An Icy Hand Gripping Your Intestines

The title refers to a feeling.

How do you get this feeling?

Get this phone call:

Ex-wife: You need to get to the school now.
Me: Why?
Ex-wife: Someone just tried to take Daughter from the playground.

Nothing convinces you that someday you may have a very real need to put a .45-caliber plug in someone's sick desires than THAT phone call. Do you know how many times you can violently kill someone in your imagination in the course of a 20-minute drive? I don't care about this scumbag's rights, I don't care about due process, I don't care about his late night sneaky uncle growing up. As far as I'm concerned, every registered sex offender in a several-mile radius is a suspect, and I could give a rat's ass about "quiet enjoyment". If you're a social liberal, you are hereby invited to stop reading my blog 4 sentences ago.

Daughter was on the school playground, but somewhat away from the rest of the kids. A guy approached her from behind a tree and told her to come with him. She made a beeline for her teacher and reported it. She said she was too scared to remember her Tae Kwon Do self-defense forms, but it sounds like he didn't get within grabbing range (still unclear on how close he got), so it's time to reinforce to her that getting away is always the goal, and she shouldn't reduce the distance between herself and a stranger just to get a good kick in.

I'm guessing it'll be a long time before she separates from the herd again. Still, all the talking and training has done it's job. She did exactly the right thing, even if she's a little frustrated that she didn't stick around long enough to get a good look at the guy.

Suddenly, there aren't nearly enough cameras watching us. I want this asshole's face on tape, and I want him off the streets. But first, I want 30 seconds to impress upon him just how little I care about going to jail for gunning his ass down if he were to hurt my daughter.

All Apologies For The Pity Party...

I have such BIG problems, don't I?

Every so often, I forget to count my many blessings. Maybe it comes from being a "glass half-empty" kinda person. There's a joke that kinda applies here:

Q: What's the difference between an optimist, a pessimist, and a process engineer?

A: To the optimist, the glass is half-full. To the pessimist, the glass is half-empty. To the process engineer, you've got twice as much glass as you need.

I think I'm like a super-pessimist. Not only is the glass half-empty, it's actually 3/4 empty for a glass twice its size. Which is my own awkward way of saying I dream big, but can't quite bring myself to believe that I'll ever achieve the dream (whatever it is). So, when I do get close, the fall seems that much farther.

But I have good friends. Friends who call me on my bullshit and welcome me to the human race on a regular basis. As I said in the comments, I know there are people who'd gladly trade just one of their problems for the entirety of mine, and still think they were ahead of the game, and if my bitching and moaning offended anyone, please accept my apologies.

More entertaining stuff later, I promise.