It ticks me off to no end that “fanboys” give George Lucas so much crap about HIS MOVIES!!!  They are his people!  It doesn’t matter if you watched them 100 times a piece and spent countless dollars on action figures, they are still his movies!  I guarantee you that all of you are able to dream a little bigger because of the creativity George has been gifted with and has shared with all of us over the years, and you have the audacity to say things like he ruined the movies for you!  Brother!

Mr. Lucas, I hope you enjoy doing what you really want to do with the rest of the time God gives you.  I for one look forward to seeing what you got!

I haven’t given a progress report since October on this little quest of mine, so I thought I would “fess up”, now that the New Year has rolled over and it’s time to start things fresh.

I have made ZERO progress since the last post, and that is honestly a positive.  Over Thanksgiving and Christmas I put back on 7 lbs., topping out at 351 lbs.  I’ll completely admit that I am addicted to Coca Cola.  I could go several months without having one, and then I can have just a sip of Coke and suddenly I need 3 a day.  It’s sad.  I will no longer judge smokers who keep trying to quit smoking but keep failing.  I will now commend them for continuing to get back up on the wagon after falling off time and time again.  At least they haven’t given up trying.  This addiction is a very serious thing for my “Husky” human shell.  In my older years it’s not dealing with processing sugar very well so I gain weight rather quickly while drinking sugary drinks of the soft variety.  So between drinking more than my fair share of Cokes (which are so tempting when they are stored in an icy-cold glass bottle) and eating beautiful and rich foods over the holidays my body began to resist.  On the 27th of December at a family holiday gathering, I think my blood sugar hit the ceiling so bad that I thought I was going to pass out.  My body is having issues regulating my blood sugar levels and it’s been staying high.  Obviously, I don’t want that to happen or feel bad continously so I’m getting back on this “2X t-shirt” wagon again.

A 2x Darth Vader shirt I can't buy and enjoy! GRRR!

So since that night, I’ve completely changed what I’m doing.  Coke is completely out!  I’m really limiting or eliminating sugary snacks from my diet.  I’ve been re-reading the book Eat This, Not That and have incorporated a lot of the suggestions the book’s author lends about the “8 Foods You Should Eat Everyday” into my diet and it’s working.  I really like his explanation of what is in some foods that make them so beneficial for you.  Like did you know that the Walnut is one of the best nuts you can eat?!  It’s supposed to be awesome on many different levels.  So far I have lost the 7 lbs. I gained over the holiday, thus putting me back to square one again. 

I’ve also been doing a lot of praying because I know I can’t do this alone.  The Holy Spirit is going to have to kick in where I begin to trail off because when it comes to food I am a weak human being.  In the past, I allowed the Holy Spirit to take control of my eating habits before a 72 hours of prayer and praise a couple of years ago at church.  For 10 days straight, I did a vegetable-and-water-only fast and it was a great time building my relationship with the Spirit that way.  The Holy Spirit and I would go grocery shopping together and It would direct what I should buy and eat.  I just listened and followed.  Over the span of 10 days I ended up losing 13 lbs., but more importantly I grew closer to God by obeying Him.  It also proved that if I listen to the Holy Spirit and not to the temptation and lies that constantly swirl around me, things will always improve.  The devil likes to try and convince you to just accept who you are and not try, and for those 10 days I didn’t accept what he was slinging.  He is out to destroy me, one Coke at a time.  The big jerk!

So here I am 2 months later starting over.  I’ve lost that time, but I still want to fit into that 2X t-shirt so I’m back on the wagon.  That, and I don’t want my pancreas to shut down! 

I don’t believe in New Year Resolutions because I think a great majority of the time we’re just lying to ourselves, but I will promise to report more often this year on this quest.  I’ve been seeing a lot of cool t-shirts I can’t wear and I want them in a BAD way!

Current Weight: 344 lbs.

It’s a difficult task to wake me from a deep sleep.  I use a machine and mask to help me combat sleep apnea and when I am under its spell, there’s very little the non-sleep world can do to bring me back from the void but pleasant world of REM sleep.  No dreams exist.  No body movement.  Nothing but me, a mask, and a machine.

“Kenny, wake up!” she said again, with a bit of joy in her voice.

The only thing that’s been preventing me from staying in REM-sleep world on a regular basis lately is the lady that shares the other side of my bed.  Over the past couple of months there have been many sleepless nights due to frequent trips to the bathroom through the night as well as crying and groaning from the pain of pregnancy after the age of forty.  No matter how tired I am, and I am EXTREMELY tired, my heart goes out to my wife who I admire for carrying our child and it’s difficult for me to settle into a good “machine” sleep.

“I think my water just broke!” she said excitedly as I slowly rolled over and pressed the button to shut off my apnea machine.  I unclipped the mask, and my eyes tried to focus on the digital alarm clock in our room.  The red numbers came in and out of a blur, and I realized why it was so difficult to come to… it was 2:18 AM.

“Are you sure?” I said as I sat up rubbing my hair.  We had already gone to the hospital a few days earlier with some false labor and I know both of us didn’t want to go through that again.  Our hopes kept getting dashed that the blessed day would arrive.  We would walk around a mall, or the city park, Wal-Mart, or Target… she would have big contractions but the minute we stopped walking, so did the big contractions.  I bet we walked at least ten miles over the weekend.  I mentioned I was tired, right?

“I’m pretty sure about this Hon!” she said.  Even though I knew my wife was in unfamiliar territory with her water breaking (because her water didn’t break with either one of the girls), she seemed to have a “my-pain-and-suffering-is-going-to-be-over-soon” tone to her voice.  Now that I look back, it was kind of cute.

“Alright… I’ll get the girls up.” I said as I shuffled down the hall.  They both were about as easy to get us as I was, but we managed to throw on some clothes and get Mrs. Waddles down the front steps and into the car.  We really were prepared for weeks.  Bags for everyone as well as every possible media type (photos, video, laptops, etc.) were already in the trunk of the car.  We just needed to load up the two stars of the show and get moving.

Running on adrenaline and a fear of deer breaking through the tree line at any given moment going down interstate 44, our family prayed for safety as we traveled down the road toward Missouri Baptist hospital.  We talked about the date for our child’s birthday… 11/7/11.  Seven eleven.  I instantly thought of Slushies and Beef Jerky.  Mmmmmm jerky.  Shake it off Kenny!  Eyes on the road fella!!  We reached the hospital in about 45 minutes because there is no traffic at that time in the morning.  Only truck drivers, highway patrolman (Shout out to my buddy Phil!), and husbands racing their pregnant spouses to their hospital of choice are on the road at that ungodly hour of the morning.

Parents were called, already existing children shuffled off to the waiting room to set up camp, water was boiled, clean towels were found… we were going to have a baby!  Dawn got an epidural, but not from her favorite anesthesiologist Dan, so it didn’t take as well as she wanted.  Her left leg was completely numb to the point that she couldn’t move it at all.  We talked about re-enacting the scene from Talladega Nights where Ricky Bobby stuck a knife in his leg just to help time pass, but the nurse shot me the ol’ stink eye so we decided to just concentrate on the whole labor thing.  They started her up on pitocin (Oxytocin) to get things moving along… and then we waited.  And waited.  And waited.

While we waited, I set up my laptop in the delivery room and gave a few updates on Facebook about the progress.  Although it was just Dawn and I in the delivery room… I felt like we had a hundred close family and friends encouraging and praying with us through the process.  A lot of people are hesitant to share their lives, sometimes very intimately, on Facebook or Twitter but I can honestly say it was an uplifting experience having all of you available when we needed you.  I wanted to share this moment because it’s rare and special and something we couldn’t do 5-10 years ago.

The experience finally reached its apex at 4:53PM.  I served as encourager, numb left-leg manager, audio-visual guy, photographer, social media updater, and crying husband as Kenneth Ray Hoff, III took his first breath and proved how healthy his lungs really are.  He had dark hair, ten fingers, ten toes… and all the needed equipment to be a boy (thanks God!).  He entered our world perfectly and as they wiped off his old experience and swaddled him into his new situation I smiled and said, “Welcome son.” 

Nesting to the nth degree has been going on for about two months.  (Although you wouldn’t necessarily know by looking at the house.)  Dawn’s mostly finished sorting all of the shower gifts and getting them put away.  She’ll soon shift to writing “Thank You” cards because she really can’t do much in the way of housework in her condition.  We’ve purchased a Pack-N-Play for little bits.  We still need to get a car seat/stroller combo, and will probably do that today.  The video camera has a new tape and a charged battery.  The digital camera is ready to go.  We all have overnight bags packed to go to the hospital, complete with snacks, books, and entertainment items.  Everyone’s numbers are programmed into three different cell phones for that “we’re headed to the hospital” phone call… now all we need are some contractions.

Dawn’s last doctor’s appointment earlier in the week wasn’t exactly what she wanted to hear.  This past month she has been suffering with aches and pains she didn’t have with the other two pregnancies.  Bad hip pain and going to the bathroom 28 times (on average) per night hasn’t helped her get a lot of rest, which means I have a lot of sleepless nights also.  She often tells me, “Your son keeps kicking me!” like I can really do anything about it.   To sum up her feelings, I could put it this way… “GET THIS KID OUT OF ME NOW!!!!“  The doctor told her that the baby wasn’t showing any signs of “opening the door” yet, which I think disappointed her.  She’s a strong woman, but I think she’s really starting to reach her limit.  She showed me a website last night with ten different ways to induce labor culminating with some recipe for labor-inducing cookies of all things.  I’m fixing to make her two dozen of those puppies!

Now there are still a few things we’re not prepared for, but will be eventually.  Some of the casualties of a surprise child in your 40′s include:

• We don’t have a room for him.  It cracks me up when friends ask, “So is the nursery ready?”  Or “What color is the nursery?”  The poor child will have to stay with Mom and Dad in their room for probably the first six months or so.  We’re thinking we can build a room in the attic.  Right now though, he’s going to have to go the same route as another Baby we all know and love who didn’t have a “room at the inn.”  Thankfully he can stay in a baby bed, rather than a manger.
• Both of our vehicles are four-seaters… not five.  I think we can squeeze a car seat between the girls in the back seat, but it’s going to be comfy for awhile.  I don’t think they’ll mind though.  All it will take is Sweet Baby Ray flashing them a smile and they’ll forget about being squished more than normal.  We’ll eventually get a minivan or something like that, but for the moment… we’ll be a VERY close family. 

I think those are minor, missing items… right?  Regardless, we’re about as ready as these Hoff’s can get.  We can’t wait!

I’m checking out some trampolines on ebay while writing… I’m not sure trampolines made it on the ten labor-inducing methods from that website, but I bet it wouldn’t hurt to try.  Between bounces I can hand her a cookie.  (Eyebrows going up and down!) 

We live next to a blessed older woman whom I’ve known since I was a sophomore in high school because we used to work at a restaurant together.  I made pizzas at this local place, and she would come in once or twice a week to make some of the best and most perfect pies I’ve ever eaten in my life.  All made from scratch, each one delicious.  She’s always been a hard worker, a bit on the old-fashioned side, and now one of the best neighbors anyone could ever have.  Heck, she is even the grandmother of one of my elementary school girlfriends so I know their family very well.  I am blessed to know her.

Now I really don’t think I’m the best neighbor.  My house often looks disheveled and it’s usually pretty rare that we ever go outside.  If I were on her side of the property line, I would shake my head (and maybe my fist) and have the city on speed-dial because of the tall grass or junk sitting in my front yard for weeks.  I’m just not much of an outside person and yard work and house maintenance isn’t usually on the top of my priority list.  My neighbor’s house is a completely different story.  Her yard is usually immaculate, bushes trimmed, leaves picked up… always ship-shape.  She always waves and says high, gives me great gardening advice because she’s a former farmer’s wife, and occasionally shares treats when she has an over-abundance.  I feel that even though she has more years on us, she watches over my family more than we do over her.

A couple of weeks ago I came home and Dawn was resting in our bed, and next to her was something rolled up in a sheet of tissue paper.  “What’s that?” I asked, pointing at the small package.

“It’s a gift for the baby from Estella (our next-door neighbor).” said Dawn.  She looked down at the rolled-up gift like she had just eaten a large slice of gratitude pie.

“Oh yeah?” I asked as I started to unroll the tissue paper to see what was inside.  And at each turn I saw a new part of a beautiful baby quilt peek from out of its covering.  Beautiful blue panels and embroidered bunnies and teddy bears jumped out from the middle of the quilt.  “Very cute!” I told Dawn.

“Look closer, “she said.  “It’s better than cute.”

As I held the quilt closer to my face Dawn said, “It’s hand-stitched Kenny.  She didn’t use a sewing machine.”  I surveyed the quilt closely at noticed that not only the embroidery was hand-stitched, but each and every panel was hand-sewn together.  My eyes immediately began to well up with tears and I sat speechless with this beautiful quilt in my hands.  I thought, “What did we ever do to deserve this?  Why would someone ever go to that much trouble for us?”  My mind started to race about what a crappy neighbor I had been over the years and not comprehending the love that went into something like this.

“We don’t deserve this.” I said to my wife after a minute or two of silence.  I felt so bad holding this wonderful work because I couldn’t think of anything I’ve done to deserve this show of love.

Dawn came around to the end of the bed and made me look up at her.  “You know Hun… when we sit and talk with Estella on her porch about life, that’s like gold to her.  You shovel her walk sometimes.  You’ve cut her grass a couple of times.  Apparently she thinks enough of our family to put this much time into something like this.  Even though we sometimes don’t feel like we deserve another person’s love, we should accept it.  Besides, she’s really excited about this baby boy on the way!” she said, rubbing her big belly.

Tears rolled down my cheek because not only did I hold Estella’s show of love in my hands… a love I feel I didn’t deserve, but it also reminded me of the love that God showed to all of us 2,000 years ago when we didn’t deserve it.  Each panel of forgiveness from our sin, stitched with His love.  Each embroidered scene in our lives displaying His plan and purpose for us.  Soft and warm and unique to each one of us.  (I’m sure mine has Star Wars embroidered on it somewhere!)  Washed clean and spotless in the blood of His Glorious Son Jesus.  Completely not deserved, but ours for the taking.  All we need to do is pull off the tissue paper, look inside and claim it.  Even if we only occasionally acknowledge His will in our lives.  Even when we sometimes falter and fall and not properly reflect His Glory to others around us.  Even though we’ve let some weeds grow around us without taking the time to trim them.  He still loves us and our quilt is still there waiting.

Thanks Estella.  We love you very much and thank God that you live next door to us.  Sweet Baby Ray will love the quilt. 

So my wife and I are standing in line to buy t-shirts at the Steven Curtis Chapman concert.  They have all of the t-shirts displayed and the sizes.  Of course, the largest size they have is a 2X.  That’s not big enough!  I can fit into a 3X but I’m more comfortable in a 4X.  I’m a big fella, weighing in at 344 pounds.  I’ve got what doctors like to call an “eating problem”.  Anyway, I have a choice to make standing here in line… do I pass on a shirt because they don’t have my size OR do I buy a 2X hoping that one day I will fit into it?

One thing I will confess is that I’m totally frustrated with buying t-shirts and have been for several years after I got heavier.  I love to wear t-shirts!  I wouldn’t doubt at all that once I get to heaven that we’ll all be wearing white t-shirts under the white robes everyone will have on.  (And tighty whities also!  LOL!)  I just think they are more comfortable than most shirts and you can find some with clever sayings or jokes that reflect your personality.  The only problem is, if you’re heavy it’s hard to find t-shirts in your size.  Most manufacturers only go as big as a 2X, so I’ve had to miss out on many opportunities to buy some great t-shirts.  It would be easy for me to say that clothing manufacturers are discriminating against tubby folks, but instead I choose to point back at myself.  It’s my fault that I can’t have some great shirts.

For example, this past summer I went to a Journey concert with some dear friends from high school and was excited to be able to buy a Journey concert t-shirt.  When I was in high school, my family didn’t have a lot of money to allow me to go to concerts so I was thrilled to be able to go to the concert and was even more thrilled to get a t-shirt.  I was always a little envious of kids who came to school the next day with concert t-shirts and talking about the concerts they saw the night before.  Now as an adult, I was finally getting to go, but when I finally got up to the counter to buy the shirt I wanted… 2X is the largest size they have.  I bought one.  It was sad.

So here I am in line with my wife at the t-shirt table again in the same delima… should I buy a shirt I can’t fit into again?  That’s pretty stupid, right?  So as thoughts are racing through my mind, I decided to draw a virtual line in the sand.  I want cool t-shirts!  If a 2X is all I can get, then I’m going to adjust myself to fit comfortably in a 2X.  I’m not sure how much weight I need to lose to win at this, but I know by next summer (2012), I want to fit comfortably into a 2X.  Every journey starts with a first step, so this is mine.  I’m going to try and document steps along the path using photos of my fatness, cool t-shirts I’m missing out on, and any progress I make along the way.  I’ve recently read that in order for a vision to become reality you have to write out goals to work toward.  I only have one:

• I want to comfortably fit into a 2X t-shirt by the summer (June 1st) of 2012.  Heck, I want to fit into multiple 2X t-shirts by then!

I will celebrate by wearing the Steven Curtis Chapman concert t-shirt I purchased in line (pictured in the banner picture).  I will also be wearing a smile. 

Current Weight: 344 lbs.

I’ve found that I tend to keep trust buckets for most people I know, on some internal shelf in my mind.  My mind can quickly take inventory of a person’s trust bucket each time I interact with them.  If their bucket is full, it’s easy to see and I don’t dwell on it… but if their trust bucket is not full enough where I can’t see any “trust”, then man do I examine why!  “ I sure do love that person, but I have to limit how I show it because they really blew it in the past with me, ” I’ll say in my head.  Rarely do I give them the benefit of the doubt if their trust bucket is running low.  Right or wrong, that’s the silliness that goes on in my thoughts.  But that’s with people… do I do that with God?

I have the honor and pleasure of leading a Bible study where I work.  We’ve been getting together over lunch every other Thursday for what we affectionately refer to as “Thursday School”.  (Instead of Sunday school… get it?)  It’s good to commune with fellow brothers and sisters in Christ at work, share the Word with one another, and lift each other up in prayer.  That time is very fulfilling for me personally, and I hope it is for everyone else who attends.

Over the summer months, attendance at Thursday school began to dwindle from around 12 people to sometimes less than 5.  Now you and I both know that people are busy sometimes during their lunch period running errands, continuing to do work, or are away on vacation or various business trips.  It’s actually a small miracle we get as many folks as we get in the study because every one of us have extremely busy lives, especially around the work environment.  I know this in my mind… I know better.  But one week, the devil was whispering in my ear when I sat alone in the room where we normally meet… by myself.  “I guess this is it Kenny, “  he said.  “This must finally be the week they all finally decided that you’re not that great of a leader and they’re ready to give up on you.”  I had enough time to eat my lunch and even read over the study questions again.  “Where is everyone?” I asked myself.  “What did I do wrong?”  I started to examine the last year or more of Bible studies on Thursday looking for issues that could have finally broke the camel’s back with the folks who normally came to our class time.  And then one of my sisters in Christ came into the room.

“Where is everyone Ken?” she said.  Relieved to see another soul, I told her I wasn’t sure.  We both sat for a few minutes more reading and occasionally smiling at one another.  Of course the devil was still having his field day, and I was letting him.  “Yep Ken, time to hang this one up.” the devil said.  “They all know what a terrible person you are inside as does your Heavenly Father and you’re probably being punished for it!”  After a good handful of minutes I asked my sister in Christ if we should just pray before we leave and save the lesson for another time.  She agreed, so I asked her to pray.  We bowed our heads, mine partially from defeat, and she began to pray.

I think she got two words out before another sister in Christ from our group popped her head in the door.  “There you are!” she said.  “We were wondering where you were!” 

“We?” I questioned. 

“Yeah, ” she said, “we’re not supposed to meet in this room today because someone else had booked it.”  Normally we meet in that room, but occasionally someone else books it and we have to go somewhere else.  Several months ago I relinguished the scheduling of our study times to another sister in the group because organization isn’t one of my strong suits.  I simply didn’t read her meeting request thoroughly, which would have told me we were meeting elsewhere.  “There’s a whole roomful of people downstairs wondering where you both are.”

We gathered up our things and in the elevator ride down I felt ashamed.  Even though God’s always been faithful to me, I let Satan convince me that I was worth nothing and that God was punishing me somehow.  I could only see things from my own vantage point and I forgot that God sees the whole picture and He’s constantly moving me in a certain direction for my own good because He loves me.  Because I chose to trust my eyes rather than having trust that He is working in the background to make things what I need, the devil had his way with my mind.  That old liar made me forget the past I have with God and traded it with doubt.  If I review the trust buckets of everyone I know, why didn’t I look at the devil’s?  His is an old rusty bucket with bullet holes in it.  It never has trust in it because, well… he’s the devil.  He hates me and even more… he hates the God I serve.  He’s done nothing but try to destroy me since the day I was born, and yet I took my eyes off of the One who’s trust bucket is a million times bigger than anyone else’s and is constantly spilling over and believed the devil’s lies.  Why is that?  Why would I do that?  Why did the Israelites do it in the desert after leaving the bondage of Egypt?  “We want to go back!” they told Moses.  “We’re hungry and thirsty here in this desert and we would rather go back into bondage than suffer this way!”  They didn’t trust that God would see them through, even though they had witnessed many miracles of God and had been delivered from slavery.  I have been blessed by God so many times in my life, even when I don’t deserve it, and yet I didn’t trust Him.  Why?

I think I, as well as the Israelites, stopped looking at God and started looking at ourselves and our own circumstances.  When you do that, Satan can have his way with you.  You’re distracted and he knows it and he’ll use that to his advantage.  Especially when you’re on track to do something spectacular for the Lord!  We all have to understand that God’s trust bucket should always be full, huge and overflowing.  We all have to trust that He loves us and are letting things happen to us to shape us, not to purposely hurt us.  Look back at your history.  He’s never let anything happen to you that wasn’t for your own good.  Even the really awful stuff is intended to make you something that will bring Him glory.

So when we finally made it into the right room, it was full of smiling brothers and sisters in Christ.  We even had two visitors!  We had a great bible study and discussion with one another and I feel the Holy Spirit had his way in the room.  So one moment I struggled in my own despair… the next I was blessed beyond measure.  Had I trusted that God was working in the background and would provide that blessing, I would have been fine no matter what the circumstances.  But no… I listened to the liar.  Thank the Lord He doesn’t feel the same way about me.  He often gives me trust and love when I don’t deserve them at all.  He fills up my trust bucket with His Son’s blood so that it overflows and spills out.  Even if it was empty because of my carelessness, he fills it up again anyway.  Great example, right?

So if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go and take everyone’s trust bucket down from the shelf in my mind and fill them up again.  Why?  Don’t they deserve the trust level they have in their bucket?  Maybe.  But God’s got so much spilling over from his right now, I got a little extra to spare.  I gotta put it somewhere, right?

“Invading the Deathstar, Ken?” you may have asked.  Not unless the Emperor is cleverly disguising it as our local Target store.  You see, the rows I’m ducking behind are the shelves in the baby section of the store and my trusty blaster… a barcode scanner for registering for a baby shower.  Hey, you get your excitement the way you want to, and I’ll do the same!  The stormtroopers I’m decimating are the barcodes on packages of baby stuff needed for Sweet Baby Ray to exist comfortably once he decides his current residence isn’t quite large enough to accommodate his kicking parties held multiple times a day.  Oh sure, he’s having fun throwing some Chuck Norris-type love into his Mommy’s spleen, but eventually he won’t have room to perform round-house kicks.  He’s got about 8 weeks left before Mommy evicts his little baby buns!

Dawn and I were tasked by our Sunday school teacher’s wife to “get registered as quickly as possible!”  I think the ladies at church are planning a shower for Dawn and the “Little Liver Puncher” sometime soon.  Of course, I won’t be within 10 miles of the place because… well… I’m a guy!  I’ve never understood why they need to “shower” a new Mommy anyway.  I mean, it’s bad enough that a pregnant gal is “larger” than normal, uncomfortable no matter which way they sit, lie down, or stand, and eat some really strange things.  They definitely don’t need a room full of ladies yelling, “Get out the fire hose for this one Bernice!  She’s gonna require some extra attention with the wire brush!”  If she smells bad or something, get her some deodorant and have that friendly “talk” with her… but don’t make her shower for Pete’s sake!

I’m just kidding, of course.  My first guess would be a “shower” implies they are going to shower a family with love in the form of baby gifts, a huge cake, 2.5 hours of making fun of the father of the pending child, and games about baby names.  My only role with the other two showers that Dawn has had for the girls was to collect and transport said gifts back to our home.  Perhaps eat cake, but that’s about it.  It’s a gal thing.  I get that.

If a bunch of guys had a “shower”, we wouldn’t call it that at all.  We would probably call it “Playing Cards”, “Darts”, “Golf” or something like that.  It wouldn’t be held at a church fellowship hall, but probably someplace like a garage, basement, Bar-B-Q joint or a remote cabin.  I guarantee you there would be cake there, but it will have been skillfully baked by Little Debbie in the form of Nutty Bars and Zebra Cakes.  You would also see some variety of nacho cheese and plenty of beef jerky.  We would play games as well, but most of them would require stitches or an ER visit for at least one of the participants during the course of the gathering.  The child would receive presents like footballs, basketballs, bowling balls, 4×4 PowerWheels trucks, action figures, a junior weight set, and a racecar-shaped bed.  Few words would said, but the love would be apparent.  AND… in High Def!  I think I may be on to something here!

Oh yeah… guys would have lasers at their “showers” also.  “PEW!”  PEW!”

P.S. – Yeah, in case you haven’t figured it out by the title of this blog post, I turned 41 yesterday.  Yea for me, huh?!!  Father@FortyOne