So Kemp, what are you doing tomorrow?

I won't bore you with the details or the specifics of the procedure I'm having done tomorrow other than this; it will make a vas deferens in my life...

A Toast....

Kemp's Note: The story you are about to see is true; the names have been changed to protect the innocent. For example: George Baker is now called "Sylvia Wiss. "

My older brother got married last Friday. I was the Best Man and The Peanut Butter and The Jelly were the Flower Girls. As the Best Man, I was required to give a toast to the happy couple... for your convenience, it's below.

More wedding shenanigans later...

If I could just say a few words... I'd be a better public speaker.

For those of you who don't know me, I'm Kemp, Prof’s little brother… in age, not in size.

Let me just start by saying that Lawyer looks absolutely stunning while Prof looks... well, stunned.

I consider it a great privilege that Prof asked me to be his best man as he has quite generously returned the favor that I asked of him 10 ½ years ago, during which he took the opportunity to make lots of cheap jokes at my expense... which means I now have the right to reciprocate… I should warn you now; pay back is gonna be a bitch.

When Prof asked me to be his Best Man, I immediately started going through all the stories about him that would best embar– I mean, describe him…

I could start by telling the story of how, on my 24th birthday, we went golfing and he got hit IN the head with a golf ball… or the story of his 30th birthday when he got hit ON by two 70-year old women at the Denny’s restaurant in Peoria… or how he almost got hit by a wayward bottle rocket one fourth of July… how he fell into a Christmas tree one year... or how my wife Honey Mustard likes to compare us to Frasier and Niles Crane... HoMu, you and Lawyer will have to decide which of you is Maris and which of you is Lilith...

But then I thought of a better story.

You see; many people thought that Prof was a confirmed bachelor, but something happened about five and a half years ago that changed him and made him more reflective on his life, and that was the birth of his nieces, The PB & The J…

Long story, somewhat short version... my wife HoMu was hospitalized with a difficult pregnancy 6 weeks prior to the birth of our twins. Surprising everyone, the girls… without me being there, hell without anyone being there, decided to come into this world a little earlier than planned.

Since I was a good 2-hour drive away in Aurora, and HoMu was in Chicago, I was unable to be there when the girls were hastily born … but I knew that Prof was only a few miles away so I called him, trembling - my voice cracking, and told him that the girls had been born, and someone needed to be there when HoMu woke up. Prof dropped everything, raced out of his DePaul office and took a very expensive cab ride to the University of Chicago Hospital.

Of course the nurses assumed he was the father and started telling him about the birth... and the incisions... and then, came the pictures... ending with one nurse asking Prof if he had ever seen a placenta that large... Prof’s response was a sardonic ‘not since breakfast.’

When HoMu woke up, Prof was there to comfort her, hold her hand, assure her that everything was fine, the girls were doing well, and that I was on my way…

After I got there, Prof's adventures continued as he traveled on foot in the dead of night, through the South Side of Chicago looking for a place to develop pictures of his nieces so HoMu, who wouldn’t be able to see the girls until the next day, could see them.

The first time I met Lawyer I told her this story… and she, and Prof, started to mist up… and it was then that I knew that these two were meant to be together

Lawyer, I know that Prof loves you very much because, you know, he spent a long time writing this speech FOR me.

And I know that you love him because you have accepted the eccentric, sometimes complicated (insert generic last name here) family.

But in all seriousness, I’d like to end with a quote for the two of you to remember from one of my favorite authors, Henry David Thoreau; “There is no remedy for love than to love more” so let’s raise our glasses to the happy couple, Prof and lawyer; may the joys you share today be the beginning of a lifetime of great happiness and fulfillment. Congratulations, I love you both.

Is it a bad sign...

...when you find yourself singing the songs from "High School Musical 2" and your kids are nowhere around???

Guilty-feeling Inquiring minds want to know...

Regression

I have a temper… always have. I could easily chalk it up to my Spanish heritage and the infamous Spanish-temper… but that’s a cop-out.

I have never struck anyone in anger… not my wife or kids, nor my friends and family. My temper is not like that, it manifests itself in a much more childish manner…

A blow-up.

My temper is the precise reason I took up Tai Chi and meditation in college… because my temper had gotten the better of me one too many times and I needed to, for lack of a better term, channel it.

And it worked… granted, I still get upset (who doesn’t)… but I don’t have the blow-ups that I used to.

Until yesterday.

I had an adjunct faculty meeting last night and when I got home I noticed right away that Honey Mustard was upset… no details here, just that she was upset and it involved a couple of my in-laws.

I ended up calling the in-laws myself and had an abrupt conversation that ended in me throwing the cord-less phone across the room and slamming the door.

No one witnessed this, The PB & The J who were playing downstairs and HoMu was putting the dog out… it was just me being incredibly stupid and childish. And now I feel ashamed, upset disappointed that I lost my cool and blew up and thought that ‘airing it out’ on the blog would help.

It’s not…

Have car, will travel

At first I was supposed to go out to L.A. on business…

Then that changed to Boston on business…

Then that got cancelled altogether and now I’m going to Norman, Oklahoma…

From LA to Boston to Norman… that’s a rather strange progression isn’t it?

One of my cousins got married recently and they are having a reception on Saturday. And seeing as how this is one of only two cousins on my Mom’s side, Honey Mustard, The Peanut Butter, The Jelly and I – along with my parents, my brother and his fiancée – are making the trek down.

Twelve hours in a car with two 5-year olds…

Oh. My. God.

Sure, we’ll have the dual DVD player… and The PB & The J will have their Gameboys (which, quite frankly, they don’t really like)… and they’ll have enough books that they would be able to take over for the Library of Congress… and coloring books. But even with all those diversions, it’s still going to be a bumpy ride so to speak.

Why? Well, save for a short portion through the Ozarks, the states of Illinois, Missouri and Oklahoma are pretty damn flat…

For those of you in New York or Virginia or California or Florida who have never driven through those states, it looks something like this:




Okay, maybe not that bad, but you get the idea.

So… I’ll be back Tuesday with tales to regale about a trip that, while shorter than last year’s jaunt to Washington DC, will surely be…

Be…

...

... well... how about we just say ‘interesting’ at this point at leave it at that?

Oh... and a prize to whomever can accurately guess what the total expenditure of gas on this trip will be while driving a Ford Explorer.

Ya remember that post a few weeks ago wherein I said I wasn’t going to do this blog anymore and how I had lost my spark to write and yada, yada, yada?

.....

I’d like you all to forget that post mmkay? Thanks…

Las Vegas: Departure (hopefully) & Arrival (hopefully)

When we woke up Wednesday morning, there was snow on the ground.

Snow… in Mid-April… wtf?

Later in the morning, the snow became this combination of quickly-changing and ever-changing snow/sleet/rain.

Usually it takes about an hour to get to Midway from our house, but because of the weather… and knowing that people can’t drive if they see a flake of snow fall from the sky, we decided to leave for the airport a little earlier.

We dropped The Peanut Butter and The Jelly off at HoMu’s parents house and hit the road.

Lo and behold, the traffic was fine and we arrived at the airport about three and a half hours before our flight was scheduled to depart.

Son of a…

We checked our bags and then checked the monitor to see the status of our flight:

“On Time.”

Excellent.

We then had two and a half hours to kill but that was not a problem as it gave us a chance to eat dinner at Harry Carry’s Seventh Inning Stretch and have a calming alcohol-based drink before boarding.

After that, we went to our gate and checked the status of our flight…

“Delayed.”

Son of a...

Did I mention it started snowing again… harder? And that the wind picked up… and that the temperature started to drop?

We were supposed to leave at 4:35, but at 4:45, they put a sign on the board that still said delayed… but listed no time.

Hmmmmm…

Being the inquisitive one that she is, HoMu went up and asked them approximately what time our flight would be leaving… the conversation went something like this:

“We don’t know, we can’t find the plan.”

“I’m sorry, what? Are you being funny?”

“No unfortunately I’m not…”

“Oh. Shit.”

That’s right, you heard me (sorry Sarah); they couldn’t find the plane.

Gotta love Southwest…

About 20 minutes later, they announced that they found the plane (it must have been in another pair of pants or something…) and that it was on its way to Midway.

A joyous applause was heard throughout the terminal… which was quickly beat-out by shouts of anger and frustration as the flight in the next gate was pushed back an additional hour.

So, we boarded the plane about 5:50 and they tell us we should be taking off within the next 10 minutes.

Needless to say, that was wrong.

We left the gate in ten minutes, but we sat on the tarmac for an additional 40 minutes before taking off…

We landed about 8:45 Vegas time and were told that our luggage would be on carousel 14.

We waited… and waited… and waited… and waited…

Finally, I saw a Southwest desk in the corner of the baggage area and went over to ask when our luggage would be unloaded and put on carousel 14, that conversation went something like this:

“When will the bags from Chicago be unloaded?”

“They already have been. They’re right here. We have our own luggage carousel.”

“We weren’t told that, the sign said carousel 14. I mean, didn’t you think it was odd that no one was claiming their luggage.”

“Actually I did. I thought about making an announcement, but didn’t.”

“You’re an idiot, do you know that?”

So HoMu and I got our bags and, since Southwest wasn’t doing a damn thing, we walked over to the luggage carousel where everyone on our flight was waiting and told them where to go and whom to yell at.

They obliged.

We quickly found the shuttle to The Flamingo, arrived, checked in and, seeing as how we hadn’t eaten since 2:00 Chicago time and it was now 11:30 Chicago time (9:30 LV), we grabbed a bite to eat before hitting the casino for a quick drink and some quick gambling before hitting the strip and getting to bed early so we could start early the next morning.

We ended up going to bed around 3:00.

Tomorrow; “Day One” or “How We Ended Up Getting Sand in Every Orifice of our Bodies”

Two nonstop flights to guilt please

Honey Mustard and I leave for Las Vegas tomorrow without the The Peanut Butter & The Jelly.

That’s right, just the two of us… and we’re positively giddy about the idea.

Now don’t get us wrong, we absolutely, unequivocally, unconditionally love our children, but… come on… anyone with kids knows exactly what I’m talking about.

However, there is one problem…

In The PB and The J’s 4 ¾ on this planet (and NOT counting the nights they were in the NICU since we were next door at the Ronald McDonald House) we’ve been apart from them, overnight, for a grand total of two times…

You read that right… two times.

Once, a year and two months after they were born when my Uncle Nishan (who I am named for and who was always like a grandfather to me) passed away.

The second time was two years ago when we decided to have some salvation for an evening and stayed the night at Hotel 71 in Chicago, had dinner at Miller’s Pub, drank too much with friends of ours at the Congress Hotel Bar (which is THE BEST dive bar in Chicago btw), and had Sunday Brunch at The Signature Room atop the John Hancock building…

And that’s it.

So here we are… on the cusp of multiple nights away from our little demoñios angels… and HoMu and I are more than a little nervous.

The girls?They’re excited… no, scratch that… they’re thrilled... after all, they get to spend two nights with HoMu’s parents, then two nights with my parents.

Four nights of spoiling… four nights of being given money from Abuelo (my Dad)… four nights of being the center of attention from their Gama (HoMu’s Mom, whom they usually have to share with six other grandchildren)…

It’s enough to make them push us out the door two days early.

...

… but it’s also enough to make HoMu and I a little worried.

But, we’ll muddle through somehow.

It was ten years ago today...

We met in college… Eastern Illinois University… and in my first semester there, which was Honey Mustard’s second, we had a class together, World History with Wolfgang Schlauch.

I noticed her daily, because she sat in front of a girl I dated for about 3 months… and that’s how we initially met. Because “Ginger” was almost always tardy (the reason was one of the reasons we broke up – but that’s a story for another day), while we talked often, we didn’t really “meet,”

We got along, but nothing more as we were both in “relationships” (for lack of a better word) with others at the time…

But there was always something in the back of mind about her, even after the semester was over.

A year later, we actually “met”, this time through mutual friends. Along the way discovered that we lived about 1 block from each other and had a lot of mutual interests. That first night, we talked for four hours while our friends partied…

The rest, as the saying goes, is history.

HAPPY 10^th ANNIVERSARY HoMU! I Love You; Always & Forever.

Here’s the wedding meme revisited should you want to know more… and really, who doesn’t?

1. Where/How did you meet? See above…

2. How long have you known each other? All told – about 13 years. We’ve been together as a couple for about 12 years…

3. How long after you met did you start dating? About 2 months after the second time we met, or the “official” time we met as opposed to the moment, as HoMu so eloquently puts it, ‘we met while you (meaning I) were dating that tramp’ … in HoMu’s defense, the other woman was a tramp, but that’s another story for another day

4. How long did you date before you were engaged? 6 months

5. How long was your engagement? An additional year and a half as we decided to wait for me to graduate college (HoMu graduated a year before I did) and for her to finish her post-graduate program she started upon her graduation.

6. How long have you been married? 10 years today! Next week, we’re going to Vegas baby… sans kids…

7. What is your anniversary? See above. But still plenty of time to purchase something online for the special day.

8. How many people came to your wedding reception? 390 people, give or take a few…

9. What kind of cake did you serve? Classic wedding cake with tiers…

10. Where was your wedding? In Kankakee at the church my wife grew up attending.

11. What did you serve for your meal? Steak or chicken, twice-baked potatoes, salad, green beans, bread, and wine…

12. How many people were in your bridal party? Seven, plus two ushers and a flower girl and a ring bearer… one big-ass wedding party.

13. Are you still friends with them all? Yes…

14. Did your spouse cry during the ceremony? Yes… as did I…

15. Most special moment of your wedding day? Being at the front of the church and seeing her in her wedding gown for the first time when the ushers opened the doors…

16. Any funny moments? At the rehearsal, one of the altar boys asked my female cousin, who was standing-up as one of my “groomsmen,” if they were the night’s entertainment… my cousin almost slugged the kid. Another one happened at the reception, when the priest asked me if the ‘girl with the huge tits’ had found her purse…

17. Any big disasters? A couple. First, I almost did not have a vest as the tuxedo place screwed up my tux about eight times, which almost resulted in my Dad reaching over the counter and strangling, Homer-Bart style, the manager who had said to “Make do” with my messed up tux and the ringbearer’s messed-up tux. They eventually fixed it and I got my vest about 3 minutes before we started. The second? We had a gift opening/leftover eating party the next day as we were leaving for our honeymoon Monday morning. So my brother drove us to the O’Hare Holiday Inn Sunday night, where I had ordered a “Honeymoon Special” of bath beads, champagne, chocolates and a free dinner at their stylish restaurant. Besides the fact it was snowing (in April) when my brother dropped us off, the hotel had no heat… and no hot water. Plus, they did not have the Gift Basket waiting in the room for us. So we spent our second night of married life freezing our asses off waiting for a gift basket that never came. On the plus side, upon our return, we sent a letter to Holiday Inn corp and they sent us back a free 2-night stay at the same location with all the perks.

18. Where did you go on your honeymoon? The Sandals resort at Ocho Rios in Jamaica.

19. How long were you gone? A week and a half.

20. If you were to do your wedding over, what would you change? I would have held firm that my female cousin wear a tux while standing up on my side rather than one of the bridesmaids dresses, it looked odd…

21. What side of the bed do you sleep on? Left

22. What size is your bed? Queen.

23. Greatest strength as a couple? She laughs at my jokes, no matter how bad they are. Also, a shared respect for one another and our sometimes differing opinions.

24. Greatest challenges as a couple? I give two because they tie-in so well with each other. We are both highly opinionated, while at the same time we are both bosses at our jobs, and we sometimes tend to forget to leave that particular trait where it belongs…

25. Who literally pays the bills? She does. While I can manage a multi-million dollar budget at work, I have trouble doing so at home; go figure.

26. What is your song? “Love Will Keep Us Alive” by The Eagles. Though we walked into our reception to “Miserlou” from the Pulp Fiction soundtrack… without the Pumpkin and Honey Bunny dialog btw…

27. What did you dance your first dance to? The aforementioned Eagles song…

28. Describe your wedding dress tux? Black, with white vest and black satin band with diamond stud – no cummerbund or ‘tux’ tie…

29. What kind of flowers did you have at your wedding? Uh.. there were flowers?? Kidding, they were lilies…

30. Are your wedding bands engraved? Hold on, let me check.. no…

Because we're gluttons for punishment, that's why.

We put an offer on a larger house Saturday... one that has 2.5 bathrooms, 4 bedrooms and sits on 1/4 of an acre...

Now comes the joy of trying to sell our current house so we can buy and move into the new one...

Why, oh why?

Why I love her...

Honey Mustard: I'm gonna put these books in the bookcase...

Me: Novel idea...

-- BEAT --

HoMu: hahahahahaha...

And now... The Blogfathers

I have been… asked… to join The Blogfathers… and you all know what one does to a request from The Blogfathers… you comply with a request from The Blogfathers…

Seriously though, I was one of seven to be offered the chance to be a Capo over there, and I have accepted, so I am excited about this new opportunity to expound on being a father of twins.

If you came to Kemp’s Blog via Blogfathers, please take a look around… you can click on my 100 Things About Me post, or check out my Top Ten posts over on the right, or just click around and explore…

I’ll be posting my Introductory post at The Blogfathers later this evening, so be sure to check that out as well…

Thanks… and enjoy…

Blog Confessionals

It’s time for a confession… one I’ve held back and kept secret for years… one that gnaws at my soul and wakes me up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat… a confession that could shake the very foundation of my life… so here goes…

I’m afraid of the Oompa Loompas.

Yes… you read that right, the Oompa Loompas. The little demons things from the original Willy Wonka movie…

They scare me… I admit it... it’s not something I’m proud of, but they scare me silly.

I don’t really know what it is about them that freaks me out… but they do.

Please don’t laugh at me.

Now you might me asking yourself how this came up?

Or you might be asking yourself why you’re reading this blog in the first place, but that’s neither here nor there… it all started this past Saturday night, Honey Mustard, The Peanut Butter, The Jelly and I were sitting with HoMu’s youngest sister, who is disabled, so her parents could see a show we had gotten them tickets for.

To get off track momentarily, we first watched the original Parent Trap, and while watching it, I remembered that the actress playing the gold-digger was the same actress that played Patrick Dennis’ snobby fiancé in Auntie Mame and played the gold-diggers mother in the 1998 remake. More proof that you can believe me when I tell you I am chocked-full of useless knowledge…

Afterwards, The PB & The J wanted to watch Willy Wonka.

HoMu said yes, I on the other hand, wanting nothing to do with it, protested… I said it’s late and the girls need to lie down and go to bed…

No dice…

I then said the movie would give them nightmares…

Again, no dice…

So they put the movie in… besides being a colossal piece of mind-numbing drivel, the movie is, quite frankly, excessively cloying… but we watched the movie…

And then, the unspeakable happened…

The Oompa-Loompas appeared…

Oh. My. God.

One look into their beady little eyes and all I see is one thing; EVIL.

Pure, unadulterated, evil.

What it is about them that freaks me out I’m not quite certain of, but I can tell you that I am reasonably sure they are out to get each and every one of us…

Think about it… when was the last time you saw an Oompa Loompa walking around New York City… or Washington DC… or Tampa…

Exactly… you don’t see them…because they’re camouflaged… they’re camouflaged and waiting for just the right moment to spring up and unleash their evil…

Am I the only one that sees this?

Reader Mailbag Volume I

Time to reach into the official “Kemp’s Blog Mailbag” and answer some e-mail/comment questions…

• Becky asked: “What does Kemp mean?”
  
  First of all let me clear up the misconception that it’s short for anything; it’s not (you would not believe how many people ask me that question – so I though I would take the preemptive measure of getting that out of the way). Kemp (originally a surname) is a family name of Celtic/Gaelic origin that stands for “Warrior and Champion”. So my first name is Celtic, my middle name is Armenian and my surname is Spanish… figure that one out…

• Becky also asked: “Besides sausages, what's your favorite dish to cook?”
  
  I love making my special bar-b-que ribs. I start with my “special” dry-rub, and then splash on my secret sauce. Also Spanish Tortilla, Toasted Raviolli and my Abuela’s Arroz con Pollo.

• Becky then asked: “Do you bake?”
  
  Technically, yes. If she had asked if I bake well, I would have to alter my answer a smidge…

• And finally Becky asked: “Was I only supposed to ask one question?
  
  Matters not one whit how many question you ask…

• Samantha Jo asks “If you were to be a Sesame Street character, who would you be and why?”
  
  Well, most people would say Oscar the Grouch because, at times, I can be a bit of a grouch – but nowhere near the grouch that my brother is… any-hoo… I would have to say Grover. Why? Because he can do anything… he’s smart, fearless (Super Grover!), eloquent and erudite, and he is a direct descendent of Yoda… at least in my mind he is seeing as how they both were/are brought to life by Frank Oz… what do you think? Did I put too much thought into that?

• Sarah asks “If the PB & the J were boys, what would their names have been?”
  
  The PB would have been Nishan Kemp (after my Uncle Nishan, who was more like a grandfather to me, and for whom I was given my middle name) and the J would have been Marshal Kemp (after one of my wife’s Uncles).

• Ronnie asked: “What other names did you consider for The PB & The J?”
  
  The PB almost was Isabella and J was almost Maria.

• Jeanine asked: “Are you still considering ending your blog?”
  
  As of now, no. I’ve reacquired my creative spark (on both this and TBWA) and will continue doing it until I either lose it again or the people in the black, windowless vans take me away… whichever comes first.

I enjoyed the questions. If you have any more , leave ‘em in comments or send me an email – kempsblog at gmail dot com

Thanks… and enjoy…

Allow me to pat myself on the back

Along with my good friend Scott.

Why?

Well, who would have thunk it... but Scott and I are "famous"... and I'm using that term loosely.

The internet/blog reporter for McClatchy-Tribune News Service, Wendy Zang, has picked our The BushWhacked Administration as their 'Blog of the Week'.

See links HERE and HERE.

Here's a snapshot from the National Federation of Independent Business' site...



She also mentions this blog right here; Kemp's Blog.

So... allow me to bask in the glow of being mentioned by an honest to God news outlet.

I (somewhat) take back everything I've ever said about the Fourth Estate... though I'm not sure how long this feeling will last.

Proof she's my kid

My parents celebrate their 40th Wedding Anniversary Sunday. We are throwing a party for them tomorrow, and while my brother uses his photo skills to make a picture collage, I'm using my video skills and making a video montage.

While scouring through pictures, I came across this one. It's of me when I was about 3 or 4 years old. The picture next to it is of The Peanut Butter at 4.

Ignoring the fact that she is exhibiting examples of being a world-class smart-ass like me, I can safely say I finally have hard evidence that she is mine...

Goodbye

After much thought (with myself) and discussion (with others)… I am 99.98% sure that I will be ending this blog sometime this week…

The readership has dwindled to less-than-obscure levels, the amount of comments/feedback I’m getting is almost non-existent, and the amount of time I have to post is, at this moment, just not there.

Having just re-discovered my ‘groove’ and my ‘muse’, this is a hard thing for me to decide… and I’ve flirted with this before, but this time it feels like the time has come to actually pull the trigger.

Having said all of that… stranger things have happened (look who our ‘president’ is), and maybe something will happen this week that will change my mind…

Or then again... maybe nothing will...

And no, this is not an attempt to illicit comments...