Bode's Cross Country

Bode has successfully completed four cross country races.  The first race was very short--it seemed like we started and then it was over.  However, each week, the races have gotten a little longer.  Bode is not a superstar--he's never been a big runner--but he tries really hard and doesn't give up (he's more of a swimmer :-)  Here are some videos.  This first one is at the start from a race two weeks ago.  Bode started fast.  He's the one on the far end of the line.

Next week have Bode coming to the line.  He ran the whole way and said he almost threw up :-)

Here's a nice shot of Bode and Miss Jeanice before the next race.

At this race, I think we over-advised Bode.  All of us were telling him to take it slow.  I've always thought better too slow of a start than too fast.  Below is a movie at the beginning of the race.  As I said, a bit of a slow start

As before, here's Bode nearing the finish line--maybe that slow start paid off!

Afterwards, Bode and his buddy, Levi, relaxed with a nice cold drink.

He had another race today.  Last week's distance was probably 800 meters (~1/2 a mile).  Today was probably longer--not a mile, but still long.  Per the usual, here's the start of the race.

and then the finish.

Afterwards, Bode and I posed for this nice picture.  We're so proud of our little runner!

Big upcoming football weekend for a lot of teams.  Should be fun and relaxing (hopefully Auburn can win :-)  Pleasant week to all!

The Soladas

A lot going on in Colorado Springs...sort of.  We've had some cold spells, which means the deer can be more prevalent in our neighborhood.  There was quite a herd in front of our house one morning before school started.

Ron and Nancy Solada were visiting this weekend.  They were on their way to California and decided to stop in.  They've known Bode since the day he was born and are quite fond of him.  They have three children, all in the mid-to-late 20's (Chris might be 30?), but none are married so they have no grandkids.  Bode filled that role for them this weekend.  We had wonderful weather, and Saturday morning, we headed out to the football field for Bode's game.  Note the beautiful blue sky.

Before the game, the team (called The Incredible Ninjas) ran through some drills.  Here's Bode going through the cones.

There were other drills, but the real action happened come game time.  When the whistle blew, the team took the field.

The other team--The Black Widows--struck first, and then got the two-point conversion.  We scored, but failed in the conversion, and were down 8-6.  We then had a pick-six (strange this league allows interceptions), to go up 14-8, and then we scored again, final score 20-6.  Bode had some great defensive plays, and a few good offensive ones.  Here's a two-shot action sequence.  We thought he was going to get the corner and go all the way, but the other little dude snagged his flag at the last second.

After the game, we went to Waffle House for a wonderful lunch.  Then, some football on TV while waiting for Bode's swim lesson.  I didn't take any pictures there (it's pretty much what you've seen before), and afterwards, we grabbed a pizza and headed home.  We had a lovely evening, sitting around the family room, talking and playing with Bode.  I would call the following "action" shots, but in reality, they are "inaction" pictures.

Like all weekends, this one ended, and Ron and Nancy headed off to California.  I don't think I did anything productive today.  Lots of sitting around, and when I got tired, I took a quick nap.  Very lazy, but sometimes, we need those types of days.  Tonight, we hope to watch the Steelers get a good win!  Pleasant week to all.

Cross Country

We were shocked when Bode brought a flier home from school about cross country.  The flier didn't shock us; rather, the fact Bode wanted to do it was a bit of a surprise.  "You know this is just running, right?" Ashley asked him.  He was fine with it, wanted to do it, and has been practicing twice a week after school.  Practicing isn't really a track practice.  Rather, they run one or two laps around a field and call it a day.  Bode has impressed us by doing two laps at most of the practices.  Apparently his swimming has helped his aerobic capacity.

The first meet was this past Tuesday.  The meet started at 4:00 pm, so Ashley and I tried to do our best to get there for the start.  I was walking up to the field when the starting gun sounded, so I missed the start.  However, I was able to get to the finish line and get these pictures of Bode.  He's the one in the red shirt and yellow shorts.  Bode looks a little gassed :-)

I had the foresight to bring some gatorade for our thirsty boy.

Mommy was very proud of her little runner.  I think he was ~15th.  I don't know how many runners there were, but it was more than 30.  He was also the second finisher from his school, and he was very happy when he realized that.  I tried to get him to smile, but I think fatigue was setting in.

Miss Jeanice is again watching Bode after school.  She had the job of shuttling Bode to the meet.  I think he has another race on Tuesday.  I don't understand how people with multiple children survive.  Bode is an only child and only six years old, and Ashley and I still have trouble keeping track of his schedule.  You'd think we'd be better at that :-)  Cold here today--in the 40's, and that was the high.  I think the forecast is for warmer weather this weekend.  Here's hoping!  Pleasant weekend to all.

Bode Playing Football

The little Dickens experiment is over.  I'm well aware pictures mean a lot more than just words (ask Ray Rice about that).  This post will feature a lot of photos, all of Bode.  Earlier this summer, Bode started asking about playing football.  If he asks about a specific activity more than once and on separate days without any provocation from us, we think he must really want to do it.  Hence, he's playing football.

Everything takes place on Saturday.  There is an hour practice and then an hour-long game.  Here are some shots doing drills.  Bode is number 20.

The games are five-on-five.  There aren't any forward passes.  There is no rule against them, but at this age, they don't have the skill necessary to complete a pass.  This doesn't mean they can't catch.  Rather, the timing necessary to throw a ball to a running teammate while both passer and receiver are being chased is too precise for their skill level (at least on Bode's team).

Here are some cool action shots courtesy of Ashley.  In this first sequence, Bode was given the ball and he's running.  Unfortunately, someone gets his flag.

In this next sequence, Bode makes it all the way to the end-zone and scores--note the referee with his hands signaling a touch-down!

 Below is our favorite picture.

The photographs aside, Bode's favorite part of the game is defense.  He's a little tiger going after the flags.  The only thing he needs to work on is committing too early.  He'll run as hard as he can at the person with the ball; if he misses, he doesn't have the speed (yet) to run them down.  He has another game tomorrow.  There's no Auburn game, so Bode will have to be our weekend football fix!  Pleasant day to all.

The Visit Of D. McGuirk

Chapter 5:  Trampolines, more Minecraft, a Fine Meal, a Night at Grammy's, and Good Bye.

We awoke Sunday, refreshed and rejuvenated, thankful for the Auburn victory which meant Ashley's demeanor for the remainder of the weekend would be positive and warm.  On the rare occasion following an Auburn loss, Ashley's transformation is drastic, becoming her own version of Mr. Hyde and remaining in such a state for the better part of 48 hours.  But no need to worry about that, for Auburn had won, and in decisive fashion for that matter.  The football gods had looked fondly upon the McGuirk household (mansion).  "We must celebrate our good fortune," I said to the family as we gathered around the breakfast table.  Dear Wife had prepared a variety of breakfast options, all of which were served in card-board boxes with words like "Life" and "Crackling Oat Bran" written upon them.  "Dear Wife," I had said earlier when I arrived at the sound of the breakfast bell, "there was no need to package your hard work so, but I do appreciate the aesthetic appeal they create.  Wonderful art-work.  You've been up for awhile, working on this hearty repast, yes?" Her answer was non-verbal, and was simply the extension of the middle digit of her left hand.  Indeed!  Niece Devin, while normally a fan of cereal, had asked for toast, but not just any toast.  Cinnamon toast.  "I shall make it," I said, "for I do not lack skills in the kitchen.  Now, where is the toasting device--Ashley, a little help please and point it for me. Here, this cupboard?  No, the next.  Ah, yes.  Now, where is the bread? Over there?  Higher?" "Oh for Heaven's sake, I'll just make it!" Ashley said and rudely shoved me back to my seat and completed the preparation of the toast.  "Papaa," said Bode while he was eating his breakfast, "may we go to the jumpy place?" "The jumpy place?" I asked, confounded for I knew not this establishment.  "He wants to go to trampoline world," Ashley said.  "Trampoline world it is, but wait."  I hesitated, and then, "Devin, does something like this interest you?  Do you fancy Trampoline World?" "Oh yes, Uncle! We have them in Albuquerque and I love going there.  May we go, please?" "Of course we can, of course," I said and took a drink of juice.  "Is this freshly squeezed, Dear Wife?" Again with the middle digit.

Following breakfast, I completed my toilet, Ashley did the same, and the children spent a hour or so playing that addictive Minecraft game.  One of these days, I will sit down and figure out what it is that makes this game so enjoyable.  The graphics are rudimentary compared to the others games I've seen advertised on television; I can even make out the various pixels, as if this were some Atari game from the early 1980s.  The fancy for Minecraft is not something evidenced only by Bode and Devin.  Additionally, nephews Teddy and Charlie find the game most enjoyable, as do many of Bode's classmates the school house.  I've have inquired about the objective.  "Papaa, it depends if you are in survival mode or creative mode," Bode said.  "Yes Uncle," continued Devin, neither one of them losing stride in their game as they spoke to me, "we are in creative mode, and we simply wish to build things." "And use TNT to blow things up," said Bode with a wicked laugh. "Blow things up?" I asked. "Why would want to do that?" "Because it's fun." Normally, I would question an answer this simply, but I feel the answer does have merit when spoken by a six year-old.

The hour quickly past and it was time to go to Trampoline World.  Everyone's sanitary needs were accomplished, we grabbed some refreshments to quench our thirst following the adventure, and headed off.  Ashley expeditiously navigated us to the proper building, we exited the car, and entered this wondrous place.  We were required to fill out various forms and sign paper work.  "Is there an on-call barrister?" I asked the attendant.  She shook her head.  "Perhaps I should call our legal counsel for advice?" I said to Ashley, who proceeded, much like yesterday during the Auburn game, to elbow me in the side, thus silencing me.  The result today was just as effective.  Ashley signed the forms despite my earlier objections, we were given socks, and told to wait until 11:45 in the am before commencing with the jumping activities.  At this point, the illustrator took time to draw not one but two pictures of the events of the day.  I've no idea why she chose to draw the first picture with Bode's eyes closed, but the charge has already been remitted upon so I've no recourse in getting the picture changed.

A second picture is shown below of our Dear Niece.

"Dear niece, how can you be so melancholy in a place as wonderful as this?' I asked.  "Uncle, we have to wait until 11:45.  How long is that?" Her eyes were to the point of moistening with tears.  "Dear child, we've less than four minutes!" Her expression perked up immediately.  "Come," I said.  "Let's figure out what we want to do first.  Dodge-ball?  Basketball?  Or should we simply jump from trampoline to trampoline?"  No hesitation from her.  "I just want to jump."  "Then jump we shall, all of us, together!" The minutes past quickly, and we entered the fray.  We bounced from trampoline to trampoline, we tried to jump as high as we could, we did flips and Supermans into the foam pit.  Bode spent the majority of his time engaged in a dodgeball match, while Devin and I tried many times, some successful, some not, at making a basket with the basketball.  Ashley, too, participated, unlike a great many mothers who remained on the sidelines, which, in hindsight, was likely a wise decision.  The excessive girth of some them of them might have put too significant a strain on the stretched material and the springs.

We jumped for an hour, taking a respite when needed, but for the most part, we jumped.  Ashley and I both commented how tired we were, for although it might look easy, the constant jumping puts a strain both on the leg muscles and the respiratory system.  The children were not as thankful as we were at the end of the hour, but we quickly raised their spirits.  "What say we go to Souper Salad?" I asked to the children, who were somewhat dejectedly removing the socks.  "Yes yes yes!" was Bode's reply.  Devin told us she had been to one of these eateries before, unlike the Waffle House.  We arrived quickly, for Souper Salad is simply across the street from Trampoline World, and proceeded with the buffet.  Ashley and I filled our plates with salad and other vegetables (really, we did).  We encouraged the children to do the same, but our efforts fell on slightly deaf ears, for they had seen the pizza and macaroni and cheese.  We did convince them to eat some fruit.  Following the meal, Bode and Devin each had ice cream, which is the primary draw of Souper Salad.

I wish I could regale you with a tale of adventure that followed Souper Salad.  Alas, there isn't one.  The children were a bit tired, due in some part to the time spent at Trampoline World, but also likely due having stayed up late watching The Incredibles and then talking into the wee hours of the night.  They wanted to play more Minecraft, but being a good parent, I refused and said, "Why not play in your room?"  To my astonishment, they did just that, and quietly, which is the best way to play, according to a parent.

The afternoon passed quickly, and we communicated with Brother Pat regarding dinner.  Nephew Sean's soccer game was finishing--a win--and they would leave Denver within the hour.  I made preparations for our departure, which included the rounding up of Devin's attire, which arrived in our home neatly packed in a carrying case, but was now in a state of disarray scattered about the house.  I believe I did a thorough job finding her clothes and shoes and other assorted odds and ends which accompanied her visit.  I also prepared a night bag for Bode, as he would be staying the night at Gramama's.  I packed an assortment of clothes and one stuff sleeping companion but, unlike in previous years when I would pack books and games and a vast array of items with which to strike his fancy, I packed light, knowing the companionship of cousins Sean and Devin, in addition to presence of Gramama and Brother (Uncle) Pat, would suffice for his entertainment.  When the clock's bells chimed 6:30 in the pm, we were off for Monument, the location of the chosen dinner establishment.

The children past the time the back seat with their usual assortment of chuckles and sly laughs.  I was somewhat saddened to know there would be no patter of little feet around the house upon our return.  The children held no such feelings.  Quite the contrary, I believed they to be brimming with excitement, knowing the whole night lay ahead of them, during which they would likely sleep in the living room, with the large television and omnipresent Xbox which accompanies brother Pat on all his travels away from home with the children.  "Uncle, why so sad?" asked Devin, having spied my unhappy countenance in the rear-view mirror.  "Oh, it's nothing, Dear Niece.  Nothing at all," I said, forcing a smile as wide as I could, hoping the appearance of my teeth would hide my disconsolation.  All parties arrived at the restaurant almost at identical times.  Devin greeted her father with lovely hug and even acknowledged her brother, who she hadn't seen in two days.  Bode, of course, said hello to dearest Gramama, but then focused his attention and efforts on cousin Sean, four years his senior but near deity status in his eyes.  "Hi Sean," Bode said, going right up to him, where the two started to laugh and giggle and who knows what.

At this point, I must apologize, for again, there was a great failure by the illustrator.  This is not to say pictures were not generated.  Quite the contrary, a nice assortment of action pictures and posed shots were in my possession.  Note the operative tense of the verb.  WERE in my possession.  As I am apt to do from time to time, I will delete various illustrations from my portable photographic device to preserve ample space in the memory.  Usually, I am quite diligent at ensuring all pictures have hence been transferred from the photographic unit's memory to the more permanent memory devices juxtaposed to my computer on my writing desk.  This is where I erred greatly, for at some point following the visit of Brother Pat and Dear Niece, I proceeded to delete all pictures from the camera without first ensuring all had been successfully transferred.  In this case, they had not, and once again, dear reader, you are left with my inadequate words to paint an out-of-focus picture of the parties in this narrative.  I humbly ask your forgiveness.  Suffice it to say, the dinner was a fantastic success, the meal was superb, appetites were vanquished, and a great many tales about the weekend's events were discussed, anecdotes were relayed, especially one particular episode in which nephew Sean had to take an ice bath, and general merriment was had by all.  Like all things, the evening came to an end, and we had to depart.  "Son, come here.  Now, you know who's in charge whilst you are at Gramama's, yes?" He nodded.  "Tell me, who is in charge now," I said.  "Gramama, and Uncle Pat," he said.  I smiled.  "Yes my son.  Well done. Now give your father a hug.  That's my boy.  Now, don't forget Mother." Bode gave Mother a hug, and was quickly situated in Brother Pat's vehicle.  We bade dear niece a good night and hearty good evening to nephew Sean.  We arranged to meet again in the morning for the final hand-off.

Following the departure of the children, dear Wife and I went home.  We had the domicile to ourselves, with the exception of the dogs.  We are quite boring people, so no words will be wasted describing the watching of television and the various cleaning up of the home following, for it was in a state of disarray, as we had allowed the children considerable leniency with regard to upkeep.  Hence, the task to repair the house to its original, pristine condition fell upon dear Wife, allowing me to retire to my study and work on these chapters.

The next day, we returned to Gramama's.  The children were awake, but perhaps a little tired due to the exertions of the previous evening.  "I don't know how late they stayed up," Brother Pat informed us.  "Not to worry, dear fellow," I said, "for we have very little on our schedule today.  If necessary, Bode will be able to recharge with an afternoon of rest and relaxation, eh Son?" Bode nodded, but I could tell he was sad.  "Why do they have to leave?" he asked.  "I like it so when they are here." "Ah, so do I, my Son.  But Brother Pat must return to his home, your cousins have their studies, and Aunt Dana wants to see them." He frowned, so Brother Pat chimed in.  "How about you all come visit us around Christmas?" "Can we Papaa?" Bode asked.  "Of course we can!" I exclaimed, and to my relief, this brought some semblance of joy and happiness to Bode, and Devin as well.

The goodbyes were executed with haste, but not without fondness.  Heartfelt exchanges took place, and we all felt a lump in our hearts as we drove off, but also thankful knowing it would be less than three months until we saw them again.  Ashley, too, was excited, and said, "Thank God this Dickens crap is over!" "Come now, Dear Wife.  Is is really such a thing, such a drain on your faculties to participate, to act as though this were nineteenth century England?  Perhaps your imagination needs a kick-start, yes?  Me thinks it has been dulled by too much Auburn football.  Oh, no, stop with the frown.  I shall conclude my Dickensian adventure right now."  And we drove home, went inside, and Bode and I played Lego Star Wars, just like Oliver Twist did at the end of his story.

Epilogue

Ashley and I were at home Monday night.  I was in bed, reading.  "I kinda liked doing the Dickens thing," I said.  She just rolled her eyes.  "You sound quite pompous when you talk like that." "Yeah, I guess." I sat there a moment, and then started to get excited.  Ashley saw my eyes go wide and asked, "What's the matter?" "I just thought of how I'll do the next blog." "How?" she asked worriedly...

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Bode and Jeff walked outside, the sun shining for the first time in many days.  Ashley, too, was outside in the sun, her pale alabaster skin gleaming as if it were covered in diamonds, sparkling and glistening in the light.  She had just come from our neighbors, the Cullens, and...
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"No way in h*** are you writing some stupid vampire blog!" Ashley screamed.  Thus quickly ended the McGuirk Twilight Chronicles :-)

The Visit Of D. McGuirk

Chapter 4:  A Wareagle, a lot of Minecraft, and Pizza and The Incredibles

Upon our arrival at home, we proceeded with great haste into the domicile.  Bode released the dogs from their pen, although I must point out "pen" might have one think the dogs were caged in some tiny area when, in reality, the dogs have full access to the backyard, an extensive estate with wonderful views, lots of shade and grass and trees and dirt for digging, and plenty of water.  Thus, they have ample room to recreate in our absence.

While Bode released the dogs, I turned on the basement television and the Xbox.  "Papaa, I know how to do all this," Bode said.  "Yes, yes, I know you do, I know.  I just want to make sure."  "Papaa, you're doing it wrong," Bode exclaimed, pointing at the television.  I looked up from my controller, and then at Bode, somewhat confused.  "Isn't the icon to the right?" I asked.  "No, Papaa, it's all the way to the left.  Yes, go that way.  Further.  Further still.  There.  Now, press the button.  No, Papaa, the other button--the A-button.  Yes, that's it.  Now, I think you've got.  We're ready to play."  Satisfied that I had successfully set up the game, I gave one controller to Bode, the other to Devin, and left the room, confident in Microsoft's ability to babysit the children for the next three hours.  However, before heading upstairs, allow me to present an illustration of the two children feverishly engaged in a spirited contest of Minecraft.  I won't take the time to explain the game in detail or the objective (quite honestly, I don't know it), but suffice it to say, the children love this game and were quite content to be playing it.

I headed upstairs and found Ashley, pacing nervously back and forth behind the sofa.  "Dear wife, what troubles you?  You look ashen and pale.  Is your stomach in a state of discomfiture?" "Look!', she exclaimed.  "I've put up with all this Dickens crap the whole weekend.  During the game, none of it, understand?" I was nonplussed by her comments. I wanted to say that I, her husband of almost fifteen years, was quite confused as to what she meant, and who is this Dickens fellow.  I started to ask this question when I saw the look on her countenance, and decided that perhaps I could be more laconic during this afternoon's contest.  "Yes, dear," I said, and took my position on the coach next to her and anxiously awaited the start of the game.  "C'mon Auburn!" Ashley yelled at the television.  "Yes, Auburn, let's put forth our heartiest of efforts.  Offense, you must score an ostentatious amount of points.  Defense, you must be pertinacious in all your efforts.  Do not..."  For some reason, Ashley elbowed me in the side, cutting me off from further oration for the remainder of the game.

It was a most outstanding afternoon.  Auburn struck first with a touchdown, its offense taking right up from where last season ended.  Ashley let out a cheer of delight and jumped up and down, prompting the children to come running up stairs.  "Papaa," Bode said.  "What's the matter with mother?"  "Aunt, are you are alright?" Devin asked.  "Uh, kids, we're not doing that right now," I told them in a hushed voice.  "Auburn scored and they're winning."  "Great!" they said in unison and headed back downstairs.  It was unclear to me if the the "Great" was for the team or for not having to talk in 1880's vernacular.  Let us return to the game.  Auburn's defense did not play at the expected level of excellence in the first half.  The score was tied 21-21 at the intermission, and Ashley was worried.  "Where is the defense?!?" she shouted, although I must point out it was necessary to abridge a couple vulgarities from that statement in order to maintain the high standards of morality to which we cling in these chapters.  The second half was a different story--perhaps we could call it a Tale of Two Halves?  Auburn's defensive coach made some vital adjustments while the offense continued at an unstoppable pace.  There were some minor slip ups, but the game ended with Auburn victorious, 45-21.  Cheers and shouts of joy issued forth, high-fives were exchanged, and the dogs were given a slice of dog-bacon as reward for the team's win, and yes, it does seem odd to reward the dogs for something in which they had no impact on the outcome, but sometimes, football makes dear Wife do some odd things and we shall leave it at that.

The game lasted longer than expected, and, per the rule in our home, Ashley is excused from domestic duties during an Auburn game.  Hence, we had no meal prepared for the hungry children, who had come upstairs and were looking longingly at the dinner table.  "Papaa, is it time for dinner?" Bode asked.  "Yes, dear boy, it is, but it will be a tad longer until we eat.  "Uncle, how much longer?" Devin asked.  "Perhaps fifteen or twenty minutes.  I will try to prepare you something."  "Don't bother," Ashley said from the couch, her computer on her lap, and the Pizza Hutt website in plain view.  "What do you want on your pizza?" she asked the children, who were euphoric when they heard the dinner plans.  "Cheese!" both said in unison.  Ashley clicked through the screens, and before the clock struck seven chimes, pizza was served.  The children wolfed down their slices, apparently in a state of great hunger after the exertions playing Minecraft.  "Uncle, we also played Lego Star Wars," Devin said between bites.  "Ah," I said.  "That explains the hunger."  The meal was partaken, the dishes, which were simply paper plates, were tossed in the refuse bins, and a pleasant state of happiness enveloped our home.  An Auburn victory has that effect.  "What shall we do tonight?" the kids asked.  I looked at Ashley, who, though happy, was emotionally spent from the cheering and yelling (and swearing).  I, too, was in state of lethargy, not really wanting to do anything other than sit on the couch.  We again turned to technology as the great entertainer and offered up another movie.  "Uncle, I really like The Incredibles," Devin said.  "Let me know see if we have it in the archives," I said.  Fortunately, our archives, also known as On-Demand, contained this cinematic feature.  "First, children, into your jammies.  Make haste!  Now, dear Wife, can you accomplish one simple domestic task today and make popcorn for our little ones?" Ashley simply sighed, pulled herself off the couch, made it all the way to the kitchen, went through the elaborate procedure of punching various buttons on the microwave, and popcorn was thus made at the precise moment the children returned down stairs in their pajamas.  We all found places on the coach or chair or floor, the dogs found places which presented the best opportunity for snagging a dropped popcorn kernel, and the rest of the night past in relative peace, tranquility, and joy.

The Visit of D. McGuirk

Chapter 3:  The House of Waffles

We proceeded to bathe and dress, not with most haste but we did have the added urgency knowing mother was in a state of hunger.  I dressed with some rapidity, fixed my hair, which doesn't take more than a momentary glance in the mirror, and attended to Bode, acting as his manservant, laying out his clothes and providing a towel when he finished with his shower.  Ashley, due to the presence of our dear niece, had to play the part of mother to a daughter, something foreign to her.  This is not to say she was without qualifications for the matter at hand.  Simply, during a normal visit to the gym, Ashley would be free to attend to her dress without the added responsibility of helping a younger one with their clothes.  This led to a minor delay when Devin, having finished her shower and dressing with punctilious exactitude, went to dry her hair.  I, with short hair and Bode with the same, were without a brush, a necessary instrument for a girl when using a blow dryer. We had to wait for the arrival of Ashley, who in turn, supplied a brush, Devin's hair was then dried and combed with the same attention to detail as shown with Devin's other habits, and we were on our way.

At this point, I must include a discussion about the Waffle House.  A great many a persons have inquired as to why we, the McGuirks, a family of considerable standing and social merit, would deign to dine at an establishment which has only been visited by many readers of these chapters at an hour late at night or early in the morning following, shall we a say, a night of bibulous activity?  Many contend the Waffle House to be a dirty, filthy meal house, one visited by only the dregs and turncoats of society.  They also comment the food is greasy and unhealthy, which further creates wonderment because Miss Ashley and I are known to be people of unequivocal physical prowess (yes, really).  Allow me to take some time to correct some of these misconceptions and refute some of the arguments against our favorite eatery.  First and foremost, I must say the Waffle Houses in which I have been a patron have never struck me as being unclean.  While I have not undertaken a microscopic examination of the various surfaces, nothing has stood out in my mind to make me think these establishments do not meet the requirements put forth by the good people at the Health and Human Services organization.  Secondly, most Waffle Houses are small, with the kitchen and food preparations being done in plain sight of the clientele.  This is not true of your so-called better restaurants where all food preparations are done behind closed doors.  This might allow one the illusion of cleanliness, of good order, of a well-kept establishment, when in fact, you've no idea as to the state of the kitchen.  It could be a landfill, for all you know.  I contend the Waffle House must adhere to a higher standard of sanitary order due to the fact everything, from the dining tables to the food preparation, is executed under the watchful eyes of the customer.

Now, as for the argument the food that the Waffle House is unhealthy.  Do you really think what you eat at the Cheesecake Factory is better for you then what is served at the Waffle House?  Or any restaurant, for that matter (with the exception of vegan-type establishments, but that should go without saying).  Food at popular restaurants tastes wonderful not because there is a particular culinary skill that goes into its preparation.  Rather, those working in the restaurants know salt plus butter plus oil equals tasty goodness.  This is also true of the Waffle House--I'm not naive enough to think the hash browns are cooked in low-fat sesame seed oil.  Rather it's probably some type of bacon lard; that's why they're sooo gooood.  Where I find the Waffle House to have a advantage over your other popular restaurants is proportion size.  A sandwich at the Waffle House is made using bread from a regular loaf you buy at the grocery store.  The serving plates are the same size as plates used in the 1980's.  You get a sandwich at Applebees, and you get something that can easily fill two regular sized people served in what amounts to be a trough.  When Ashley and I frequent other establishments, we typically order one entree, split it, and have food left over.  Proportion sizes have increased, which likely has added to the girth of many Americans.  This is not true at the Waffle House.  I can clean my plate without having added three sizes to my waist.  Now, I could write for many pages on the state of American corpulence, which is a relevant topic to the above.  However, I know most of you want to hear about the adventures of D. and B. McGuirk.  I'll get back to that shortly.  But I cannot help myself and share one of Ashley's and my theories on why so many Americans are overweight.  We call it our fishbowl theory.  It is an established scientific fact a pet goldfish will grow to the size of the bowl in which it inhabits.  A smaller bowl equates to a smaller fish while a larger bowl equates to a larger fish.  Look at the cars Americans drive.  Minivans, Expeditions, SUVs, all with plenty of shoulder room.  People expand to the size of their cars.  If you don't believe me, look at the drivers of the minivans you see.  More often than not, you will find an overweight person.  But I've digressed enough from the topic at hand.

We arrived at the Waffle House, the employees shouting their greeting the moment we came through the door.  Many commented on the "extra person" that accompanied us this day, for all previous outings had only included myself, the misses, and the young master.  "Papaa," said Bode, "I don't think we can sit in our usual spot at the high-bar, as there aren't enough seats."  "Quite true, my son," I responded, "but that table over there should suffice, yes?  It has room for four, and provides a good line of sight for you to the grill, for I know how much you like to watch the food cook."  We situated ourselves at a window booth, Devin and Bode on one side, Ashley and me on the other.  The waiter, Mr Juan, came over, pen at the ready.  "The usual for you all?" he asked. "Well," I began, "we might have to take a moment to decide.  This beautiful young lady is my niece, and she's never been to a Waffle House."  "Never been to a Waffle House?" Juan responded, his voice rising.  Other staff members heard, and voiced their greeting to the Waffle House newbie.  "Welcome! Welcome!" came the exuberant cries of the staff.  There were hearty cheers from other patrons, all which served to further brighten our mood.  A shy smile crept across Devin's face, and I could see she was pleased.  "Can I get your drinks first?" asked Juan.  Ashley and I, as you know, are lovers of sweet tea, for we think there isn't a better beverage on the planet (nor is there a worse beverage for one's teeth, but we've digressed enough on health-related issues in this chapter).  Bode ordered his lemonade.  "What would you like, Sweety?" Juan said, leaning over and looking at Devin.  "What do you have?" Devin asked.  "We have tea, coffee, lemonade, Coke, Sprite, cherry Coke, cherry Sprite..."  "Cherry Sprite?" Devin asked.  "I'll make you one if that's what you want," Juan said.  Devin nodded vigorously.  "Can I have a cherry lemonade?" Bode asked.  Juan said he could, Bode stated he wanted one of those, Juan was off, and returned in a flash with our drinks.  During his short time away, I asked Devin what she would like for lunch.  "What is Bode having?" "Well, he usually gets a grilled bacon and cheese sandwich, and sometimes he gets a side of hash browns, while other times, he gets a side of ham."  Devin thought for a moment, and then, "Can I have a grilled ham and cheese sandwich with a side of bacon?" "Of course you can my dear.  Ah, good, here's Mr Juan with our beverages.  Yes, thank you Mr Juan.  We are now ready to order."  Mr Juan whipped his pen back out, the order was placed, and he was again off in a flash.  The cooks were seen putting thick strips of bacon on the grill, bread was buttered and topped with cheese and ham, eggs (for me) were cracked, and before Ashley's stomach could growl again, the food arrived. And what a meal it was, its excellence increased by an "error" made by Mr Juan, who brought us an extra side of bacon, which was quickly eaten by the two younger members of our party.  Devin consumed her entire meal and washed it down with one and one half glasses of cherry Sprite.  Bode, being a young boy and still uncouth in many matters, belched his satisfaction.  "Bode!" mother chastised, although it's hard to scold when the two children are laughing so hard.  "We better go," Ashley said, pointing to the time.  It was past one, and the mighty Auburn Tigers kicked off in less than an hour.  "Devin," Ashley asked as we walked out of the Waffle House amidst a rousing farewell from the staff, "do you like football?" She shook her head.  "Do you want to watch the Auburn game?" Ashley asked.  Devin shook her head again. "Hmmm," came Ashley's Marge Simpson-like utterance of disapproval and dismay.  "Dear wife, dear wife, fear not.  I believe I have an idea."  I turned to the children.  "What say, when we get home, I turn on the Xbox and you play....Minecraft?"  "HURRAH!" both children exclaimed.  "Then let us be off, for preparations must be made before kickoff.  Come now everyone, make haste!"

The Visit of D. McGuirk

Chapter 2:  The Swimming Pool but with an Interlude of Miniature Golf

The children and the bags were expeditiously unloaded from the vehicle to house.  Prior to her arrival, Devin had commented to brother Pat about the commodious estate at which she would be staying, perplexed that only three people would live, "in such a mansion."  Ha ha ha, little niece, so comely and curious, bursting with childhood innocence.  If she only knew the tale behind the purchase of this "mansion," but, for the sake of brevity, or at least to avoid long-winded blowhardness, we will omit that story from these particular chapters.  Bode, being the good host, toured Devin throughout the home, pointing out the various bathrooms (four of them--perhaps it is a mansion), the televisions, the Wii, the Wii-U, and the Xbox, all vital appurtenances for any home which will be housing two people under the age of eight for the better part of three days.

Due to the lateness of the hour, Ashley and I encouraged the children to change to their sleeping attire.  We had hoped the hour, combined with the soporific effects of the carriage-ride from Grammy's, would have resulted in the children wanting nothing more than to attend to their toilet, perhaps a glass of water, and then off to bed.  Such sanguine, yet naive, hopes for the two adults, as the children quickly reenergized and started galloping around the house in a merry game of tag, gently needling each other with the playful badinage of youth, oblivious that it was past 9:30 in the pm, which, to a forty year-old, is akin to closing time at the pubs of days long gone.  Ashley and I resulted to a time-proven remedy for restless children.  "Children, children, gather around the master of the house," I said to two blurs of light whipping past me.  "Children!  Children!" I exclaimed again, putting more force and vigor into my voice, growing slightly irritated by their impudence.  "Settle down now, settle down, or you'll be forced to sleep in the kennel with dogs."  "Papaa," Bode moaned playfully.  "Really Uncle?  The kennel?" Devin asked in a meek voice, her eyes having gone as wide as an owls at the mention of the kennels.  "Ah, dear niece, no, we would never put you in the kennel.  Bode, perhaps, as the kennel is no place for one of the weaker sex," I said, keeping a straight face to lend verisimilitude to my statement.  "Papaa!" Bode exclaimed again but laughing.  "Alright, now that I have your attention.  How would you all like to watch a movie?" The two squealed with delight and quickly situated their pillows and blankets on the couch.  Due to the success of the first chapter of this story, I have been able to commission an artist to create pictures to augment the telling of the tale, as some of the activities partaken can be accurately described as ineffable.  Below is an excellent representation of the two children, perfectly ensconced on the sofa, watching Aladdin.

They watched for the better part of the hour, at which point, sugar levels, combined with the duration of the day and the enervating effects of lying prone on a sofa in a darkened room, resulted in both children commenting on their sleepiness.  "Uncle, may I go to bed?" Devin asked.  "Of course, dear niece, of course.  Come, let us turn off the television and adjourn to our quarters."  The children scampered up the stairs to Bode's room.  "Where would you like to sleep?" I asked Devin, pointing to the bunk beds.  "The bottom," she said without hesitation.  "I don't want to sleep on the top."  "Me neither," said Bode, upon which I was faced with a conundrum.  Devin, the guest of the house, should have her choice of where to sleep.  Yet it was Bode's room and his bed.  Fortunately, Bode's abstemious sleeping habits saved the day.  "Papaa, may I just sleep on the floor?" "Of course you can, of course," I said, thankful for the solution having presented itself without having had to do anything, which, I have found, is my favorite type of solution to any problem.  I laid out Bode's favorite blue blanket, his pillow, ensured Devin was likewise situated, clicked the nightlight to the on position, and prepared to retire to my chambers.  "Good night, Bode, and good night, Devin," I said to both, pulling their respective covers up to their chins.  "Good night, Papaa," and "Good night, Uncle," they responded.  I turned the light off, expecting to hear complaints or requests for a story or desires to play a video game.  However, there was no such spirit of contumacy from these exhausted children, and I imagine that shortly after the darkening of the lamp, the two fell asleep.  I retired to my quarters, where Ashley was busy attending her toilet and preparing for bed.  "Dear wife," I said, "it warms my heart and spirit to have Devin in the home.  She is such a blithe young lady, such a cheerful person.  I'm so glad brother Pat and dear sister-in-law Dana approved the visit.  We must be sure to convey our warmest of thanks and find a way to provide some type of remuneration for this wonderful weekend, don't you think?"  Ashley looked as if I were an idiot.  "Why have you been talking like this all night?" she asked.  I simply shook my head, and went to sleep.

Saturday, Ashley and I were awakened by two rambunctious dogs, who, up until this point, have only been referred to in an indirect manner.  Harley and Joey were up with the first light from the sun, pacing around our beds like nervous expectant fathers in a hospital waiting room.  I dressed quickly in a pair of brown jogging pants, a blue t-shirt, found my shoes, and proceeded to the hallway where the dogs' leashes were stored.  As I looped Joey's collar around his neck, I looked up.  To my surprise, Devin stood at the midpoint of the stairs, a bashful smile on her face.  Harley ran over to greet her, his tongue doing the bulk of the greeting as she licked her hands and the side of her face.  Devin, a love of dogs having been inculcated in her character due to having a pet of her own in Albuquerque, reciprocated the shown affection by scratching Harley's ears and face.  Joey, jealous of any type of affection shown to another dog, whined until Devin provided a similar scratching to his ears.  "Are you up already?" I asked, incredulous.  She nodded, and then, "Uncle, I'm hungry."  Yet another conundrum, as I had two leashed dogs whose sole focus was now on the door, awaiting for their morning constitutional and a hungry house guest.  Again, patience paid off, as Ashley emerged from the bedroom, nodding at me as if to say, "I shall attend to the child."  I nodded back, hastened the dogs out the door, and commenced with the exercise.

When I returned, both Bode and Devin were awake and on the couch, watching some cartoon, the name which escapes me.  Ashley, in her role as the chief domestic, was firmly established in front of the grill, attired in her cooking smock with a smudge of what I guessed to be pancake mix above her right eye.  Immediately the dogs became frenzied, their noses sniffing the wonderful aromas with great intensity.  Both parked themselves at Ashley's feet the moment I unleashed them.  "Jolly good day outside," I said as I hung my jacket in the parlor's closet.  "Hot sun, cloudless sky, jolly good day."  I turned my attention to the children.  "Following the breaking of our fasts," I began, expecting their attention to turn to me and away from the cartoon characters, for when the master of the house speaks, all should listen, "I believe we should travel to the Villasport Fitness Club and Spa and commence with some aquatic-type activities."  Silence from the two, and then, "Papaa, you are blocking the television."  "Yes, Uncle, please move out the way," chimed in Devin.  I resorted to more drastic measures.  I paused the picture, which immediately drew forth a cacophonous chorus of cries from the kids.  "Swimming," I quickly said, and their eyes lit up.  The cartoon was forgotten.  "When? When?" they asked.  "Following breakfast," I replied, upon which the chief domestic stated, "Pancakes are ready." The kids whirled past me, found their places at the table, their glasses of juice, the syrup, their forks and napkins, and commenced with the meal.  The promise of swimming made fast eaters of the lot and hastened their morning preparations because before I knew it, all were ready to depart.  "Papaa, what about the dogs?  We must give them a treat of bacon and take them to the kennel?" "Quite right, son, quite right," I answered to Bode.  I got two slices of dog-bacon from the pantry, gave one each to Bode and Devin, and we used the bait to lure the dogs to their place of residence when we are gone.  Once complete, the kids found their places in the car, and we were off.  "I can't wait to swim," Devin said.  "Uncle, is it a long ride?" "Certainly not, dear chid.  We shall arrive before you know it."  The ride went quickly, and before none were the wiser, we were entering the club.  "Now children," I said, "we aren't yet going to swim, as the pool does not open for another hour.  However, we will have you play in the club's children's area while mother and I partake in a yoga class."  "Ahhh," came the replies in unison, heart-broken at having to wait an entire hour before the water activities.  "You'll have a wonderful time at Villakids," I explained.  Even Bode could not disagree with this statement, as he spent the majority of his summer days at the Villakids camp.  We started to sign Bode into the club and I spoke to the young clerk in charge of the desk.  "Ah, young man, a bit of palaver if you please." He looked at me quizzically, but said nothing.  "My niece, this lovely young child, is visiting us for the weekend, and we would like her to attend the children's area with young master Bode, if it's not too much trouble for you."  "Is she on your membership?" the young man asked.  "No, young man, but, as a gentleman, I assure you, she's a child of no repute, impeccably behaved.  Now, surely you can let her in," I said more than asked.  "That's our policy," came his reply.  I stood, stunned at this insult.  "Young man, I'll try to overlook your impudence in this manner and not report you to the manager.  Now, kindly sign her in."  He looked at me, confused but unyielding.  I realized, perhaps, a request accompanied by a pecuniary benefit to the young man should do the trick.  I removed a full shilling from my pocket and repeated my question.  "Sorry, she can't come in."  I was outraged.  I demanded to see a manager, to see someone in charge, to see the owner of the establishment.  "Come on Jeff, let's go," Ashley said, nudging me to the door.  "I will not be insulted like this!" I shouted at the young man.  "I demand and will receive satisfaction!  Pistols at dawn young man!  Now, give me the name of your second!" but before he could reply, Ashley ushered me outside.  "The nerve of the young man, talking to me, a gentleman of highest caliber, in such a fashion." "What's wrong with you?" Ashley asked.  "And why are you talking like that?"  "Do you ever stay in character?" I responded.

We returned to the car.  Bode and Devin were confused.  "Uncle, can we not swim?" Devin asked diffidently, a small tear starting to form in her eye.  "Oh dear niece, no, no, certainly not.  We shall swim--I promise you, we shall swim."  I pulled out my pocket watch (cell phone) and looked at the time.  "Nine o'clock.  The pool opens at 10.  What can we do for an hour?"  I looked at Ashley, who looked at Devin, who looked at Bode.  "Papaa, can we go mini-golfing?" he asked, pointing over my shoulder.  As I mentioned earlier, Bode spent his summer at the Villasports summer camp.  One day, they went miniature golfing, the facility being a short walk from the club.  "Of course!" I ejaculated.  "Golfing it shall be.  We shall golf, and then we shall swim.  A fine morning indeed!"  The course was open, despite the earliness of the hour.  Bode and Devin played their game, one which the number of strokes was not the most important factor in the outcome of the game.  Rather, the simple accomplishment of getting the colored ball in the hole, no matter the number hits, elicited such delight.  Unfortunately, I failed to charge the illustrator with reproducing scenes from this particular adventure, and you are stuck with my less than adequate descriptions.  On one occasion, Devin had a hole-in-one. This particular achievement was greatly received by the two adults, but was not deemed worthy of any particular amount of praise by the younger of our party, such is the mind and habit of the youth.  Ashley and I competed in a healthy contest, but much like the children, the number of strokes taken by each party is immaterial; rather, the good fun and company we shared is all that matters. "Oh come now, dear husband.  You cannot omit the final tally of our game.  You promised to write a complete, unabridged account of all things, yet now, you feel the need to shorten the narration?  That seems a trifle self serving, yes?"  "Oh, now you choose to stay in character?  Fine.  Ashley won the game.  Now, may we continue with the tale?"  "Of course, dear husband, do continue."

Following the hearty game of miniature golf, we returned to the Club, the hour being past ten in the AM, the pool was open, the life guards at their stations, and the sun, as previously mentioned, shining brightly.  A fine day it was.  We found the dressing rooms, this club being one of the more progressive establishments having a coed family area with private changing areas.  Our suits were put on, I passed out the swim goggles to all parties minus Ashley, who doesn't wear them, and we swam.  Oh, how we swam.  Both children, being more than 48 inches tall, although Bode reached beyond that mark with a slight inclination of his arches when measured, were granted access to the water slides.  How joyful, how splendid, how wondrous, how...tiring.  Stairs, one time, are fine.  Stairs, quite a number of them, took the participants up to the slide, and being a good uncle and father, I accompanied the children on all their adventures.  This accompaniment occurred more than a dozen times and started to take a toll on my legs.  Weary with fatigue, I found Ashley on a chair, soaking in the sun whilst wearing a bikini.  "A bit immodest, don't you think?  Perhaps something a bit less showy, yes?" A glare and silence.  Someone was again not partaking in the Dickensian adventure.

The children did the water slide countless times, swam in both the indoor and outdoor facility, and finally wanted to sit in the hot-tub, which we all did.  Once again, I erred in the charges to the illustrator and am without pictures of our time at the club.  Fortunately, images are burned forever in my mind.  The children laughing and playing and splashing, Ashley yelling whenever splashed, for even though it was a splendid day, it wasn't quite hot enough for her to enjoy full submersion in the pools.  We did all sit in the hot tub, the children tired from their exertions, Ashley, neck-deep in the only body of water in which she entered above her knees, and I, the grateful patriarch of our little group, content and filled with a joy I cannot describe.  Seeing children happy is the most satisfying of endeavors.  I looked at Ashley, who looked at me, but instead of smiling, pointed at her stomach.  "Again with feeding?" I asked.  Bode chimed in.  "I'm hungry."  "Me too, Uncle."  "But where shall we go?" I asked.  Bode and Ashley responded, in unison.  "The Waffle House!"  "The Waffle House it is!" I exclaimed.  "What's the Waffle House?" Devin asked.  The three of us turned and looked at our blood relation, perplexed.  We sat immobile in stunned silence.  Finally, I recovered my faculties.   "Your parents have been remiss in your upbringing, dear niece.  For today will be your first time feasting in the greatest eatery known to man!"