Note this day. (Or August 1). It is the first step after bigotry left our state
7.31.2013
Night of History
As the clock strikes midnight and today becomes tomorrow, the State of Minnesota will marry dozens of gay couples, maybe hundreds, in courtrooms, churches and secular places.
7.30.2013
A Lesson in Civil Disobedience
Back to American Experience...
When you spend two hours a day, five days a week with a group of students and a couple of teachers, you grow comfortable with each other. You don't necessarily like everyone, but you take comfort in the certainty of their actions; you know what to expect from them, and you tend to act and react in certain patterns. The teachers are a part of this interaction, and with one of my teachers in particular, I had build up quite the rapport.
Mary Peterson, Peetie for short, and I liked to verbally spar. I was a punk of a kid, always pushing the boundaries of respect, believing that the rules were for everyone else around me, but I was above them in some grand way. Mary (and I would call her that to her face in front of other students) seemed both to thrive off of my general disrespect and be horribly annoyed by it. She once called me Timone (from the Lion King), and I quickly snapped back that she was Pumba, the wild boar. She turned a wonderful shade of red after that one.
Late in the year, we were studying the 1960s, specifically Martin Luther King, Jr. and his brand of civil disobedience. To drive this lesson home, Peetie called a pop quiz one day. The rules were simple: everything off your desk, no talking, 10 minutes. When the quiz was passed out, it was on material we hadn't yet covered in class. I raised my hand, but I wasn't called on to ask my question. So I asked it anyway. Immediately, Mary threw me out of the class, told me to wait in the hallway. There was murmuring from my classmates, but they were quickly snapped at to be quiet.
I waited out in the hall, fuming, for 10 minutes, while the rest of the class tried in vain to answer questions to which they hadn't been taught the answers. At the end of the quiz, Mary called me back from the hall, and she asked me to stand in front of the class.
She apologized for not cluing me in (she wanted an honest reaction), but the quiz was a fake. The real lesson was to prove to the class how difficult it was to stand up to authority, even when you knew that wrong was being inflicted. There were about 60 students in the class, and none of them stood up for me. I was innocent this time... I swear. Mrs. Peterson drove the point home. I still remember being hurt by her actions, but dumbfounded by the lack of action from my classmates. I wonder what I would have done had the roles been reversed. Who I have spoke up and risked my precious grade?
I'd like to think I would have... if for no other reason that to try to take Peetie down another notch. I really was a punk of a teenager.
When you spend two hours a day, five days a week with a group of students and a couple of teachers, you grow comfortable with each other. You don't necessarily like everyone, but you take comfort in the certainty of their actions; you know what to expect from them, and you tend to act and react in certain patterns. The teachers are a part of this interaction, and with one of my teachers in particular, I had build up quite the rapport.
Mary Peterson, Peetie for short, and I liked to verbally spar. I was a punk of a kid, always pushing the boundaries of respect, believing that the rules were for everyone else around me, but I was above them in some grand way. Mary (and I would call her that to her face in front of other students) seemed both to thrive off of my general disrespect and be horribly annoyed by it. She once called me Timone (from the Lion King), and I quickly snapped back that she was Pumba, the wild boar. She turned a wonderful shade of red after that one.
Late in the year, we were studying the 1960s, specifically Martin Luther King, Jr. and his brand of civil disobedience. To drive this lesson home, Peetie called a pop quiz one day. The rules were simple: everything off your desk, no talking, 10 minutes. When the quiz was passed out, it was on material we hadn't yet covered in class. I raised my hand, but I wasn't called on to ask my question. So I asked it anyway. Immediately, Mary threw me out of the class, told me to wait in the hallway. There was murmuring from my classmates, but they were quickly snapped at to be quiet.
I waited out in the hall, fuming, for 10 minutes, while the rest of the class tried in vain to answer questions to which they hadn't been taught the answers. At the end of the quiz, Mary called me back from the hall, and she asked me to stand in front of the class.
She apologized for not cluing me in (she wanted an honest reaction), but the quiz was a fake. The real lesson was to prove to the class how difficult it was to stand up to authority, even when you knew that wrong was being inflicted. There were about 60 students in the class, and none of them stood up for me. I was innocent this time... I swear. Mrs. Peterson drove the point home. I still remember being hurt by her actions, but dumbfounded by the lack of action from my classmates. I wonder what I would have done had the roles been reversed. Who I have spoke up and risked my precious grade?
I'd like to think I would have... if for no other reason that to try to take Peetie down another notch. I really was a punk of a teenager.
7.29.2013
Django
Stacy and unjust finished watching Django Unchained. I'm still in a bit of shock... not because I abhor violence in movies, but because parts of the movie were downright cheesy. I understand it was a nod to the spaghetti westerns of old which had a cartoonish nature about their violence (and a black & white sense of justice), but I believe that had more to do with a lack of special effects than a desire to be cheesy. Cheese was simply the consequence.
Parts if the film were brilliant. Christop Waltz deserved his Oscar. The soundtrack was typically wonderful. The opening sequence was riveting. I also enjoyed the cameos; Don Johnson as Big Daddy was pretty fun to see.
I'm still left with an uneasy feeling a out the film, though. Maybe it's because I feel as though it was just Tarantino's excuse to use the "N" word a thousand times (I'd love to do a word count on the script). Maybe it was the crazy way Jamie Foxx made his horse dance at the end... I heard someone describe the movie as the best film they had ever seen. For me, it wasn't even the best film Tarantino has made.
Oh, and the blood was over the top; a six shooter is not capable of throwing a body across a room, and a rifle doesn't blow up a torso from 150 yards out.
7.28.2013
I've Put This Off Long Enough
When I was a junior in high school, I enrolled in a class called the American Experience. It was a double block class that was a combination of English and History taught by two teachers. The assignments intertwined, and the grades were combined. It was worth double the credits, thus it offered double the risk and reward. The class wasn't quite advanced placement, but it was an honors course (to a degree).
One of the most important aspects of AmEx was time management, or so the teachers would have their students believe. I'm sure this was true for most students. In order to prove their point, the teachers (I had Mrs. Grengs and Mrs. Peterson) created an assignment that's sole purpose was to prevent procrastination and force students to work over time. AmEx had 7 themes. I can't recall them today, but I'm sure they made sense at the time. The assignment was to collect articles from the local newspaper, clip five articles for each theme, write a summary of each article and how it related to the particular theme, then write a summary of each section/theme. All of the articles had to be bound. 250 points were possible. No late assignments would be accepted. If you were sick, you'd better make sure that your parents turned it in for you. To ensure that no begging would happen, Grengs and Peterson took the day off.
I laughed at the assignment, thinking it would be easy. I decided to wait until the night before the assignment to begin.
That evening, I worked until about 8:00. I got home, showered to get the smell of grease off me (more about my first job later), and I grabbed the stack of newspapers my family had received over the last week or so. After the first hour, realizing that I didn't have a way to bind my project, I brewed a pot of coffee. I found construction paper. I punched holes in 42 pages (5 articles times 7 themes plus 5 theme summaries and a front and back cover). I bound the pages with shoe laces, and I began to look for my 35 articles. After about 10 or so, I brewed another pot of coffee. And another.
By 3:00am, I was half way through my fourth pot. I couldn't see straight. I was jittery. I decided to go to sleep, if only for a few hours. My alarm went off at 5:00. It was a Wednesday, so I had barbershop rehearsal at 6:30. I worked for another half hour or so before rehearsal, then I worked for another few minutes before I remembered that I had a pre-calculus exam first period. Obviously, I hadn't studied.
AmEx was during second and third periods. I still had a ways to go on my project, but it wasn't due until the end of third period. The substitute put on some movie; I don't remember which, but it wasn't The Lion King (more on that later). All I remember was asking Winnie Brodt to help me search for articles. I handed her a stack of newspapers; she clipped, and I wrote summaries. I wrote my last summary as the movie ended and the dismissal bell rang. I tied the shoe laces, and I dropped my project on the cart, turning it in.
I immediately went to the nurse's office to sleep. I was jittery and nauseous. I missed choir fourth period. I was fried.
I got a 245/250. An A.
I learned that procrastination isn't the end of the world, even if you feel like your world is ending as soon as you're done.
One of the most important aspects of AmEx was time management, or so the teachers would have their students believe. I'm sure this was true for most students. In order to prove their point, the teachers (I had Mrs. Grengs and Mrs. Peterson) created an assignment that's sole purpose was to prevent procrastination and force students to work over time. AmEx had 7 themes. I can't recall them today, but I'm sure they made sense at the time. The assignment was to collect articles from the local newspaper, clip five articles for each theme, write a summary of each article and how it related to the particular theme, then write a summary of each section/theme. All of the articles had to be bound. 250 points were possible. No late assignments would be accepted. If you were sick, you'd better make sure that your parents turned it in for you. To ensure that no begging would happen, Grengs and Peterson took the day off.
I laughed at the assignment, thinking it would be easy. I decided to wait until the night before the assignment to begin.
That evening, I worked until about 8:00. I got home, showered to get the smell of grease off me (more about my first job later), and I grabbed the stack of newspapers my family had received over the last week or so. After the first hour, realizing that I didn't have a way to bind my project, I brewed a pot of coffee. I found construction paper. I punched holes in 42 pages (5 articles times 7 themes plus 5 theme summaries and a front and back cover). I bound the pages with shoe laces, and I began to look for my 35 articles. After about 10 or so, I brewed another pot of coffee. And another.
By 3:00am, I was half way through my fourth pot. I couldn't see straight. I was jittery. I decided to go to sleep, if only for a few hours. My alarm went off at 5:00. It was a Wednesday, so I had barbershop rehearsal at 6:30. I worked for another half hour or so before rehearsal, then I worked for another few minutes before I remembered that I had a pre-calculus exam first period. Obviously, I hadn't studied.
AmEx was during second and third periods. I still had a ways to go on my project, but it wasn't due until the end of third period. The substitute put on some movie; I don't remember which, but it wasn't The Lion King (more on that later). All I remember was asking Winnie Brodt to help me search for articles. I handed her a stack of newspapers; she clipped, and I wrote summaries. I wrote my last summary as the movie ended and the dismissal bell rang. I tied the shoe laces, and I dropped my project on the cart, turning it in.
I immediately went to the nurse's office to sleep. I was jittery and nauseous. I missed choir fourth period. I was fried.
I got a 245/250. An A.
I learned that procrastination isn't the end of the world, even if you feel like your world is ending as soon as you're done.
7.27.2013
My uncle
I had a 45 minute conversation with my uncle, Lawrence tonight. It was a good conversation. He even thanked me for it at the end.
Lawrence is my father's youngest brother. He is in his mid 50s. He works as a janitor. He has autism.
For Lawrence, this means that he focuses on a small group of things, trying to become an expert in them. It also means that he doesn't form many conclusions on his own, but those he does form become ingrained.
Tonight we talked about Detroit and bankruptcy. We talked about wearing a helmet every time he rides is motorcycle. We talked about DWIs. We talked about pensions and retirements and trusts.
Then the conversation came full circle: Lawrence thinks that Detroit just needs to raise the fines for DWIs. In his mind, this just proves the point that Detroit can easily solve its problems. We discussed that this was not possible, there aren't enough arrests to make up 18B in shortfalls.
But math like that isn't his strong suit. I'm sure we will go over it again soon
7.26.2013
Weekends Aren't What They Used To Be
Now that I have a kid, weekends aren't what they used to be.
When I was in college, the only day that wasn't the weekend was Tuesday. We partied often, but even in college, Friday and Saturday had a magic all their own. Friday nights started at 9:00. They went until at least 2:00. Saturdays, especially in the fall, started with pre-game parties as early as 8:00. There was almost always a nap. Then the party would pick back up until the bars closed
After college, weekends actually became two (okay, maybe three) days long. Evenings started earlier. Nights ended a bit sooner. The partying remained vigilant, though.
Now, Fridays start at 5:30. I'm lucky if they last until 10:00. Saturdays are devoted to getting as much done around the house as possible, often rendering the evening short too. Sundays you try to get as much done that got left over from Saturday. Unless it is football season. Then I watch football for as long as possible.
Tonight is no different. Happy Friday everyone! I'm heading to bed.
7.25.2013
Exhausted
As I mentioned last night, I was exhausted by the time I found time to write. I had the pleasure of spending the evening with Grayson. I thoroughly enjoy the father/son bonding time, but it is tiring. As I've stated before, I do not know how single parents manage to function.
Grayson is reaching the phase of childhood where he needs to be able to see me at all times. The interaction is wonderful! He is fully engaged with me, what I'm doing, and the environment around him. You can tell that he is soaking in as much information as possible, and, because he is mobile, he wants to explore the environment around him. I think it is this desire to learn that makes him want to stay awake.
He was as tired as I was last night, but he refused to go to sleep. This meant that he was up past 9:00. This also meant that I was able to finally make dinner for myself at 9:02. Stacy arrived home shortly thereafter; by the time we were done talking about our days, it was 10:30, and I was soooo ready for bed.
I cheated a bit with the blog. This means that I still owe one more post from the weekend and a second one today. I think one of those posts will explore my love/hate relationship with procrastination...
Grayson is reaching the phase of childhood where he needs to be able to see me at all times. The interaction is wonderful! He is fully engaged with me, what I'm doing, and the environment around him. You can tell that he is soaking in as much information as possible, and, because he is mobile, he wants to explore the environment around him. I think it is this desire to learn that makes him want to stay awake.
He was as tired as I was last night, but he refused to go to sleep. This meant that he was up past 9:00. This also meant that I was able to finally make dinner for myself at 9:02. Stacy arrived home shortly thereafter; by the time we were done talking about our days, it was 10:30, and I was soooo ready for bed.
I cheated a bit with the blog. This means that I still owe one more post from the weekend and a second one today. I think one of those posts will explore my love/hate relationship with procrastination...
7.24.2013
Wiener/Danger
I'm not much of a political mind; I understand major issues and how I think people should vote on them, but I never ran for student government nor do I go door to door on behalf of local candidates.
I watched the West Wing, and I love the references that Dulè Hill makes on Psych to his old character, Charlie, but I'm not Aaron Sorkin by any means.
I'll tell you what I do know, though. When you get caught sexting, stop. Plain and simple rule, really. I'm not the guy that goes around judging or telling others how to live their lives... But this is just common sense. And don't use a cheesy alias like Carlos Danger. The only things In danger are Wiener's career and his marriage.
Maybe it's time to go back to a flip phone (sans camera), and to place bug sweeps on all exits.
Or you could just stop sending pictures of your genitalia to women you don't know, even if you don't fully understand the value of your reputation.
7.23.2013
Having a catch
I've never called it having a catch. That phrase was made known to me when I watched "Field of Dreams." I've always called it playing catch.
Anyhoo... My son has started to play catch. Or more accurately, he's learned to have a catch. Have daddy catch. He will lean over the back of the couch (his new trick), and he will hurl an object in my direction. I pick it up, hand it back, and then he giggles as he repeats the project.
I can't begin to describe how elated this makes me. His laugh, his wanting to interact with me, his strong left arm. I'm smiling just thinking of it. I can't wait to play agin tomorrow.
7.22.2013
A Case of the Mondays
I can't believe the Royal Baby is a boy! Just kidding. I'm not blogging about the royal family. Ever.
I have a case of the Monday's, or more accurately, I had a case. My day started out fine. The alarm felt a little early, and I had an awfully hard time leaving Grayson at daycare today, but there wasn't anything jolting about it. My first meeting wasn't until 10:00 even. Then I realized that I had a 2 hours meeting at the end of my day.
Ugh.
What made it worse was the fact that the meeting had the audacity to run long. I had been doing the pee-pee dance in my conference room chair for about 30 minutes, but that and the other 90 minutes I offered up didn't seem to satiate the facilitators. They had question after question, an additional 20 minutes worth. Then the bus ride took longer (after I found the nearest restroom). Then the lines at the grocery store were long. Then the mustard had expired.
I was grumpy, and I was starting to take it out on my wife. Until she set me straight. Then I looked at my son, and he smiled at me from his highchair. Then we sat on a blanket outside as a family. Then there was beer. Okay... the beer came somewhere after the smile but before the blanket.
So I guess this is a bit of an apology to my wife and a thank you to my son.
I think I'm ready for the rest of the week.
I have a case of the Monday's, or more accurately, I had a case. My day started out fine. The alarm felt a little early, and I had an awfully hard time leaving Grayson at daycare today, but there wasn't anything jolting about it. My first meeting wasn't until 10:00 even. Then I realized that I had a 2 hours meeting at the end of my day.
Ugh.
What made it worse was the fact that the meeting had the audacity to run long. I had been doing the pee-pee dance in my conference room chair for about 30 minutes, but that and the other 90 minutes I offered up didn't seem to satiate the facilitators. They had question after question, an additional 20 minutes worth. Then the bus ride took longer (after I found the nearest restroom). Then the lines at the grocery store were long. Then the mustard had expired.
I was grumpy, and I was starting to take it out on my wife. Until she set me straight. Then I looked at my son, and he smiled at me from his highchair. Then we sat on a blanket outside as a family. Then there was beer. Okay... the beer came somewhere after the smile but before the blanket.
So I guess this is a bit of an apology to my wife and a thank you to my son.
I think I'm ready for the rest of the week.
Oops!
So the weekend kinda got away from me. I missed two days in a row, but it was mostly because I was so busy enjoying the weekend.
I got to spend all day Saturday with Grayson... just the two of us! We didn't do much, but it was special to have a whole day with him to hang out and bond.
Sunday I got up early to play guitar at church, then Stacy and I spent the day with Grayson shopping and playing. The saga of the iPhone is now complete. We went to the Apple Store yesterday to get a replacement. Everything is restored, backed up, and back to normal.
Despite being busy this weekend, I still feel a little guilty for not blogging. I'll make it up with double posts for a few days this week. I'm still on pace to hit 365 posts for the year, and I'm staying true to the spirit of my self-inflicted challenge of writing every day. I now have 72 posts for 74 days. I've only missed 4 days total, so I'm feeling pretty good about my progress.
Another post is coming later today. Enjoy your Monday!
I got to spend all day Saturday with Grayson... just the two of us! We didn't do much, but it was special to have a whole day with him to hang out and bond.
Sunday I got up early to play guitar at church, then Stacy and I spent the day with Grayson shopping and playing. The saga of the iPhone is now complete. We went to the Apple Store yesterday to get a replacement. Everything is restored, backed up, and back to normal.
Despite being busy this weekend, I still feel a little guilty for not blogging. I'll make it up with double posts for a few days this week. I'm still on pace to hit 365 posts for the year, and I'm staying true to the spirit of my self-inflicted challenge of writing every day. I now have 72 posts for 74 days. I've only missed 4 days total, so I'm feeling pretty good about my progress.
Another post is coming later today. Enjoy your Monday!
7.19.2013
Memories Restored
After almost two months, all of the photos and videos from Stacy's iPhone are safe and secure. We received word this week that the second data recovery company was able to retrieve every single file from the phone. It arrived via FedEx today, and it is currently stored in two locations; there will be a third location tomorrow.
I was on the fence about whether the recovery was worth the cost. After watching the video of my son say "mama" for the first time, I know it was worth every penny. These memories are precious, and they are priceless.
We basically spent about $.30 per photo/video. When we were in the hospital, a professional photographer showed up and offered to sell us some service. We thought we were getting more photos than we received... but when it boils down to it, we spent almost $20 per photo from her. Those pictures are important, but not nearly as personal or intimate as the ones from the phone.
As far as I'm concerned, we got a steal on 6+ months of memories. Stacy and I couldn't be happier with our purchase.
I was on the fence about whether the recovery was worth the cost. After watching the video of my son say "mama" for the first time, I know it was worth every penny. These memories are precious, and they are priceless.
We basically spent about $.30 per photo/video. When we were in the hospital, a professional photographer showed up and offered to sell us some service. We thought we were getting more photos than we received... but when it boils down to it, we spent almost $20 per photo from her. Those pictures are important, but not nearly as personal or intimate as the ones from the phone.
As far as I'm concerned, we got a steal on 6+ months of memories. Stacy and I couldn't be happier with our purchase.
7.18.2013
Thinking About Giving Up Facebook
I've been a casual Facebook user since about 2001, when I was a grad student at St. Kate's, and Facebook was still reserved for .edu email addresses. Back then, it was refreshingly romantic and new. Your circle of friends were only those people you went to class with; there were no parents or co-workers. There were no random people from your past. There were only people you knew and interacted with in the non-virtual world too.
A lot has changed in the past 10+ years. Facebook has reached over 1,000,000,000 users. My aunts and uncles are on there... old acquaintances who barely said in the first place... people from all aspects of my life.
I've had two odd experiences today. First, someone that I'm "friends" with asked me why I accepted her friend request years ago. I couldn't even figure out who she was anymore, and she wouldn't share details with me. It was clear she went to my high school given our mutual friends, but I had to go to my yearbook to figure out who she was. I've since unfriended her. Odd that unfriend is now a common verb. Second, I made what I thought was an innocent post today. Turns out I offended someone. In this world of political correctness, it has become harder and harder to not offend someone, and with the instant access and decreasing attention spans, with people needing info now so they can make snap judgments moments before now, just about anything you type can be taken in a way you didn't intent.
Sometimes these offenses are grounded and founded. Other times, I just think people are looking for an argument.
If my world weren't so connected already, I'd just delete my account. I don't think I'm ready to pull that trigger yet, but I'm considering stopping all status updates for a while. We will see.
Obviously, I'll still post this blog entry there. Grrr.
A lot has changed in the past 10+ years. Facebook has reached over 1,000,000,000 users. My aunts and uncles are on there... old acquaintances who barely said in the first place... people from all aspects of my life.
I've had two odd experiences today. First, someone that I'm "friends" with asked me why I accepted her friend request years ago. I couldn't even figure out who she was anymore, and she wouldn't share details with me. It was clear she went to my high school given our mutual friends, but I had to go to my yearbook to figure out who she was. I've since unfriended her. Odd that unfriend is now a common verb. Second, I made what I thought was an innocent post today. Turns out I offended someone. In this world of political correctness, it has become harder and harder to not offend someone, and with the instant access and decreasing attention spans, with people needing info now so they can make snap judgments moments before now, just about anything you type can be taken in a way you didn't intent.
Sometimes these offenses are grounded and founded. Other times, I just think people are looking for an argument.
If my world weren't so connected already, I'd just delete my account. I don't think I'm ready to pull that trigger yet, but I'm considering stopping all status updates for a while. We will see.
Obviously, I'll still post this blog entry there. Grrr.
7.17.2013
Cars with Glitches
I was at the local liquor store today. I'm there often enough where the staff recognizes me, but not so often that they know me by name. They are good folk. The guy who rung me up today noticed that I drove up in a Volvo. Turns out he owns one too.
My car is a 2005 Volvo S40. It was the first full year of a new design; they released it as a 2004.5. The clerk owned a 2006. Very similar cars. As he was running my debit card, he asked me how I liked my car.
I love my car. I really do. It was the first new car I ever purchased. I remember, as a teen, my dad would tell me that there is nothing better than a new car and the satisfaction you get from buying one. He was right. To this day, I'm still happy with my purchase.
But it is time to consider putting it to bed and getting something else. Over the last 2 years, I've had a host of problems that needed attention and money. I still have some of them; my truck won't open when I want it to, but it often opens when I put the car in drive. The clerk has the same problems. All of them. And I'm sure he has a few others that I haven't discovered yet. (Maybe its the other way around.)
It will probably be another year before I buy something different. My commute to the bus stop is short; the engine runs well. I have new tires.
But soon, I will buy something different.
My car is a 2005 Volvo S40. It was the first full year of a new design; they released it as a 2004.5. The clerk owned a 2006. Very similar cars. As he was running my debit card, he asked me how I liked my car.
I love my car. I really do. It was the first new car I ever purchased. I remember, as a teen, my dad would tell me that there is nothing better than a new car and the satisfaction you get from buying one. He was right. To this day, I'm still happy with my purchase.
But it is time to consider putting it to bed and getting something else. Over the last 2 years, I've had a host of problems that needed attention and money. I still have some of them; my truck won't open when I want it to, but it often opens when I put the car in drive. The clerk has the same problems. All of them. And I'm sure he has a few others that I haven't discovered yet. (Maybe its the other way around.)
It will probably be another year before I buy something different. My commute to the bus stop is short; the engine runs well. I have new tires.
But soon, I will buy something different.
7.16.2013
Daycareless Day
Aunt Kate, Uncle Jerry and Cousin Belle are in town (with Sammie, the terrier mix). They haven't been in town since Christmas, which means they haven' seen Grayson in over six months.
That's a bit of an eternity.
So Aunt Kate asked if they could spend a whole day with G-Man, and Stacy and I were happy to oblige. I dropped Grayson off at Grandma's house a little before 7:00am. They spent all day playing, shopping, eating, swimming and napping. It sounded like everyone had a fabulous day.
After work, Stacy and I joined everyone for dinner: steaks, potatoes, fruit salad and sangria. Grayson was all smiles, as he got passed around and cuddled. He played cards in Uncle Jerry's lap; Belle fed him... even Sammie gave him some kisses. (I forgive her youthful exuberance for knocking him over at one point.)
All of this brings a smile to my face. I recognize just how blessed I am (we are) to have both sides of our family close by and to be surrounded with such love. They say it takes village... I've found mine.
That's a bit of an eternity.
So Aunt Kate asked if they could spend a whole day with G-Man, and Stacy and I were happy to oblige. I dropped Grayson off at Grandma's house a little before 7:00am. They spent all day playing, shopping, eating, swimming and napping. It sounded like everyone had a fabulous day.
After work, Stacy and I joined everyone for dinner: steaks, potatoes, fruit salad and sangria. Grayson was all smiles, as he got passed around and cuddled. He played cards in Uncle Jerry's lap; Belle fed him... even Sammie gave him some kisses. (I forgive her youthful exuberance for knocking him over at one point.)
All of this brings a smile to my face. I recognize just how blessed I am (we are) to have both sides of our family close by and to be surrounded with such love. They say it takes village... I've found mine.
7.15.2013
Chasing Classic Cars
I just finished watching an episode of "Chasing Classic Cars" on Velocity. The show is really just about a man who loves all kinds of classic cars, especially Ferraris. He makes a living buying and selling rare vehicles, and acting as a broker for people who want to do the same. It is a good living, but what makes this guy so special is that he truly loves cars. It is his passion, and it shows.
Tonight's episode focused on a 1955 AC Ace. That's okay; I hadn't heard of it either. It's British, and it cost about USD$2700 new. The episode would have been just fine if our main guy was buying it, selling it, auctioning it off... but what made this episode something to write about is the fact that our guy was restoring it on behalf of a son. The son was buying it for his father because this was his father's car. Not the same model that his dad owned; this was the car his father ordered new in Jan. 1955. His father raced the car for that year, winning 5 races before he blew the engine and couldn't afford to repair it. His father had to sell the car for far less than he paid for it.
Our car guy heard the story, found it, bought it, restored it and sold it to the son. The son gave it to his dad. Everyone (including Stacy and I) cried.
The thought that ran through my head is this: I pray that I will be a good-enough father to Grayson that he feels compelled to do something similar for me. I don't necessarily want a car; maybe he can't afford that. But I hope that I've done enough for him, and raised him right enough, that he thinks to do something so meaningful for me.
If Grayson does, I will know that I succeeded as a father.
Tonight's episode focused on a 1955 AC Ace. That's okay; I hadn't heard of it either. It's British, and it cost about USD$2700 new. The episode would have been just fine if our main guy was buying it, selling it, auctioning it off... but what made this episode something to write about is the fact that our guy was restoring it on behalf of a son. The son was buying it for his father because this was his father's car. Not the same model that his dad owned; this was the car his father ordered new in Jan. 1955. His father raced the car for that year, winning 5 races before he blew the engine and couldn't afford to repair it. His father had to sell the car for far less than he paid for it.
Our car guy heard the story, found it, bought it, restored it and sold it to the son. The son gave it to his dad. Everyone (including Stacy and I) cried.
The thought that ran through my head is this: I pray that I will be a good-enough father to Grayson that he feels compelled to do something similar for me. I don't necessarily want a car; maybe he can't afford that. But I hope that I've done enough for him, and raised him right enough, that he thinks to do something so meaningful for me.
If Grayson does, I will know that I succeeded as a father.
7.14.2013
Mission Trips
Yesterday 12 youth and 2 adults from my church embarked on a week-long mission trip to NYC. I believe this is their 2nd year in a row going to New York where they will be partnering with various organization throughout their stay. It sounds like a pretty cool trip.
One of the first things I ever did with my youth group was take a mission trip. I was 13, going into the 7th grade. We headed east too, just not to a place as populated or urban as NYC. We went to a small town in West Virginia. There were about 10 kids and 2 adults crammed into a 15 passenger van. If I remember correctly, we stayed in the basement of a UCC church in Chicago for the drive down. We listened to "I Wanna Drive a Zamboni" incessantly. On cassette. There were not such things as CD players in rental vans back in 1991, let alone iPods which would be unleashed 10 years later.
Our mission was to clean up a rundown daycare center in the thick of the Appalachian Mountains. We had a blast. We shaved odd shapes into our hair, which we dyed with Kool-Aid. We tore down old structures and burned them. We cleaned. We painted. We bonded. Some of us even picked up local accents.
But my biggest memory of the trip was discovering just how allergic I was to grass pollen. One of the maintenance staff at the center had just mowed half of a field. The other half was chest high on me at the time. The local dog had gotten loose; it was big, white, fluffy... a working dog, though. I felt it my duty to chase and corral the beast. S/he led me through the freshly mowed grass and into section that had yet to be cut. The chase exhausted me, so I laid down for a nap.
When I awoke, I couldn't open my eyes, and my breathing was pretty strained. This panicked my youth director, so we hopped in the rental van and made our way to the nearest ER. The drive panicked me. In my memory, the ER was over an hour away (it was probably within 30 minutes), and we had to drive through winding mountain roads to get there. My youth director seemed to be in a hurry (understandably), and I couldn't see, so it felt like I was on a roller coaster blindfolded.
I'm here and writing this, so everything turned out fine, but I don't run through fields like that anymore. That mission trip taught me a lot of things. I like to think I helped out a ton of kids, but most importantly, I learned a ton about myself, and I bonded with a group of kids that would be some of my closest friends for the next 6 years or so. I'm still friends with some of them today.
I hope our current youth have a similar experience this trip, minus any visits to the ER.
One of the first things I ever did with my youth group was take a mission trip. I was 13, going into the 7th grade. We headed east too, just not to a place as populated or urban as NYC. We went to a small town in West Virginia. There were about 10 kids and 2 adults crammed into a 15 passenger van. If I remember correctly, we stayed in the basement of a UCC church in Chicago for the drive down. We listened to "I Wanna Drive a Zamboni" incessantly. On cassette. There were not such things as CD players in rental vans back in 1991, let alone iPods which would be unleashed 10 years later.
Our mission was to clean up a rundown daycare center in the thick of the Appalachian Mountains. We had a blast. We shaved odd shapes into our hair, which we dyed with Kool-Aid. We tore down old structures and burned them. We cleaned. We painted. We bonded. Some of us even picked up local accents.
But my biggest memory of the trip was discovering just how allergic I was to grass pollen. One of the maintenance staff at the center had just mowed half of a field. The other half was chest high on me at the time. The local dog had gotten loose; it was big, white, fluffy... a working dog, though. I felt it my duty to chase and corral the beast. S/he led me through the freshly mowed grass and into section that had yet to be cut. The chase exhausted me, so I laid down for a nap.
When I awoke, I couldn't open my eyes, and my breathing was pretty strained. This panicked my youth director, so we hopped in the rental van and made our way to the nearest ER. The drive panicked me. In my memory, the ER was over an hour away (it was probably within 30 minutes), and we had to drive through winding mountain roads to get there. My youth director seemed to be in a hurry (understandably), and I couldn't see, so it felt like I was on a roller coaster blindfolded.
I'm here and writing this, so everything turned out fine, but I don't run through fields like that anymore. That mission trip taught me a lot of things. I like to think I helped out a ton of kids, but most importantly, I learned a ton about myself, and I bonded with a group of kids that would be some of my closest friends for the next 6 years or so. I'm still friends with some of them today.
I hope our current youth have a similar experience this trip, minus any visits to the ER.
7.13.2013
Selling Furniture
Stacy has a degree in interior design rooted in her love of mid-century modern. She has been a designer for the longest time, but her most recent role is primarily focused on selling furniture to businesses.
Her job comes with a discount. She loves furniture. We buy furniture.
This means we have extra furniture lying around, but especially now that we have a child we don't have a place for the extra stuff. Craigslist can be wonderful, but it can also be frustrating. Selling to friends can be worse though.
We sold a couch today to a family friend, but we also sold it to her about 4 weeks ago. It just took that long for us to figure out a way to get it to her. More accurately, it took that long for me to get fed up with having to store an extra couch. She was supposed to arrange transportation, but I ended up borrowing my father-in-law's truck and hauled the couch across the city myself.
Not ideal, but I'm excited to have the floor space back.
Now if I could only clear out the furniture from my side of the garage!
Her job comes with a discount. She loves furniture. We buy furniture.
This means we have extra furniture lying around, but especially now that we have a child we don't have a place for the extra stuff. Craigslist can be wonderful, but it can also be frustrating. Selling to friends can be worse though.
We sold a couch today to a family friend, but we also sold it to her about 4 weeks ago. It just took that long for us to figure out a way to get it to her. More accurately, it took that long for me to get fed up with having to store an extra couch. She was supposed to arrange transportation, but I ended up borrowing my father-in-law's truck and hauled the couch across the city myself.
Not ideal, but I'm excited to have the floor space back.
Now if I could only clear out the furniture from my side of the garage!
7.12.2013
Pilgrim Point Part 2: Teenage Hubris
I attended Pilgrim Point Camp for one week every summer from 6th through 12th grade. Camps were divided by age group with the last group being senior high. Once you graduated high school, that was it for camp. (There are family camps, weekend retreats, etc., but senior high was the last full week camp experience.) Because so many kids attended year after year, and because a lot of us loved that place like no other, it was tradition that graduating seniors were allowed to say good-bye at the last evening's vespers.
The camp lays on a point into Lake Ida (hence the name). There are thousands of linear feet of beach; thank god the church is tax-exempt. At the end of point is a quaint seating area with a simple fire pit, altar and cross. It's called vespers' point. Every night of camp, the lot gathers for a brief worship. Weather permitting, the service is held at the point. It can be a wonderfully moving experience. When the weather isn't nice, vespers is held inside the rec hall. The intention is there, but indoor vespers doesn't have the same sway.
When I was a senior, there were six of us; we were a tight-knit group. We loved each other, and we were proud of the camp we felt we owned. I knew (we all did) that it was our last week to be together. Graduating was full of lasts, and camp was no exception. Our little gang would probably never be in the same place together again, and we wanted to carry on the tradition of saying good-bye.
That last day, though, the weather was dreadful. It never fully rained, but it was miserably damp. As the evening approached, the camp director wanted to move vespers inside. As a group of six, though, we insisted that our vespers be where it belonged: outside, on the point. The director agreed, but informed us that if the weather got any worse, the service would move inside.
Senior good-byes always come at the end of the service. What was a drizzle turned into a light rain. It was our turn, though, to give our speeches, and the gang gathered behind the cross just up the beach a few paces. We huddled together, and we prayed. The rain started to fall a bit harder. I knew they were about to move us inside, so I did the only thing I could think of. I looked up at the sky, and I informed God that if He didn't stop the rain, I'd come up there and I'd kick his ass. Only a teenager who felt like he owned the world would have the gall to do something like that, and even then, I knew I was being reckless.
But in that moment, a circle of clouds opened up, shining the stars down on the point. All of us were able to say our peace without a drop of rain. I went last (of course). When I finished telling everyone how much that place meant to me, and how it was sacred, to be cherished, the clouds came back and it started to rain again. My hubris apparently bought us just enough time to find the closure we were looking for...
The camp lays on a point into Lake Ida (hence the name). There are thousands of linear feet of beach; thank god the church is tax-exempt. At the end of point is a quaint seating area with a simple fire pit, altar and cross. It's called vespers' point. Every night of camp, the lot gathers for a brief worship. Weather permitting, the service is held at the point. It can be a wonderfully moving experience. When the weather isn't nice, vespers is held inside the rec hall. The intention is there, but indoor vespers doesn't have the same sway.
When I was a senior, there were six of us; we were a tight-knit group. We loved each other, and we were proud of the camp we felt we owned. I knew (we all did) that it was our last week to be together. Graduating was full of lasts, and camp was no exception. Our little gang would probably never be in the same place together again, and we wanted to carry on the tradition of saying good-bye.
That last day, though, the weather was dreadful. It never fully rained, but it was miserably damp. As the evening approached, the camp director wanted to move vespers inside. As a group of six, though, we insisted that our vespers be where it belonged: outside, on the point. The director agreed, but informed us that if the weather got any worse, the service would move inside.
Senior good-byes always come at the end of the service. What was a drizzle turned into a light rain. It was our turn, though, to give our speeches, and the gang gathered behind the cross just up the beach a few paces. We huddled together, and we prayed. The rain started to fall a bit harder. I knew they were about to move us inside, so I did the only thing I could think of. I looked up at the sky, and I informed God that if He didn't stop the rain, I'd come up there and I'd kick his ass. Only a teenager who felt like he owned the world would have the gall to do something like that, and even then, I knew I was being reckless.
But in that moment, a circle of clouds opened up, shining the stars down on the point. All of us were able to say our peace without a drop of rain. I went last (of course). When I finished telling everyone how much that place meant to me, and how it was sacred, to be cherished, the clouds came back and it started to rain again. My hubris apparently bought us just enough time to find the closure we were looking for...
7.11.2013
Pilgrim Point
In honor of the fact that "Camp" and "Summer/Camp" are premiering on television this week (I'm not watching either of them), I'm breaking down and writing my first post about the camp I attended as a kid: Pilgrim Point Camp. Pilgrim Point Camp is located on the east side of Lake Ida, just north of Alexandria, MN. It is part of the Outdoor Ministries division of the Minnesota Conference UCC.
It is a church camp. And I willingly went there.
I'm promise there will be other posts about Pilgrim Point; I don't have the energy tonight to write everything about it.... I'm not sure I have enough energy this year to write everything I have to say about camp... but I will start with this.
I first attended camp the summer after 6th grade. A friend from my local church was going, and he invited me to go along with him. It might have been a safety-in-numbers thing. It was a new experience for him too. I reluctantly agreed to go, but naturally I was sceptical. I was taunted, teased and tormented through most of elementary school. I wasn' the tallest or most athletic kid... on the playground, that meant I was fair game. The rule of the game was that if you could pick on someone, you weren't the lowest on the totem pole in school. I was pretty much the lowest on the pole. I doubt my experience was uncommon. I assumed that summer camp, even for a week, would be similar.
I was wrong.
Maybe it was my first counselor (Neil), or my friend from church. Maybe it was the communist/hippie/liberal atmosphere that was created around mealtime. Maybe it was the cup game or the warm fuzzies at lunch. Maybe it was as simple as God's love moving through that place. Whatever it was, I felt accepted and loved for being nothing more than me. It was a transformational feeling, one that boosted my self-confidence, and it was something I'll never forget.
The feeling was so wonderful I attended camp every year through high school. I even counselled camp for a few summers after I graduated. It is still the place I go to in my head when I need to feel okay, when I need to feel accepted.
I promise more about camp later. For now, know that I'm excited for another summer, and I'm excited for all the kids who will feel loved for being themselves this year.
I'm singing "Spirit" in my head right now.
It is a church camp. And I willingly went there.
I'm promise there will be other posts about Pilgrim Point; I don't have the energy tonight to write everything about it.... I'm not sure I have enough energy this year to write everything I have to say about camp... but I will start with this.
I first attended camp the summer after 6th grade. A friend from my local church was going, and he invited me to go along with him. It might have been a safety-in-numbers thing. It was a new experience for him too. I reluctantly agreed to go, but naturally I was sceptical. I was taunted, teased and tormented through most of elementary school. I wasn' the tallest or most athletic kid... on the playground, that meant I was fair game. The rule of the game was that if you could pick on someone, you weren't the lowest on the totem pole in school. I was pretty much the lowest on the pole. I doubt my experience was uncommon. I assumed that summer camp, even for a week, would be similar.
I was wrong.
Maybe it was my first counselor (Neil), or my friend from church. Maybe it was the communist/hippie/liberal atmosphere that was created around mealtime. Maybe it was the cup game or the warm fuzzies at lunch. Maybe it was as simple as God's love moving through that place. Whatever it was, I felt accepted and loved for being nothing more than me. It was a transformational feeling, one that boosted my self-confidence, and it was something I'll never forget.
The feeling was so wonderful I attended camp every year through high school. I even counselled camp for a few summers after I graduated. It is still the place I go to in my head when I need to feel okay, when I need to feel accepted.
I promise more about camp later. For now, know that I'm excited for another summer, and I'm excited for all the kids who will feel loved for being themselves this year.
I'm singing "Spirit" in my head right now.
7.10.2013
Day 62
I'm two months into my 35 year project (which is actually my 36th year). This means that I'm about 17% done. This also means I have about 83% to go. It still seems daunting to me. I've written 61 posts to date; this is #62. This means I still have over 300 to go!
I'm not sure that I've properly hit my groove yet; I'm hoping there is a groove to be hit, like a runner's high that carried them through the meat of it. I'm only 5 miles into my run (4.36 miles), and there have been parts that have been a struggle. Maybe my problem is that I didn't really train for this.
But I'm still running, and I don't plan on turning back anytime soon. My nipples aren't even bleeding yet.
I'm not sure that I've properly hit my groove yet; I'm hoping there is a groove to be hit, like a runner's high that carried them through the meat of it. I'm only 5 miles into my run (4.36 miles), and there have been parts that have been a struggle. Maybe my problem is that I didn't really train for this.
But I'm still running, and I don't plan on turning back anytime soon. My nipples aren't even bleeding yet.
7.09.2013
I'm So Money...
And I don't even know it.
Swingers came out the fall I started college. It was an instant classic around the dorm. We would quote lines ad nauseum, and we aspired to be as nonchalant as possible. Most of us felt like Mikes on the inside, while we tried our damnedest to be Trents, Sues and Alexes to the outside world.
One scene that caught my attention was at the casino in Vegas before Mike and Trent get to the blackjack table; Mike orders a scotch on the rocks, lists off a number of scotches starting with "Glen," concluding his order with "any Glen will do." This piqued a curiosity for me. By the time I graduated college, I was hooked on scotch.
Today it is my drink of choice, and tonight, I'm trying a new Glen. (New to me.) Glen Garioch.
Founded in 1797, this scotch hails from the highlands. It's a 12 year single malt, aged in bourbon and sherry casks. There are notes of heather, poached pears, rich golden barley, and just a hint of oak. It has a "lasting finish;" that's code for: it burns a while. My palette isn't refined enough to taste all of the notes suggested, but it's smart enough to know it's delish! I couldn't drink a lot of it at once, but I'm thoroughly enjoying my second pour of the evening.
If you have any suggestions for odd/uncommon scotches, I'm all ears.
Cheers!
Swingers came out the fall I started college. It was an instant classic around the dorm. We would quote lines ad nauseum, and we aspired to be as nonchalant as possible. Most of us felt like Mikes on the inside, while we tried our damnedest to be Trents, Sues and Alexes to the outside world.
One scene that caught my attention was at the casino in Vegas before Mike and Trent get to the blackjack table; Mike orders a scotch on the rocks, lists off a number of scotches starting with "Glen," concluding his order with "any Glen will do." This piqued a curiosity for me. By the time I graduated college, I was hooked on scotch.
Today it is my drink of choice, and tonight, I'm trying a new Glen. (New to me.) Glen Garioch.
Founded in 1797, this scotch hails from the highlands. It's a 12 year single malt, aged in bourbon and sherry casks. There are notes of heather, poached pears, rich golden barley, and just a hint of oak. It has a "lasting finish;" that's code for: it burns a while. My palette isn't refined enough to taste all of the notes suggested, but it's smart enough to know it's delish! I couldn't drink a lot of it at once, but I'm thoroughly enjoying my second pour of the evening.
If you have any suggestions for odd/uncommon scotches, I'm all ears.
Cheers!
7.08.2013
They Grow Up So Fast
Stacy and I have reached a milestone: we've started to panic!
Grayson has reached a milestone: he's pulling himself up. As many of you have already seen on Facebook, we found him a few days ago just sitting up, grinning, chomping on the crib rail. This poses a problem, in that the crib may not contain him anymore. Last night, I caught him doing the same thing in the dark... after we had put him to bed for the night. So at 9:15 last night, I got out my 3/8" crescent wrench and lowered the crib down about a half foot. Today, he was doing the same thing in his pack 'n' play.
All of this means we need to baby-proof everything and create new ways to contain him. Quickly.
Obviously the goal is to raise a child into an adult, and part of becoming an adult is learning how to do a pull-up. How else will you pass 5th grade physical education? Despite knowing that this would happen at some point, neither Stacy nor I thought it would happen later. Or maybe we thought Grayson wasn't this old yet. It is hard to explain, but it seems like he was an infant just a week ago; sure... he was crawling a bit, but that was easy. Like navigating the fire swamp, once you know to listen for the puffs of air, you can easily avoid the flare-ups. As soon as you hear the rush of knees on carpet, you know to start looking for the crawler.
I didn't believe in BOUS (babies of unusual strength) until I saw G pull himself up to the coffee table and grab the remote. All of a sudden, we need to pad the corners... and the fireplace, with its brick hearth, seems like an impossible hazard.
All of this in the blink of an eye. I'm sure there aren't any other phases that Stacy and I need to concern ourselves with... we've got it all figured out once we've baby-proofed the outlets.
Here's hoping.
Grayson has reached a milestone: he's pulling himself up. As many of you have already seen on Facebook, we found him a few days ago just sitting up, grinning, chomping on the crib rail. This poses a problem, in that the crib may not contain him anymore. Last night, I caught him doing the same thing in the dark... after we had put him to bed for the night. So at 9:15 last night, I got out my 3/8" crescent wrench and lowered the crib down about a half foot. Today, he was doing the same thing in his pack 'n' play.
All of this means we need to baby-proof everything and create new ways to contain him. Quickly.
Obviously the goal is to raise a child into an adult, and part of becoming an adult is learning how to do a pull-up. How else will you pass 5th grade physical education? Despite knowing that this would happen at some point, neither Stacy nor I thought it would happen later. Or maybe we thought Grayson wasn't this old yet. It is hard to explain, but it seems like he was an infant just a week ago; sure... he was crawling a bit, but that was easy. Like navigating the fire swamp, once you know to listen for the puffs of air, you can easily avoid the flare-ups. As soon as you hear the rush of knees on carpet, you know to start looking for the crawler.
I didn't believe in BOUS (babies of unusual strength) until I saw G pull himself up to the coffee table and grab the remote. All of a sudden, we need to pad the corners... and the fireplace, with its brick hearth, seems like an impossible hazard.
All of this in the blink of an eye. I'm sure there aren't any other phases that Stacy and I need to concern ourselves with... we've got it all figured out once we've baby-proofed the outlets.
Here's hoping.
7.07.2013
The Long Drive Home
Leaving the cabin is always difficult. There is a procrastination that sets in, delaying an inevitable return to reality. Most Sundays before we head home, we take a boat ride around the lakes. This ride almost always takes longer than you think, but nobody seems to mind; it's as if staying on the lake pushes back the laundry waiting at home. Eventually, though, you dock and tarp the boat, take the long trek back up the stairs from the lake shore to the house, and you pack the car as tightly as you can. It always seems more full on the way home, probably because you hastily repack what you so carefully packed for the trip up.
Today was no different. We wanted to hit the road by 3:00, but we didn't dock the pontoon until about 2:45, so we didn't get on the road until about 4:15. (I'm learning that everything, including leaving, takes much longer with a child in tow.)
Even leaving at 4:15 with a gas and dinner stop, I had expected to be pulling into my driveway no later than 7:15. I had figured that holiday traffic would have thinned; the resorts check out between 11:00 and Noon. Road construction, while in full swing, didn't seem bad during the drive up.
I figured wrong.
Our drive took just over 4 hours. After gassing up and starting the bulk of our journey at 4:30, we traveled 157.2 miles in 3 hours and 55 minutes: roughly an excruciating 40 miles per hour. There was construction at both ends of the drive; the last one I detoured around, backtracking and upsetting the ghost of my father. There were two rainstorms bringing traffic to a halt. And there were idiots on the road, doing 62 in a 65 in the left hand lane, matching the pace of the cars in the right lane.
Anyone who's driven with me knows that this was torture at a cellular level for me.
As I got off the freeway and turned onto the road that leads home, I leaned over to Stacy and said, "Look! Open road." I was able to drive freely for the last half mile or so. Pulling into the driveway never felt so good.
Now off to tackle the dishes I left from Wednesday.
Today was no different. We wanted to hit the road by 3:00, but we didn't dock the pontoon until about 2:45, so we didn't get on the road until about 4:15. (I'm learning that everything, including leaving, takes much longer with a child in tow.)
Even leaving at 4:15 with a gas and dinner stop, I had expected to be pulling into my driveway no later than 7:15. I had figured that holiday traffic would have thinned; the resorts check out between 11:00 and Noon. Road construction, while in full swing, didn't seem bad during the drive up.
I figured wrong.
Our drive took just over 4 hours. After gassing up and starting the bulk of our journey at 4:30, we traveled 157.2 miles in 3 hours and 55 minutes: roughly an excruciating 40 miles per hour. There was construction at both ends of the drive; the last one I detoured around, backtracking and upsetting the ghost of my father. There were two rainstorms bringing traffic to a halt. And there were idiots on the road, doing 62 in a 65 in the left hand lane, matching the pace of the cars in the right lane.
Anyone who's driven with me knows that this was torture at a cellular level for me.
As I got off the freeway and turned onto the road that leads home, I leaned over to Stacy and said, "Look! Open road." I was able to drive freely for the last half mile or so. Pulling into the driveway never felt so good.
Now off to tackle the dishes I left from Wednesday.
7.06.2013
Rainy Day
It rained almost all day up at the lake. Not much more to say than that because we didn't do much more than watch it rain. It was so humid that to do anything at all was to sweat, so we sat around.
Except for the extreme humidity, I enjoy days like today. You have conversations with yourself that you didn't plan to have. You spend quality time with your family, locked in a cabin, making too much food and laughing with a baby.
Today was a good day, but I'm looking forward to heading home to my A/C. I've spent a day in the sweat lodge; I've had my visions. Enough is enough.
7.05.2013
Sunshine
As Stacy sat on the bed about to feed Grayson his nighttime bottle, I leaned over to kiss him goodnight. He smelled like sun.
Obviously sun doesn't have a smell, but that is the best way I can describe the cocktail of perfumes he was wearing tonight. Sunscreen came together with lake water and dog slobber. That came together with pine sap and baby food. It was a form of alchemy, really, turning everyday elements into the scent of golden sunshine.
Today was a great day. Grayson took his first boat ride and first swim in the lake. The weather was perfect. Delilah ran up and down the beach.
I'm so grateful for moments like these.
Obviously sun doesn't have a smell, but that is the best way I can describe the cocktail of perfumes he was wearing tonight. Sunscreen came together with lake water and dog slobber. That came together with pine sap and baby food. It was a form of alchemy, really, turning everyday elements into the scent of golden sunshine.
Today was a great day. Grayson took his first boat ride and first swim in the lake. The weather was perfect. Delilah ran up and down the beach.
I'm so grateful for moments like these.
7.04.2013
Independence Day
I'm up at the lake, and I'm on my phone, so this will be brief. It's about 10:30 at night. The sky is half cloudy, but it is still in the mid 70s outside. The air is humid. Mosquitos are buzzing. The lakes are alive with private fireworks. Every few minutes the show slows down only to pick up again from another section of lake. 5-10 minutes of booms then a minute or two of silence. Then the next show starts.
This will last for another hour, give or take. Then the loons will take over. Grayson will sleep through it all. Delilah isn't even bothered by it. Although she will stir with the loons at dawn.
For me, it is the perfect way to celebrate the fourth. Happy Independence Day.
This will last for another hour, give or take. Then the loons will take over. Grayson will sleep through it all. Delilah isn't even bothered by it. Although she will stir with the loons at dawn.
For me, it is the perfect way to celebrate the fourth. Happy Independence Day.
7.03.2013
Drained
After the episode of food poisoning, I went about 40 hours without food, save for a few saltines and some water.
Since then, I've had a banana, an apple, a ham & cheese sandwich, and some soup. I still don't have an appetite, and I still have zero energy. What little energy I had this morning, I spent on taking Grayson into a scheduled appointment; I'm amazed at how long such things take for so little. We had his cap adjusted. This took about an hour. In that 60 minutes, I was left to hold him while he squirmed and explored. Exhausting.
I took a half day at work today, hoping to get some rest this afternoon, but Grayson had other thoughts. He wasn't feeling well, so day care called to have me pick him up. Though he slept for at least half the time, I still expended tons of energy watching him for 3+ hours before Stacy got home to tag team it.
I'm utterly impressed with Stacy. Even though she has been just as sick as me, she has managed to harness some source of strength to make it through today. She even just gave Grayson a bath (because he puked all over his pajamas).
Hopefully my energy returns tomorrow, as we are headed up north for a long weekend with the family. If it does, I have Stacy to thank for it; I couldn't have made it through the rest of today without her.
Since then, I've had a banana, an apple, a ham & cheese sandwich, and some soup. I still don't have an appetite, and I still have zero energy. What little energy I had this morning, I spent on taking Grayson into a scheduled appointment; I'm amazed at how long such things take for so little. We had his cap adjusted. This took about an hour. In that 60 minutes, I was left to hold him while he squirmed and explored. Exhausting.
I took a half day at work today, hoping to get some rest this afternoon, but Grayson had other thoughts. He wasn't feeling well, so day care called to have me pick him up. Though he slept for at least half the time, I still expended tons of energy watching him for 3+ hours before Stacy got home to tag team it.
I'm utterly impressed with Stacy. Even though she has been just as sick as me, she has managed to harness some source of strength to make it through today. She even just gave Grayson a bath (because he puked all over his pajamas).
Hopefully my energy returns tomorrow, as we are headed up north for a long weekend with the family. If it does, I have Stacy to thank for it; I couldn't have made it through the rest of today without her.
I've Got a Good Excuse
So I obviously missed posting yesterday, but I've got a good excuse... or a horrible one.
Food poisoning.
I made spinach and ricotta ravioli on Monday night. Something about it wasn't right. By 10:00, I was feeling pretty crampy. Stacy woke me up around 12:30 to say that she had gotten sick. Then I got sick. Really sick.
I hadn't been that sick in the longest time.
I was able to go back to bed after about 45 minutes. When the alarm went off, I got sick again. Stacy and I spent the day at home trying to keep water down. We took turns napping. My mother was a great help; she took Grayson to daycare (we were in no shape to care for a child), and she babysat him into the evening.
I had meant to blog, but I didn't have any energy. I napped instead.
Back to work today, but feeling drained. I've had an apple, which seems to be staying down. Regular blogging will commence this evening.
Food poisoning.
I made spinach and ricotta ravioli on Monday night. Something about it wasn't right. By 10:00, I was feeling pretty crampy. Stacy woke me up around 12:30 to say that she had gotten sick. Then I got sick. Really sick.
I hadn't been that sick in the longest time.
I was able to go back to bed after about 45 minutes. When the alarm went off, I got sick again. Stacy and I spent the day at home trying to keep water down. We took turns napping. My mother was a great help; she took Grayson to daycare (we were in no shape to care for a child), and she babysat him into the evening.
I had meant to blog, but I didn't have any energy. I napped instead.
Back to work today, but feeling drained. I've had an apple, which seems to be staying down. Regular blogging will commence this evening.
7.01.2013
9 Months Old Today
Grayson is 9 months old today. He's 9 months old already! I can't believe how time has simultaneously flown by and stood still. It seems like yesterday that Grayson was gasping for his first breaths and wailing at the relatively cold air around him. But it also seems like he has been crawling forever, giggling when you give him a zerbert and smiling as he chases the dog. The whole thing has been a blur, but there are moments I will never forget. I will always remember his first bath at home, in our kitchen, in that little, pink bucket we got from the hospital. He pooped in that bath.
He has spent an equal amount of time developing in this wild world as he spent developing in his mother's womb (give or take a week). In the womb, Grayson moved from a cell or two, growing lungs and a spine, arteries and intestines, fingers and toes. After being born, he has gained almost 3 times his birth weight, learned to nurse, eat pureed veggies, even feeding himself little puffs of grain. He has learned to smile, recognize faces, sit up and crawl. This past week, he has started to clap.
Today is a day of wonder for me. I wonder what the next 9 months will bring, and what Grayson will be doing on April 1, 2014. I wonder what the next 9 years will bring, as Grayson is in the 4th grade... or 18 years, as he goes off to college (or whatever they call college in 2031). I wonder what I'll be doing, and what the world will be like.
Thanks, Grayson, for filling my world with wonder.
He has spent an equal amount of time developing in this wild world as he spent developing in his mother's womb (give or take a week). In the womb, Grayson moved from a cell or two, growing lungs and a spine, arteries and intestines, fingers and toes. After being born, he has gained almost 3 times his birth weight, learned to nurse, eat pureed veggies, even feeding himself little puffs of grain. He has learned to smile, recognize faces, sit up and crawl. This past week, he has started to clap.
Today is a day of wonder for me. I wonder what the next 9 months will bring, and what Grayson will be doing on April 1, 2014. I wonder what the next 9 years will bring, as Grayson is in the 4th grade... or 18 years, as he goes off to college (or whatever they call college in 2031). I wonder what I'll be doing, and what the world will be like.
Thanks, Grayson, for filling my world with wonder.
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