The Boy called home last week and asked, “Dad, what do you think I should give Mom for Christmas?”

Being the great dad that I am, I had the perfect answer: “Son, all she wants is to spend some time with you. That will be the perfect gift, and it won’t cost you anything.”

For richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, for better or worse were the marriage vows I took. No one said anything about becoming a minimalist. If they did, I would have remembered it. Don’t know what a minimalist is? Me neither — had to look it up.

At first I thought it was hoodlums. Every neighborhood has them, regardless of how affluent. Kids that follow no rules, have no manners, and seem like they have no parenting. No matter if I left one light on or all of them, the results in the morning were always the same. My expensive landscaping was quickly being destroyed.

As a kid of 6, I thought Thanksgiving to be an odd little holiday. No one got any presents. No one got a cake with candles. There were no trees, no multi-colored lights, no Easter egg hunts, bunny rabbits, fireworks, reindeers, or even Santa.

All right, all you politicians out there, listen up. My vote counts – unless of course it’s in Florida. If you want it, you’ll have to earn it.

Some things are predictable in this world. Each year you will have a birthday, unless you’re over 30. But, at the end of this month, a special event which only happens once every year will occur.

Halloween is a special time for girls and boys everywhere. It’s a time for dressing up in your favorite costume to troll the neighbor in search of the one house that will have the best candy selection of all.

Retirement — even the word sounds relaxing. Most folks have definite ideas of what they’ll do when they reach those golden years. Some will retire just so they can open their own businesses, working harder and longer hours than before they retired – nope, not me.

All right, all you women out there, I’m on to you now. You keep all the good stuff for yourselves.

While we Neanderthals are out chasing little white golf balls, sweating in the heat of the summer, you’re sitting in massaging chairs at the air-conditioned spa getting pedicures. Well, you can’t fool us anymore.

She entered the glade riding in an open, horse-drawn carriage. With a light flick of the reins, the white palomino eight hands high turned and came to a stop with a stomp of its massive hooves – just 30 feet from the lucky attendees.

It took seven years, but last week The Wife finally told me something I didn’t think I’d ever hear. No, she didn’t tell me to get out. It was something far worse.

Popeye once said, “I can stands so much, but I can’t stands no more!”

I felt the same way when I heard what coaches all over this county are doing to our kids. Believe it or not, they are forcing our kids ingest a chemical compound called dihydrogen monoxide.

After moving into our new neighborhood, it has become painfully apparent to me that some people out there don’t like following the rules. For those people, I have a quick and easy solution for you: Move. The Hall Monitor has arrived, and he’s taking names.

That’s right. There’s a thief amongst us. A low down, no account, dirty little thief. I know it’s hard to believe that someone would actually take something that doesn’t belong to him. But it’s true; it happened to me. Stupid thief — didn’t he know I’d write about it?

One man can only stand so much. I must speak out and have my say. The Wife says, “Don’t do it.” She thinks I’ve lost my mind. I’ve got news for her — done already lost it a long time ago. (For a job, I crawl into burning buildings.)

The Wife graduated from the University of Virginia, home of the Wahoos – a fish that can drink twice its body weight in water.

The Wife, she is counting down the days. Summer break is almost over, and teachers must all go back to school. Bummer, especially if you’re married to a teacher.

My friend at the fire department just had his first baby, and my buddy in the real estate business, did too.

Both had little girls. The babies and moms are doing fine. To say the new dads don’t have a clue would be an understatement.

The Boy wanted to go fishing the other day; unfortunately I couldn’t. I had to go to work.

He asked me if he could use my fishing stuff. Being the wonderful dad that I am, I said, “Sure. But you’re not gonna catch anything. It’s too hot. Fish won’t bite when it’s hot.”

For the last four days, while rocking on the back porch of the lodge, I’ve watched the light as it danced on the water. Late each afternoon, in a flash of orange and yellow, the sun dipped below the horizon. Beneath the clear summer sky, the water shimmered like diamonds as the moon rose.

Mom was right. I should have listened to her. She told us she didn’t want us to go. She had a feeling someone was going to get hurt — she was right. That night, I lost my best friend in the cave-in.

Mom was right. I should have listened to her. She told us she didn’t want us to go. She had a feeling someone was going to get hurt — she was right. That night, I lost my best friend in the cave-in.

In a brightly lit washroom at Underground Atlanta, there is one lonely attendant, an old man, somewhat hunched over with age.

Well, it finally happened. After seven years of what I thought was a blissful marriage, The Wife kicked me out.

Monday night, she threw me and The Boy out on the curb like yesterday’s trash. Not because of any of my faults. I have none. Like most husbands, I’m perfect. No, The Boy and I had to leave for the evening because SHE was coming: the Bunco Queen.

The first sign that summertime had arrived to Flamingo Street started with the last ringing of the school bell. We were finally released from the prison that the grownups called Mt. Olive Elementary school.

Yes ‘tis summer time once again. It’s time for beaches, sunning, barbecuing, and my favorite – cutting grass.

When I was 11, Dad bought a rotary push mower for us four boys to cut the grass with. “Why didn’t you buy a gas power mower?” I asked. He replied with a smile on his face, “When you’re older you’ll understand and appreciate it. Now you and your brothers go cut the yard. It’s not but a little more than an acre and besides it’ll be good exercise.”

After talking with my dad last weekend, it seems I had several misconceptions about him while I was growing up.

We had a large family: four boys, one girl, two dogs, and a green parakeet that ate hushpuppies off Dad’s head. The first misconception was the reason we had a garden every year. I thought it was for additional food to feed the family. Come to find out, this was not the reason Dad spent so much time in the backyard.

That’s right; I’m delving into the world of politics. Since the Bozos we now have in office are doing such a stellar job, I figured it was about time someone who knows how to run things got into office. That person would be Mom, and by the end of this article, you will agree with me.

Everything about Blinks Mooney was average. He was five-foot-10, an average height for a grown man. He had a round, pudgy face and a somewhat pudgy body, average for someone who loved eating sweets but didn’t like to exercise. He had thinning brown hair and laugh lines around his eyes, all average for his age.

A lone red and black ladybug slowly made its way across the top of the bedroom door frame. The full glass French door showed a magnificent view of the spring day. A cloudless blue sky and a forest of oak trees covered in florescent green baby leaves, being blown gently against a back drop of brown twigs. There, just beyond its reach, crawled another lady bug on the outside of the glass. Both were unaware that, just inches away, was the comfort of another one of its kind.