In case anyone was wondering, no, I am not on vacation. Unless your idea of a great holiday is flying to Utah with a 7-month old on your lap, landing and driving 40 minutes to the hotel, at which time you meet up with your 4 yr old, who just rode 12+ hours in the car with grandpa and 3 Ridgebacks, and is as wired as somebody who just mainlined five pounds of sugar mixed with crack. And this is just the first few hours.

But it gets better. Then, you are lucky enough to share a hotel room with your parents, your two kids, and three hound dogs, one of which is about as quiet as a building-full of screaming toddlers. And for the next three days, you get to rise and shine at the blink of dawn, all to take said hound dogs, not to mention the other three dogs in your aunt’s room across the hall, to a dog event known as lure coursing. Sound fancy? Well, basically, it’s three dogs chasing a piece of white plastic bag all over a few acres of dirt. All the while, you’re trying to balance both kids naps, keep dry from the random rainstorms that blow through, and not absorb all of the dirt in the state of Utah into your pores. And of course, you happen to have the only naughty hounds that don’t come when the race is over, so you have to chase them all over creation just to get them off the field.

And that was just the first three days.

I’m thinking they’re not going to booking this as a 5-star get-away anytime soon.

All the while, hubby is lounging away at home, blissfully soaking up the silence (well, except for his night-growling Rottweiler), hitting golf balls, and drinking beer. And befouling my blog.

Does this seem fair to you?

More to come, inlcuding photos from this so-called “vacation”………

I’d like to make a small wager. Actually, I take that back. I’d like to bet all the chocoate in the northern hemisphere that my husband is starting to run around like a headless chicken (By the way, is that even true—I mean, can poultry run around sans skulls? And if so, how come people can’t jog a few blocks head-free?)

Why? Well, let me think—it’s now been over two weeks since I took the kids to Colorado to visit my family. Amid enjoying a two-week kid-free vacation (lucky man), hubby was supposed to get a few things done.

What has he achieved so far? Of course, I can’t be sure, but I’m betting highjacking my blog and a few rounds of golf about sums it up. You see, my hubby? He simply doesn’t know how NOT to procrastinate. So there’s virtualy no way he’s purchased the black-out shades for the kids’ rooms (let alone installed them), gone through the mail, put up the baby gates, or fixed the hot tub.

And the fact that he asked me for the specific time of my arrival on Wednesday, so he could “get the house in order”, leads me to believe our home currently resembles the aftermath of a particularly large frat party. Complete with beer bottles on the floor and socks in lieu of toilet paper. Yum.

Frankly, I am terrified of returning home.

But really—how would one find the time to tidy up and install blinds, when they have oh-so-important tasks like the how-to’s of crafting Ridgeback pool tables to occupy their brain. And you thought I was random.

Hmmm…I wonder how long it took him to write those blog posts, complete with the incredibly warped cut and paste photos? I’m thinking about the same amount of time it would have taken to, say, buy a black-out shade. Or maybe install baby gates.

Hubby, you are soooo busted when I get home. Run, chicken, run.

I’ve basically missed the last week. I think it is day 10. In any event it has been a long time. A lot has happened in the last week:

• ? Promised wife to stop hijacking her blog.
• ? Played golf.
• ? Fasted. (Ate nothing but beer and pretzels for almost four hours one afternoon.)
• ? Quit Fasting – ate a nice cut of prime rib.
• ? Driving Range.
• ? Watched Lakers Win West.
• ? Putting Green.
• ? Watched Celtics Win East.
• ? Played More Golf.

I also connected with an old friend who made me realize how lucky I am to have such a wonderful wife and healthy children. Our conversation reminded me what a great relationship my wife and I have. Strangely, it also made me think of . . . . golf? Then my mind wandered and I forgot why I called and realized I wasn’t listening to my old friend anymore and made me feign static (“CZSHHHHH – do you hear that?”) and I got off the call.

So anyway, one of my guilty pleasures while my wife is away is to watch really bad horror movies. I fired up our Pay-Per-View box and found “One Missed Call” with Edward Burns. The SPOOKY subtitle asks the question, “WHAT WILL IT SOUND LIKE WHEN YOU DIE?”

I contemplated this for a minute but again found myself thinking about golf. I wondered if Edward Burns plays golf?

Anyway, it seems that all the best horror movies always have unknown people (at least to me). I had heard of “Edward Burns” before, so I paused a bit – then realized I couldn’t name a single movie he was in. (I bet I can hit a golf ball a lot farther than Edward Burns.)

I felt better. I rented it. Here is my official movie review:

Another remake of a smash hit Japanese horror movie. I can only imagine that these do not translate well… This movie was not good. Or maybe the Japanese Edward Burns is better…

The premise of the movie is that a person dies in a horribly tragic manner – leaving a cell phone message AFTER their death. Then the recipient of the message does the same (that is, dies and leaves post mortem message for another friend and friend subsequently dies and so on).

The first two people died relatively quickly: one fell in front of a train - the other was speared by a long metal pole (not a golf club, but about the same length).

Then the story begins to focus on the two main protaganists: (1) cop [Ed B] working on case tied to the cell phone deaths, and (2) next friend to receive call. They then have an exorcism for a cell phone (no I’m not kidding).

At this point I lost consciousness for several minutes.

When I returned, I was horribly confused. This movie? had nothing to do with golf.

Edward Burns must owe some big gambling debts.

I wonder if he wants a dog?