Time For Potted Meat

No, it's not easy.
Working full-time, being a husband, dad, and comedian equates to a lot of time management. If I had my druthers I would be able to sleep about 4 hours a night and be fully powered to work out every morning, get my son up and play a bit before work, work, come home and play with him more until bath time, put him down for sleepytime, go do comedy, and at least twice a week, have a civil conversation with my wife about how Reality Television is the #1 cause of divorce in this nation... so stop watching it.

But I have to make the most of what time I have. My wife started her own business this year so there are duties for her work, also, on top of being a Full Time Mom!, which is not easy. I've spent days with our son while she's out of town, and it's exhausting. On the days he won't nap, forget it, don't even call me, let alone wonder why I haven't responded to your text about what I did/did not see on the news last night. Thankfully, we have some help with the love of Grandmas (Mimi and Granny-H nearby) and some great friends to watch The Guy when we need a break/drink. But even that requires juggling schedules and attitudes. A friend offered to watch him one weekend, then said "Between 3 and 4."

No thanks, I said, but maybe next time. Honestly, I appreciate the offer and the thought, but the time constraint was too narrow for us to do anything that weekend and...And frankly, I shouldn't have to f*cking explain it. I responded with a "Gosh, I think we're elsewhere at that time, we won't even be home. Maybe next time, but really, thank you for offering." 3pm is not 7pm, and never will be, in the same place at the same time, check your Swatch.

Her feelings were hurt like I'd said "you're a rotten person and you can wrap your hour in a latex sleeve covered in broken glass. And SHOVE IT HOLE-WARDS." Some people can't stomach potted meat. Some folks love it. If you offer it, you can't expect EVERYONE to love it, try it, or be okay with its presence at the potluck. Don't expect an apology if your best effort doesn't meet the standards. You offered, didn't get accepted, move on. (I wish somebody would've laid that on me while I was dating)

What's up with all these analogies and metaphors?
Just tired of the bullshit, that's all. Getting red-assed over the shunning of your potted meat is as mature as being upset that you didn't get a compliment from a stranger on your new haircut. While your efforts should be appreciated, by yourself at the very least, needing constant approval is the sign of a well-developed, oversized lack of self worth. I hope it appreciates, but I can't invest right now.


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MC, HOST, CORPORATE, COMEDY, SEATTLE, GEOFF, LOTT

Grandma Victoria, Love you!

When I met my wife, and by Rule, her Family, I knew I was blessed. This is a fun group of people. Diverse in age and demeanor, yet so Family-centric that every dust-up comes with an apology soon after, and a few drinks and/or laughs. And then a "But you know I'm right," then a quick hang-up. The Anchor of the Family was a title bestowed upon Granny Vic, or Great-Grandma Victoria, officially.

With love, sadness, and prayers, Granny Vic passed away early this morning, at home, with her husband Grandpa Stan and daughter Pam near. She had been fiercely fighting the after-effects of some health issues that befell her a few weeks ago. Her determined spirit kept her going for two weeks, even after her body would no longer allow her to take food or water. I imagine she's got some questions for the loved ones now surrounding her in the Great White Forever.

My favorite memories of Granny Vic are when she told me that she, too, could tell funny stories, and when she was convinced I had broken her TV. First, she told my wife and I of the time she had a root in the garden she was trying to yank out, but it wouldn't budge. So she pulled, and pulled, and chopped at it, and pulled, and chopped some more, then pulled (and this is where she starts laughing too hard to finish) really hard... (more laughing)... and fell right back on her keister. Imagine a tiny white-haired woman waving her hands and trying to say "Keister."

The TV Incident happened like this. Vic & Stan bought a new TV but there was a mix-up of the wires in the back, and the picture was all screwy when they tried to get the DVD player to work. So I did the right thing after a couple of beers and got behind the TV. Just as I re-wired the DVD player and cable hook-up, the TV BLIPPED for a second... and oddly enough, the cable went out. It was rainy and windy, and FSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS nothin'.

Granny Vic, her back to the living room while she was in the kitchen, wanted to know if I'd fixed it. We said "Yes" but that the cable was out. So she told me to hook the cable up. I said it was hooked up, but the cable was out. She wanted to know why I didn't hook it back up if it's not working. I said I thought it was working, but the cable was probably out so even it it was hooked up (I have to scream this, she's a bit hard of hearing) IT WOULDN'T BE WORKING. She told me to go check it a-gain. So after 5 minutes of haranguing and a couple of calls to neighbors, confirming that the cable was indeed out, she apologized to me.
"Sorry, Geoff." I told her "No good, Victoria! This won't cut it!"
She laughed it off, and I said "I ain't kiddin', I know home electronics, Granny!" We settled it over some pie.

My love and thoughts go out to all the Family, Stan, Pam, Stacy, Carol, Mitzi, Don, Casey, Larry, Lettie, and anybody else I may have missed. You guys have made it fun to be an In-Law, and Granny Vic will always be a part of some great memories for me.

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