Go Ask Daddy About Soda Bottles, Laws of Tanning, and the Ultimate Greenback

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Court, over at Baking in my Bathing Suit, had an idea.

GAD GRAPHIC“Have you ever done a ‘Readers Ask Coach Daddy”? She asked in comments on my most recent Go Ask Daddy post. “I bet you people have some good questions for you.” So I aim to find out.

Send me your Go Ask Daddy questions this week.

Put “Go Ask Daddy” in the subject line and email to bloggingeli@gmail.com. If I get five or more, I’ll pick five and answer them. If not? I’ll act like this never happened.

I’ve had similar bad luck when I asked for questions for my short-lived Ask a Boy feature. Maybe this is different.

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If I Could Spend a Day Alone … This is How it’d Go

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I spend a day wishing for time to write after the kids’ bedtime.

Yet, when I get that time, I miss them. And I fall asleep. I’m always sleepy if I don’t keep the Coke Zero flowing. I slow to a crawl. Mind, body, and spirit. I institute process and procedure to possibly accomplish anything and also the leeway to set it all aside.

If I could just get a day, though …

What could you do? If Jesus or Buddha stuffed in an extra day – just a one-off, not an extra day. We can’t mess with the interval between Thursday night football and Monday night, or Sunday meditation service and Wednesday.

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#AtoZChallenge: U is for Unconventional Loves

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I’d wanted to write, during this A to Z Challenge, about my girls’ stuffed animals.

UAll three have one that has meant something to them over the years. Haven’t we all? I had a stuffed dog I found in a park when I was a boy. I named him … boy. I loved him until he fell apart.

One of my girls loved a German Shepherd, so big she could use him as a pillow.

Another slept with a bear named Daddy. I last saw him tucked behind her headboard. Unceremoniously. A third girl kept a rasta monkey I won her at her bedside. I scrapped the idea, although to read the first four paragraphs here, you wouldn’t know it, right?

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#AtoZChallenge: K is for the 7 Women I’d Sing Karaoke With

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photo credit: Nukamari Just voice and guitar via photopin (license)

I get crushy.

KAlways have. At first, it was Judy Jetson, then Ms. Truesdale, the kindergarten teacher’s aide. All of a sudden, I’m drinking whiskey, eating sunflower seeds and writing blog posts about seven famous women I want to sing cheesy duets with.

Just like that.

Two years ago on the company trip, I sang La Bamba. Sally, the tall, winsome blonde from our Dallas office, swayed back and forth, stage left, and let me take center stage. I might as well have been the Mexican Mick Jagger. (Meek Yagger, as it were.)

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#AtoZChallenge: E is for Eight Things I’ve Left Behind

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If only it was only eight.

EIt’s eight – times something. Eighty? Eight thousand? Eighty-eight thousand? That depends on if you count car keys and wallet as two things, left behind regularly, or one for every time. I wouldn’t want to do that math.

If God had a cosmic lost-and-found bin, even The Great I Am would assess me a storage fee.

I’ll forego listing the plastic dinosaurs I buried beside my house just before dad put on a sidewalk, or the UNC Charlotte sweatshirt left on the bus in Louisville. Same, too, for the stormtrooper Tervis, the actual stormtrooper from my youth, a few tons of innocence …

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What an Invisible Civilization Would Learn About Us, in 6 Words

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I’m the king of the assinine question.

6 words graphic“What if Jeeps cost a nickel?” I asked my college friend, Bobby Keith – while we both were still in college. “I’d buy many Jeeps,” he answered. “What if packs of gum were $5,000?” I followed with. “Then I wouldn’t chew any gu – where the hell do you come up with this??” he asked.

Fair enough question.

The six words question for March isn’t asinine – but it is unusual. It comes from a wonderful source of thought-provoking questions from #Q4KIDZ. Grace and I have both contributed to the question pot, which spits one out daily for you and your kids.

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Go Ask Daddy About Pizza Placement, Tropical Trappings and Straight Shooting About Strawberries

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photo credit: M’sieur Sub ! Photo de famille via photopin (license)

We have this silly rule, the kids and me.

GAD GRAPHICIt’s instituted because, 100% of the time, winter, spring, summer or fall, at night and by day, from school, from training, from detention (no, they don’t actually get detention), the girls, each of them individually and together, enter my car and my day with two words:

“I’m hungry.”

If there’s something on the way home, we’ll stop. (As long as we haven’t slumped into overdraft yet.) Grace has begun a subliminal campaign (whispering QT, for QuikTrip and their slushies and donuts, when she gets in the car with me.)

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Who We’d Switch Places with (and What We’d do), in 6 Words

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Catching up on blog and work while Grace kicks ass in training. Huntersville, NC.

How great would it be … not to be me.

6 words graphicWho hasn’t thought this? In those moments we’re out of gas, out of time or out of toilet paper (or all three). At times when we follow our favorite adorable pro golfer just to see she has three names now, just like those old-school 80s Olympic sprinters.

I like being me, though.

So much so that I would hate to not be me, to miss out on late-night ginger snaps and Sunlounger and Cher Lloyd on Pandora. On coaching my girls, raising my kids or writing my blog. Did I mention ginger snaps?

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Go Ask Daddy About Device Diversions, Writing Weaknesses and Couponing Questions That Shall Never Be Asked

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photo credit: v_mats D16B2649-1 via photopin (license)

A kid will call a dad out.

GAD GRAPHICThe younger the kid, the rawer (is that a word?) the call-out. I’ve navigated three daughters through the unfiltered years, without many stings. There was that day on the Barbie doll aisle with one daughter, who, noting Mattel’s plastic diversity, asked, “why would I want a black Barbie, dad?”

I sailed through that one with honesty, not damage control.

“I think little girls like to play with dolls, no matter what,” I explained. “But sometimes, we want toys that look like us. These dolls look like different people.” And it was true. I remember complaining that there were no Mexican kids on Peanuts.

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Go Ask Daddy About Tunes, Cephalopods and the Dirty Origins of Mankind

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photo credit: Jürgo Stormtrooper paste-up via photopin (license)

What do you call someone who is post-Millennial?

GAD GRAPHICI know I could find it on Google, but that’s not important. See, that’s where my kids are. That next generation. They’ll be the ones poking fun at you, millennials, for your antiquated ways. At least, their kids will be the ones.

So when a kid of mine travels with me, beside me in the front seat because the youngest among them is now 12, the conversations between Generation X and Generation Next happen anyway.

Sometimes, with Marie, it’s welcomed silence. On mountain roads coming from or going to Warren Wilson with Elise, it’s one really long story, interrupted by snack breaks and naps (her, not me.) With Grace, it’s a combination of those.

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