Smaug & the Old Man

December 13, 2013.Reading time 3 minutes.

I’m so tired! I have only myself to blame. At 46, I really shouldn’t go to a midnight premier. I don’t like to do much of anything past about 10 o’clock. But it’s The Hobbit, my all-time favorite book. More importantly, a couple of my daughters begged me to take them. Now, I have to backtrack slightly on that statement because I realized this week that I’ve been replaced.

My oldest and I started a little tradition of going to these things a few years ago even though they wreak havoc on an old man’s body. My standing policy is that when one of the teenagers actually wants to be seen with the old man in public, I pretty much drop everything and go. I’ve been told these times won’t last forever…and now I know.

A few days ago, daughter #2 reminded me to buy tickets to The Desolation of Smaug so they wouldn’t sell out. Naturally, I went to the eldest to see if it was worth the extra cost to view it in 3D and she very courteously informed me that her boyfriend had already bought tickets for the two of them. Oh, how I wished I could have been hobbit-sized right then so I could slink out of the room unnoticed. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t expect her to stay a little girl forever and D-boy is a really good kid. But that moment felt like a giant pair of scissors severed some cord that she’s more prepared to cut than I am. It’s good though. It’s good. Really, it’s good.

Her sister and I got excited, bought tickets and had a great time. Turns out, the four of us were in the same theater and all sat together. The movie was excellent. I highly recommend it, even though it seemed surprisingly short to the guy who snored through a few scenes. They punched me awake a couple of times – but didn’t need to when Smaug came on screen. The animation detail, demonic voice, and movement of the dragon is amazing. It’s one of those movie-going moments when I scratch my head and wonder how in the world they made him. He’s almost as frightening as the line of boyfriends soon to come in and out of my home and take my four little girls away.

I’d better brush up on my fire-breathing…

Irony & Ice Cream

December 6, 2013.Reading time 3 minutes.

I’ve always said that if the world could just taste Blue Bell Ice Cream, there would be no more wars. World peace is obtainable by the gallon for about $5.99. It is so good that upon my first introduction to their chocolate chip cookie dough variety, I called my wife of about a year and said, “I think I just had an affair!” Until then, I didn’t know I could love something so cold. Funny thing is, I don’t really like chocolate. I’ve found over the years it doesn’t matter what’s in it. If they mix it, freeze it, and put their label on it – I’ll buy it. They are a good Southern company which likely explains why so many Yankees are trying to get down here.

My 30’s brought family busyness and extra pants sizes. I really don’t blame Blue Bell. If it is her fault, I readily forgive my velvety temptress. I went back to the gym, ran a few marathons, and lost the weight while staying true to ice cream. I still run so I can eat it.

All of that brings me to this week. Tuesday, I had to pick up coffee to fuel my early morning writing obsession. When I find myself in any store that has a freezer section, I am compelled to check the ice cream aisle. Lo and behold, Blue Bell was on sale! Most of my family prefers the aforementioned cookie dough, but I have one dissenter who likes cookies and cream (I think they might spell it with an ‘n’ instead of the word ‘and’ which is lazy, ugly, and I can’t bring myself to type it that way). My last purchase had been cookie dough, so I dug out the last gallon of cookies AND cream. When I got home, I stashed it and somehow forgot about it until today. I was shaving this morning when my dissenter came and reminded me about her appointment to get a painful appliance added to her braces. With her lip poked out, she said, “You should go and get me cookies AND cream ice cream today.”

My memory is not great, but my purchase came to mind immediately. With my lance in hand, I gallantly mounted my white steed, lifted the faceguard on my suit of armor and simply said, “Check the freezer.”

Thank you, Lord for Blue Bell Ice Cream. More importantly, thank you for the ironic way you love on my daughter and let me take a little credit. I promise I’ll tell her…sometime.