Someone please come to my house and take this baby crap out of my garage

I mean it. I never dreamed that we would accumulate so many things that would take up so much room. Now my garage looks like the aftermath of a trash-pickers' convention because everything is piled up. I WANT MY SPACE BACK. I'll take the hit for the dry christmas tree standing next to the yard waste can (hey, I'm busy). Word of advice: try to surround yourself with people who are exactly as anal-retentive as you are.

To the shithead in front of me today

How fast can you drive when you really, really, REALLY have to go to the bathroom? And how loudly can you curse the driver in front of you doing 30 in a 40?

Fast. And loud.

Hey, Stu - get out of bed

I was walking at lunch today, thinking about how beautiful the old trees are, draped in moss, when I made a little discovery. I was listening to a song and really heard for the first time "...your lips are on fire, and life is wine." It went straight to the core of me like a tiny bolt of lightning. The What here is not something that I can explain satisfactorily, but I had a feeling of hope and a little joy. It was a bit like waking up to a snow day when I was in school. I really saw for the first time that each little thing that I do matters, if just to me. Anything that I choose to do or be can be a great thing, but doesn't have to be. I've been running through life in a dream, but this wonderful little epiphany shocked me back into consciousness.

I wish that I could have bottled the feeling, and taken it out every once in a while to savor the sunshine, the lightness of the moment. It's a refreshing change from the pall of holiday blues; I think I'll go walking more often now.

The song in question is one of my favorite titles: "No I in Threesome"

Thinking of the 80s

By some circuitous mental route, I was thinking about Ian Curtis today. Not much to say right now, so I'll let him speak. Follow the link for Ceremony under the Musica heading if you want to listen.

This is why events unnerve me
They find it all, a different story
Notice whom for wheels are turning
Turn again and turn towards this time
All she asks the strength to hold me
Then again the same old story
World will travel, oh so quickly
Travel first and lean towards this time

Oh, I'll break them down, no mercy shown
Heaven knows, it's got to be this time
Watching her, these things she said
The times she cried
Too frail to wake this time

Oh I'll break them down, no mercy shown
Heaven knows, it's got to be this time
Avenues all lined with trees
Picture me and then you start watching
Watching forever, forever
Watching love grow, forever
Letting me know, forever

Crap, leave me alone for a minute.

There's little in this life that can make you feel as badly about yourself as when your child needs you and you're not there. Why is it so easy to let the little things obscure your vision? I was busy doing something or other tonight, wearing headphones, and my wife interrupted me yet again. I was ready to vent my irritation when she told me that our son had been crying; he was afraid that bees were going to hurt him, that he had bees in his hair. He was stung by a bee this past summer and since has developed a mild phobia.

What really stuck in my craw was that I was angry at having been interrupted doing my big, important things. I've found it so easy to unthinkingly build walls around myself. It's not even ego, they're emotional calluses. I've stopped caring about things good and bad over the years, for whatever reason. Ruts have formed, scar tissue appeared and disappeared, and I forget what I looked like once upon a time.

It's very easy to know in an academic sense how important your relationship is with your children, another thing entirely to steward them responsibly, to peel your layers for them. Applying reasonable standards every minute of every day is a herculean trick; what's fair, what works, which boundaries to guard, how much autonomy is healthy. I've always had the romantic notion that when I decided to have children, I would not necessarily be superdad, but I would be the guy that gave them every kiss and hug and scrap of attention that I never got and wanted so desperately. I'm finding that wishing won't make it so, but it can be done. I can make life for my children a garden of love and acceptance, and maybe find a little corner in it for myself too.

This doesn't solve the question of why I still put my needs first. My son took the question out of my hands, fortunately. I took him to the bathroom and then tucked him in, and he said "Daddy like to lay with Gavin", which is his 3-year-old's way of asking if I would cuddle with him. I lay down next to him and was adjusting his blanket when he grabbed my hand in both of his and hugged it to his chest. Such a simple thing to need for safety and comfort: your daddy's hand. I'm glad I was there to give it.

OMG HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!

Dear Baby Jesus,

I made you a set of mittens and booties for your birthday with holes in them so you could show off your stigmata. I hope you like them. I tell people that if you were alive today, you would be celebrating Hanukkah, not Christmas. That makes them very upset. Isn't that funny?

Have a great birthday

P.S. - can you please stop planting fake evidence of evolution here on earth? It's really confusing for some people.

Another Sunny Day

Meteorologists are so completely full of shit. We had friends up from Santa Barbara for the weekend, and ended up stuck inside most of the time. Yesterday was supposed to be clear and sunny, but it turned out to be misty and miserable. We decided to head out to Multnomah Falls for lunch, so at least they got to see a landmark while they were here; Mount St. Helens was out because visibility is about 100 feet. I think we'll try the Ridgefield Wildlife Refuge today and see if we can catch sight of any eagles or tundra swans.

Bleh.