What am I doing with this blog...

As you can tell by the infrequent and sporadic bursts of energy with these blog posts, I am not sure what I am supposed to be doing with a blog. You hear every now and then about some teenager or housewife or someone out in the world that has 7 million followers and their blog is being optioned for a book or movie deal and while having someone pay me all that money would be nice, I do not think that is my blog's purpose. On the flip side, i hear of Blog's that are the technical expert in some area and people read them and consult these blog authors and experts in their fields. NPR always interviews these people and I think to myself are they really any more knowledgeable than me or are they just friends of the announcer who have a blog title that sounds relevant to the topic being discussed?

Either way, I have decided that this blog will be about my life. As the title reads, it will be about a wife, 2 kids, and a mortgage. We will also touch on my life and the dog that lives with us, too.

So, let's start by recounting a funny story and how we are raising our kids. About a month ago, we (my wife and two kids) were driving to a car repair shop to pick up our car and our route went along 82nd Ave. This is the street that is in every city of any size where enterprising young women tend to gather to sell their services to gentlemen clients passing by in cars. As we drove by an adult bookstore, my wife Dana asked "why are they always painted a bright purple? Is that a code or something?" We drive another block and we pass a woman on the sidewalk. Dana says. "did you see that hooker?"

I replied, "how do you know that? Was it because she was wearing a purple skirt?" And when I say the word "skirt" it was short and covered very little. I then spent the next mile on the way to the repair shop pointing to every person wearing purple and saying "another hooker" whether they were male or female, whether they were driving a car or not, and so on.

So, where is this story going? We pick up my sister at the repair shop and drove her back to her house. As we were driving home, we passed a group of teenagers at a bus stop and my 11-tear old son, Andrew, sitting in the back seat says, "did you see all those "lookers" at the bus stop?"

"What?" I replied.

"The people wearing purple. All those "lookers" at the bus stop."

After the peels of laughter from me and my wife have ceased, Dana politely explains that the correct word is "hooker" and it is not really a nice word to describe someone. She said, "if you call someone a "looker", then you are telling them they are really pretty. If you call someone a "hooker", then you are trying to pay them money to have sex with you."

Andrew sat in embarrassed silence the rest of the way home.