#AtoZChallenge: I is for I Shot the Sheriff, Item Lifting and other Illegal activity

This would have been a cooler shot with a better phone. #androidlife #backintheday

The Is have it on Go Ask Daddy today.

It’s time for the letter I in the #AtoZChallenge. I picked three questions with the letter I from the list. They’re also the oldest I questions, so it’s nostalgic. These were probably asked at least six years ago. There are some hilarious early questions in there.

For example: Are jesters slaves to the queen?

Good one. Can’t wait to tackle that one. I suspect it might have arisen as we talked about my employment options at one point. I so was born in the wrong era, y’ all. Ever get that feeling? At least I can still blog about it.

#AtoZChallenge: A is for Almost (and also At Last)

I wish this stormtrooper had stepped back so I could have this recipe to deal with today.

A was supposed to be for Arrival.

Arrival, because I’d finally made it somewhere. Arrival, because you know, things are different for me now. Arrival, because of the Couch to 5K I’m doing, the streak of consecutive days of meditation, and doing much better at work.

A is, instead, for almost.

Almost, as in, I haven’t run for a week. (I almost typed ‘haven’t been able to run, but my shoes are in the car. I had an opportunity yesterday, and other days this week.) Almost, as in I almost missed yesterday for meditation.

Go Ask Daddy about firehouse monitoring, NFL turkeys and mashed up chickpeas

Here’s to sea glass, sunsets and sales in beachside gift shops.

The comeback is complete.

I haven’t done a Go Ask Daddy post since … the last time the Rams were in the Super Bowl. Or the Patriots didn’t cheat. That was 1776. Anyway, it’s been a while, and the girls’ questions are different now, but I still have 250 unanswered waiting on a spreadsheet.

Here’s how it works.

I select five questions each week randomly. They come from a trove of inquiries my girls ask. I capture them on bits of paper or in my phone note-taking app or in sharpie on my skin. (Not really, that last one.) Most I forget if I don’t write them down immediately.

Go ask daddy about mile-high babies, low-key animal speed and measuring blue language in one of your songs

I used to be such a kidder.

Used to be! For this particular division of BS, I’d ask my sports-minded friends and sports-department cohorts, Hey, did you hear about the trade? The first couple of times, it works like a charm.

I make it sound convincing.

At newspapers, I make it all official, with a dateline and everything. Like, for instance:

Go ask daddy about sports stuff, pie construction and song evolution

photo credit: kennethkonica IMG_8255 via photopin (license)

I’ve spent a lifetime of halves on a sideline.

More than that, if you count the days as an athlete. Back then I warmed the bench. I had a uniform, though. I loved sport. I sucked at it. But I loved it. I romanticized it and I relished it. And I could do it just well enough to make the team. Not an atom more.

I tend to stand on the field a bit, which is illegal.

I’m short. I have to do it. I get out of the way when the ball comes my way. Unless I don’t. One day I was slow to retreat. The ref gave me a look. The opposing coach hopped and pointed fingers like I’d just stolen his fortune cookie.

Go Ask Daddy About Fish Identification, Amphibian Adolescence and the True Nature of Natural Speed

I did it.

I powered through my first book reading/book signing. It was kind of unexpected, but a wonderful experience. I wasn’t sure I’d go through with it, honestly. I won’t bore you with the grim details. Let’s just say I made a well-informed conscious decision.

I vowed I would just show my appreciation for all who showed up!

A funny thing happened. It wasn’t just the cup of wine I had before, or the fact that Christine from the blog I’m Sick and So Are You showed up (how badass am I that my friend who showed has a blog name like that?)