RIP Pop

Augtober

We have officially put the Underdaddy Lair on the market. We have a contract on a new secret hideout with more room, which is going to become important in the coming years. I hope the new house is everything that it seems to be because I never want to move again. It is a ball of stressful bullshit. There has to be a better way. Maybe home ownership is a scam and renting is really the right way to go? Oh well, I’ve come this far so I guess we will stay on course.

I have accumulated a few blog-worthy experiences to file away in the history books so here goes…


Packing Up

While packing our things and cramming them into a small storage unit we have really realized how much junk gets accumulated over a ten-year period. We also realized that naming boxes is important. To everyone who might help us move, “Bedroom Books” is not what you might expect. A non-descript box labeled “Stuff” is not what you would expect either. Yet another, unlabeled box, has the potential to ruin two aspects of childhood if the fragile cardboard doesn’t hold together during the move.

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Hope the kids don’t find this one. 

We had gotten down to some of the last items hidden around the house and that included a box of vintage Playboys and our Elf on the Shelf. There was only one box and I was tired of moving stuff out. It was late in the day and hot. I made my decision, packed Elsie into the box and started towards the truck. The waterlogged cardboard gave way and the box dropped to the ground. I was alone but it made me laugh to think of four kids being witness to the truth of life’s secret lying in the driveway.

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Summer ended before it even got started this year. Luckily we took pause during the last week and visited with our Califamily at Discovery Park of America. If you find yourself in Tennessee around the western side, be sure to check it out. I see something new every time I visit. The indoor exhibits are themed and arranged in a somewhat chronological order. There is a progression of rooms that start with modern instruments of warfare and go backwards through history in each of the major conflicts. Somewhere around the Civil War exhibit I noticed a photo that summarized what I find truly awful about war.

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There is no way this guy was more than eighteen. Fighting a war against neighbors. It was a good reminder that those who declare war and those that fight in a war are two different age groups.

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Outside it was a beautiful day.

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Lady Bug is still pondering her own mortality. 

The park added an Escape Room and we thought that try to solve the mystery with five kids was a good idea. Everything was going smoothly until the smoke machine turned on to simulate a fire outside of the cabin that we were trying to “escape” from. The youngest children thought that we were going to burn to death because we couldn’t figure out which square object from a shelf was supposed to be used to get the last key. Nothing like some life-or-death panic to create quality time together.

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The figure on the left is someone who just jumped from a rope swing. Not a ghost. 

Following a week fully of painting and packing, we decided to hit the pause button and go spend some time on the water. We left early in the morning and rode to a special cove with a waterfall that forms a natural slide. The natural slide has a natural bump in the rock near the bottom that will give you a natural bruise on your ass. Big purple one. I will spare you the photo.


No Fun In Funeral

During our lake outing Supermom got the call that her Grandfather, Pop, was not doing well and was unresponsive. He held on for a few days but his body gave up and he passed away on August 9th. It was not unexpected but it was difficult all the same. We hastily made plans for our children to stay with grandparents and we made a road trip to Supermom’s hometown.

We stopped along the way to buy some nice clothes because most of our stuff is in a storage unit. I selected a few shirts and went into a fitting room. I heard a few other doors open and close in the fitting room. As I am standing in my boxers I look at the wall of my changing station and have a moment of deep consideration.

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Maybe it was a Bro. 

If I am in a men’s area why is there a bra? Am I in a men’s area? Am I in my underwear in a ladies fitting room?

I could have sworn that this particular fitting room was adjacent to the Men’s clothing section. I was 99% positive.

Anyway. Moving on.

We selected our garments and continued on the road. Supermom got a really pretty dress and adorned it with a pin that her Grandmother had given her as an heirloom a few weeks prior. It was really beautiful.

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At the funeral home we visited with family and mourned the loss of a good man. He had a peacefulness that is hard to describe. In the moments between catching up with family, we walked around the front room and admired some of the antique furniture.

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I wonder what he was like as a person?

I took a picture of this chair because it reminds me of something from Beauty and the Beast. I have a fear of sitting in that chair and having it grab me.

A fact that I glossed over in the previous paragraphs is that we left our wallaby at our house while we traveled to the funeral. She was enclosed in a cage-like structure but that only matter for a few hours because she escaped. So for about twenty four hours a T-Rex goat hopped around my living room and shat on about everything. She also pissed on the only remaining section of our sectional couch that has been flaking off the fake leather for the last six months. We are now couch-less. The wallaby lives elsewhere while we work to sell the house.

The next day I left for a conference for two days which made Supermom really happy. She thought it was pointless but consider this…

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I met a cool frog.

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I ate at Waffle House. Twice. Allstar, Scrambled, Bacon Crispy, Hashbrowns instead of Grits, Toast, and Waffle. Can’t go wrong with that.

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I played pool at a dive bar named Old Shakey’s because the sign advertised “Booty Tuesday – Rap Hits with DJ Meow Meow” and I needed to know what that meant. Sadly, I will never know because the guy with a SECURITY T-shirt told me that it wouldn’t be the REAL DJ Meow Meow but instead, a reasonable facsimile. If I can’t see the real DJ Meow Meow then I hardly think the three dollar cover is worth it.

Back at home and we finally listed our house this weekend. One showing so far. Here’s hoping.

If you have been too busy to notice summer morphing into fall, this post is for you. You’re welcome.

-Underdaddy to the rescue.