Gift Cards and Aging Cheese

October is a busy B-Day time in my life. Two of my brothers have their birthday this month. One was on the first and the other is today. One of my nieces also has her’s today. Tomorrow marks my son’s 12th birthday. Of course we celebrated Hair Care Joe’s big day last week. Thursday marks the 27th year in the life of the Gouda Girl. I shudder to think wonder what nearly three decade old Gouda smells like?

When I was growing up, birthdays were not such big deals. You got a card, a five dollar bill, and you got to pick out what you wanted Mom to cook for supper. Typically, none of my brothers and sisters came around for my Birthday. I don’t know if it was because they hated me, or the fact that I always picked out liver and onions for supper.

My son is making out quite well, on the gift front. He really digs getting gift cards. It’s like he’s giving the world the finger. “Yeah, thanks for the football Dad, but from now on, I’d prefer the variety and accessibility that only a gift card can provide.” Actually, while he might think that, he would never say it. He truly is one of the most grateful people (adults included) that I know. I’ll never forget what he said to me three Christmases ago after he had opened his presents, “Dad, I am one lucky kid.”

Oh little man can be a real pistol as well. He loves to publicly correct his grandmother’s grammar and pronunciation of certain words. He gives his mom a hard time whenever the mood strikes, and he enjoys mentally abusing me. A good example of this torture took place last spring. Although I am not a practicing Catholic, I decided to give up any type of meat for Lent. One of the days of the week that I see little man is Saturday mornings. During Lent, Ryan’s highlight of the week was heating up Friday night’s leftover Sausage and Pepperoni pizza for breakfast. He then would sit next to me, and describe (as he ravaged the lovely, grease laden delight) how goooood it tasted. He nearly choked a few times as he laughed maniacally. It was painful for me, but I would have done the same thing when I was his age.

The funny thing about today’s post is that it is completely different than what I intended to write about. I was going to write about an unfortunate birthday outing that took place when I was at Bowling Green, but when I thought of my son, every other thought went out the window. It made think that the most powerful force in the world is not nukes, or Mother Nature, or even the IRS. To me, the most powerful force in the world is a smile on my son’s face and the love that he and I have for each other.

And Now, Our Moment of Motto…

Ohio: “Dear God in Heaven, Help Get Strickland Elected”