, I must say, is pretty cool. It is bigger and is kind of in the shape of some Aztec ruins. The cover has a big Aztec star on it. Yes, I like this one. Now, of course we need to transfer the sand from the green sandbox to the cool new brown sandbox because everyone agrees this one is definitely the one Nate wants. I'm pretty much done drawing but the mosquitos are eating me alive! I tried to get out of it by running in the house when Kim started to sweep the sand from the porch. It "makes such a mess" and needs to be cleaned up before we transfer the sand, which I ended up helping with.

Yet another grueling evening at the Pate mansion!

Later...
Paul

[Paulpate]

I went to lovely Frankenmuth on Saturday to spend my 6th wedding anniversary at my friend's wedding, without my wife as she had to work. Of course, this meant Nathan had to spend the weekend with his grandparents, my wife's parents.

Sunday I thought I would help my father-in-law around the yard. He was putting a border of red rocks and plants around his garage in the backyard. The border was to be edged by those big 3x6 inch boards.

Well, this looked simple enough. Besides, I'm somewhat of a fitness buff and this shouldn't be too strenuous.

How is it my 60+ year old father-in-law can work me into the ground?! Maybe it was the combination of the heat and the pure beer I was sweating from the festivities of the night before. Somehow I doubt it cuz he has done this before. The old man is relentless! And let me tell you this job was no walk in the park. All the bending over and getting up, putting the board in the trench and pulling it out to redig is killer on the back. But he just kept going. Measuring the distance from the inside of the board to the garage wall. It is a quarter inch off and needs to be moved. The little bubble in the level is slightly off center. Take the board out and remove some dirt on this end. On and on!!!

By the end of the day you could have bottled an entire keg of Old Style from the sweat that poured out of me. Now it is Tuesday and I'm typing this from a wheelchair using voice recognition software because I'm a quadrapalegic (sp?). I'm sure my father-in-law is unphased and is having a typical day at the factory. Is this a generational thing? Am I that much of a whimp?

I can't wait for the next project...

[Paulpate]

A friend used to tell me, "Words are free." This guy, Darryl Price, is one of the funniest most creative guys I've ever met. He could just start talking about anything and ramble on and on and it would be funny.

He's a black guy that could do a perfect Forrest Gump imitation. That in itself is hilarious to me.

You know what else is funny? Alan Keyes. But, that is a different story.

Anyway, when I would say, "How do you think of this stuff?" Darryl would say, "Words are free. Use 'em up."

So, I've been hoping to see some violence in Turkey Creek University. It occurred to me, with respect to this comic, violence is free! Woohoo! We'll see what happens.

[Paulpate]

We building a house!!!

Ooooohhh. Exciting!

According to my wife I've withdrawn from the process. I don't care what goes in the house or what it looks like from the outside. I just DON'T CARE!

I try to clarify for her my feelings. It is not that I don't care. But, if the walls are Antique White or Classic White is a detail that just does not matter to me. The fact that it doesn't MATTER does NOT mean that I don't care. But, to my wife, doesn't matter translates into doesn't care. If there is a detail that DOES matter to me (there are few) and it happens to differ from what my wife wants, that translates into... I don't care. I don't care what she wants. So then, I try to avoid the second I don't care and offer only opinions that concur with my wife's. But, of course, she can see right through that. "Why don't you tell me what YOU want?" she says. Because it doesn't MATTER what I want. Of course, we know where this leads. It is one big viscious circle and I don't know how to get out. I've had friends that are married and act like they know. But, I know better than that. They don't have a clue just like I don't.