tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-77630330295854029822024-03-28T12:36:28.487-07:00i'm in too truthful a moodwayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05041068993442344459noreply@blogger.comBlogger246125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7763033029585402982.post-18805707819942091172021-02-07T12:43:00.006-08:002021-02-07T12:56:17.273-08:00productivity and mirth<p>Holden has availed himself to raking with me lately. I've been doing little chunks at random, just a bag or two, considering Holden only lasts for about that amount of time. It's a good way for me to pull him away from his siblings and mommy for a bit, give him hang time with daddy, and put his hands to work. He is interested in drawing attention to the few straggling leaves I missed, vigorously scraping them into a pile just the right size for him to fit in his grasp. </p><p>As his daddy, it's important for me to remember it's not always about efficiency with household chores, but to walk the balance between productivity and mirth, to produce an orderly atmosphere, but one your children want to exist in with you. </p><p>Lately, I've been meditating daily, something I just started doing this February. As I breathe in, I'll often meditate on the words "Lord, help me to have fun" and as I breathe out, "and to not be uptight."</p>wayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14101730481090020032noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7763033029585402982.post-77551016403235291622021-01-31T04:49:00.000-08:002021-01-31T04:49:12.445-08:00bosom enemies<p>I've been reading <i>Little Women</i> and it's made me tear up maybe three times and I'm only on page 70 or so.</p><p>I can relate a lot to Jo. In the cha<span style="font-family: inherit;">pter where she's talking about how angry she gets. Her mom, Marmee, teaches her not to pay such attention to her Apollyon, her "bosom enemies", described as “t<span style="background-color: white; color: #202124;">hose special, little (well, some might not call them so little) faults that are uniquely our own and shape who we are.” </span></span>That if she does, it will ruin her day and possibly her life.<br /><br />After Amy burned Joe's book of fairy tales she’d written and spent years perfecting, Jo turns her anger into somewhat of a murderous weapon against Amy. Louisa May Alcott mentions that Jo’s anger makes her a little bit happy but mostly miserable simultaneously as she gets a twisted satisfaction from making Amy feel sorry and “pay for it”. The way Alcott puts it, makes me think of the ancient Buddha quote: "Holding onto anger is like drinking poison and expecting the other person to die."</p><p>It made me tear up when Jo lets Amy fall through the ice while ice-skating, afterward imagining Amy had died and what burden would be carried. Sometimes my actions and words can be poisonous to those around me and to myself. This used to immobilize me. I couldn't think about anything else other than the one thought I did not want to think about. I don't hate myself as much anymore as I used to. Having three kids, I don't really have time for self-deprecation and shaming the whole Will Rucker when I catch myself yelling at my kids and feeling small ~ I pretty quickly have to ask for forgiveness, be sweet again, and move on without dwelling on any reasons for what happened and why.</p><p>Kids are quick to forgive. They don't hold grudges like adults do, for they often don't see the layers to anger like adults do, picking things apart and focusing on the faults, the things that weren't right.</p>wayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14101730481090020032noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7763033029585402982.post-86983135421847732532021-01-30T13:21:00.000-08:002021-01-30T13:21:40.124-08:00bob’s son<p>I'm enjoying this new R.A.P. Ferreira album, "<i>bob's son</i>." Rory Ferreira had an uncommon idea with the roll-out. Some artist created a virtual reality cafe that is password-protected and you have to figure out how to get into the cafe through Reddit and Twitter. Once the code is cracked, you enter the cafe and feel your way around, perusing artwork on the walls and learning (as much as you can by way of vague visuals) about the poet Bob Kaufman, who the album is inspired by, and whom I had never heard of, I don't think. Rory mirrors his writing process and lifestyle with that of Kaufman’s, pulling his isms and quotables onto a blank canvas and expanding upon them with his own thoughts.</p><p>Hearing each song from various nooks in the cafe was momentous. A smell was in the air, weed or coffee or incense, reminding me of my middle school friend, Tony Beuerlein’s, Nag Champa ~ an incense he would often burn on the floor of his Suburban. Some smells plant themselves in your amygdala, and at least for me, come up often when associating one thing with another.</p><p><span style="font-family: inherit;">I imagine Rory being in a similar cafe to the one in the virtual reality one I find myself in, and I presume he's smoking a blunt? After all, there is a container of sativa cannabis called "</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: inherit;">Lamb’s Breath 8th" </span>sitting on a table next to a chess board. If you click on it, you're taken to an online shop where you can order some.</p><p>Rory has a way with words, bending a word and turning it in on itself and over itself and almost making it mean something else entirely. He repeats a line if he really likes it, and the line becomes more meaningful and jumps out of the song at you as it's repeated. I appreciate this; when a good line becomes somewhat of a mantra.</p><p>I struggle so much with this thought ~ what is my voice? I'm trying to get over that. Currently, I'm trying to just simply keep talking and writing, and maybe I won't be self-aware about it in such an obnoxious way. To not be so critical. Why criticize my own way of thinking? It isn't healthy. I'm trying to not think whether or not it's a good thought or a bad thought, but that it's a thought and I think that counts for something.</p>wayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14101730481090020032noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7763033029585402982.post-63478582623489576842021-01-12T16:25:00.009-08:002021-01-15T09:52:43.739-08:00red sky<p>This morning, as Holden had just woken, we sat on the couch in our living room to watch Sunny Bunnies on the iPad. I skimmed music articles on my phone, feeling groggy. I opened up our shutter, as I could see the roaring sky bleed through the cracks and it made me feel life was entering in to pick us up.</p><p>A few minutes later, Darcy walked in and I said to her, “Look at that sky, so purple and pink.”<br /><br />A moment passed and the color turned to blue and much brighter. “Now the sky is blue,” I said for both kids to hear.</p><p>Donning a goofy grin, Holden added, “Later, it'll be red.”</p><p>This excited him. I knew he was talking about the sunset that evening and he felt clever he’d thought of something far in the future.</p>wayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14101730481090020032noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7763033029585402982.post-77390325607799197772021-01-12T15:16:00.006-08:002021-01-13T05:54:17.922-08:00here’s to a year of writing more<p><span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: small;">I would like to consistently write more this year. My idea is to go on long runs and use my voice memo recorder and just talk out my thoughts while running, going back later to transcribe it, removing the intensifier words like "incredibly", "really", "so", "very". </span><span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: small;">I'm hoping my talking will work in the way my running works, in that </span><span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: small;">I tend to start out not really loving it, and not really wanting to be doing it, a</span><span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: small;">nd then once I get into mile two </span><span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: small;">I feel</span><span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: small;"> loose, in a rhythm, a</span><span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: small;">nd actually enjoying myself<span style="font-family: inherit;">. I'm hoping with m</span></span><span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">y </span>thoughts the same thing might happen ~ I'll start out not knowing what to say but t</span><span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: small;">hen finding myself getting to a point where my </span><span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: small;">words are just kind of flowing out of me as I start to remember what I’d been pondering that morning.</span></p>wayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14101730481090020032noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7763033029585402982.post-49227409181086175092018-10-06T14:55:00.001-07:002018-10-07T10:56:34.187-07:00nobody likes you<div>
I was sitting next to Knox on our couch this afternoon and said, "Knox, Bebe was telling me last night that she told you Holden kinda looks like you. And you said, 'No, he doesn't, because I'm the cutest.'"</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Knox said, "Yep."</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I asked, "Did you say that because mom and I often tell you that you're the cutest?"</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Knox bluntly said, "Yep."</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I said, "But Knox, you know we say the same thing to Darcy and Holden. You're all just as cute as the other. You really think you're cuter than Holden?"</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Knox looked at Holden sitting in my lap and nodded his head.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I said, "What about me and mommy? Who is cuter?"</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Knox yelled, "Mommy!"</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I said, "Alright, well that's true. But what about me and Jack?"</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Knox grinned."Jack." </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
And then Knox got a smirk on his face and said, "Nobody likes you."</div>
wayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05041068993442344459noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7763033029585402982.post-30913463057090878742018-10-06T14:21:00.001-07:002018-10-06T17:50:44.601-07:00handsome grassI was walking down to the "little library" at the end of our street today with K, D, and H. We passed by a yard with nicely-mowed lines in the grass and Knox asked, "Why do they have those in their yard?", referring to the lines.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I said, "To make it look pretty."</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Knox responded, "No. It's handsome."</div>
wayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05041068993442344459noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7763033029585402982.post-76751457845530241402018-09-13T21:30:00.000-07:002018-09-13T21:32:29.971-07:00God doesn't want us to worship bootiesI was putting Knox and Darcy to bed tonight, reading to them about David and Goliath. We finished the story, and I turned out the light. Lately, our routine is: both K and D pick a book and we read them both on the floor, then I turn off the light and we get in Darcy's bed on the bottom bunk, Knox lays on me while I pat him and sing a "me and Knox and Darcy" song, then Knox gets up in his top bunk, and I'll pat Darcy and then pat Knox.<br />
<br />
After reading David and Goliath tonight, I went and turned off the light. I got in Darcy's bed and before Knox laid on me, he sat in front of me and looked at me and said, "God is the strongest god." (While reading, I had told them how Goliath needed a massive sword and shield, but David just needed his strong God.) And I replied, "Well, God is actually the only God." Knox sweetly said, "Oh, I didn't know that." And I said, "Yea. A lot of people in the world make up their own gods. And these gods aren't real. They're fake. And God tells us in the Bible that if we spend our lives worshipping other gods and not the one true God, we will not go to Heaven, and we will have spent our lives here on earth not actually walking with God." Knox said, "Oh." And I said, "There are tons of fake gods out there and so many different names for them. One is named Allah. One is Buddha." Darcy laughed and said, "That sounds like booty." And I laughed and said, "God doesn't want us to worship booties." And they thought that was hilarious and asked me to say it again. It's probably sacrilegious, but I said it several times. "God wants us to worship Him, not booties." And Knox said, "Can you sing a song about booties?"wayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05041068993442344459noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7763033029585402982.post-13496571523040919072018-09-10T19:45:00.001-07:002018-09-10T19:45:19.765-07:00pink doctorKnox got a fever this afternoon and mommy made dinner while Darcy and I played and I held Holden. Holden is feeling much better after a few days of feeling very crummy, lots of snot, lots of discoloring around his eyes. He got his six month shots a few days ago and is getting teeth.<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Darcy and I were sitting on the dining room floor pretending that I was being disciplined. Darcy told me I was not obeying and that I needed to sit in time-out (her time-out chair is in the dining room). So I sat in the chair and she closed the dining room door. I was holding Holden and he turned around and looked at me in the face, like, "Why are we facing a wall right now?" Darcy came back in fifteen seconds later and said, "Okay, you can't do that anymore. You need to listen and obey." And I said, "I'm so sorry. I really will try to be a better person and listen to my mommy and daddy. Can we pray now for God to clean my heart and wash away my sin?"</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
So we prayed and Darcy said, "Okay, you were bad again. I gotta leave you in time-out." And she went and closed the door again. We did this about four or five times. Each time she told me I was bad, I would act like I was crying hard and tell her, "I'm trying so hard to be good. I really am. I don't know why you're doing this to me." And she would just look at me and say, "Well, you need to sit here for a bit." And then she'd leave me alone. And the last time she came in, she said, "Okay, now you're not feeling well. Come down on the floor with me and I'll read you this book (The Gruffalo)." She began reading the book (just making up the story either based on memory or whatever pictures she saw): "Okay, here's the fox.. 'Hi. I am the fox.'"</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
We finished the book and she asked me to lay down on the stacked-chairs in the corner of the room. Jokingly, I said, "So you want me to plank on these chairs." Andrea laughed from the kitchen. And I said, "Okay, well I'll have to put my baby down on the floor." Darcy looked at me like "yep". So I put Holden down on the ground and began planking on the stacked-chairs. Darcy went to get some pretend-medicine. As she was walking away, I yelled, "But doctor, what happens if my baby cries? Can I get down off these chairs and get him?" And Darcy said, "No, you can't." And I responded, "What kind of a doctor are you?!" And Darcy looked at me with a grin and said, "Pink." And I broke into laughter and said, "A pink doctor?" And she nodded her head "yes".</div>
wayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05041068993442344459noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7763033029585402982.post-37055601435831608122018-09-01T21:02:00.002-07:002018-09-01T21:03:22.260-07:00no more a dreamerI remember a time when I didn't have a clue what I'd be when I'm older. What car I'd drive. What house I'd live in. Who I'd marry. I greatly miss that mysteriousness.<br />
<br />
I have "acquired" all of those things and it leaves me feeling empty inside. It shouldn't though, of course. I keep feeling like there's nothing more. But there is. So much more.<br />
<br />
I want to flick my mind. I want to turn off whatever part of my brain prohibits me from being a child with my children. I want to think like them and feel like them. But I am just annoyed at everything and everyone.<br />
<br />
I am tired. I am no more a dreamer.wayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05041068993442344459noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7763033029585402982.post-80115450681142627822018-08-01T19:52:00.000-07:002018-08-01T19:54:04.294-07:00knox skipping nap timeKnox talks slower and has a little bit of a lisp<br />
when he is skipping nap time.<br />
<br />
Darcy, Holden, and mommy are all napping.<br />
I go downstairs to grab something out of the fridge<br />
and I hear Knox making pew-pew noises in the living room.<br />
<br />
And I just feel like every time I talk to him during nap time,<br />
he talks slow and his words come out with a little lisp.<br />
<br />
_____<br />
<br />
Just the other day, another case of Knox skipping nap time,<br />
I was working in my office and I heard something.<br />
I turned around and there was Knox with the little tent tunnel<br />
enveloping his body, looking like a worm.<br />
<br />
It cracked me up how he quietly came up the stairs<br />
while Darcy was asleep, this big tent tunnel in hand,<br />
and snuck up on me like that.<br />
<br />
I just like that the thought crossed his mind to do that.wayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05041068993442344459noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7763033029585402982.post-69210075254581630262018-04-01T20:37:00.003-07:002018-04-01T20:46:10.124-07:00creative boy / mommies and daddies in jailWe were pretty desperate for Knox to get in to CLUE.<br />
Stands for Creative Learning in a Unique Environment.<br />
To get in, Knox had to go take a test with a lady<br />
whose name is Mrs. Snow at Grahamwood Elementary<br />
and sit in a class without windows.<br />
<br />
Let's just say he lost it.<br />
<br />
He had a bad meltdown and Andrea had to apologize to Mrs. Snow<br />
who kindly let us reschedule for a different day.<br />
When Andrea and Knox got back home,<br />
we were pretty flustered and Andrea mentioned to Knox<br />
that parents could go to jail if their children don't go to school.<br />
I tried not to laugh.<br />
<br />
I told Andrea I'd take him to his second appointment.<br />
We bribed him with a Transformers toy<br />
and told him you can have it after you take the test.<br />
I also thought of literally every single word and action<br />
I could put forth to make him feel more comfortable the second time.<br />
I looked up Mrs. Snow's photo online to see if maybe<br />
we could put it next to his bed so she becomes less of a stranger<br />
(I couldn't find her photo).<br />
<br />
And when I took him to the school for round two of test-taking,<br />
I acted like I was uncomfortable and lost and<br />
I asked Knox if he could show me where the room is<br />
and introduce me to Mrs. Snow.<br />
This all worked wonders.<br />
He went in to the room like nothing<br />
was going to stop him from getting that toy.<br />
<br />
Well, he didn't pass the test, which is obviously not a big deal.<br />
Knox is an average kid in an average family<br />
and I honestly kind of appreciate that about us.<br />
I especially appreciate that,<br />
despite needing to work with him on his math<br />
(he's four after all)<br />
he scored the highest score possible in "creativity".<br />
That's my boy.<br />
<br />
_____<br />
<br />
The other night, I was putting Knox to bed<br />
and he asked me to sing him a "Me and Knoxy Song",<br />
a song I sing to him and Darcy every night.<br />
I just make up stuff to the melody of Old MacDonald<br />
or Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer or Baby Beluga.<br />
I asked, "What do you want me to sing the song about?"<br />
And he pointed to the art above his bed that I made for him,<br />
which has all of these cars on it.<br />
<br />
He pointed to the cop car and said, "The police car."<br />
And I started singing in the melody of Old MacDonald,<br />
"Knox and daddy were on the street<br />
when a cop car whizzed on by.<br />
It was probly gonna get some bad guys<br />
from committing bad crimes<br />
with a burglary over here<br />
and a speeding ticket there<br />
burglary here<br />
speeding ticket everywhere..."<br />
<br />
and Knox stopped me mid-song and said,<br />
"And they'll put mommies and daddies<br />
in jail if their kids don't go to school."<br />
And he looked at me very seriously.<br />
<br />
<br />wayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05041068993442344459noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7763033029585402982.post-62282909914917600722018-03-31T09:50:00.002-07:002018-03-31T09:50:23.108-07:00way above the world so hikeDarcy sings Twinkle Twinkle<br />
"..way above the world so hike.."<br />
and I don't even know what else<br />
to say about that. It's just so cute.<br />
<br />
Knox has seen this episode of<br />
Justin Time with the ninja<br />
a dozen times and hasn't gotten sick of it.<br />
<br />wayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05041068993442344459noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7763033029585402982.post-11126675508909558232018-03-31T09:48:00.001-07:002018-03-31T09:48:51.737-07:00reminding myself there's a spiritI've been obnoxiously busy lately<br />
not even time to microwave my coffee<br />
and take pictures of the kids.<br />
<br />
What have I been thinking about this morning?<br />
Instead of reading scripture<br />
and mulling over my character,<br />
<br />
I'm going over the pricing structure for my business.<br />
Cool.<br />
<br />
I steal away to the front porch<br />
with the weather-worn wicker chairs<br />
to listen to some Amen Dunes<br />
and remind myself I have a spirit<br />
and that I am a person.wayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05041068993442344459noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7763033029585402982.post-69092631208814602062018-02-15T08:52:00.004-08:002018-02-15T09:06:31.570-08:00I'm serious about you.It's nearly impossible to write about you.<br />
You told me the same thing earlier.<br />
It's mostly because we've told each other<br />
once or twice a year for seven years<br />
as many thoughts as we could.<br />
<br />
But I figured out what it really is.<br />
Why it's so hard to navigate<br />
my feelings for you.<br />
<br />
It's like trying to describe why you love<br />
something that dug in to your bones<br />
and seemingly redirected<br />
the flow of your blood.<br />
<br />
Isn't it easy to describe a thing you hate?<br />
There are movies I hate. And I could<br />
go on and on why I hated them.<br />
But when I see a movie that gets me<br />
<br />
it's just so hard for me<br />
to even get started talking.<br />
Why it hit me and made my thoughts<br />
so big, they almost evaporated<br />
like when you try to think of<br />
how God has always been<br />
and how the universe expands.<br />
<br />
It's hard to write about something I love.<br />
I want to make sure I get it just right<br />
because it really is just like so.<br />
<br />
One thing I can say is this. We may not<br />
be the most youthful couple making out<br />
in the park and staying up until<br />
the butt crack of dawn just<br />
talking like we used to.<br />
<br />
But I can say that I am very serious<br />
about you and all of this.<br />
And as you know<br />
far too well,<br />
<br />
I get very very very serious<br />
about the things I love.wayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05041068993442344459noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7763033029585402982.post-28975212319779481042018-02-11T20:43:00.001-08:002018-02-12T23:02:47.183-08:00You kissed her cheek back.Knox fell off his bike<br />
and a tiny cut from the sidewalk<br />
gave him a band-aid on two fingers<br />
one on each hand.<br />
<br />
I was in the middle of my head,<br />
work following me from my office<br />
while I filled the coffee mug<br />
and tried to make things work.<br />
<br />
This is always precisely the moment<br />
when I find out you're hurt.<br />
It's only barely even a scratch<br />
but you haven't had many scratches.<br />
<br />
I'm so glad you have Darcy.<br />
You began telling me how much it hurt.<br />
She stood right in front of you.<br />
Looked you dead in the eyes and said,<br />
"I'm so sorry, Knox."<br />
<br />
She practically whispered it.<br />
So soft and heart-shatteringly cute.<br />
She said it with a two-year old's version<br />
of what <i>genuine</i> looks like to them.<br />
<br />
She hugged you<br />
and <span style="color: #666666;">gently</span> kissed your cheek.<br />
<br />
You hugged her back<br />
and you gently kissed her cheek back.<br />
<br />
The bond of a brother and his little sister.wayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05041068993442344459noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7763033029585402982.post-60794138725164535362018-02-04T19:35:00.000-08:002018-02-15T09:10:45.970-08:00Hide There a BitI set high standards<br />
for myself to not achieve<br />
and it cripples me.<br />
<br />
Once a month or two<br />
I appear evil to you,<br />
Knox and Darcy too.<br />
<br />
Why does my voice raise?<br />
My emotions escalate<br />
in an argument?<br />
<br />
There is the hallway.<br />
I'll take it to the bedroom<br />
and hide there a bit.wayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05041068993442344459noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7763033029585402982.post-2481421826345764452018-02-03T10:49:00.000-08:002018-02-03T10:49:10.442-08:00Because I'm a BoyI didn't have any work last Friday and so Andrea took a subbing job at an elementary school in Collierville, leaving me with the kids all day.<br />
<br />
I ran an errand to Aldi with K & D. While in the store, I was looking everywhere for this cinnamon hard candy Andrea had gotten recently. At one point, I said to myself, "Man, where is this cinnamon candy? I can't find it anywhere!"<br />
<br />
Knox looked up at me from the grocery cart and said very matter-of-factly, "Oh, mom didn't get that at Aldi. She actually got it at Dollar Tree."<br />
<br />
I said, "Knox! How in the world do you remember that?"<br />
<br />
He just shrugged with a little smile.<br />
<br />
Later we got in line and I realized I forgot what K & D call "fizzy drink". It's the cheap version of La Croix. I think it's called La Víe. So I said," Oh shoot, I forgot to get the fizzy drink. Wait a second, I didn't see any. Nevermind. They must be out."<br />
<br />
Then Knox said, "No. I saw it. They have some."<br />
<br />
Sure enough, I stepped out of line to see if they had it. And yep. There it was.<br />
<br />
I was enamored with him. I bent over to him and said, "Knox, how? How do you notice these things!?"<br />
<br />
Knox had a very curious look on his face and said, "I don't know! Cos I'm a boy; and girls are good at buying things."<br />
<br />
I laughed pretty hard and said, "There is a lot of truth in that."wayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05041068993442344459noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7763033029585402982.post-20691216420495325562017-01-21T20:18:00.001-08:002017-01-21T21:03:17.372-08:00Firedog<div style="font-size: 12px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">When straying from writing about my wife or kids</span></div>
<div style="font-size: 12px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I’m instantly cognizant of something.</span></div>
<div style="font-size: 12px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">These are my muses I’m leaving </span></div>
<div style="font-size: 12px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">for a second, of course,</span></div>
<div style="font-size: 12px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">but for territory off the beaten path.</span></div>
<div style="font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-size: 12px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Adam</span></div>
<div style="font-size: 12px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">is no stranger for sure, fundamentally my brother</span></div>
<div style="font-size: 12px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Yet he doesn’t inhabit my space these days</span></div>
<div style="font-size: 12px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">my routine day to day.</span></div>
<div style="font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-size: 12px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">We meet at Ghost River</span></div>
<div style="font-size: 12px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">and my bubble trails off</span></div>
<div style="font-size: 12px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">the routine of clocking in and out</span></div>
<div style="font-size: 12px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">washing my children while singing Baby Beluga</span></div>
<div style="font-size: 12px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">pouring the wine and sitting down</span></div>
<div style="font-size: 12px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">with Friday Night Lights</span></div>
<div style="font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-size: 12px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">and I think “Oh yea. You!”</span></div>
<div style="font-size: 12px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I don’t even have to remember you</span></div>
<div style="font-size: 12px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">for best friends are like family.</span></div>
<div style="font-size: 12px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">By default, their name comes to mind</span></div>
<div style="font-size: 12px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">every time you think over your story.</span></div>
<div style="font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-size: 12px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">And just like Sammy</span></div>
<div style="font-size: 12px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">my childhood dog for twelve years</span></div>
<div style="font-size: 12px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">whose scent is practically engrained in my nostrils,</span></div>
<div style="font-size: 12px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">the warmth of your presence</span></div>
<div style="font-size: 12px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">rushes back</span></div>
<div style="font-size: 12px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-size: 12px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">the memories of your apartment porch</span></div>
<div style="font-size: 12px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">catty corner Firedog</span></div>
<div style="font-size: 12px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">the Corner Market on 13th</span></div>
<div style="font-size: 12px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">intoxicate my spirit.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
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wayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05041068993442344459noreply@blogger.com63tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7763033029585402982.post-77016086451644573912017-01-19T21:06:00.003-08:002017-01-21T17:48:39.642-08:00Dorcy<div style="font-size: 15px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Knox is slow with how he enters the room, almost tripping over the bottle</span></div>
<div style="font-size: 15px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">that rests along the bottom of the wall, some chocolate milk still left.</span></div>
<div style="font-size: 15px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Darcy slung it off the couch this morning, wanting her sleep sack off.</span></div>
<div style="font-size: 15px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">I hope Darcy didn't wake him.</span></div>
<div style="font-size: 15px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">He walks to her, “Hey Dorcy” </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">looks to me and grins, says “Dorcy” again.</span></div>
<div style="font-size: 15px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">I smirk at him, “Dorcy?”</span></div>
<div style="font-size: 15px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Knox loses it</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">takes a full minute to stop laughing.</span></div>
<div style="font-size: 15px; line-height: normal; min-height: 18px;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-size: 15px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Knox</span></div>
<div style="font-size: 15px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">you’ve become so whimsical.</span></div>
<div style="font-size: 15px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">I’ve enjoyed seeing you come into your own individual self </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">that only Knox Rucker can inhabit.</span></div>
<div style="font-size: 15px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Yesterday, we were up there on the barstools</span></div>
<div style="font-size: 15px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">you were drinking some of my “fizzy drink”</span></div>
<div style="font-size: 15px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">it popped on your tongue and you looked at me with a smile.</span></div>
<div style="font-size: 15px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">And I had this moment, one I’ve been experiencing a lot lately</span></div>
<div style="font-size: 15px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">I felt myself become you</span></div>
<div style="font-size: 15px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">almost like I felt your aura wrap around me</span></div>
<div style="font-size: 15px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">and teeter me into your world</span></div>
<div style="font-size: 15px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">with your free and mammoth imagination </span></div>
<div style="font-size: 15px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">coating me.</span></div>
<div style="font-size: 15px; line-height: normal; min-height: 18px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-size: 15px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
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wayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05041068993442344459noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7763033029585402982.post-39166785836230466362017-01-08T20:32:00.002-08:002017-01-19T21:14:22.179-08:00now just about gone<div>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">The harsh glossy white that painted our walls on Friday</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">is now just about gone.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Footlong patches of snow take up a meager percentage </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">of each yard around us</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">and remind me I worked </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">almost around the clock Friday and Saturday.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">I missed out on seeing Knox and Darcy</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">playing with Micah and Jonathan from across the street.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">The crunch crunch of them grazing down the sidewalk </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">outside my window.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">But I'm not sure I missed all that much. </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">I heard Knox's crying afterwards, very shortly after, </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">for his hands couldn't handle the cold. </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">I would make a guess that by the time a father's oldest reaches age three</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">things begin to change like rapidfire </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">starting with the plans inked all over the calendar on the wall.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">We need to prioritize and lay out what can go and what to add</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">that this one thing is unimportant</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">and this other thing</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">well, quite simply just is.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">And it becomes increasingly more and more aware to me</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">that time is a passing thing.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Time is now.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">And now is important</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">for now is just about gone.</span></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
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wayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05041068993442344459noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7763033029585402982.post-60056963368774117512014-04-06T21:29:00.005-07:002021-01-13T05:53:30.271-08:00calm downI can't play a note<br />
but I will break a cord<br />
and lose my voice<br />
when I am crashed<br />
in the waves<br />
and Knox throws sand<br />
in my face.<br />
<br />
Later that night,<br />
I'll drink some whiskey<br /><div>and calm down.</div>wayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05041068993442344459noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7763033029585402982.post-74775469757504989912013-10-14T12:44:00.000-07:002013-10-14T12:46:18.683-07:00Excerpt from Childhood House. . . Somehow I had assumed that the past stood still, in perfected effigies of itself, and that what we had once possessed remained our possession forever, and that at least the past, our past, our childhood, waited, always available, at the touch of a nerve, did not deteriorate like the untended house of an aging mother, but stood in pristine perfection, as in our remembrance. I see that this isn't so, that memory decays like the rest, is unstable in its essence, flits, occludes, is variable, sidesteps, bleeds away, eludes all recovery; worse, is not what it seemed once, alters unfairly, is not the intact garden we remember but, instead, speeds away from us backward terrifically until when we pause to touch that sun-remembered wall the stones are friable, crack and sift down, and we could cry at the fierceness of that velocity if our astonished eyes had time.<br />
<br />
- Eric Ormsbywayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05041068993442344459noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7763033029585402982.post-18740393003495429552013-07-08T09:34:00.004-07:002013-07-09T08:14:15.728-07:00Passage from Cannery Row<i>About three quarters of the way through reading John Steinbeck's Cannery Row, I found myself in a daze, my mind lost in curiousness about mankind - a thing Steinbeck does to me with every book I've read of his. There were two or three pages that stood out to me especially. </i><br />
<br />
<i>It won't ruin the book to read the passage I'm referring to. And you don't have to know the context the passage follows in the book. All you need to know is that Doc is a marine biologist admired by Mack and the boys, a group of vagabonds who live in a dilapidated building known as the Palace Flophouse. They are never able to keep jobs. They find themselves always having good intentions but always making a mess of things. They try to throw a party for Doc that goes horribly wrong and causes hundreds of dollars of damage to his laboratory. The whole town of Monterey views Mack and the boys as a group of evil-doers and misfits. But Doc loves the boys and always finds room to forgive them, knowing their good intentions.</i><br />
<br />
_______________________________________ <br />
<br />
It was the Fourth of July. Doc was sitting in the laboratory with Richard Frost. They drank beer and listened to a new album of Scarlatti and looked out the window. In front of the Palace Flophouse there was a large log of wood where Mack and the boys were sitting in the mid-morning sun. They faced down the hill toward the laboratory.<br />
Doc said, "Look at them. There are your true philosophers. I think that Mack and the boys know everything that has ever happened in the world and possibly everything that will happen. I think they survive in this particular world better than other people. In a time when people tear themselves to pieces with ambition and nervousness and covetousness, they are relaxed. All of our so-called successful men are sick men, with bad stomachs, and bad souls, but Mack and the boys are healthy and curiously clean. They can do what they want. They can satisfy their appetites without calling them something else." This speech so dried out Doc's throat that he drained his beer glass. He waved two fingers in the air and smiled. "There's nothing like that first taste of beer," he said.<br />
Richard Frost said, "I think they're just like anyone else. They just haven't any money."<br />
"They could get it," Doc said. "They could ruin their lives and get money. Mack has qualities of genius. They're all very clever if they want something. They just know the nature of things well to be caught in that wanting."<br />
If Doc had known of the sadness of Mack and the boys he would not have made the next statement, but no one had told him about the social pressure that was exerted against Mack and the boys.<br />
He poured beer slowly into his glass. "I think I can show you proof," he said. "You see how they are sitting facing this way? Well- in about half an hour the Fourth of July Parade is going to pass through. By just turning their heads they can see it, by standing up they can watch it, and by walking two short blocks they can be right beside it. Now I'll bet you a quart of beer they won't even turn their heads."<br />
"Suppose they don't?" said Richard Frost. "What will that prove?"<br />
"What will it prove?' cried Doc. 'Why just that they know what will be in the parade. They will know that the Mayor will ride first in an automobile with bunting streaming back from his hood. Next will come Long Bob on his white horse with the flag. Then the city council, then two companies of soldiers from the Presidio, next the Elks with purple umbrellas, then the Knights Templar in white ostrich feathers and carrying swords. Next the Knights of Columbus with red ostrich feathers and carrying swords. Mack and the boys know that. The band will play. They've seen it all. They don't have to look again."<br />
"The man doesn't live who doesn't have to look at a parade," said Richard Frost.<br />
"Is it a bet then?"<br />
"It's a bet."<br />
"It has always seemed strange to me," said Doc. "The things we admire in men, kindness and generosity, openness, honesty, understanding and feeling are the concomitants of failure in our system. And those traits we detest, sharpness, greed, acquisitiveness, meanness, egotism and self-interest are the traits of success. And while men admire the quality of the first they love the produce of the second."<br />
"Who wants to be good if he has to be be hungry too?" said Richard Frost.<br />
"Listen," said Doc. "Isn't that the band I hear?" Quickly he filled two glasses with beer and the two of them stepped close to the window.<br />
Mack and the boys sat dejectedly on their log and faced the laboratory. The sound of the band came, the drums echoing back from the buildings. And suddenly the Mayor's car crossed and it sprayed bunting from the radiator- then Long Bob on his white horse carrying the flag, then the band, the soldiers, the Elks, the Knights Templar, the Knights of Columbus. Richard and Doc leaned forward tensely but they were watching the line of men sitting on the log.<br />
And not a head turned, not a neck straightened up. The parade filed past and they did not move. And the parade was gone. Doc drained his glass and waved two fingers gently in the air and he said, "Hah! There's nothing in the world like the first taste of beer."<br />
Richard started for the door. "What kind of beer do you want?'<br />
'The same kind,' Doc said gently. He was smiling up the hill at Mack and the boys.<br />
It's all fine to say, 'Time will heal everything, this too shall pass away. People will forget-' and things like that when you are not involved, but when you are, there is no passage of time, people do not forget and you are in the middle of something that does not change. Doc didn't know the pain and self-destructive criticism in the Palace Flophouse or he might have tried to do something about it. And Mack and the boys did not know how he felt or they would have held up their heads again. wayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05041068993442344459noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7763033029585402982.post-53658965665602443232013-03-12T21:52:00.001-07:002013-03-12T21:52:19.470-07:00Unspeak<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">Defeat your evil </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">words </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">unspoken<br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">-</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">with all your<br />pure words </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">spoken.</span>wayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05041068993442344459noreply@blogger.com0