… all hands fold
As the two year old says grace.
She says help the starving children to get well.
But let my brother’s hamster burn in hell! … John Hiatt, Your Dad Did
That has absolutely nothing to do with anything, but it made me smile this morning so I thought I’d share.
“So Zia, what’s this I hear about you kissing a boy at school today?”
“I didn’t kiss him!!”
“So what’s the story?”
“Well, I was helping Sam with his work and he said, ‘I should give you a kiss’
and I was like, ‘EWW, NO WAY!!’
and then he was like, ‘HOSEA!!’”
“Then what happened?”
“Then we started laughing and the whole class was staring at us and we got embarrassed.”
“Well, it’s a good thing you didn’t kiss him because you’re too young to get married.”
“I wasn’t going to marry him!”
“Well if you kiss him then you have to get married.”
“Dad!! That’s not right. You kiss Mommy.”
“Yeah, and look at us — we’re married!”
“Oh. (pausing)
That was a close one.”
“You got a budget? I mean, where do you want to be? Give me a number here. You know, something to work with.”
I did. He glared at me. “You asked.”
He sighed heavily, and picked up his calculator and commenced to cyphering.
I suck when it comes to negotiations.
Hadrian's Wall
“Fancy a walk?”
It was a simple question, short and to the point. An e-mail from an acquaintance. Granted, the guy’s a lunatic but he’s got an oddly compelling personality — the kind of guy with which you can picture yourself spending an evening or sharing a cup of coffee.
Or a stroll.
“Sure,” I responded.
And that was that. Dan, you may know him from All That Comes With It, has organized a charity walk in support of the Joseph Salmon Trust and I am honored to have been asked to participate. Well, I was honored last June when he asked me. Now, I’m hearing a Talking Heads tune repeating on an endless loop, “My God, what have I done!!”
Some days are diamonds. This is not.
I woke this morning with the image of Joe Cool dancing to a melody Schroeder was banging out on the piano. I hit the snooze because it’s what I do. Snoopy stopped dancing and I got ten more minutes. Happy feet can’t be still, though and when he started again I got up.
The day ahead was full of promise. Of hope. Of field trips and new shoes. Of sack lunches and smoothies. Little things that mean worlds to little people who mean the world.
The world turns — quickly.
Why’s fall from trembling lips as tears fall from sad eyes. How comes are without explanation. There are no answers — none suitable.
I’m sorry will have to do.
Today is Earth Day and I’m going to be digging a hole though I’m not planting a tree. Rather I’ll be saying goodbye to a sweet friend, and the greatest attack cat ever.
Goodbye, Cinnamon
To roads diverged in a yellow wood, and I —-
I bent down to tie my shoe and lost my balance. I grabbed for a branch to no avail and fell headlong into the fucking stream. Now I’m soaking wet, bruised, and so far from either path that even if I did find my way back I wouldn’t know which way to turn once I got there.
The delusions of control, the fuzzy feelings way deep down that let me rest peacefully each night are slowly eroding away. My life as a Rockwell painting is becoming a Dali. Or a Pollack. Maybe it’s the onset of spring, the final push toward the promise of summer. Patience is an ideal and my children live in the I want it now. They grow restless with anticipation, weary of the toils of an unusually long school year, and by restless I mean annoying.
They are at each other constantly. Yelling, hitting, pushing, fighting, arguing. Crying, whining, pouting, sulking. And by constantly I mean IT NEVER STOPS!!! Their behavior is bad.
It’s worse than bad. It’s reprehensible. Hell, I don’t even know what reprehensible really means but it sounds a lot worse than bad, so that’s what their behavior has been. REPREHENSIBLE!!
Or maybe they’re just tired. It could be that they just haven’t adjusted to the fact that the sun is still up when they are supposed to be going down for the night. I’m tired, too but I’m not afforded the luxury of that excuse. My lot is have to.
And so I will.
But I’m going to need a lot more motrin…..
And maybe Vodka!
Always tell the truth. That way, you never have to remember what you said. Mark Twain
According to legend, and other manuscripts held in general high regard, there are ten commandments. Ten rather specific edicts which, if followed closely, serve a fairly good moral foundation. Arguably, a person that holds to these tenets would be in pretty good standing with the rest of society. God, too.
Conversely, the person (whomever he or she may be) that voluntarily acts in such a manner that directly opposes these ten simple rules would as a result fail to maintain such elevated standing with society. Or her parents.
Alternatively titled: (A Rambling and Essentially Incoherent Synopsis of the Last Several Weeks)
Be it ever so humble…
Nine days can seem a lifetime. Quite often, a lifetime is not enough. Time got the better of me. Spring break has come and gone and I miss it already. Oh it was tiring, don’t get me wrong. But in a good way.
The days and weeks leading up to the kids’ week from school were hectic at best. Frantic more aptly describes it.
So we’re in the car yesterday, as we often are, and we’re having a conversation, as we often do. I’m not quite sure where the conversation turned or how it got here, but it did.
Maura expressed her deep love of all things football. I echoed my fondness and Zane chimed in as well. Then Zoë spoke up,
“Well, I don’t like football. I thinks it’s dumb.”
In horror, he may have even shrieked, Zane said, “Anyone who doesn’t like football will have to leave the family.”
To which Zoë nonchalantly replied, “I don’t care.”
Without missing a beat, Zane shot back at her, “Fine! Best of luck at the orphanage, Zoë. I hope they have good gruel.”
Tiger Lillies
Last Month We Were Sledding That Hill
AAAARRRR!!!
Now That's Something You Don't See Every Day!
Karma
I thought I might spread a little bit of good karma. You know, do something altruistic.
I only needed an hour.
I paid for 5.
So that the person happening upon the spot after I had left it might have a little gift. A little something to make their day just a tad brighter.
I guess snapping a picture and broadcasting my intentions pretty much eliminated any altruistic benefits from the gesture.
Maybe the karma will stick.
Zella is our very own Anton Ego.
“I don’t like that.”
Her typical critique offered at almost every meal.
Regardless.
There’s no go-to meal with the kid. One day she might ask for seconds or even thirds of a serving of Mac and Cheese. The next time you serve it — nothing.
“What part don’t you like, Zella?” Ive asked.
(And then making a gesture with her tiny little arm she starts at the top of the plate,) “From here … (and in a sweeping motion brings the arm across the plate to the bottom) … “to here!”
Every once in a while we we stumble upon tiny glimpses of our past. Little bits and pieces of heritage and history. Answers to why. Snippets that account for what.
Forgotten artifacts carelessly tossed in a corner of the attic. An old coat or shirt dry rotting on a hanger in the back of the closet. Dismantled or broken appliances, furniture or toys.
The alarm was telling me that it was 5:30 am. I didn’t believe it. “No freaking way,” I mumbled. I gave it another chance to convince me. In fact, I gave it five more chances to convince me.
At 5:30 am there is time to prepare coffee.
Time to check the weather or stare at an empty in-box. Save for the reminders from my Google calendar that I have nothing to do today. At least I’ve got all day to do it.
