LA Woman

It is Triple-Play Thursday on the drive in to school.

Now, I love me some Doors, even though Jim Morrison died when I was, like, 6. (Hint, here comes Isabella, also 6):

Iz: Daddy… Who is Mr. Mojo Rising?

Me: That’s a great question, Honey. I’m not sure.

Then, Queen comes on:

Julianna (she’s 9): Daddy, what’s a “Fat Bottomed Girl”?

Me; Another great question. You see, some people have big butts… Hang on… “We are the champions, my friend.”

Iz: Daddy, you’re not a good singer.

J: Yeah, Daddy. Not a good singer.

I don’t care. I drop them off, then Tom Petty comes on. “’cause I’m Free. Free Falling.” No one judges.

But, fat-bottomed girls? They make the rockin’ world go ’round.


I have a number of yoga/Pilates/Hippie friends. Turns out, moving a quarter-inch will actually cause you to sweat and make you feel tons better..

Blah blah blah… Shoulder surgery rehab. (Welcome.)

So, my physical therapist says that I should lift my hand up.

I say: Bullshit.

She convinces we to try. My heart rate ramps up. Sweat drips from my hairline.

A quarter-inch: Ow (but in a good way.)

Hey, that feels beeter.


(But i’ll never put on yoga pants… Eww.)

Shoulder Surgery, 4 Weeks Post-Op

Because nobody asks (until they see me walking into the room in a sling), here’s my 4-week update after shoulder surgery (SLAP Tear, Bankart Lesion, and other terms that Google might find…)

Since my last update two weeks ago, here’s where I am (some of which are actually true):

– Can wash my hair with two hands.
– Can put toothpaste on my toothbrush.
– I tied my shoes!
– Joined Cirque du Soleil’s trapeze act.
– Was a finalist (finalist!) in the US Mens Beach Volleyball Team competition.
– Cut my own steak.
– Typed on the computer using two hands.
– Went hang gliding.
– Flipped my car’s sun visor down at dusk. (With a right hand assist.)
– Applied deodorant to my right pit using my left hand. (Everyone’s a winner. Hallelujah!)
– Did a walking hand-stand for 50 yards in record time. (Check Guinness.)
– Was criticized as a ref for calling a “3-point touchdown.”
– Loaded the dishwasher.
– Made up the bed.
– Became an Olympic synchronized diver (though, that was mostly for the free manscaped bikini wax.)
– Yelled at the girls to please stop fighting!
– Carried 2 gallons of water in my right hand and a bag of potato chips in my left from the car to the kitchen.
– Changed the channel from Judge Judy to The Price Is Right.
– Watched a lot of TV. Spoiler Alert: St. Elsewhere was the figment of some kid’s imagination.
– Did a Zip-Line across the Grand Canyon.
– Cut a deal and opened up Government.
– Put on a T-shirt. (No buttons!)
– Played water polo.
– Got a pan off of the middle shelf. (They actually ask you if you can do that in physical therapy.)
– Slept more than 45 minutes wearing this goddamn sling. (Sorry…)
– Went to Vegas and played slots (required only my right arm.)
– Zipped up my pants. (The world thanked me.)
– Scratched my right shoulder.


Abby Normal

Helping Julianna (she’s 9) with her subtraction homework…

Me: Ok, Honey, it’s 6 minus 7, so you need to borrow from the “tens.”

J: Borrow?

Me: Sorry, Sweetie. When I was a kid doing math, we called it “borrowing,” but you go to a hippie art school.

J: Daddy, we call it a Progressive Set.

Me: Of course you do. Hippie.

J: Because, when you borrow something, you’re supposed to give it back. And, you really don’t do that with math. Give back.

Me: No, I suppose you just take. Like most kids.

J: What?… Like, can I borrow your brain?

Me: My brain?

J: Well, you don’t really use it most of the time, anyway.

Me: Have you been listening to Mommy again?

J: I promise, I’ll give it back… If you want it.

(Bonus points for whoever “gets” the Subject line.)

Girls! Girls! Girls!

When I was growing up, the phrase “Girls! Girls! Girls!” usually referred to a Motley Crüe video or some other televised skank-fest that I always enjoyed (still do), but my mother chased me away with a broom (now, the wife does that. Not really.).

These days, I often find myself uttering that phrase, but the meaning is quite different:
Girls! Girls! Girls!
– Please stop hitting your sister,
– Please stop yelling.
– Don’t argue with me, put the Legos back in the box.
– If she keeps pointing at you, break her finger off.
– Why are you screaming?!!! I’m not screaming!!! Do you see me screaming?!!! Stop screaming!!!
– She’s copying you? Guess what, that means I have to hear this conversation twice.
– I can turn this car around and go home right now!
– Goddammit!
– Brush your teeth and put your pajamas on. Now!
– Do you not see the tears streaming down my face?
– No iPad for a week!
– You’re totally faking it. Give me a break.

Blame the Victim

As you know by now, I had shoulder surgery a few weeks ago. Last week, at a newly-christened 10-year-old’s birthday party, I began explaining my predicament to a few Moms. Then, Julianna (she’s 9) chimed in.

Me (to the the Moms): …No, no specific injury. Probably just too much throwing the girls in the pool over the summer.

Julianna (interrupting): Daddy, I told you to not throw me because you could get hurt.

Me: I know, Honey.

J: But, you threw me anyway.

Me: Yes, I did.

J: And, then I loved it. So I wanted you to throw me again. And, again.

Me: Yeah, I know.

J: So, really, it’s your fault that you hurt your shoulder.

Me: My fault? I was throwing YOU.

J: Yeah. Your fault.


Lynn (the most awesome Mommy of this Fun Time thing), is preparing Hors d’Oeuvres (yeah, I Googled the spelling) for the reception after a big Organ recital at Church. Cheese and crackers.

Mommy is double-checking everything. It all pans out.

Mommy: Ok, I need to get the cheeses to church.

Isabella (she’s 6): Hahahaha! You said Cheesus to Church! You meant “‘Jesus‘ to Church!”

Mommy: No, Honey. I said “Cheeses to Church,” because I’m taking some cheese… To, you know. Church.

Iz: Oh.

Mommy: Plus. I’m pretty sure that Jesus is already there.

Moving Out

Isabella (she’s 6): Daddy, will I ever move out of this house.

Me: Yes, Honey. Someday.

Iz (slightly panicked): When, Daddy?

Me: Don’t worry, Puppy. Not anytime soon. You’re good.

Iz: But, at some time I’ll have to leave, right.

Me: Sweetie… Please don’t worry about this. You’re 6. You have your whole life ahead of you.

Iz (flashing her devilish grin): Yeah… But… You don’t.

The Shutdown

You know by now, I like my political commentary served up Muddled with Logic and a Dollop of Irony.

So, over the weekend the House (unanimously) voted to pay furloughed government workers for their lost work during the shutdown. Those workers aren’t actually, you know, working.

Even Republicans voted for this. Unanimously.

Here’s an idea, and please bear with me: Instead of paying government workers to not work, why don’t we go ahead and OPEN UP THE GOVERNMENT and then pay them for that?

Two Weeks Out

Awesome! Only two weeks after shoulder surgery, I’m playing tennis, shooting hoops, and playing golf. I mean, here’s me pitching in the Baseball Playoffs last night!

D.  Otero.  Dan or Darren, whtaever.  Go A's!

D. Otero. Dan. or Darren, whatever. Typo. Go A’s!

3-up, 3-down. And I saw it all on TV.

Quantum physics rocks.

Because living with your arm in a sling, and typing with one hand is, what’s the word…. Awesome!

(Doing better, by the way.)