ROAD KILL

I absolutely love living in Camarillo Heights. It's a very weird mixture of the old and new, the hicks, the "upper crust", and the "regualr folk". Where else can you find a 1500 square foot house built in 1933 standing next to 5000 square foot home built in 2007. Since this is part of the County of Ventura and not the City of Camarillo, people can have exotic animals on their properties. Some animals I've seen up here over the years are - horses, sheep, goats, chickens, Llamas, alpacas and peacocks. There's lots of wild critters up here as well - Racoons, skunks, possums, the occasional pack of coyetes, hawks, mice, and my personal favorite, (yuck) rats. When my grandfather lived up here they would occaisionally see a bear. With all those wild critters come the fairly freaquent sightings of road kill, mostly possums. Cars zoom up and down the hills here in the Heights and the possums are probably the slowest creatures ever to cross the street. I know people run over them on purpose just because they're ugly. So the next time you're driving on Las Posas Road somewhere between Mission Drive and East Loop, come on up and see what the kill du jour is up here. Maybe you'll see a side dish of Bear.

PHOTO-BOMBS AWAY!

Have you ever stumbled across something that's new, yet not quite so new. Such was the case with me this morning when I went onto my AOL web news page. On this site is a window with both the heavy and light news of the day, some very funny. This is where I discovered PHOTOBOMBS. Photobombs aren't a what - they're a who, namely people who somehow make it into your precious family photos and muck up what otherwise would have been the picture of the year by making some horrible face, or worse, by making an obscene gesture or exposing that certain part of the body. I'm not talking about the family members who make faces, jump in the middle of the shot or give their neighbor bunny ears just before the clicking of the shutter. They're a form of Photobomber, but not a true Photobomber. A true Photobomber is that slightly deranged person or people that you've never met, who somehow make it into the shot unknowingly or knowingly, usually the latter.
You could be at the beach taking a snapshot of your kids burying each other in the sand when that person who was jogging in the background by the seashore decides to stick out their tongue and flap their arms. One of my favorites, not shown for obvious reasons, is a shot of three girls mugging for the camera in front of the window of some small shop, only to have some photobomber press his bare rear end against the glass from the inside. Yet some Photobombers bomb your picture by accident. The little child who walks into the shot at the last moment, or the dog that decides to "dump a load" at the last second (believe it or not I've seen two pictures like that).
Usually we don't even know what's happened until we get home and see the pictures on the computer, or when we get them back from the drugstore. We're so busy making sure everyone is in the shot, or focusing in on one particular person, that we just don't notice these smug little bombers popping in and out. They're like elves. They come in when we don't expect them, and leave just as quickly, leaving their grimacing mug or disgusting body part tattooed on our photos.
Who are these people anyway? Why would somebody purposfully walk by, or lean in on what could be a perfectly good shot, or that magical moment that's captured on film only once in a lifetime, and soil it. Are they drunk? Are they mean spirited? Are they insane? Yes, yes, and yes!
Personally, I think it's pretty funny, and I'd like to think that I'm capable of doing that. But I just don't have enough guts to do that to someone I don't know. You've got to have a funny bone to be a photobomber; a broken funny bone.

GOD CREATED ADAM AND EVE, NOT ADAM AND STEVE

Happy Gay Day everybody! As of 5:00 pm PST gays can now be legally and lawfully married in the state of California. Didn't we decide this several years ago? Wasn't this hotly debated by both religious, political and gay activist groups over and over until it was given the legal go ahead to be placed on the ballot? And didn't over 70% of those who voted decide that gays should NOT marry? Apparently not, because the liberal, Godless California Superior Court struck down that proposition on the grounds of discrimination. I don't know what upsets me more, the fact that gays can now marry, or that a small group of so called "judges" have the power to erase the votes of over 70% of California taxpayers. Now don't get me wrong, I really have nothing against gay people. In all honesty I have, and have had, several gay friends since high school. When speaking on this subject we all agree to disagree. In fact, technically, I should be gay. I have all the signs that peg me as a "friend of Dorothy's". My favorite movie is THE WIZARD OF OZ. I own many CD's of Judy Garland and Barbara Streisand. I took Theatre classes in school and performed in plays and musicals. I collect and sell antiques. While my brother was listening to rock groups like KISS and the ROLLING STONES, my album collection was peppered with show tunes like, A CHORUS LINE, ANNIE, CABARET, MAN OF LAMANCHA, and the one soundtrack that would expose any poor closeted soul, GYPSY (the one starring Ethel Merman), just to name few. I even had a couple of QUEEN albums. But being the manly man that I am, none of those things had any effect on me, and I don't show up on anybody's gay-dar. I'm happily married (to a woman) with four children (did I mention I have four children?). Now for the next week or so we're going to have to put up with news stories featuring long lines of gay and lesbian couples outside of city hall's across the nation waiting to get married. And it will be painted to look as though this is something that should have occured sooner. Eight years ago we fought the good fight and won. Now we have to gear up yet again, and take this to the highest court in the land. Whether we'll be successful or not, I don't know. Eight years seems to have softened those who apparently have forgotten who put them in power in the first place. When we won the first time I have to admit I was a bit surprised. I thought that things had gotten so bad in the world that the time of the second coming was not as far off as I had imagined, and that our efforts to stop gay marriage would only amount to a noble effort, but we won. In the grand scheme of Eternity, winning that battle seemed to buy us a little more time here on this earth. But if we are not successful this time around, I fear that our time is closer than we think, and it's time to prepare! (Did I mention I have four children?)

DADDY'S LITTLE GIRLS

When summer time rolls around it brings with it three birthdays to the Daily family. Actually it brings four, one being mine, but we won't get into that. Beside my wife and myself our two eldest daughters will turn one year older. Elora will be 16 in August, and Kateleyne will turn the big 18 in September. The time is soon approaching when our little chicks will want to leave the nest and experience life on their own. I don't know about other parents, but I'm not ready to be an empty nester. Somehow it doesn't seem fair that after 18 years or so your kids decide to just pack up and leave. What about all the diapers I changed, the feedings, and getting up in the middle of the night because of illness or to kill a spider. What about cleaning up the barf, the drool, and anything made with tomato sauce. And let's not forget the school plays and dance recitals, not to mention the soccer, basketball and football games. How about all the time and energy my wife and I put into them, not to mention the money (oh, the money). Doesn't all that count for anything! I realize I'm getting ahead of myself. I still have many more years of parenting to do. But as my kids get older, the thought crosses my mind once in a while. I am very proud of my two eldest girls. They've matured quite a bit in the past couple of years and have grown into two beautiful girls. They've worked hard in school, and have gotten excellent grades. As a father you don't want them to grow up too fast, and I'm tempted to clip their wings, but you can't do that forever. Birds gotta fly; fish gotta swim, but for now, the pet store is CLOSED!

THE MAN CHILD

For some reason society still thinks that that the most important thing you can do when starting a family is to have a son. This obviously comes down from the centuries when men were the only people in the world who could own property. If you died and had only daughters, your estate went to your nephew or the nearest male kin. Likewise with royalty. A King needed his Queen to bear him a son to inherit his kingdom. If no son was born, the kingdom went to his brother or other male heir. Crowning a Queen was the last resort. Our first two children were girls, and after Greysen was born the one comment people would say when they found out was, "So, you have your boy." It was like they were saying, "So, now you can stop." In all honesty I would have been content with having all girls. I mean after having two in a row you begin to get used to that "chick" rhythm. But I must say, it was a gigantic boost to my male prowess and ego when Greysen was born. I thought to myself, "Yes, a man child to pass on the Daily name and all the junk I've been accumulating all these years." That's another important factor as well, passing on the family name. In this crazy world we live in I thank God that my son is "normal." In other words, he likes to skateboard, play paintball, participate in sports, camp, and more importantly, he likes girls. I must say that he's grown into a good looking kid. He's almost as tall as his old man. He's also getting to be a bit cocky. He tries to test me to see how far he can go. This is typical of boys who are becoming men; the young lion taking on the older one for control of the pride. Other than that he's a great young man. He is well liked by his peers, and they follow his lead. He started a fashion in school by wearing shoe laces in place of a belt, and after several days half the boys on campus were doing the same. He loves and is very protective of his sisters. He helps his mother when he can, sometimes without having to be asked. He's my best buddy, and that's something I need to tell him more often. He's fourteen now, and that leaves me only five more years before he leaves on his mission; five years that will pass me by in a heartbeat if I am not careful. I remember a scene from the Robin Williams movie "Hook." Williams plays an adult Peter Pan who gave up his eternal youth to marry Wendy's daughter Moya. He's a work-a-holic executive with two children, but he never has time to enjoy them because he's always busy with work. After missing his son's baseball game his wife councils him: "Jack isn't going to be asking you to do things with him for much longer. In a few years you'll be the one chasing after him for a bit of time. Your children are growing up, and you are missing it." Sometimes Hollywood gets it right, and I have tried never to forget those pearls of wisdom.

WHAT'S A FATHER TO DO!

Well, no matter how much I complain or wish it wouldn't happen, time marches on. Our youngest, Madeline, will be "graduating" 5th grade in a couple of days. Next year she'll be in middle school, which I am not looking forward too. I have always thought it was a big mistake to add sixth grade to middle school, because of the differences in 6th and 7th graders. I remember the culture shock I faced when I went into 7th grade and was suddenly surrounded by a whole different species of kids. Some smoked, some did drugs. While some took a foreign language in class, foul language seemed to be the new form of communication on campus. I hate to say it, but I learned about the birds and the bees in the boys restroom at Monte Vista. I just walked in to do my thing, when I was confronted with a centerfold taped to the mirror, while some kid, a well informed 8th grader, was educating all who would listen on the mysteries of the female personage. (I'll stop hear).
Granted, I'm a father who hates to see his children grow-up, especially the last of our "babies". I say, let kids stay kids as long as they can!!! But I'll be in the audience beaming with pride as she crosses the stage. But part of me will mourn for the little girl who used to fall asleep almost every night on my lap, or cuddle up with me in the mornings in our bed to watch her favorite cartoons. As a father there are a lot of tough things you need to encounter and deal with, but seeing your children grow up is the toughest of all. They'll be adults for most of their lives, but they're only children for a short time.