Meanwhile, Back on the Farm....

Howdy, y'all!

The Gates of Hell

I'm speaking in farm-speech because I had to chaperone on one of Alayna's Daisies (Girl Scouts) field trips to Green Meadows Farm, down in Kissimmee.

. . .and by 'chaperone,' I of course mean 'avoid forced small talk with other parents and instead hide behind two cameras, taking copious amounts of pictures.'

Kris LOVES when I do this.

Check it out:

Our tour guide happened to be the director of the place, since the farm was dead today.  She later told us it was mostly likely due to the fact that there was 100% humidity and the heat index registered at 103.  Perfect weather for walking through animal feces.

Alayna tugging on some cow's tits (technical term.)

The Peanut Gallery

There were a couple male siblings accompanying their sisters on this Daisies field trip, and as you can tell here, they're obviously not as excited to ride ponies as their siblings.

PONY TIME

She asked me if we could get one of these for a pet. . .

. . . I'll have to run it by Kris.

All aboard. . .

This was a ten-minute train ride that went around the perimeter of the farm, which is located on the outskirts of Kissimmee.  It's been in the same family for generations, and they've done a pretty good job of turning the property into a glorified petting zoo.

This building creeped me out a little bit.  Basically a giant warehouse filled with antiques and odds and ends, with a bunch of cages in the center of the room housing guinea pigs, rabbits, and other small mammals.  They also had parrots and fish in there. All in all, something you'd expect to see in a serial killer's house.

This is Alayna's scout leader (den mother, whatever the hell they're called.)  And yes, that furry thing peed on her.

Swarming a bunny.

Randomly, this place has a water buffalo. . . nowhere near water.  I guess they lead it to a river or lake once a month so it can get its fix, but that still sounds like a pretty shitty deal to me.

Ever wonder what the product of a horse boning a zebra would turn out like?  No?  Well this is it right here.  It's called a Zorse.  And no, I'm not making that up.  Scientists are really, really clever people.

You wouldn't believe the amount of hand sanitizer this kid used today. . .

(That's one of Alayna's best friends, Holly, on the left)

At some point in time in your life, someone may ask you, "I wonder where the oldest donkey in the world lives."  You can now reply to them, "Kissimme, Florida."  You're welcome.

Smells like home.  And Africa.

Demonstrating how to hold poultry. . . a skill none of these kids will ever have to master in life.

I guess they stopped letting kids handle the chicks for awhile, seeing how so many over-zealous preschoolers were murdering so many of the little things by handling them like toys.  Evidently, they've decided to allow this once again.

Ducks bite.  I didn't volunteer to hold one of these for the kids to pet.  Screw that.

Still hot as shit out.  Just in case you were still wondering.

On to goats. . . my most hated of all livestock.

I made the mistake of asking the tour director if they raised any goats for human consumption.  She got a little freaked out by this question, and didn't really talk to me the rest of the day.  Whatever - goat's delicious.

Chow time

Visiting the ol' hen house.

They let the girls run around and try and pick up chickens, which, just as The Legend of Zelda has taught us over the years, isn't as easy as one might think. . .

Alayna overcame her prior fear of poultry (seriously) and actually chased down and subdued several chickens while we were in the hen hizzy.

Spoils of the hunt

Washing hands.  Again.

Just like the Fountain of Youth, there were wild peacocks all over the place - walking around without a care in the world, and definitely not afraid of touring groups.

We closed out the day going on a ten-minute hay ride around the property, which was fun for the kids, but bumpy and scratchy as all hell.  I don't get the public appeal of this at all.

Getting some water for the road

Peacock in a tree (I didn't know they could fly. . . but that makes a lot more sense than him climbing up the tree, I guess.)

Everything about clowns sucks.  Seriously.  Name one cool thing about clowns and I'll give you $100.

On our way out of the farm, I let Alayna buy some chips and some cheap-ass souvenirs from the front kiosk/store.  She did a pretty good job throughout the day, especially considering how god-awful hot it was.  

- Brian

3-Day Work Week, 3-Day Weekend

Hey cuties!

Hi fellas,

Hey, who enjoyed their Valentine's Day?!  That stupid, hyped-up Hallmark holiday that half you suckers out there probably stress yourselves out over?

You know wanna who didn't enjoy Valentine's Day?  Do ya?  I'll tell you who.

Me.  I can't stand Valentine's Day.

Here's why.

More or less.

Valentine's Day has always sucked for me, if only to remind me, on an annual basis, that I'm arguably the world's least romantic person in human existence.  Its surely contestable.  This didn't mind me so much back in my care-free single days - I wasn't trying to impress myself with thoughtful romantic gestures, now was I. . .

Why, that'd be just weird.

Now that I'm married - *dramatic sigh* - things have changed.  Sure, the Mrs. seems to share my sentiment that Valentine's Day is, after all, just some stupid holiday that Hallmark thought up in order to drive up mid-winter sales.  But deep down, I'm pretty sure she feels a tiny, tinge of rage whenever she has to endure yet another chocolate-less, rose-less, diamond-less, Lexus-less day.

Anyway, what makes it even worse - besides having to deal with my own romantic issues - is having to deal with all the teenage drama that comes with working at a MIDDLE SCHOOL on Valentine's Day.

Holy.  Shit.

Middle Schoolers LOVE the Punic Wars. . .

Now, you'd think that kids would be crapping their pants in excitement over learning about the Punic Wars.  Sitting on the edge of their seats, wide-eyed and fixated on each, nail-biting PowerPoint slide in my lecture.  Hannibal's crossing of the Alps, the slaughter at Trebbia and Cannae, the Roman surprise maneuver at Zama...

...but NOOOO.

Turns out kids these days are more interested in what one another's boyfriends, girlfriends, and - gasp! - secret crushes received for Valentine's Day.  Was Alejandra's stuffed animal bigger and, dare I say, cuter, than J'monique's?  Did Jamar get more chocolates than Carlos?  This, dear readers, was the talk of the day in Mr. Hough's class.

Screw Hannibal.  Screw the Punic Wars.

Give the masses stuffed animals and sugar.  Long live Valentine's Day.

pfft. . .

My outdoor office. . .

Anyway, that was the first day in a grueling three-day work week for yours truly.  I suppose I can't complain about that crap too much.  I did get to spend a lot of time this week writing, which has been awesome lately - I wish I had more time on hand to do so.

This weekend I also had a considerably fruitful run at the Salvation Army in Kissimmee.  I generally try and find random oddities, antiques, and obscure collectibles on such runs to the ghetto thrift store, and today proved to be a successful - and inexpensive venture.

For $3.26, I picked up a necktie and a paperback.  The book was J.R.R. Tolkien's The Silmarillion - kind of like the Old Testament to the Lord of the Rings.  It reads like Deuteronomy or Numbers, too... but for avid fans of Tolkien, its a must-have, and my old copy is probably growing dust - or worse - back where I left it... in the bowels of West Africa.  On some random tro-tro.

I doubt a Ghanaian got into that one...

While this book was well work the dollar I paid for, it was the tie that made my day.  For a mere $2, I picked up a brand-new tie depicting scenes from the Bayeaux Tapestry - the medieval piece of art (and arguably the most famous tapestry in history) that described William the Conqueror's Norman invasion and subsequent victory over the Saxons at the Battle of Hastings in 1066 AD.  If that's not gangster, than I don't know what is.

I'm totally wearing this to Dave's wedding next month, by the way - stay tuned for pictures and tales from that adventure.

In closing, I'd like to mention that Kris and I decided to take the kids out for dinner tonight.  We hit up an Applebees in Hunter's Creek, based solely on the fact that we didn't feel like anything specific and its always loud as holy hell in there - our kids probably wouldn't stand out so much.

We're generally optimistic people, but the Houghs don't necessarily have the grandest track record when it comes to eating out with the kids in tow.  We were expecting to drop the usual $30 or so for our meal, receive shoddy service at best, suffer through the eye-rolling and teeth-sucking of those sitting around us as our kids hop about screaming, and be forced to rush through the meal due to toddler freak-outs and temper tantrums.

Surprisingly enough, this outing featured nothing of the sort.  For starters, beer was two for one, and the server - for whatever reason - decided to charge my Shock Tops as two Bud Lights.  Hell, I'm not going to complain - that's about a $2 or $3 difference between the two.  Much appreciated server.

If that wasn't enough good news for us to walk away from dinner feeling satisfied - and it very well could've been - we were granted another stroke over extraordinary luck.  Throughout the meal, our kids were loud.  That's how 2 - 4 years olds roll - they're loud, they're obnoxious, and half the crap that comes out of their mouth makes you cringe and look about public areas nervously.

Sitting next to us throughout the meal was a large group of twenty-somethings - maybe seven or eight of them, sharing drinks and having a good time.  Whenever I have my kids out with me in a situation like this, and I find myself surrounded with people who don't have kids, it worries me.  I was convinced that these young adults would loathe sitting next to our kids, and complain about the subsequent noise and chaos erupting from our table.

But they were all DEAF!!

. . . all the time. . .

Yes, readers, every last one of them.  I cast a nervous glance in their direction at one point during our meal and saw them signing away with great animation.

...Either that, or they were throwing up some serious gang signs at one another.  I can't seem to fathom the likelikhood of two, rival suburban, all-white gangs sitting down for a meal together at an Applebees, though.  Call me crazy.

So that was a stroke of brilliance on the hostess' part I definitely wasn't expecting - sitting the couple with the loud-ass kids next to the table full of deaf people.  Nicely done, Applebees, nicely done.

But we're not done yet.  There's more.

Godzilla inhales her fudge sundae. . .

I wasn't hungry, and had decided to drink my dinner instead, but Kris' meal came and she enjoyed it without issue.  The girls didn't eat either - we had filled them up before we left so they wouldn't waste a plate of food that we paid for (that usually happens, regardless of whatever fried, kid-friendly food we put in front of them). But we did decide to treat them to dessert - what the hell - and ordered them some ice cream the minute we sat down at the table.

. . .and with her, as always, is Flynn Rider.

As it turns out, we did not get charged for this.  At all.  Our server straight-up decided not to charge us for the kiddie desserts.  I'm assuming this is because they're both pretty small, and we just ordered 'ice cream.'

Instead he came back with a fudge sundae for Abby and strawberry shortcake and ice cream for Alayna - free upgrades on what we had ordered.  This leads me to believe that he either a.) just gave us better desserts that someone else had changed their mind on, free of charge, or else b.) accidentally gave us someone else's desserts and did not want to get dinged on the tip.

Either way, the kids were happy for getting sugar, and we were happy about getting our $14 bill.  Less than half of what we were estimating to be seated next to a table full of deaf people during happy hour.

We tipped him $10.  Thanks, homeboy.

- Brian