All posts by Danny Tanner

Pet Peeves

toenail fungus

I once dated a girl who went crazy when we came up to a double stoplight with different colored green lights.  “I HATE that,” she’d say as she covered her eyes.  The lights are supposed to be the same color green.  It’s so unbalanced.  It was weird.

My pet peeves are pretty normal, and all should be outlawed!

#1:  It’s allergy season and our family takes an inordinate number of Claritin pills.  I actually went to the Rite Aid last week to buy a Claritin D and they wouldn’t let me have one.  I was blocked by the federal government.  They think I’m running a meth lab.  Look at my teeth, I’m not!  We all just have allergies.  I bought the plain stuff, sans the D.  The medication works well, but getting the pill out of the clear plastic/aluminum foil packet is a bitch!  Several times I’ve jabbed a corner of the sharp, pokey, square directly into my cuticle.  It’s like a paring knife.  They ought to ban those from airplanes.  It hurts like hell!

#2:  I take the steps at work each day.  I’ve been told it’s good for you.  I’m good at walking, my legs work fine.  But if I see an escalator, something changes within me.  Internally, my body and mind become prepared for a ride, an easy rise to my next destination.  When it’s broken, it’s like someone stole my candy.  I’m immensely disappointed.  Like my heart sort of sinks.  “Gee, the escalators broken.  I wonder what I’m gonna do.”

I was once at Chicago’s O’Hare airport.  It has one of the biggest escalators in America, dredging up from a basement walkway well under Chicago .  I had a small suitcase on rollers.  Didn’t do me a bit of good when I walked up and the frickin’ moveable staircase wasn’t moving.  I carried my bag up the 1,645 steps.  How irritating!

#3:  What’s up with the pinkish red juice that proceeds the ketchup when pouring from the bottle?  It’s nothing but a bun sogger.  What is up with that premature ketchupulation?

#4:  I can’t stand those commercials where the toenail monsters climb between the toenail and the toe.  They’re representing some kind of fungus.  It freaks me out to think about something hanging out in that area of my body.  YUCK.  When the little fungi minion comes on the TV, the kids quickly entice me into the den.  “Dad, you’ve got to see this – come here.”  When I arrive, I fall to my knees.  It brings me down, just brings me down.

#5:  Why can’t they make sleeping bag holders that are bigger than the sleeping bags that are designed to go in them?  They don’t make grocery bags the exact size of a gallon of milk!  It’s not like toothpaste.  Not only do you have to get it out, but you also have to put it back in!  I sit on the thing to get all the puffiness out, but you can’t roll it while you’re sitting on it.  I squeeze it tight, cinch it with a rope, but still can’t get the dang thing in the baggie.  You shouldn’t have to shrink-wrap your stuff to get it back into the container it’s stored in.  Ridiculous.

These are peeves that disturb my life.  Somebody do something!

4 Comments
by Danny Tanner on May 22, 2013  •  Permalink
Posted in Danny, Humor, Pet Peeves
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Posted by Danny Tanner on May 22, 2013

http://therealfullhouse.wordpress.com/2013/05/22/pet-peeves/

Sunday Post 118: Bliss

Happiness just used to be.  It was constant, almost never-changing.

Now it’s not like that.  Happiness is more tentative.

I guess it’s like having a permanent job versus being a temp employee.  With a full-time regular position, you have security.  You have benefits.  You know you’ll get that paycheck every two weeks.

As a temp, the minute the staffer returns from maternity leave, you’re out.  There is no retirement plan.  There isn’t any short of long-term disability insurance.  If you have a catastrophic event, you’re on your own.

Losing someone you love is sort of like that.  The stupid happiness is gone.  Yeah, it’s possible to laugh and enjoy life, but it’s never ongoing.  Once a day or once a week or a couple of times each month, something comes to mind that drags those feelings of unease right back up.  And the long-term future you’d planned – weekends out-of-town when the kids grow up, an early retirement, places we wanted to visit, all are gone.

I wish I’d have known when I was going through the endless years of bliss that I was going through the endless years of bliss.  When they’re gone, happiness becomes less easy and more work.  And yet, I guess I appreciate it more when it’s here.

Perhaps there is value in both.

2 Comments
by Danny Tanner on May 19, 2013  •  Permalink
Posted in Grief, Inspiration, Lisa, Missing Mom, Spirituality, Sunday Post
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Posted by Danny Tanner on May 19, 2013

http://therealfullhouse.wordpress.com/2013/05/19/sunday-post-118-bliss/

Eyebrows 101

Now that's an eyebrow job

Now that’s an eyebrow job

My middle kid is beginning to think a bit less about hoola hooping and a bit more about looking pretty.  She asked for a hair straightener for Christmas.  It’s basically an iron – I use it on my shirts sometimes.  I’m afraid of it.  It’ll burn the crap out of you.  And where do you use it?  Right near your head and face.  I wouldn’t use a chain saw to cut my hair.  Why use an iron to straighten it?  Dan-ger-ous!

Recently, we were at Belk and went to their glass eyebrow closet.  Very, very interesting.

We thought it might be time to shape up the little devils.  I decided I’d watch carefully so that I could do them next time and save $20.  If I have to fund six ten-dollar brows a month for the next decade, that’s $7,200.  I wonder if we let them grow together in the middle if she’d just charge me for one.  Oh, and you gotta leave a tip.  Maybe they could rotate months – left brow on the evens and right on the odds.

Stephanie sat on a tall pink stool while the lady inspected her face with a big magnifying mirror.  Why would anyone look at their face with a mirror like this?  It accentuates your ugly.  I held it up to my eyeball, and it scared me to death.  My eye looked like Uncle Festus from the Adams Family.  Huge dark circles helped frame the droopy bags.  There is skin resting on the top of my eyelid.  It serves no purpose.  What’s it doing there?  It looked like you could have stored my spare change in the pores.  Don’t look in those mirrors.  A glance in a full length on the way out of the door is as close as a 47-year-old should get to their own reflection.  I look much better from a distance.

The clinician then used Stuart Little’s comb  and scissors to trim Steph’s brows.  It was like a mini  Supercuts.  I told her to take plenty off the sides but to leave enough in the front for a solid part.  I could do that; it didn’t look very hard.

The woman then pulled out a honey jar full of hot tan wax.  She slopped a blob above Stephanie’s left eyebrow.  When I was a kid, I loved hot wax.  I couldn’t wait until the Christmas Eve service at church.  Excited about Jesus’ birthday?  Nah.  I was pumped that we got to hold lit candles and drip the wax on our hands.  My brother and I would turn the candle on its side and wax the inside of our palms.  It was painful but in a good sort of way.  My late night church services and shoving my hands in my mom’s candles after a dinner party would surely be enough experience for me to take on this task in the future.

“This might sting a bit,” our Belk employee warned.  She grabbed the end of the wax and RRRRRIIIP!  Those little hairs didn’t have a chance.

I think my girls are beautiful with or without eyebrows.  But if they want to spiffy them up, I’m game.  Gonna dig in the church supply closet on Sunday to find the box marked Christmas candles.  Once I find them, we’re good to go!

11 Comments
by Danny Tanner on May 15, 2013  •  Permalink
Posted in Daughters, grooming, Hair, Humor
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Posted by Danny Tanner on May 15, 2013

http://therealfullhouse.wordpress.com/2013/05/15/eyebrows-101/

Sunday Post 117: Love My Mom

I have such wonderful memories with my mom, and we’re still working on building more!

I remember her, as the preacher’s wife, sitting on the front row of our church.  Very few others would sit that close to the pulpit so we often had our pew to ourselves.  As a young kid, when it neared sermon time, I’d sprawl out, legs stretched out, thumb heading toward my mouth.  I’d plunk my head in mom’s lap.  She’d scratch my head.  Sometimes I’d curl up in a ball.  It’s as if I were in my own bed.  Wouldn’t wake up until she stood for the Doxology!

As a young teenager, I once coaxed my mom into running around the car with me at a stoplight.  I begged and begged, it was very in at the time.  She finally relented.  We pulled up, each of us jumped out of the car.  One lap around and I was back at the passenger seat.  Interestingly, my mom was nowhere to be seen.  As I walked to the front of the car, I found her laying face down on the pavement.  Apparently her red sandal high heels weren’t meant for running on gravel.  She ripped her hose and laughed and laughed.

Another time, when I was in high school, we were in the car on our way to a southern Baptist covered dish  dinner.  Mom had me hold the Corningware pot of field peas, just taken off the stove.  She wasn’t known for her driving prowess,  and her short frame kept her from fully seeing at intersections.  The one at the corner of Marlborough Road and Village Drive slipped up on her that day.  She braked hard.  Scalding pea juice poured into my lap.  She got tickled.  I bit my lip to ease the pain.  Went home and had to pull down my pants to see if anything had melted away.

I can’t count the number of times my mother and I got tickled in church.  Weddings were the worst.  Once we were at a 3rd cousin’s wedding in rural South Carolina.  As the Kimball organ started playing Once, Twice, Three Times a Lady, we lost it.  The more I laughed, the more she laughed.  My grandmother was mortified.  We were used to it, this wasn’t our first.

I’m forty-seven, and I still call to chat.  I still want her opinion.  She’s my go to with problems.  Yeah, I love my mom.

As good as these memories are, my joy on Mother’s Day is hampered by the knowledge that my girls won’t get to experience that same connection with their mom.  They have some, but simply not enough.

15 Comments
by Danny Tanner on May 12, 2013  •  Permalink
Posted in Grief, Inspiration, Missing Mom, mom, Mother's Day, Sunday Post
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Posted by Danny Tanner on May 12, 2013

http://therealfullhouse.wordpress.com/2013/05/12/sunday-post-117-love-my-mom/

Dad to the Princial’s Office

username-and-password-shutterstock

I got in trouble at school on Thursday.  I thought I was going to get sent to the principal’s office.  I deserved it though.  Didn’t do my homework correctly.

This is the story of my life, and I can’t figure out what’s wrong with me.  Why can’t I get this stuff right?

It started with the permission slips for Michelle’s fourth grade school trip to the beach.  There were several.  The problem was that you had to open the school newsletter, read the school newsletter, and then open Michelle’s teacher’s newsletter, at the bottom of the original newsletter, to find the link to find the forms to print them out to fill them out to send them back to school.  Once I had the link, I had to find the school website.  Once on the website, I had to open my personal excel spreadsheet that contains all of my passwords and user names so that I could indeed log in to find and print the forms.

Oh, my excel spreadsheet is password protected, by me (sneaky huh?).  If I ever forget the password to my password spreadsheet, I’m up “sheet” creek.

Michelle announced at dinner one night that she was the only kid in her class who had not turned in the forms and that they were overdue.  I wonder how that makes her feel?  Probably not too good.

“I didn’t see them in your Friday folder.”

“They weren’t in my Friday folder.  You have to print them out yourself, they’re on the school  website.”

I’m sure most parents have the login to their child’s school website memorized.  Mine is up there in the ole steel trap, along with my work login, my blog login, my personal email logins, DJ’s school’s login, my Orbitz and American Airlines logins, my Zappos logins, the login and password to stop my mail when we go on vacation and the login to two bank accounts and two investment accounts.  Not to mention my retirement account login, the HR login for work which is a separate software, the login info for the kids’ service club, the foul weather login for youth basketball in the winter, Facebook and Twitter and Instagram so I can make sure my kids aren’t posting inappropriate photos of themselves or cyber bullying.

So I got the paperwork turned in but forgot to have Michelle sign the behavior agreement form, which we had gone over, in detail, on our way home from dance one evening.  Apparently you did not have to sit or sleep with your trip “buddy” but you did have to know where they were at any given time.

When we arrived at school at 5:45 AM, I walked up to the school nurse to give her Michelle’s allergy pill.  I had already turned in the “official” typed up form that I easily found on the school website, well, once I got logged on.

“Hello nurse.  I have Michelle’s medicine right here.”  I was so proud of myself.  The pill was in a zip lock bag with the name of the medication, dosage, along with instructions for dispersing the pill and my signature.  I’d even written her name on the biggie with a black Sharpie marker.

“Mr. Tanner, can you read?” Nurse asked in a kind yet firm tone.

“Why yes.  In fact, I can write too!”

“It clearly stated on the medical form that you needed to have a doctor’s signature for any medication.”

“It’s over the counter.”  I had her!!!

“Signature for ALL medications, even over the counter.  It says so clearly on the form.”

“Geeze.  Even over the counter?”

“Yes.  And, the pill is supposed to be in the original container Mr. Tanner.”

“Not a zip lock bag?”

“No!”

“But it has her name on it, with a black Sharpie PERMANENT marker.”  We aren’t talking Crayola here.

“No, Mr. Tanner.”

“Awe.”

I should have just taped the pill to her chest.  It was tiny.  They would have thought it was a button.

From now on, I’m going to do better.  I’m going to read every word of every newsletter, web site, email and document from all schools, teachers, camps, church leaders, piano teachers, dance instructors, basketball coaches, Service Club leaders, theater personnel, doctors or nurses, afterschool counselors, singing group coordinators, friend’s moms and the Gap.  I’m going to have to quit my job, but I’m going to read them all.

12 Comments
by Danny Tanner on May 8, 2013  •  Permalink
Posted in Learning New Things, Dad, School, Humor, Missing Mom, email, Danny, permission slips
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Posted by Danny Tanner on May 8, 2013

http://therealfullhouse.wordpress.com/2013/05/08/4185/

Darks? Whites? Pinks?

pink shirt

I’m sure I’ve written this post before.  But dag gone it, it’s happened again.  I thought I had it figured out, but this time, almost on national television.

When the Today show producers were taping last month, I was told to proceed with my normal routine.  I’d tossed at load of clothes in the laundry the night before and pulled them out that morning to fold as the kids were getting ready for school.

With the camera zoomed in on my basket of darks, there it sat:  Michelle’s school uniform shirt.  Normally it’s white; that day it was pink.  Beside it was a t-shirt, bright fuchsia.  They were a perfect match.

How humiliating.  Here I was, working to put my best foot forward, and the first thing they saw were my laundry inadequacies.

The camera man just smiled.  I let out a mild explicative.

I don’t understand.

I thought if I washed in cold it didn’t matter if a couple of lights got caught in the middle of their blue jeans and tie dyes.  Sometimes, in the interest of time, I integrate the assortment of garments and shove them in my large capacity washer together.  Unity.  Solidarity.  One.

Most of the time, the whites come out white and the darks keep their color.  But occasionally, I get this mess.  Why is that?  Does pink bleed or does it not?  Or does it bleed only when it wants to embarrass me in front of everyone who watches the Today Show?

I understand bleach.  I get dryer sheets.  A Tide stick is as clear as day.  I’m not a laundry moron.  And yet, this has me perplexed.

I don’t know why, but I clean out the lint compartment every time I dry a load.  That’s what I was taught, and I follow through.

When my washer gets off-balance and dances across the basement floor like Wynonna doing the Mamba, I open the door and readjust.

But these things are consistent.  They don’t change from load to load.

I wish that bleeding would do the same.

I tried to convince Michelle that pink was cool.

“It’s your favorite color!  It matches your Hunter rain boots and your favorite hair bow.”

“I’m not wearing that shirt!”

“Have you ever seen Happy Days?  There was this really cool girl called Pinky Tuscaderro.  Let me show you a clip.”

Not even a nibble.

It could have been worse.  The producer of Today could have used that clip as part of the segment broadcast to millions of people throughout the country.  Thankfully, they used constraint.  How humiliating that would have been.

Incidentally, I was running short on time this week and washed all of her clothes together: red and yellow, black and white.  And guess what?  They all came out their original color.  This really doesn’t make any sense to me.

10 Comments
by Danny Tanner on May 1, 2013  •  Permalink
Posted in Humor, Laundry
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Posted by Danny Tanner on May 1, 2013

http://therealfullhouse.wordpress.com/2013/05/01/darks-whites-pinks/

Sunday Post 116: Doing It Yourself

On Monday, I was driving back from the dance studio for the seventieth time this week, this time with Michelle.  We passed an ambulance and she asked, “Dad.  When you see an ambulance or a fire truck drive by, do you say a prayer for the people they’re going to help?”

I responded, “You know Michelle, I actually do.  It just pops into my head.”

“Yeah, me too.  Do you think God answers our prayers?”

“I don’t know.  What do you think?”

“Sometimes I think He wants you to do it by yourself.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Well, when I was trying to quit sucking my thumb, I asked God to make me stop, and He didn’t do a thing about it.”

“I understand.  I’ve experience similar situations.”

Sometimes I think He wants you to do it yourself… hum…

I don’t know that I really have a problem with people praying to win a ball game or praying for a good parking place at the mall.  I guess that’s sort of between them and God.  But to be honest, if He won’t save my young wife from dying, I sure hope He’s working on something more important than finding parking places for someone.

Maybe there are times He intervenes.  Maybe there are times when He wants us to do it ourselves.

Life certainly isn’t easy, and I sometimes think I feel God’s presence.  I sort of see His hand in things.

At other times, I’m disappointed He hasn’t more quickly and apparently stepped in.  Maybe He’s busy helping someone else.  Or maybe He thinks it’s about time I took things into my own hands and took responsibility for my own actions.  He probably isn’t gonna yank my thumb out of my mouth!  First I have to want to stop sucking.  Then, and only then, might He help give me the strength or put the tools in place to help me.

I don’t think that God can cure my grief if I don’t work at it too.  It isn’t like Bewitched, a squenching of the nose and all is well.

Is it possible to rely too much on God?  I’m not sure.  But I’m confident that at times I don’t rely on myself enough.  I don’t take responsibility for my own actions.  Maybe that’s what that great philosopher Michelle Tanner was talking about.  Sometimes I just need to look myself in the eyes and begin the process of change.  I think He can usually help, but it’s likely that we may have to do some of the work ourselves.

15 Comments
by Danny Tanner on April 28, 2013  •  Permalink
Posted in Faith, God, Inspiration, Spirituality, Sunday Post
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Posted by Danny Tanner on April 28, 2013

http://therealfullhouse.wordpress.com/2013/04/28/sunday-post-116-doing-it-yourself/

Fly Away

busyairports

I think I’d rather drive across country than have to fly.

I had a business trip this week.  It was in Vancouver.  Yeah, out of the country – made it that much worse

Luggage:  Interestingly, on the way to Canada, Delta allowed us to check one bag on the plane at no additional charge.  American Airlines, however, charged me $26 to bring my stuff home!  Isn’t luggage part of a trip?  Shouldn’t it be included in the price?  Does a hotel charge you extra to bring your suitcase in the room?  No.  They assume that if you’re coming in there, you’re not only going to shower and sleep, but you’re probably also going to change your clothes!  When I travel, I’m gonna bring some stuff.  Expect it.  Build it in to the cost of the ticket!  And by the way, you charged me $26 bucks for it, how about you pick it up and toss it on the conveyor belt!!

Security:  In an effort to keep things simple, I wore a pair of loafers  – working to avoid laces as I partially undressed in front of my colleagues in the security line.  They worked out fine, but I was a bit uncomfortable walking on their nasty floor with my bare feet.  As always my iPad and laptop had to be put in a bin by themselves.  What could I hide in there?   Flat Stanley?  In Vancouver, the position of the body x-ray machine was such that I got a full view of my coworker’s anatomy; I think he’s put on a little weight.  I didn’t realize he had a outie belly button.

Food:  I was given a snack today on the plane.  I opened the bag, it was the size of a Polly Pockets’ blanket.  I decided I’d count – 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13 – yes, there were 13 nuts, or parts of nuts in the bag.  We drop a higher percentage of food on the floor during a meal at our house than they give you on the plane.

Bathroom:  After my “meal,” I needed to pee.  I made my way to the back of the plane.  It’s hard to go at 300 mph.  When I finally did, the pilot decided to do a wheely.  The front of the plane popped up; the back of the plane took a dip.  I felt sorry for the person in line behind me.  Bless her heart.

Passengers:  I lucked out on the “to” flights, sitting with my friends.  My ride home wasn’t so lucky.  I was relieved when I first saw the smiling, slender man assigned to be my neighbor on the last leg of our flight.  He was older, quiet and we had extra leg room with only the added responsibility of opening the emergency exit on the scant chance the plane went down.  What I didn’t know is that he had SARS.  I don’t easily sleep on a plane so I was surprised when I cozied up to the window, and my eyes began to get heavy.  About ten minutes into my nap, seat 20 B coughed so loud I thought the landing gear had dropped from the belly of the plane.  I jumped from my seat in utter panic.  “Did I startle you?” he asked?  “Did your lung actually come out?” I questioned.  Rather than sleep, I decided to write this blog post… and he’s still a hackin’.

Parking:  Last time I traveled with this particular coworker, we couldn’t find the car when we returned to Raleigh.  We strolled around the parking deck for 55 minutes arguing about where it might have gone.  I drove alone this year.  I was very careful to memorize my location in the humongous parking deck.  It’s on row I, like my eyeball, level 4, like the number of dogs I had growing up.  Or was it row E for eyeball and level 2 for my cats.  Oh crap.

6 Comments
by Danny Tanner on April 24, 2013  •  Permalink
Posted in Airplane, Flying, Humor
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Posted by Danny Tanner on April 24, 2013

http://therealfullhouse.wordpress.com/2013/04/24/fly-away/

Sunday Post 115: Why?

On the way home from dance class Wednesday, Michelle asked me why someone would use a bomb to hurt other people.  It was simply beyond her comprehension.

The problem is, it’s beyond mine too.  I can’t answer her question.  It’s a tougher conversation than the birds and the bees.

These guys rob us.  We can’t fly without worry.  We can’t see the world without extreme caution.  Our kids can’t go to school without fear.  We can’t honestly reassure our children, because we aren’t certain it won’t happen to us.

I wonder if they’ve ever felt pain.  I wonder if they can even imagine the agony they cause.

Maybe they have – maybe they can.

I just can’t imagine.  I can’t fathom how you could intentionally cause that level of agony to your fellow-man.

I know how it feels to hurt, I mean really hurt.  I would never wish that on anyone, ever.  How do you intentionally, with premeditated thought, plant a bomb with the express purpose of injuring, even killing another human being?  How do you walk into a school and shoot innocent kids you’ve never met before?

Maybe they do understand how it feels to lose someone you love.  Maybe they want to pay the world back for their loss.

Nah – I don’t believe you can understand love at any level and commit this sort of terror.

I’d do nearly anything in my power to keep others from going through what I’ve been through.  I just simply can’t understand how you could purposefully cause pain like that.  I just don’t get it.

Why, why, why?

7 Comments
by Danny Tanner on April 21, 2013  •  Permalink
Posted in Sunday Post

Posted by Danny Tanner on April 21, 2013

http://therealfullhouse.wordpress.com/2013/04/21/sunday-post-115-why/

My New Book!

As many of you know, I’ve been working on a book.  I think I’m nearing the end, if for no other reason, I can’t read it one more time!  I don’t yet know what it will cost, but you may want to start saving your money.  I’m sure it’ll be flying off the shelves.

One of my biggest issues now is coming up with a title.  I was talking to the girls about it last night, and they began to brainstorm.  These are their Top Ten suggestions:

Number 10:  Good Luck Danny

Number 9:  Dad Moms

Number 8:  Not Glee

Number 7:  Three Little Pigs and One Real Big Pig

Number 6:  50 Shades of Dad

Number 5:  To Kill A Mommy Bird

Number 4:  House With Six Boobies

Number 3:  Mugs of My Life (Michelle’s idea when opening the cabinet holding all of my coffee mugs!)

Number 2:  Bye Bye Mommy

Number 1:  Les Misahappiness

I think I’ll just come up with something on my own.

23 Comments
by Danny Tanner on April 17, 2013  •  Permalink
Posted in Book, Danny, Daughters, Humor, Laughter
Tagged , , , , , , , ,

Posted by Danny Tanner on April 17, 2013

http://therealfullhouse.wordpress.com/2013/04/17/my-new-book/

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