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I still have the ornaments from my first Christmas tree. My mother had given them to me when I was first married. I was six days old that first Christmas, not even aware of what was going on around me. I just wanted to be warm and fed and leave those special little green surprises babies leave in their diapers.
These ornaments were originally part of a set of twelve wax Santas, angels and snowmen. Over the years some of them have lost sections or have been broken and never repaired. So I treat them now as if they were crystal, able to disintegrate into a million pieces if they fell off the tree. The usually get placed on the upper half of the tree. They are a fragile piece of my story that I hope to pass on to my kids.
I wasn’t aware of Christmas decorations until kindergarten. I loved the lights. They were the big bulbs that were transformed into orbs of bright colored light when they were switched on. One of my pleasures of the holidays in my adulthood, is to drive around at night, looking at the Christmas lights on the houses. I’m not a big fan of the inflatable lawn decorations or an over-the-top displays that some folks create at Christmas. I prefer something more subtle. Candles in the window, wreath on the door, and a real balsam tree.
Growing up, we used to make the trip from Maine to Connecticut, to visit my grandparents for the holidays. It was one of several trips we’d make throughout the year. I loved those Christmases. When we later moved back to Connecticut, our family would open gifts in the morning, then we’d make the hour-long trip to my grandparents for another session. One of the most distinct scents that reminds me of those times is the scent of pine. But not from the tree. My grandmother had a small wooden cabin, that sat on the fireplace mantel, in the living room. The roof could be lifted off, and inside was a place to burn an inscense plug. I would always hover around the living room, hoping for the time my grandmother would light the inscense. I thought it was so cool to watch the smoke rise up and out of the chimney, just like the real thing.
You may be wondering, “hey, Middle-Aged Head, what would you like Santa to bring you for Christmas? You gotta list or somethin’?”
Sort of.
There’s a point in your life where those things aren’t as important as they once were. I used to make these elaborate lists, to prove to myself that people paid attention to me and what was important to me.
Ah, the days of my youth, when it was about the presents for me. The story of the Christ Child hadn’t yet hit home.
When my kids asked me what I wanted for Christmas, I didn’t have an answer. I couldn’t recall any music or movie that I had to own. There wasn’t an article of clothing that had caught my eye. The only thing I could think of was some Titleist golf balls. I really didn’t want anything.
There is one thing I want that I’ll receive, and another thing I won’t.
The one thing I will receive is being able to attend Christmas Eve services at my church. I always looked forward to Advent and Christmas. There is wonderful music surrounding the season that I love to sing. Unfortunately, the choral music I love has been abscent. My work schedule prevents me from attending services and singing in choir on Sunday. So I have to rely on my records and CD’s of the Christmas choral music I love. This year, I will have my kids with me on Chirstmas Eve, and I am excited to be able to share this time with them. They, on the otherhand, are not so excited. It has been a long time since they’ve been to church (a long story for another time — remind me, won’t you). I also think they are apprehensive about seeing people their own age they haven’t seen in a long time. That’s understandable. I am hoping that they will find a Christmas miracle of their own this year.
The gift I won’t receive is My Love. At least not in the form I’d like. Now that I’ve accepted the situation, it’s helped me to move on. But I was able to spend two wonderful Christmases with her that I wouldn’t trade for anything.
Since I’ve been prodded to provide a list, here goes nothing. I am allowing myself to dream big. These are in no particular order:
1. Trip to London. I agree with Samuel Johnson, who said that to be tired of London is to be tired of life. I have only scratched the surface of what that city can offer. Free admission to museums, guided walking tours and pub crawls are a good place to start. The idea of having real Cadbury’s chocolate, not the stuff you get in the States that is made by Hershey, brings a smile to my face. I’d like to stay three weeks, preferrably in the fall. But I’ll take January in a pinch.
2. A golfing vacation in Scotland. This could easily be my first choice. I figure I can make a trip from London to spend a couple days in St. Andrews. But I want to explore more of the country other than Fife. The idea of bouncing around the country in a compact car with nothing more than my clubs and a suitcase sounds appealing. I want to play the smaller, lesser known courses that Americans rarely play.
3. Two weeks in a cabin on a remote lake in Maine. Just be. Dive into some good reading, enjoy a lazy canoe trip or hike. Cook my meals outside on an open fire. I’d like to experience this in late September, just when the nights start getting nippy. I can crank up the woodstove and get toasty. I’d take a canoe out to the middle of the water, and laying back to look at a night sky full of stars.
4. A shopping spree in our local music store for all the CDs I want. It’s pretty self-explanitory.
5. To drive a high performance automobile at top speed.
6. A home on the coast of Maine. A cottage, actually, with a loft bedroom and windows overlooking the water. I have the place in mind, but it’s already owned. It sits up on a bluff overlooking Penobscot Bay, with pine woods on three sides. Below is a pebble beach with a small boat. There’s a fieldstone fireplace in the living room. This is Number 3 option in a different coat, but the same idea.
Not bad, eh?
Tomorrow’s my birthday!!!
The next couple of weeks will be hell on wheels.
I have my regular job at the Big City Hospital warehouse, but I also work for LL Bean taking phone orders for the holiday season. I love the work, love the customers, and I especially love the extra income. After Thanksgiving, however, it gets very busy.
Now, I’m preparing for working my second job 9 out of the next 11 days. It’s bad enough that I have to rise at oh-dark-hundred for my regular job. For the next couple weeks, I’ll be going from one job to another. The bad part is some of my hours scheduled until midnight. I do have the option to request to be sent home early, but I’m not sure if they’ll let me. I know that the phones will be off the wall and the calls non-stop. I’ll keep reminding myself that the money I’ll earn will make the kids’ Christmas a little more jolly. I’m stocking up on orange juice, multi-vitamins and Hot Pockets. Let’s see how my energy holds out over the next two weeks.
I’ve been thinking about what I should give My Kids for Chrstmas. I believe that gifts are given with love and the cost isn’t important. My kids are at an age where the present get more expensive, and they all want what their friends have. My Daughter is the most difficult to buy for. She repeats her requests every year: gift cards. I understand that she can go shopping after Christmas and get more bang for the buck. But I’m old-fashioned and a gift card sounds so impersonal. I like them to have something to open on Christmas. This year, she’s talking about a game system like PS3 or XBox.
I love that she takes after me: big, expensive gifts that stand a snowball’s chance in hell. When I was in my teens, I used to put together the most elaborate Christmas lists. I would’ve written for the Sears & Roebuck catalog, my lists were that detailed. Color, size, estimated price, best place to buy…I gave my folks more detailed information than they needed. As I got older, my requests moved from record albums and clothes, to Red Sox tickets and a Sony Walkman. I got neither. I still make out detailed lists. I guess I did it so I wouldn’t be disappointed on Christmas morning. I hoped that my family would pay attention and pull gifts off my list. They did, for the most part, excpet for my Aunt Dorcus. She always bought me socks.
She bought socks for all the men in the family. Very predictable.
As for My Son, he is just as hard to buy for as his sister. This year, since he’s taking a photography class as an arts elective, he wants a $600 Nikon camera. Do you think he’d be bummed if he got a point-and-shoot instead? I like to put sports cards in his stocking, along with the Pex dispenser, cashews, toenail clippers and deck of cards.
Don’t worry, he’ll get other good stuff. Didn’t you get one or two items in your stocking that repeated from year to year? For me, it was toenail clippers, deordorant, Andes mints and cashews.
I won’t have much time to devote to writing over the next couple of weeks. I’ll try to squeeze in some short posts here and there. Maybe I’ll post my Christmas list. Honestly, there’s not much I want for Christmas. I will likely receive a magazine subscription from my folks, along with small gifts and a stocking. I would hope the kids buy me either golf balls or gift card to the local music store. Maybe hockey tickets for a game all three of us can enjoy together.
The chances of getting what I really want for Christmas are slim. Less than that. More like impossible. I found this same gift under my tree two Christmases ago. It was the best gift I’ve ever received.
It was the gift of love, of someone’s heart given because they had trusted the Cosmos, had faith and didn’t run from it. It was the right gift for that time.
As I’ve said, the chances I’ll find that are slim. If it were from the same giver, that would be divine. It’s doubtful, though.
But, one never knows. Finding that under the tree WOULD BE a Christmas miracle.
I checked my L.L. Bean schedule for the next couple of weeks. I am working six days straight, one day off, then four days. OUCH! What makes it painful is that my out time is MIDNIGHT, and I have to be at work at 5:30am, or “oh-dark-hundred”, for eight hours. I did the math and discovered I could make beaucoup bucks but I would be seriously compromising my sleep. The last thing I need is to do the Walking Zombie through the next three weeks. I could have some fun for Christmas with that money. I’m thinking about buying a Wii for the kids’ Christmas gift, and that money would go a long way towards that.
I’m not sure how I am spending the Thanksgiving holiday. I do know how my day will start: up at 3:30am at the warehouse. The folks at The Big City Hospital want all their supplies early so they can leave before noon. That means my little band of church mice have to get up even EARLIER to process orders. I should be home before 11am. I’m not sure what I’ll do for dinner. My kids are with their mother, and they’ll be spending Thanksgiving with her sister’s family. Maybe, if it’s not raining, I’ll make a turkey sandwich and head to the beach.
Today, however, I will be cooking my famous Trash Can Turkey. The Ex- asked me if I would cook it for her. I’ve done this several times and it’s a fun way to cook a turkey. It’s amazing what can be done with a clean, unused aluminum trash can, a large bag of charcoal, heavy-duty foil and a wooden garden stake. The cook time is under two hours and the bird is fall-off-the-bone moist. YUM! The Ex- is springing for all the supplies. All I need to do is cook it and take home some meat at the end.
If I’m not able to write in the next couple of days, don’t worry. In the interum, I want to wish you all….
HAPPY THANKSGIVING!!!
I am truly blessed to have this outlet to write and work out the bugs in my life. I am thankful for the people who take the time to pay a visit now and then. Although I don’t write for you, I am glad you are a part of this. I am also thankful for the people closest to my heart. These people have helped me in immeasurable ways, and I am thankful beyond words for them. You know who you are.
I’d like to start off by thanking the folks who pop in on a regular (or semi-regular) basis and read my writing. I am blessed that you enjoy it, or are at least curious if I’ve gone postal or not. I’m just a guy trying to figure it all out.
Today is My Daughter’s 20th birthday. I was there to see and hear her born. She was asleep inside her mother, and the doctor had to wake her up to be delivered. She was sideways and the OB had to reach in and turn her. Otherwise, her mother would have a very uncomfortable delivery. Needless to say, she came out screaming. She’s kept that stubborn nature. Happy Birthday, sweetie. You are my Pride and Joy.
I am someone who believes that events associated with a season should remain so. In other words, if you have your Christmas tree up the day AFTER Halloween, you need to check your calendar. If you want the smell of pine, then burn a scented candle. So, I was surprised with myself that I did what I did last night.
I went Christmas shopping. It was completely out of character for me.
I do know from where it comes. That behavior comes from my mother, the woman who buys Christmas gifts in the height of summer if she thinks she’s getting a bargain. Okay, it’s a smart idea but not for everyone. Last night, with my pockets full of L.L. Bean cash, I set out to attempt to find stocking stuffers for the kids. There was not much to be found. I got as far as a deck of playing cards and a Toblerone. Hey, it’s a start.
I eventually shifted gears and went into grocery mode. I filled the basket with staples like soup, bread, Hot Pockets, and beer.
Sidebar: Have you seen the price of beer lately? Ever since American farmers have put all their resources into corn for ethanol production, nobody grow barley anymore. If they do, the price is outrageous, which then affects the price of beer. The breweries have passed the cost on to the customers, which makes the price go up. A good premium microbrew, such as Shipyard or Geary’s, is 8-dollars and over. It’s highway robbery! Thank God for the Canadians. I have rediscovered Molson Golden, which was a luxury for poor college students in the early 80’s.
After the gathering concluded, I made my way to the checkout and became the final customer for the cashier. I was in the 20 items and under line, holding 23 items. Where were the retail police? Didn’t anyone care I had breached the checkout etiquette? I felt like I was getting away with something. My cashier hailed from a country on the African continent, so it was difficult to understand him. His voice was soft and his accent thick, which is a linguistic double whammy. But God bless this man for giving me an unexpected gift. It was the gift of laughter and it was a well-needed chuckle.
He carded me.
For those of you keeping score at home, I am 48 years old. The number of grey hairs on my head has doubled over the past two years. My goatee is more salt than pepper. I am of legal age to buy alcohol.
He was just doing his job. But in the process he was sending me a message, albeit an unintentional message.
Laugh. Long and loud.
Which is what I did. I looked around and noticed that most people within 50 feet were looking in my direction. When I laugh, I let it all hang out. My laugh is robust and from the gut. People have told me they love it when I laugh. I laugh like I love: unconditionally. Sometimes I get so caught up in my situation that I lose sight of my sense of humor. Usually seeing the innocence of a small child helps me find it again. Then I go back to my old self again.
Which is where I am today, gentle reader. I know that I wear my emotions on my sleeve and that can be a burden sometimes. But they are mine and I feel them. It is becoming easier to pull out of my funks than it used to be. I want to cut my recovery time down, but I know that will take time.
I have a date Tuesday night. I am taking myself to the theater. It’s pay-what-you-can night at Portland Stage, and I’ll be seeing “The Gin Game”. I remember when Jessica Tandy and Hume Cronin had a long run in both Los Angeles and on Broadway back in the late 70s. The theater is around the corner from my apartment. I’m really looking forward to it.
What I’m not looking forward to is the sinkful of dishes I have awaiting me. I do have a slobbish streak that takes incredible will of overcome. I have good intentions, though, but that doesn’t empty the drainer. Don y0n rubber gloves, go forth and wash. It should take no time to do.
I just need a jumpstart.
November 4. Four days after Halloween.
I am assuming that most of you have come out of your sugar coma by now. SInce I never bought Halloween candy in the first place, I’m happy to report that my eyes are clear and bright and I have energy to burn. I was not found sitting on my couch and covered with wrappers.
I have a love/hate relationship with chocolate. My Love turned me on to dark chocolate. Her claim that it was an aphrodisiac was spot on. Well before that, there was Nutella. For the uninitiated, Nutella is a milk chocolate/hazelnut spread with the consistancy of peanut butter. It is smooth, thick, and sinfully good. I discovered Nutella when I was on a high school exchange trip to Germany. My first breakfast with my host family included Nutella. What a great way to start the day! Sometimes I’ll heat it up and pour it over vanilla ice cream, or I’ll make peanut butter and Nutella sandwiches. My mother will buy Nutella in HUGE jars. My Daughter is a Nutella junkie. She’ll hoard a jar in her room so her brother won’t swipe it.
But despite loving the taste of good chocolate, I have a tendancy to overindulge if there is chocolate in the house, and the result is not a pretty sight. I have a history of abusing food. Whenever I’m having a tough time emotionally, I binge eat when I’m alone. I haven’t weighed myself lately but I can tell I’ve packed on a few pounds. That ship has been righted and we’ll be working to slim down. The fact that I recognize this is helpful. I recognize that I should be taking better care of myself. But my emotions are taking over when I should be in control. Lately, I have lost the desire to cook and have turned back to Mickey D’s and take-out Chinese. I need to remind myself that I need to think about what I eat. My weight goes up when I eat like this, and I recognize why I eat that way.
I have discoverd this fact: there is no timetable for mending a broken heart. I know that the majority of the time I do alright. I am in the moment and enjoying life. But there are times, such as when I discovered that My Love was reading my blog for real, when my heart goes into a tailspin, causing it to try to figure out which end is up. I catch myself daydreaming and figuring out what she’s doing, what her impressions of my writing are, and just getting lost in thought. That is the tendency that needs to be changed. It’s as if my heart has left a light on for My Love, waiting for her to come back.
SHE”S NOT COMING BACK, FOOL! GET IT THROUGH YOUR THICK SKULL!! SHE”S GONE AND YOU’RE HISTORY!! GET OVER IT AND GET ON WITH YOUR LIFE!! SHE DOESN”T WANT YOU ANYMORE!
Sounds harsh, doesn’t it. It needed to be said.
I am now waiting for the translation for my heart. I suspect my heart speaks another language.
Here’s where it all goes down hill.
I have a theory about the post-Halloween weather in the Northeast. Here on the coast, once the candy has been gobbled up and the costumes put away, the weather seems to take a turn for the worst.
Rapidly.
My Daughter’s brithday falls in early November. Ever since she was old enough to have birthday parties, we’ve had Indian Summer-like weather around her birthday, so her parties were always held outdoors. I never thought leaf diving was a traditional party game, but we turned it into one.
But after that glorious splash of warmth, the temperature takes a dive and the chill in the air is more than just chilly. It’s cold, and it’s worse if it rains. Autumn rain is the worst because it is so cold. The sole purpose of an autumn rain is to bring down the remaining leaves on the trees.
This has been a good year for wanderlust. I haven’t acted on the urges yet and I know I should. Considering all the emotional maelstrom I’ve put myself through, you think I would get away more often. That would be a correct assumption. Lately, though, I’ve been questioning this wanderlust.
When does wanderlust and the desire for a change of scenery get misinterpreted for avoiding reality?
There have been plenty of times I’ve wanted to get outta Dodge, but I seem to find excuses not to. Is it necessary for my wellbeing to hit the road every so often? Hell, yeah! So…. WHY NOT? Good question, gentle reader. Why do I find reasons NOT to do anything instead of creating solutions to help me achieve my goal?
That’s two questions- both of them valid and complimentary.
I say shit or get off the pot. Just go. Create possibilities instead of building barriers.
Here are some places I’ve thought about:
1. My sister’s in Massachusetts. She and her husband are empty nesters, sort of. My nephew is at the Massachusetts Police Academy. My youngest neice is at school in Fitchburg. Her older sister has two years of college under her belt but, for reasons not yet explained, she opted for coming home and working in her father’s small-town law practice. I haven’t seen for since the end of May, just before My Love and I parted ways.
2. My parent’s house…again. No. Dad and I had an argument about my financial situation. He is afraid I’m going to fall through the cracks. For years he’s been pushing the real estate game on me, put I’m not playing. Things need to cool down before I drop in again.
3. No place in particular. It’s always a good third option. I’ve thought about driving to Boston, Quebec City, and New York City. I’ve thought about pulling out the ol’ Rand McNally, close my eyes and drop the finger at random. Where the finger goes, the rest of me shall follow.
Would somebody give a good shove to get me started?
I am feeling MUCH better today. I could’ve slept a few hours more than I did, but there’s this thing called work. You have to do it to earn money. You then take that money and buy things and pay bills, not necessarily in that order. Therefore, the time change tonight is a welcome thing. We all dread spring and the time change forward. Yeah, I love the sunshine but I could really use that hour of sleep.
My Daughter and I never made it to the hockey game and we didn’t get to carve pumpkins. She got a call from her work. Three guys called out and there was a huge restock coming in, and would she come in to work. She really wanted to spend time with me, so she worked out a compromise. We had enough time to put a stirfry together and just hang out in the kitchen. As for the hockey tickets, I gave them to My Son and his girlfriend.
I have finished CS training for L.L. Bean and will start shift work tonight. I’ll have enough time to rush home from the warehouse, change and clean up, and off to work. This is how it will be for the next 8-10 weeks. Good thing it’s fun work or I would dread it.
Exciting, huh?
whaddayah want for nothing? Rrrrrrrrrrrubber biscuits?
Bow bow, oooooh ooh.
I want to take care of some housekeeping today. There’s stuff I want to write about but really don’t want to go into great detail.
Except one.
My Love has been reading my blog.
No, really. This time she has been reading it.
When I opened my mailbox this morning, there was an email from her. That surprise packed a wallop. I sat there and stared at the screen for a while. I wasn’t sure if I should open the email. When you don’t expect it, the emotional impact seems to be much greater.
What I discovered was a gentle note. She has been having difficulty sleeping lately. Last night, it was another tough night for her, so she decided to take the plunge and read my blog. What kept her from reading it before now was fear. My Love was afraid that I would rip her to shreds, that the pain and anguish she caused would be spilled all over the page and she would be to blame.
What she found was reflections tinged with sorrow and sadness. It was a surprise for her, though, to find me treating her with tenderness and respect in these pages. It’s the only way I know. I hope it sent her a clear message that I still love and respect her, no matter what happens between us. She changed my life for the better, and I could never repay that kindness. My Love still wants to communicate, but I believe my heart needs more time to heal. I want her to return and read more of what I’ve written. I want her to understand that I am doing the best I can with what I have. We were given a wonderful gift: a love that most people dream of but never find.
Moving forward……
I have a date tonight.
I am taking My Daughter to a hockey game tonight. Before that, we will carve jack o’ lanterns and make homemade chicken fingers for dinner. My Son has plans with friends, otherwise he’d be joining us. We all love hockey. The kids, their mother and I would go watch our AHL franchise several times a year. One year for Christmas, we gave ourselves a half season ticket package. That season we logged in 25 games. It was great. Tonight, however, it will be a Daddy-Daughter Night.
I started my seasonal job this week. For the past five years, I have worked the phones for L.L. Bean during the Christmas season. I use the money for Christmas presents. I also get DEEP DISCOUNTS at the employee store. It’s a lot of fun. I get to step outside my box a little and talk to people from all over. The folks from the South are very friendly and love to chat. I also get to (internally) chuckle at some of the folks who drop a thousand dollars in an order. They have a certain air about them. It’s part confidence, part insolence, part entitlement. I have no problem with people who’ve been able to make their money work for them. There are some folks who seems to think that their crap doesn’t stink, and those are the folks that need to be taken down a peg. But, as a customer service rep for a company that prides itself on world-class customer service, I have to bite my tongue and smile.
I should be quite busy for the next 8 weeks. They usually dismiss their seasonal employees before Christmas. I’ve wanted to stay as long as possible to make some extra to stash away. This year, however, I think I’ll request to be let go just before Christmas. I’ll have to work my regular job on both Christmas and New Years Day, so I’d like some time to make merry.
Everyone enjoy your weekend. Enjoy the ghosts and goblins on Saturday. Find a costume and let yourself go. Don’t just hide behind a mask. Get out of your skin and try on another.
My Son and I are watching the Patroits game Sunday afternoon and I was apalled. It had nothing to do with the play on the field, nothing to do with a comment made by the broadcasters. It was what was happening at Gillette Stadium.
It was snowing. It was October 18 and it was snowing in New England.
That’s disgusting.
I’m a firm believer that certain events should occur in appropraite times. I believe that the Christmas decorations can be put up the day after Thanksgiving, not after Halloween. I believe that nobody cares if you wear white after Labor Day. I believe that, if the ground is clear and the sun is out, you should be able to play golf in January, regardless if there are temporary greens or not. I believe that it should not snow (at lower elevations) in New England until mid-November.
But there it was, wet flakes making a slushy, slippery playing surface.
Football should be played in snow. It adds another element to help level the playing field. When I was in fifth grad, our teacher played touch football with us. He’d organized games at recess when it would snow. I remember playing center with snow up to my knees. It’s easier on the body to get knocked around when you have a fluffy. Football was meant to be played outdoors. As opposed to domed-stadium football, where it may be warm but it eliminates the weather as a factor. Folks in Minnesota had to freeze at Metropolitan Stadium while watching the Vikings before they got a domed stadium. Folks in Green Bay still tough it out in cold Wisconsin weather and they’re proud of it. No dome for them.
I’m not as huge a football fan as some people are. I love watching high school football. Speaking of which, this Friday is The Battle of The Bridge between the Red Riots and Portland Bulldogs. This has been the traditional last game of the regular season for both schools. The winner gets to decorate the bridge in their school colors. It’s been lean for the past ten years or so. Portland has beaten the Red Riots more often than not and that makes Red Riots fans frustrated. This year, both clubs are evenly matched with two explosive running backs on either side. I can’t wait. This year’s game will be played only a fifteen minute walk from my apartment.
Aside from high school ball and the Patriots, football for me, isn’t the fanatical passion it is for most people. I don’t play fantasy leagues. I don’t own team gear. I don’t tailgate or have huge parties on Sundays. Not even for the Super Bowl. I would tailgate if there were a place to do it. I just enjoy football in season and just as a game, not a lifestyle.
Back to the S-word.
When I brought my daughter home last night, it was still snowing and the ground was white. Big, wet flakes pounded the windshield. So, having a little fun, I started singing Chirstmas carols. This put my daughter over the edge. I was just kidding and so was she, but she agrees with me that it was too early for snow. She went on this rant about the snow, but I knew it was for show. With every carol I sang, she told me I was going to Hell. That was for effect, too.
But going to Hell for singing Christmas carols? Please.
When I woke up this morning, the snow was all gone. That sounds like a blues lyric. Where’s my harmonica (wa-wah-wah-wa).
I was happy to see the sun shining this morning and the ground covered with red and orange leaves. Yeah, it was a bit chilly. I’ll take that, but no snow, please.
Snow, snow, go away. Don’t show your face until we’re good and ready. At least let the leaves fall.
It is the end of the workday, but not the end of my week. I would love to be able to sleep in tomorrow, maybe fix a breakfast of pancakes and bacon, and go wherever thewind will take me.
But, sadly, so. I’ll be up way-too-early when the majority of the world is enjoying a relaxing start to the weekend.
This will be one of those posts that has something for everyone. Maybe not everyone. How about 4 out of five dentists? Choosy mothers? The Pepsi generation?
Alright, enough.
Tonight is the last home game for the Red Riots football team. So far, they are 4-2 with tonight’s game vs. Gorham, then The Battle of the Bridge. I found out yesterday that My Son sustained a concussion during practice. He failed the computer tests that are conducted with potential cranial injury but was told he could be back for the last game of the regular season. I understand that football is not a gentile sport, that injuries happen. But how does a kid sustain multiple blows to the head..IN PRACTICE. I understand he’s disappointed he may not be able to play for awhile.
My Daughter and I had a great dinner last night. Since we have a similar sense of humor, we can get silly and that’s how it was last night. The spaghetti stayed on the plates and there are no stains in the rug or on the couch cushions. I cherish times like this when I can be Dad instead of her Father.
A good friend tipped me off to an interesting concept. It’s called Meet Up (www.meetup.com ) and there are all kinds of groups where people can socialize. If you are into cooking, coffee, wine, adventure activities or just want to meet people, there are groups for all that and more. I found a writers group that I wanted to join. But I was detained while picking up My Son from his team dinner last night, so I missed the beginning. Actually, I missed the whole thing. I went to the address provided on the website, but when I rang the doorbell, no one responded. Bummer. I’ll have to arrive earlier next week.
One of the things I will need to change, whenever I start dating again, will be to forget what I knew with My Love. I have to re-learn how to date. Not so much the flowers/dinner or a movie/kiss at the door stuff. Instead I need to change how I think about the structure of the relationship. I will want to date someone who isn’t balancing another relationship against ours, but I want to be able to focus on the present. I want to take it step-by-step, savouring getting to know her. I want to be secure with myself and my life so I’m not so quick for exclusivity. I don’t want to define myself by the relationship. I am a LONG way off from dating again, despite desiring the intimacy of a relationship.
I am loving internet radio. I’ve logged into Free Form BCN several times this week while at work. I love the idea of not know what song you’ll hear next. Having worked in radio, I know what good radio sounds like and I haven’t heard it for awhile. It’s where the DJ’s had personality; they identified with their audience, could program their shows and select the music. It’s easy now to tune up and down the dial and hear the same presentation, just different music. They tell you the same thing no matter the format. Every station is ”playing a better mix of the 70’s, 80’s and 90’s”, “more variety, less talk”…..you get the idea. Now that I’ve discovered internet radio and can pinpoint music that matters to me, the only use for the radio will be news/weather and the ballgame. That’s actually kinda sad.
I will not be dressing up for Halloween. I’ve never been big on the holiday. maybe it was the pressure of finding an original costume. My best costume was a Christoper Columbus outfit, complete with crushed velvet cap and ragmop hair. My mother made it from scratch. You don’t get much of that anymore. As I grew older, it was just a day when you got lots of free candy. A few years I had to “Trick or Treat for UNICEF”. Usually we got the boxes in our Sunday school classes and were expected to return them on the Sunday following Halloween. That activity reminds me of the scene in Woody Allen’s “Radio Days”, an autobiographical film about growing up during World War II. The scene takes place during Hebrew school class. These Jewish boys are sent out by their rabbi, to collect funds to promote a Jewish home in Palestine. Being kids, they end up taking some of the money and spending a portion on candy, ice cream or Secret Avenger Decoder Rings. The young Woody gets hauled up in front of the rabbi by his parents. Do you remember collecting for UNICEF? How many of you skimmed a little off the top? Did some of it end up in the till of the neighborhoodstore? Do I see a few hands rising hesitantly? C’mon, ‘fess up. But don’t worry because it’s ancient history, you won’t be held accountable.
It’s too damn cold for this time of year. Where’s Indian Summer? Where are the temperatures in the mid-50’s?
Enjoy your weekend no matter where you are. Hopefully, there will be lots of color, interesting people, and stuff to make you go “hmmmmm”.
