Homecoming

Well, Jack is back, and sporting a fresh fade.  I think it is supposed to make him look like a lion and cut down on the heat, but I am afraid it does neither.  He is simply a little disjointed looking -no flow over the whole body- and he still pants like me at a women's volleyball tournament.  

Of course I don't tell him this.  I, actually, didn't say anything about it.  I know how sensitive he can be about his looks.  I suppose it stems from his size.  You spend your whole life looking up to people, and it's hard not to think of them as looking down on you.  

All the more reason for me to resume the "man-up" training.  I think hi smother spoils him, so I try to help him get his self esteem up.  Help him learn to do "man things":  

1) shooting

2) drinking

3) auto-mechanics

4) cooking

5) crime fighting

6) drinking  

That is phase one actually.  Phase two is:

1) fighting

2) drinking

3) motorcycles

4) poetry

5) painting

6) hunting  

He is not ready for phase two.

Take last weekend for example.  

I finally got the time and money to put a bicycle together.  My boss/associate/professor/friend Scott gave me a frame and most of the components to a really good road bike in addition to the tools and technical expertise.  So, I went out and spent part of my school grant money (I get grants for being either really cool or really poor) on the missing pieces and a case of beer, and Jack and I went to the shop.

I am worried about Jack.  Not only did he not really dig the bicycle build up, but he complained the entire time about not having any fun.  How could he not have fun?  I offered to let him use the table saw or the lathe, but, no, he didn't want to.  I let him listen to XRT, but nothing good was on.  It was crazy.  In a shop where he could have done anything, he did nothing.  I built a bike.  Thinking back to the earlier list, I think Jack needs to work on his mechanical skills.

Oh, and when my friend broke into my apartment via the kitchen window, all Jack did was look up and then snuggle closer to me.  I'm pretty sure my reaction of simply walking toward the unknown perp. in nothing but a blanket with a confused look on my face was better than going back to sleep.  So much for crime fighting.  Maybe I should take him to some dark alleys around town (last time we just drank with some homeless guy, who was really nice) and try to look vulnerable.  That may work: a six three, two-hundred pound white guy walking a Tibetan Wolfhound through a dark alley saying things like, "Gosh Jack, I hope nobody mugs us and takes the huge roll of bills."

Anyway, I am glad Jack is back, and all of the feed back on the blog has been positive.  Don't hesitate to respond via post.  Adios.