Monthly Archives: January 2012

The Haps

You know what are impossible to find?  2 gallon zip top bags.  It’s driving me crazy.

Mitt Romney is going to get the RNC nom, I’m pretty sure.  Ron Paul is okay, but he’s batshit insane.

Sam is doing Wii Fit which is why I am not.

I think my main problem at work is that I am not a great teacher.  I’m okay, but there is sooo much to do.  I can’t really afford to be one, either.  I haven’t started any of my college credit stuff I’m required to take.  I can’t buy books for my room, really.  There’s no way I can get the supplies I am supposed to.  It’s crazy!

Anyway, I’m not going to sweat that.  I am trying very hard to get my kids rocking in reading but reading tests were very mixed today.  I don’t know how to really improve – but I am going to try my best.

Missing!

My family is missing!  I came home, expecting my wife and kids and other-mother and they are all gone!  I don’t know where they are.  I am all alone and I don’t like it.

I am pretty tired.  My back aches and again, my brain feels heavy.  I don’t really know what to do about it except push through.  All I really want to do is go to bed.

They Day Comes

I am trapped within a school building.  My diet of cherry Coke and pretzel rods is non-sustaining and I will no doubt despise the choice on the morrow.  Possibly this evening.  This building houses me and my disdain for work that is finished.

When you are in a classroom, there are approximately five thousand things to be done every minute.  Here I sit, weary, somewhat prepared for tomorrow.  But preparedness is fairly impossible.  The copy machine is inaccessible in the afternoon, once people leave the office.

Yes, it is challenging.  Challenging to do anything at all.  At the end of the day my brain feels full – wiped out, incapable of complex cognition.  But there is much to be done.  And that is the failure here – for I return home and need to be restored but also to complete the days tasks.  For example, this blog, which I am trying to do from school but am having a terrible time thinking through.

Meditation is the prescription.  But it is so late and I need gas and I need to get home.    And I don’t care to blog about mundane items.  The day was a-bustle with hustle.  But the best bits?  I don’t recall.

But I did get my workout in, and that is a good bit.

Dad-Hood

Being a parent is hard.  There is much that is given up to do it, but you do get a lot back, and I am not the first to observe this trade-off.  I was a good Dad today.  (As I write this, I have actually published last night’s post – but two posts back to back? Absurd!  Instead, I’ll have this posted at 8am – so the post is time-travelling to future, which is your present)

Listen:  Today I was a good dad.  The TV was barely on.  We went out.  We played.  Feeding was done, and so was burping, and hugs and such.  But there are many things I do I think are fairly stereotypical and I try hard not to do them.  When Zachary puts himself in danger I respond with anger far too often.

I think many parents do this.

It is the fear, you see.  On the backs of my eyelids, in my mind’s eye, I have seen Zachary leave me in ways I don’t care to elucidate here.  Lucy has imaginarily vanished from the car, or been dropped, or other things.  It is less stressful with her now, than with Zach – but there is still the fear in the back of my head of her sleeping habits.  It’s horrible.

But today went well.  Tomorrow… oh, tomorrow, you bring me phone calls to debt companies that I don’t want to think about.  The sheer irony of wanting to write for a living someday is that I only feel capable of writing when I’m comfortable, but I can’t get comfortable unless I try to write for a living.  It’s a long-shot dream, but one I will never let go of.  Look at this!  Eight Days and a bonus!  Yes, this evening will bring another post.

But the children like to take my writing time.  And I freely give it, because I have always believed there will never come a day when I say “boy, I wish I’d spent less time with my kids.”

Idiosyncracies

Celebrate uniqueness.  That’s the name of the day today.  Celebrate the little bits that make you you – and I will do so for myself.

(Today, as I cooked dinner, my mind composed myriads of brilliant blog posts which evaporated into the ether – I am so very much more eloquent when my mind wanders)

(This is my writing advice for you:  Be yourself.  As I stated the other day, my blog is disclaimed by fear of the wrong person reading.  What do I truly risk, though?  I name no names.  So, that is my advice.  Find a place where you can write everything.  That raw truth poured from the mind is narcotic to the reading eye.  Pure distilled truth.)

I am a fan of one sentence paragraphs.

I’m going to stop apologizing for that.

(And I like parentheticals, too)

So, idiosyncrasies.  I like mugs.

Who doesn’t?

Despite their ceramic nature, I find them sturdier than glasses.  I also find myself more capable of drinking several different beverages from the same mug throughout the day.  I’ve never quite wrapped my head around water from a mug.  It seems strange to drink plain water from what is a vessel designed for steeped beverages and dairy drinks.  Glasses are for water and juice.

That’s how my brain sees it.

Celebrate the mug!  Man, my favorite bit of memory is sipping a hot mug of coffee on the steps of Nikana Lodge, gazing at the mist rising from Big Blue Lake in the early morning.  Or from a tin mug at the top of the steps above Weber Lake near Wolverine.  Or over a mug in the wee hours in Hillsdale around Grandpa’s kitchen table.

There’s power in a mug, over the slumbering.  I’ve replaced coffee with tea as of late, but it doesn’t matter.  Steam is a good match for the mug – though I like milk from a mug.  It’s the serving size, you see.  Picture piping off coffee in a juice glass – it’s bizarre!

Sam and I received new dishes for Christmas and out went the square/round green monstrosities we were so excited for a few years ago.  Massive square stoneware dishes that looked pretty but were impractical.  Now, we sit and dine on thin, round plates that stack easily and are lightweight.  They look nice.  And the pretty blue mugs are the half-egg shape of mug-related-dreams.

Though, I am a fan of witty mugs.

In my Camp days our mugs were donated and the staff tended to have their favorite.  There was a particular stoneware type with colored striping that I always enjoyed being able to drink from.  There was, too, a bright yellow that brightened the day – filling the washed out low-light of the morning with a brightness like a colorized photo – highlight the yellow.

Despite my dismissal of hipster culture, I love a good ironic mug.  “World’s Best Grandma” is a favorite mug of mine to drink from when at my other-mother’s (the Blog name of my mother-in-law, who is far too wonderful a mother to be saddled with a title carrying such stereotypical negativeness).  I also like the Detroit Red Wing’s mug, which is unironic – just summarily cool.

Glass mugs are a sore point for me.  They are cool looking, and make a highbrow vessel for coffee “drinks,” but I find glass too conductive of heat.  Tin mugs carry the same problem, but have a higher “cool-looking” factor and receive a free pass.  I am also generally camping when tin is involved, so I got that going for me.  But glass mugs are too far from my sphere of comfort.  I don’t like to view my beverage as I drink it.  I especially despise translucent coffee.  If one is going to make coffee and go to the trouble of it all, it should be opaque in color.

Coffee is meant to be a dark, dark brown through which light is scared to venture and, therefore, will travel around.  This produces a fine sheen atop the finished beverage.  An opaque mug, with an opaque beverage which seems to absorb the light around it, filling it with zest and life as you sip.  Drinking light.

Ugly mugs are descriptive and I have seen a few ugly mugs in my day.  Rough-looking dudes who life has beaten up every lifetime.  They look quite at home with Detroit Red Wings mugs.

And lastly, the travel mug.  My inner-jury is out on this.  I have several.  Critically speaking, they limit the aroma during drinking of hot beverages, which is crucial.  But they do make it easy to travel.  Typically, refills are involved.  But so are lids – and lids like to wander off.  Perhaps the lids travel to another planet and have formed their own society, akin to Douglas Adams’ planet of pens.  When the pens versus lids war hits, we will all be losers.

If I had to choose one drinking vessel for the rest of my life, it would be a sturdy ceramic mug.  Blue.  Like the one in my cupboard.  The one I picked out with my wife.

Seven Days of Working Out

Today was day 7.  This is post 7.  I worked out for the 7th time this year.  Yes, friends, each day I have worked out.  I have blogged – not necessarily quality – but I have.  But, sadly, I haven’t been able write a love letter to Sam each day.  That was harder than I thought.  It was hard to specifically write something down for her, which is too bad because she’s pretty great.

Last night we went to her clinic’s Christmas Party at McFadden’s downtown.  It was an area I’ve never been – well, that part of the area – and it was very fun.  Hosted bars usually are.  There were casino games and free chips to play and that was a nice night out.  Of course, my nice nights are generally tempered by knowledge of the AM to follow.  Sam had to work at 6am this morning and luckily my mom was here to help out.

I’m terrible at watching the kids because I have no idea how to keep them entertained.  Lucy wants to eat and sleep and Zach watches TV – and that’s just awful.  I forget about things like the library and the Y and all that.

It’s been an okay week.  The first week back at school.  Bills to be paid and all that – it wasn’t awful, but not exciting.  What were the good bits?  That’s the focus, I should focus on.

Sam made delicious dinners this week and cleaned the house.  I helped a bit, but it was mostly her.

Mom came over and so did Dad so we got to see them.

There will probably be some kids books I can buy tomorrow at the library bag sale.

I was paid on Friday.

I didn’t spend my “allowance” this week, so it can be saved for the future.

We got to go to a cool Asian supermarket today and that was fun.

I am meeting my goal of both working out and bloggin every day, but not of writing prose or really being more organized.

I did get to see Brianne this week, which was quite fun.  And I met one of the other spouses at Sam’s clinic who was a pretty cool guy.  I suppose Sam and I have friends ’round here, it just seems so hard to spend time with them.

I’m feeling very good about working out every day.  It’s so hard to finish things.  As I have many times in the past, I have started something with high hopes.  This time, I will finish.  Finishing is something I never have gotten the hang of.  I tend to wait until bad times to work on things.  I had several times earlier today to write and I didn’t.  Of course, I did have papers to grade and lesson plans to design – which is a real pain in the neck, but whatever.

What frustrates me about blogging is that I have to keep my words in check.  I use my real name and there are things I am terrified of writing down that would possibly trouble-fy me, but I don’t want to hide behind a pseudonym either.  So, it’s a big struggle.  What would I write if only I could?  I don’t know.  Complain more, so its probably best I don’t write because I hate to trap myself in the gutter.

I feel rather morose and I’m quite tired of that.  Many who know me think of me as a happy dude.  Which I am.  Too thoughtful, I guess. My mom said I worry too much about things I can’t change and that is 100% true.

It’s Supposed To Be Friday

Remember?  Friday?  Payday?  End of work week?  So, instead I get a bill from Sallie Mae.  It’s far, far more than expected because I didn’t pay last month’s.  Awful person that I am, when I went online to an account with the same account number as the last statement, and it told me I owed less than on the statement, I believed the online account.

Well, I won’t do that again.  Because my paper statement says I didn’t pay last month and the Internet says I did.  Now, the amounts owed are different, but (and I think this is important) the account numbers are exactly the same.  The UNIQUE account numbers.

Stupid.

So, it’s hard to be upbeat (New Year’s Resolution!) with that kind of crap over my head.  And I’m pretty wiped from school – but Sam’s holiday festivities are tonight and I get to hang out with my mom (and hopefully dad) this weekend.  But I feel like our new budget is going to be stomped by this stupid bill and payment due.

Maybe I’ll pull a Julia Child in a few years, after the loans are paid down, and become a TV chef or something.