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Monthly Archives: October 2012

31 Wednesday Oct 2012

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halloween

It’s Halloween.  I always try to keep in the spirit(s) around the office, so I dress in costume, an easy task for me since I have a collection of wigs, hats, clothes, and accessories from my days acting in sketches.  I whipped together an old lady costume this morning and it was a hit with my friends at work.

Erika, the brunette in the picture, had a picture taken of us together, then posted the picture on FB from her smartphone.  She tagged me.  A few minutes later, my cycling friends started the trash talk emails — they saw the picture.

So did my junior high basketball coach and social studies teacher.  Here is the comment he left on FB.  Nice.  I’m dead.

My friend Erika had to make sure they were real.

Flute Assassins

30 Tuesday Oct 2012

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daughter, family

Friends since they met at two on a playground in Wheaton, Alyssa and Kate are now “flute assassins”.

I can’t really take credit for much when it comes to my kids.  Know what I mean?  There are proud moments when Mir and I look at our children and want to take credit for the admirable trait said child has demonstrated.

“You know, she gets that outgoing smile from me.”

When I say things like that I usually get a big sigh followed by a smackdown of epic proportions from my wife.  All good things come from her, after all.  If it’s a bad trait, of course it is a result of my gene pool.  If I dare say that Alyssa resembles my grandmother, prepare for the nuclear fallout.

She does resemble my grandmother, in so many ways.  I see the kindness, the genuine warmth, and the sweetness in the way she smiles.  When I see her face in full like that I think of my grandmother.  Grandma didn’t have the curly red hair or blue eyes, but everything else about that face is Grandma Slagle.  We live on through our children and grandchildren.

That’s a scary thought or it can be.  It’s not when the child is all things good.  My daughter is one of those.  Look at her finger in the picture and you’ll see me wrapped around it.

Alyssa is outgoing, never lacking for friends.  Intelligent.  Motivated.  Responsible.  Some day she is going to be a full blown teacher and she is already on her way.  Flute assassin?  That was her role last week as she led her middle school all girl flute choir at their annual “Hubbleween” performance.  My daughter volunteers as leader of that group along with her friend.  The girls love her.  They play well.  And they have fun.  At the concert they all dressed in black and stocking caps, “assassinating” each other one by one with their flutes as they performed Halloween themed songs.

Alyssa with her middle school girls.

She’s my daughter.  Mine.  I like it when I see myself in her.. and when I see my wife.. and my grandmother.. and Mir’s dad.. and the list goes on.  We all have a bit of all of our past in us.

Five Minutes Until I Waste Time

29 Monday Oct 2012

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hobbies, iPod

It's a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World

It’s a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Words With Friends.

Hanging With Friends.

Scramble With Friends.

They are all time wasters that have sucked me in like the chump that I am.  I love playing the games and have spent many an evening with my cheeks planted on the couch, intently focusing on my iPod as my turn to play comes up, and up, and up, and up, and you get the drift.  Often what terminates my play for the evening is the waning charge on my device.

Admitting this gives me the same sick feeling that I get when I see someone I know in a McDonalds, a huge bit of Big Mac sauce drool on the edges of my mouth.  No one wants to acknowledge that they eat at the golden arches, even though millions do (thanks, Jim Gaffigan).  The same goes for “those games”.

I am frequently called a nerd as I taunt my coworker,  Debbie, about the lava scorching the soles of her feet.  Debbie is my favorite Hanging opponent.  Just last week I did the strongman butt dance in Panera after finally beating another friend, a savant at Words, after many months of trying.  Even I must say that I was far too proud of that.  When I dropped my iPod in the toilet because I couldn’t put down my Scramble game to pee, another addicted friend actually gave me her husband’s 32 gig Touch so that I would keep playing her in Words.

It’s a mad, mad,  mad, mad world.

Time to go to bed.  But first, let me catch up a few turns at Words….

Mir and Alyssa, Homecoming 2012

28 Sunday Oct 2012

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Mir and Alyssa, Homecoming 2012

You won’t see many pictures of my wife, Mir, in my blogs. She won’t allow it for many reasons. I am sneaking this one in simply because I want to show off my two lovely girls.

A Dirty Bike Is A Happy Bike

28 Sunday Oct 2012

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bicycling, friends

ImageAh, yes, can’t you just see my mountain bike smiling?  A dirty mountain bike is a happy mountain bike.  This afternoon mine was indeed extremely happy, so happy that the front wheel stayed off when the bike came out of the back of the PT Cruiser-To-The-Auto-Parts-Store.  A bath was in order but I thought it might be a nice thing to let the bike savor the dirt for a while.

I and my bike once again visited the Palos forest preserve (pictured in the header of this blog) this morning for a crack of dawn ride on some very slick single track trails.  The trees have finished dropping their leaves, a carpet of leaves covering the trails.  It rained on wednesday and thursday, so the trails were a bit wet in some spots, but not enough that they were closed.  If they are too wet, then the preserve closes them to prevent erosion and damage to the trails.

My friends Jim and Jon also joined me for the ride. Both are experienced off road riders, very familiar with the trails.. and they both kicked my butt.  My ego took quite a hit as I struggled to keep up with them, but I also thoroughly enjoyed watching them as they rode over logs, jumped into ravines, and rolled over roots.  I tried.  We rode trails with names like cemetery hill, appropriately named, and out/back. The dim morning light turned to a cloudless bright sunny morning, my skills improved to just slightly embarrassing, and my spirits soared as the we crested a forested hill that overlooked a lake with the early morning sun reflecting off of the water.  I am really beginning to love this whole mountain bike thing.

This morning had an added bonus.  Jim was on his first off road bicycle ride since a liver transplant earlier this year.  Palos is one of his favorite places and Jim answered my emailed ride invitation with an excited yes, extended the invitation to a ton of friends as soon as my email was received. The guy was pumped this morning, leaving us all in the dust.  Dang.  Maybe I should get a liver transplant.

And seeing Jim enjoy the ride may have really been the highlight of the morning.  He looks smaller now, a contrast to the man I knew a few years ago, but still an incredibly strong individual.  So many times this morning, Jon and I watched as Jim disappeared around a bend in the trail to leave us behind.  But even better than the riding is the encouraging friend that Jim is, greeting me immediately this morning with a huge hug and “It’s so good to see you again, brother!”.  That’s Jim, the most encouraging person I know, the glow of Christ surrounding him constantly.  Every time I come away with a bit of that glow.

And that bike is still happy.  Maybe it will get that bath before next Saturday’s ride.  Maybe.

Life’s The Same

25 Thursday Oct 2012

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family, stupidity

Life’s the same, except for my shoes

I want to be Rick Ocasek.  He must have a lot of shoes.  Unless you count flip flops and a torn up pair of fleece slippers, I have worn the same pair of shoes for at least three years.  I only have one pair of shoes (OK, that’s a lie.  I have baseball cleats and bike shoes and basketball shoes and a pair of boots I wear to mow the lawn).  Now that I have corrected myself, I have to admit that I only have one pair of shoes that I wear on a daily basis.  They are functional shoes, as I like to remind my children when they turn a snotty nose in my direction, extra wide width boots that I bought because I thought they would be comfortable.  They are too wide for my feet, except for the sixth toe (i.e. bunion) on my left foot, so they really aren’t terribly comfortable.  They have too much room.  But I think they look real cool with the baggy carpenter jeans I wear.  Life is not the same except for my jeans.  I have two pairs of jeans.

No one really needed to hear that.

I really can’t say that life is the same.  For me, except for a few constants such as the joy brussels sprouts and a good poot gives to me, life really never stays the same.  I have two teenage children.  It is impossible for life to stay the same for me.

A good example happened just this past week.  Nate is in that awkward thirteen year old boy state of confusion where he is just trying to survive through figuring things out.  I remember how that felt.  Heck, that really hasn’t changed for me.  Any way, he’s also starting to put the whole sex thing together, his curiosity piqued by an increasing interest in eighth grade girls whose boobs and curves are beginning to become obvious, as well as having to take the cursed health class at school where they teach the boys about useful items like tampons and douches.  Wonderful.  Nate comes home and asks questions like “what’s a vagina?” with a less than confident smirk on his face.  He’s my son, meaning he lives to annoy people, so dinner time this week has had Nate making sure he throws out those smirked questions in front of his older sister.  Fights are a common occurence at the dinner table now that we have two teens, and the smirked questions started one up.  Nate followed up one of his questions by reaching out and grabbing his sister’s boob.

That’s not proper dinner etiquette.  I did not make any points with my wife when I quipped “it’s not proper to cop a feel from your sister at the dinner table”.  I do believe I’m lucky I can duck quickly, something in my life that has indeed remained the same.

So I find myself wondering what changes next week have in store for my family.  I kind of dread the day when life ceases to change.  That is likely coming within a few years, as the children leave the nest.  What I really hope is that I find that groove that works for me, one that remains the same.  That would be nice.

And so it goes.  EXCEPT FOR MY PANTS.  I tried that David Letterman in my blog several years ago, where you follow everything you say by ending with EXCEPT FOR MY PANTS.  It was fun.  That’s not the groove I am looking for, but it’s much better than talk-like-a-pirate day, which I find to be extremely stupid.  Maybe tomorrow will be EXCEPT FOR MY PANTS friday?

Life’s not really the same, except for my pants.

One Week

25 Thursday Oct 2012

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NaNo, Online Writing

There is a sense of foreboding in me as I prepare to write this year’s NaNo.  My choice  of story is out of my comfort zone, a test I am imposing on myself for a reason I can’t think of.  I’m not trying to stretch myself.  This writing thing is still new to me and I have a lot of learning to do.  This is not the time to stretch myself.  My story this year came from a short story written from a prompt provided through a blog I subscribe to, as did two out of the last three NaNo projects.  The story was one that found my G spot, so I chose to let the pleasure take me farther.  What I like about the story I have chosen is that I have to prepare to write this story, so I really am learning more.  It’s helping.  The background stories, the profiles for each character,  even the outline gives me a tingle in the right place.

Previous NaNo projects were unplanned, easy because I chose stories I from the familiar, from places I have already been in my life, exaggerations of my own experiences.  They were comfortable stories, fun for me to read because of the relaxed style.  I like those stories, but they are not good enough to share.  A few have read them, most of those readers friends.

Less than seven days.  Will I make it this year?  We’ll see.  I am willing.  We’ll see if my wife and son will be willing to let me have the time to write.  My daughter will and I hope to share this one with her.  Last year I couldn’t because I let my story go to the ridiculous in a way that just was not appropriate.  I have read blogs from writers who have recommended that one should always write in a way that they can share their writing with their family.  I think that is true.  That is my goal for this story.

Wish me luck.  My story is an action fantasy, post apocalyptic with a spiritual slant.  I write relationships.  Thus the challenge.

Aside

Handy

22 Monday Oct 2012

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Tags

family

Everything I know I learned from watching my dad.

That’s not a new concept but one that certainly applies in my life.  Dad is one of those guys who is master of none, a fly by the seat of your pants mechanic, a hit or miss technician – one of those people who has the philosophy that nothing is worth fixing if he doesn’t attempt to fix it himself first.  One exception is his carpentry skills, learned from working side by side with his father in law, honed by building several houses of his own.  He also grew up farming, not on one of those prosperous farms, but on rented land that his family farmed for others.  If they didn’t fix their equipment themselves, it would not get fixed simply because they didn’t have the money to do so.  Dad’s attitude is what soaked into my brain more than anything else.  I too will attempt to fix most things before I will pay to have a professional perform the deed.

Mom learned her nursing skills not only by patching me up, but also by patching dad up during his many handy adventures.  Personal injury is another thing I learned from watching my dad.  Still etched on my brain is the horror of watching dad manage to stick a screw driver into his forehead, drive a nail into his hand, gash his forearm with a chainsaw.  All injuries involved blood, never broken bones, so mom kept a large kit filled with bandages and salves.  My job was usually to run for nurse mom when dad injured himself.  You would think that I would have become a paramedic when I grew up (whenever that happens) from all the experience I had in triage for my father.

Dad and I did keep nurse mom busy.  I had my share of bloody adventures, compounded by my being one of those barefoot boys who tossed his shoes aside as soon as he went out the back door.  Mom even took to calling the mothers of my friends and brought my shoes to me.  She had reason – a ripped open foot from sliding underneath a chain link fence while playing backyard football, a crucified foot from dropping a nailed board on top of it while building a canal system in the neighbor’s yard, and various other blisters and burns from walking across tarred roads in the middle of summer.  Then there was a ripped open hand (playing with a hubcap), a broken collar bone (bicycle accident), a concussion from dropping a baseball bat on my head (yes, it’s possible), or the messed up face I suffered the night I decided to try alcohol.  Mom was a very busy mom nurse.

Dad and I eventually grew up.  No longer is it necessary to keep the hospital on speed dial.

Yesterday, as I enjoyed a beautiful autumn day outdoors while replacing the battery cables on my PT Cruiser-To-The-Auto-Parts-Store, I took a moment to stroll around my yard.  There is still one fence post left in the back of the yard, one of the posts I put in to replace one of the many rotting posts as the picket fence began it’s death by old age.  Our shed had a fresh coat of white paint and repaired doors.  A screen door stood partially open in front of the sliding glass door, both which I have fixed with my own hands.  The screens on the house windows all sported fresh aluminum mesh, another one of my attempts to save money by doing it on my own.  Carefully maintained bicycles fill one bay of our garage, parked in the cool little bike rack I fashioned from PVC pipe, wire baskets, and wood.  I don’t really feel like a handyman, but I guess I learned a little from watching my dad.  The evidence glared at me on that little stroll around my yard, satisfaction filling me last evening as the car repair was finished and my family relaxed around the fire I had built from firewood I had cut myself and in the fire pit I installed in our backyard.

I wonder what my own son is learning from watching me?  An appreciation for bicycles, most likely.  A penchant for creativity, I hope, although that one seems to be my daughter’s thing.  Attention to detail, something that comes natural to him as evidenced by the way he approaches any sport.  We’ll see.  He’ll see, I suppose, when he gets to my point in life.

Funky Grass

17 Wednesday Oct 2012

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Funky.  Not the smelly kind.  Not the get down kind of funky either.  Nor was I Doctor Funkenstein, although I may have needed a doctor. 

Call that stupid if you want to.

This afternoon I experienced maybe one of the strangest funks of my entire life.  Work has been rough lately, not really in a bad way, just in a relentless stress way, a constant barrage of large detailed tasks with a we-need-it-yesterday due date.  Monday morning started with a bang as did all last week.  This morning piled task after new task after new task after new task on.  I made it to noon and found that I just could not force myself to work on what I really needed to work on.  It had nothing to do with not wanting to work.  I couldn’t.

Everyone just sigh with me.  I did all afternoon.  The woe actually made me angry with myself.

I have never experienced anything like it.  I reached the eight hour mark, said UNCLE, and punched out forty five minutes early.  Why stay it work and pull in overtime pay if I wasn’t going to earn it?

And the funk can not continue into tomorrow.  It can’t. I will not survive if the funk continues.  So, I had to come up with a way to bring myself out.  The answer? Mow the lawn.  I needed to accomplish a task, not go home a park my can on the couch.  I didn’t hesitate, changed into my lawn mowing shorts and tshirt right away, tuned my iPod to the Van Halen channel on Pandora.  The stress began to melt, the funk forgotten as the grass was groomed.

So I mowed my neighbor’s lawn too.  Maybe I’m crazy.

 

I’m No Karma Chameleon

15 Monday Oct 2012

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karma

I’m not one of those people who believes their karma rubs off on the rest of the world, at least not when it’s good karma.  For that matter, I really don’t believe in karma at all.  It’s a cool term.  That is about it.

Why did I say that?  Friday night was one of those I-should-play-the-lottery nights.

6:30 PM was a league softball game.  We needed to win to have a shot at making the playoffs.  Chances were not in our favor, seeing that we were playing one of those teams where none of the players has a life besides playing 12” slow pitch softball.  Our team is a collection of shop and office employees, with a life outside of ball, and a team that has gotten consistently better in the almost two years of the team’s existence.  The game was hard fought, but our team found ourselves six runs down as we started our last at bat.  Not only did we score nine runs, but we shut down a dumbfounded and suddenly not-so-cocky opponent to win the game.

I felt real good.  My contribution to the last inning was a three run opposite field home run, a line drive shot that cleared the fence by a mile.  I’m not a home run hitter.

My next endeavor of the evening was to relieve Mir of parent duty at the Friday night high school football game.  Nate was there with a bunch of middle school friends (congregating beyond one of the end zones, the middle school zone at our football games).  Mir wanted to go out for coffee with friends.  I also wanted to see Alyssa perform with the marching band at half time.  Not only did I find a parking space next to the field entrance and get into the game free, but I sat my hiney down in the stands with about two minutes left to go in the first half, with our team down 14 -7 and not looking like much of anything.. until I sat down.  Boom.  They marched down the field, scoring a touchdown to tie the score with three seconds left in the half.  I’m pretty sure that the coach must have reminded his players that I was watching because they emerged from the locker room after half time to mount a scoring barrage.  I left the game with Nate as the fourth quarter started and our team winning 48-14.

The karma was humming right along.

I’m a St. Louis Cardinals baseball fan.  I was born a St. Louis Cardinals baseball fan.  They were playing the Washington Nationals in game five of a best of five playoff series when we arrived home.  I tuned my iPod in to the game as the ninth inning was starting.  The Cardinals were down by two runs.  They needed a miracle, especially when they hadn’t scored after two outs.  But I knew the cardiac Cardinals are never finished, especially the way my luck had played out all evening.  Sure enough, the Cardinals rallied for four runs and won the game/series.

But I don’t believe in karma.

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Yes, I really do say these things

  • My Father is Yacky
  • Image Bearer
  • Evening Ramble
  • Exposure of the Indecent Kind
  • Just Say Gnome

Yes, I really did

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Categories

My brain hurts with you

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Blogs I Follow (and maybe even read)

  • glennkaiser.com
  • There and Bach Again
  • Dean
  • Southern Georgia Bunny
  • The Rambling Biker
  • Storyshucker
  • Ah dad...
  • Squeeze the Space Man's Taco
  • I didn't have my glasses on....
  • kidscrumbsandcrackers
  • longawkwardpause.wordpress.com/
  • Cycling Dutch Girl
  • The Shameful Sheep
  • Blog Woman!!! - Life Uncategorized
  • Life in Lucie's Shoes
  • Fit Recovery
  • lifebeyondexaggeration
  • Globe Drifting
  • I AM TOM NARDONE
  • Cathy's Voice Now

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glennkaiser.com

There and Bach Again

a teacher's journey

Dean

Marketing major. Outdoor sports lover. San Diego living.

Southern Georgia Bunny

Adventures of an Southern Bunny everything from dating, sex, life and shake your head moments.

The Rambling Biker

Roaming & Rambling in search of MTB Stoke

Storyshucker

A blog full of humorous and poignant observations.

Ah dad...

I need the funny because they're teenagers now

Squeeze the Space Man's Taco

A journey into Cade's world

I didn't have my glasses on....

A trip through life with fingers crossed and eternal optimism.

kidscrumbsandcrackers

Kids - I`m like the old woman who lived in a shoe - Crumbs, my house is full of them - Crackers, Im slowly going

longawkwardpause.wordpress.com/

Cycling Dutch Girl

the only certainty is change

The Shameful Sheep

Blog Woman!!! - Life Uncategorized

Mother, Nehiyaw, Metis, & Itisahwâkan - career communicator. This is my collection of opinions, stories, and the occasional rise to, or fall from, challenge. In other words, it's my party, I can fun if I want to. Artwork by aaronpaquette.net

Life in Lucie's Shoes

Life in a bubble: a dose of New York humor with an Italian twist!

Fit Recovery

Stay Clean Get Fit

lifebeyondexaggeration

What Doesn't Kill You Makes You Stranger

Globe Drifting

Global issues, travel, photography & fashion. Drifting across the globe; the world is my oyster, my oyster through a lens.

I AM TOM NARDONE

Cathy's Voice Now

Sharing my "voice"

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