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~ Hopeful honesty from simple sentences

shenrydafrankmann

Monthly Archives: December 2014

The Land of Misfit Drones

30 Tuesday Dec 2014

Posted by shenrydafrankmann in Uncategorized

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Tags

flying toys, toys

One of the most popular gifts this holiday season ended up in my son’s hands this Christmas… until it got homesick.  Beware.  If you or a loved one received a Parrot Mini Drone as a Christmas present, it may decide to return to the North Pole if you allow it to talk you into flying it outside.  They do not like being away from home.Snapshot_20141229

My youngest brother, Paul, always gets my kids the coolest Christmas presents.  He puts a lot of thought into what he buys for them, doesn’t worry so much about the expense, usually consults me to see if I think his idea for a present is a good one.  This year Paul texted me to ask if Nate has a smart phone.  Why?  Because he bought one of those cool flying drones that are controlled via a smart phone app.  Nate loved it when he opened it, quickly becoming quite adept at flying the drone around my parents’ house.  It has been years since I have seen Nate enjoy a present so much.

He enjoyed it so much that he decided to go outside last night at 11:30 to try flying it.  My parents live in a small town in central Illinois, Athens, right at the edge with their property bordering a large corn field to the south.  Earlier, I had warned Nate not to fly the drone outside.  It is very small, light, and any breeze would take it away.  The drone communicates with a phone via Bluetooth and has a 66 foot range.  That is not much.

Do I need to say what happened?  The drone must have indeed returned to the North Pole.  We searched in the dark last night for it, then searched again this morning when the sun came up and several times after that.  There was neither hide nor air of the wayward drone (get it?  Hide nor AIR!!!).

That is the way it goes with any toy that flies.  Once they are airborne, they usually get lost.  A few years ago another gift to Nate from my other brother, Mark (yes, I have two brothers) was lost on it’s maiden voyage.  Mark bought Nate a model rocket kit, complete with launching pad.  Nate and I spent a few days putting it together and painted it.  Once it was ready, we took it to a large field close to our house to launch.  The rocket launched perfectly, popping it’s chute at just the right point and very high in the air.  Nate and I cheered as the rocket whooshed into the air, then watched as a strong gust of wind blew it far from the field and over a large woods next to the field.  I think I still have scars from the mosquito bites I got that night during my futile attempt to find the rocket.

Searching for the rocket turned into a family affair, as did the search for the drone today.  Neither search was successful, both projectiles sucked into the limbo reserved for flying toys and socks from the clothes dryer.

We did have a pleasant time.  My kids both enjoy Paul’s four year old son, Tyler, as demonstrated by this selfie Alyssa took with him last night.alyssatyleer

Stuck In The Middle

28 Sunday Dec 2014

Posted by shenrydafrankmann in Uncategorized

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There are no clowns to the left or jokers to the right.  I’m just stuck in the middle — middle age that is.  53 years old.  Wondering how I got here.  Wondering where I am going.  Trying to figure out what is going to happen next.  Trying to avoid the feeling of being totally self absorbed.  Afraid that I have become one of those people who always needs a crisis.  Sometimes I feel like I am one of the most positively negative people around.

If you asked me last summer, I would have told you that I would be divorced by now.  I know I wrote that here, said that once my daughter was in college, it was going to be time.  Researching the costs of divorce had me convinced that I would not end up living in a box next to the town dump.  My mind has allowed me to accept that divorce may be the best thing for me personally, at least when it comes to putting away a marriage that by most standards only leaves me wanting.  My spirit still leaves me wondering.  The part of me that always wants to be the good guy who does the good thing is still telling me that it’s good to stick around.  Common sense has not allowed me to take that final step.  While I may not end up living in a cardboard box, divorce will make paying for my daughter’s college education more difficult.  My relationship with my daughter is the most precious part of my life.  I do not want to risk her well being nor do I want to risk the relationship I have with her.  Everything else is secondary.

On top of that, living with my wife and the teen male monster (as his sister calls him) without my daughter around has not been as bad as anticipated.  Small breakthroughs that seem to indicate my wife may be interested in making our relationship better has Mister Good Guy wondering if he should give her a chance to prove it.  I say that through clenched teeth as Mister Good Guy also has to force out negative thoughts on a daily basis.  Focusing on the negative makes it so difficult to see the positive.  All in all, since our daughter has left for college there have been several stressful moments, but those moments have mostly been due to the monster.  My wife has been supporting me in front of him, with the exception of one particularly stressful incident where she threw everything on my shoulders because she just couldn’t deal with him, as well as making me the bad guy when the boy physically attacked me (‘you provoked him” — ummmm, how?  By saying ‘no’ instead of giving in?).  My wife seems to be trying, weakly, but she is trying to at least have a conversational friendship with me.  And she has a full time job.  That means that soon I will be able to afford a girlfriend.

Kidding.  Just kidding.

Sort of.  That is a concept I really can’t wrap my head around, not any more.  There was a time when a girlfriend seemed like a good idea.  I needed an object of my desire, a role my wife no longer wanted to fulfill.  Years of neglect had me thinking I was entitled to seek attention elsewhere, a way of thinking I now see as a bit insane as it’s just not true or pure.  Experience and thinking the whole thing through has changed that for me, at least the girlfriend idea.  A lot of how I approach the opposite sex has changed.  What I need from a woman really hasn’t changed, I don’t think, but the list of priorities at least seems to have changed.  Sex has moved several spots down the list, a surprise to me when I realized that was really true.  Some of that changed when I learned to accept that I am a middle aged man now, not really physically attractive any more and not as desirable, if at all.  Maybe that is a shallow way to think, basically pushing sex back as a priority simply because it is not going to be as readily available as it was when I was that occasionally attractive young man.

You want to know what strikes me as strange about that last statement?  When I was that occasionally attractive young man, I had no idea that I was.  It is only when I see the best pictures of myself that I realize that it could have been true.

Middle age does mean that I have made enough mistakes often enough to have learned something from them.  Like I said, experience and thinking things through has changed my perception of life, of what makes me tick.  It doesn’t mean I am real positive that I have found any answers nor do I imagine that my perceptions are not going to change as I enter other stages of my life.  Change is going to happen.  One thing I have learned about sex is that it really means very little, is only temporary pleasure, if experienced outside of a relationship or in a relationship that is not complete.  When applied to my current situation with my wife, a situation where affection and sex has been non-existent for over a decade, the decay of our relationship has made a return to a sexual relationship nearly impossible.  Why?

It could be a defense mechanism.  Having no desire makes it more simple to live without.  I do not think that is completely it, though.  A man needs to feel that he is important to his wife, respected, and my wife has sent me all kinds of messages throughout our marriage that her mother, sisters, family, our kids, her friends, our animals, pretty much everything takes precedence over me.  I should be number one to her, dang it!  She has not only repeatedly demonstrated that she does not respect me by her actions and her refusal to acknowledge my wishes in a number of areas, she has flat out told me that she does not respect me.  Add to that the fact that each morning and evening I am subjected to a barrage of negativity and complaints that my male psyche is overwhelmed by, and it kills any desire to be close to her.  Even now, when we could have a half hour together over breakfast before I go to work, I instead find myself fleeing out the door to avoid having to deal with the complaints (if you read my blog the other day, you know that).

What did I say about struggling to focus on the positive?

My needs for closeness, for affection, for affirmation, for that sense of importance that only a wife can give to a husband, all come ahead of a need for sex.  What I wouldn’t give for a woman who just wants to be close to me, who doesn’t overwhelm me with her needs, a person that shares my common interests.. who isn’t a constant drain.  That woman would get my desire and would fulfill it with very little effort.  I want so much to be able to desire again.

A younger female friend of mine, one who can say pretty much anything to me and get by with it, jokingly started calling me COD recently.  COD, as in ‘Creepy Old Dude’.  I laugh because I know she is joking.  Ha ha.  I also laugh because it is a fear of mine.  I can see how easily a man my age can be driven so much by a need for touch that it becomes lustfully creepy.  Earlier this year, I saw a friend and coworker get fired for basically being creepy, a divorced man a little bit older than me who is consumed by lust for younger women to the point of it being a sickness.  Not only did he shamelessly ogle (I am talking about leaning back in his chair and staring) any young female in the office who was reasonably attractive (marital status irrelevant), but he cornered any young woman he could get to talk to him.  His intentions were clear and sometimes he stepped over the line, a line that wouldn’t be all that bad if his intentions were not clear.  He had been warned and when another young woman complained, he was fired.  The thing is that he is one of the more kind and caring people I have met, but he just does not think there is any problem with lust and sees no reason to control it.

I’m not sure I qualify as COD quite yet, but I know I can be that way some time.  I really do need to be touched.  Getting older has not lessened my appreciation for a woman, just broadened that appreciation.  What makes a woman pretty to me has changed, an older woman more often than not more attractive to me than a younger woman.  I look at the eyes first — I know that sounds like a fib — and what I see there is what is going to turn me on.  That is when I worry about being a COD.  Because when I see something in a woman’s eyes that I like, I can’t help myself but to check out the rest of her.  That is when I AM a COD.  I can feel that need to be touched, to desire and be desired, come up to the surface.  This middle aged man can say some pretty creepy things when he is comfortable around a woman, probably pretty tame compared to guys like my ex-coworker, but still stuff that can be creepy.  I hate that.  I don’t want to be that way and I don’t want that need to be touched to control me.

I am not alone and I know it.  There are plenty of guys who are experiencing the same type of neglect, same type of feelings.  I see it.  I hear it now and then in the things my friends say.  Some guys give up.  Some guys endure.  Some guys turn to the darker side of life.  Some guys get lost in a job or a hobby or the things they have.  Some have an affair(s).  Some guys just hope it will get better eventually.  Some accept it as a stage in marriage and relationships, expecting that patience and sticking out will pay off in the long run.  Some, not all, turn into CODs.

Middle age sucks, but I know it doesn’t have to be that way.  I have a lot to learn.  And maybe just maybe things will change.

Routine

28 Sunday Dec 2014

Posted by shenrydafrankmann in Uncategorized

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Chicken parmigiana meatloaf.  Today’s crock pot experiment.  Not bad.  Not great.  It was easy and a bit fun to make.  The house smelled great all day while it was cooking.

Nate ate cereal for supper.  Alyssa was out with friends.  Mir had a small bowl of it, deemed it tasty.  I had a good meal.

I would cook more if given the opportunity.  What I mean by opportunity is that I need to know that I am not cooking meals simply for myself.  That doesn’t make sense and isn’t financially responsible.  In my house, Nate has been allowed to dictate what he eats for so long that he turns his nose up at anything that isn’t fast food, pizza rolls, tacos or cereal.  Alyssa is at college most of the time now.  Mir will sometimes eat what I cook, but I can never count on her being around.  Before kids, I cooked the majority of the time.  We thrived both in health and finance.  I miss those days.  I miss real meals.

Maybe I should not expect my own family to be like the family I grew up with.  Every night we ate supper together, every Sunday afternoon we had lunch together which was usually a roast or something substantial.  Mom cooked, my two brothers and I helped her clean up, we always had a planned meal seven days a week.  Sleep habits were taught to us and expected, even when in our late teens, when watching Johnny Carson’s opening monologue was a treat because we were usually already in bed.  My brothers and I were healthy, strong, good students, well rounded.  I can’t help but think that the routine we were raised with had something to do with that.

My son is a good kid.  He is a very strong boy, but could be so much stronger, so much better with better habits that include real meals and healthy sleep.  I want so much to help him achieve what he wants, but I have been fighting an up hill battle for a long time with him.  To my detriment, I gave up years ago.  Mir was not raised the same way that I was raised, does not see the benefits of a planned and regular diet or getting a good night’s sleep or a regular study time.  When I tried to teach the habits I learned from my parents, they were rejected so much that I simply said ‘fine, do it your way’.  That was a mistake.  Now we have a fifteen year old who is over weight, failing in school, borderline ADHD (I think that is malarkey — it’s more bad sleep habits than anything else).  When I was his age, I had nary an ounce of fat on my body, brought home excellent report cards and never had to be reminded to study, set track records on the high school team, and kept a part time job.  I didn’t dare disrespect my parents or any other adult.  Maybe it’s a different age and culture now, an age that takes the strength of parenting away.  I don’t know.  Now more than ever it takes two strong parents working hard together.

I know how strong my parents helped me to be by caring enough to give me routine in my life, working together to do so.  That working together is why their marriage has survived so well, why they lavish praise on the other still today out of clear admiration for the other.

Working together as parents is the key.  That is where I have failed.  I gave up leadership, thought that compromise was being a leader.  Guess I wasn’t as strong as I thought I was.

This next year needs to be different.  Those meals?  I think I should start looking out for myself, start planning meals for myself, set the example there.  Perhaps that will bring about the change I want, start that routine.  Something needs to change.

How does my beard grow?

27 Saturday Dec 2014

Posted by shenrydafrankmann in Uncategorized

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Snapshot_20141226_1I am definitely not the king (or queen or prince or symbol or oh never mind) of taking pictures with my web cam.  There are those who can maneuver that web cam thingie to take top quality stuff.  Really all I wanted to do was demonstrate that there is indeed growth on my face, beard stubble type of growth, proof that I am in the midst of a brief hiatus from work.  When work is not required, shaving is not required.

K sarah sarah.

You must respond with “whatever may be, may be, you twit”.

It happens every Christmas holiday.  I fail to see the need to apply a sharp object to my face every morning, thus my weak beard gets a chance to make an appearance.  After a few days, I decide that I really like the bit of beard that is growing, enough that maybe just maybe (you twit) I might let it really grow out and keep the fuzzy gray and black covering around for a while.

Then my daughter demands that I shave.

“Dad, you look like a hobo.”

“I didn’t realize that kids your age were familiar with the word hobo.”

“Don’t change the subject.”

And I trudge to the bathroom.

“Dad, the goatee looks ridiculous.”

“I didn’t realize that kids your age were familiar with the word ridiculous.”

“I am your daughter.  I was born to recognize ridiculous every time I see my father.”

She’s my daughter.  Drat.

“The moustache is worse.”

And I trudge back to the bathroom.

She didn’t appreciate it when I raised my hand in the air and clicked my heels together.

“Mein Fuhrer, go back from whenst you came.”

Shaving the whole thing is never easy to do.  It has to be done in stages.  What took so much time and such little effort to create is hard to part with.

Flesh Wound Christmas

26 Friday Dec 2014

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Christmas at the Steve house is the same yet different.  For one, I have a daughter who has crossed over from girl to woman, entered in the adult drawing for the gift exchange with my side of the family.  She has lamented that a bit, the realization that she opens one present and gives one, the focus now on the two little ones and Nate as they open the presents they received from everyone.  It’s OK with her, judging from what I observed this morning as we opened presents from her that she had placed under the Henry tree.  Christmas is more about giving for her, although her mother and I also spoiled her with lots of gifts under the tree.  She also spoiled us.  Nate had a good morning also, with lots of good stuff for him also.

This Christmas morning was a good one.  Another difference from years past is that we all slept in, no more children awake at the butt crack of dawn (BCD as termed by my bike riding buddies for our early Saturday morning rides).  Alyssa is 18.  Nate is 15.  Last night we agreed that we would wait to gather around the tree at 10:30 this morning.  No one rushed.  No one ran down the halls screaming for the others to wake up and open presents.  Presents were wrapped and placed under the tree on Christmas eve, waiting for us along with the stockings that Santa stuffed over night.  The living room was quiet as I plugged in the lights on the tree, sat back on the couch, observed the scene in front of me, a scene that included a peacefully curled up Chester the cat.  It was nice.

I slept until 8 Christmas morning, a late sleep for me.  Our tradition for Christmas morning is to have a feast of cinnamon rolls, a tradition that started when Mir and I were newlywed, her family recipe for home made rolls shared with my family.  That is a lot of work, for those who have experience making their own rolls.  A few years ago, we switched to fresh baked cinnamon rolls out of the popping can.  Much easier but smelling almost as good.  Yesterday, I had to go bake the rolls at the apartment my company rented for our recently departed Hungarian office manager (she’s alive, but a homesick Maria returned to Budapest).  Our oven is on the fritz.

Santa Steve burst through the front door a little after ten, hot cinnamon rolls in hand, all intact even after the drive from the apartment to our house.  Driving with the aroma of cinnamon rolls filling the cabin is similar to picking up the pizza, except I almost always take a slice of pizza during the drive home.  Our kids were just stumbling out of bed, still zombies from staying up way too late, something they each do when there is a prolonged break from school.  We each grabbed a plate and rolls, a cup of coffee or milk, and entered the living room to witness the opening of presents.

Civilized is the best way to describe the way we approached our present giving and receiving.  This year I was able to orchestrate the distribution, asking one person to bring a present that they were giving to the recipient.  We watched as one present at a time was opened.

There was no bike for me, just in case someone might be wondering.

Alyssa wanted a copy of Monty Python’s Holy Grail.  We watched it together after the presents were opened, quoting lines before they were spoken on the screen in front of us.  Not a Christmas movie?  To that I say ‘NEE’!!!

We had a nice dinner of beef bbq with Mir’s sister and her family.  Once again, nice.

And we continued what looks to be a new tradition — seeing a movie together at the theater.  Last year we saw a movie.  Last night we saw ‘Unbroken’.  I recommend the movie but don’t go expecting to leave amidst a WOW chorus.

Oh, and perhaps one of my favorite things of all — my present for Nate.  713Any Chicago Bull fan from the 90’s knows whose jersey this one is…

The cat was all snuggled and warm, dreaming of presents opened, wrapping paper and bags aplenty.

The cat was all snuggled and warm, dreaming of presents opened, wrapping paper and bags aplenty.

Oooooohhhh

21 Sunday Dec 2014

Posted by shenrydafrankmann in Uncategorized

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Nothing is better than getting a new toy.  Ask any child this time of year as Christmas rapidly approaches.  This child is hoping Santa has something special for him under the tree this Thursday.

A new bike.

Scott Scale 760, light aluminum alloy frame with 10 speed rear cassette, Shimano XT rear and Deore front, Rock Shox fork with remote cable lock out.  29er with disc brakes.  A basic bike.

Scott Scale 760, light aluminum alloy frame with 10 speed rear cassette, Shimano XT rear and Deore front, Rock Shox fork with remote cable lock out. 29er with disc brakes. A basic bike.

My friend Pete, a local bike owner who has been struggling to make his new shop earn a profit, is going out of business.  We have done a lot of volunteer work around the community together, so Pete has reserved one of the last mountain bikes out of his remaining stock for me.  He picked it out with me in mind, knowing that I have been riding a bottom of the line mountain bike that I bought used two years ago, a nice bike but never intended for the hard trail riding I have subjected it to.  Pete has been the mechanic for that bike, one of the reasons why it survived two seasons of hard use.  So the Scott Scale 760 bike he has reserved for me, a step up from my current ride but just a step above entry level, is a nice gesture to me as a loyal customer and friend.  As we shared a beer together the other night and I listened to him talk about the closing of his shop, Pete offered the bike to me at cost.  I took the bike out yesterday morning for a quick trail ride and loved it.

Now I need to find the money.  Here’s hoping Santa is kind to me….

Why a man can’t chew gum while listening to his wife

21 Sunday Dec 2014

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Constant negativity is something most people, male or female, can’t tolerate.  I read somewhere recently that women need to realize what it does to their man when all he hears from her is negativity and complaints from her — whether it is talking about not having a thing to wear (but your closet is full?), not having enough money for this or that or whatever, how much she hates so and so, what the dog did on the carpet today, the problem junior is having with math, etc… often accompanied by a rapid fire checklist of tasks that need to get done and how she wishes they could get done right away.  The guy wants to solve and when the issues are piling up, he gets overwhelmed.  The complaints can be legitimate, serious or trivial or mundane, but sooner or later it’s going to seem like that is all he hears.

I was out for my usual Sunday morning breakfast with my daughter this past weekend when she told me how frustrated she was the night before.  She had spent all afternoon with her mother and aunt, and her aunt was so negative that she couldn’t stand to be around her any more.  I had noticed how quiet and withdrawn my daughter was when I got home that night, a rarity for her to be that way, and I had guessed that might be the reason for her funk.  I have known her aunt for more than twenty years, have experienced the same frustration at her persimmon sour perspectives, thanking heaven above that she lives several states away.  Alyssa looked like I had felt many times over the years.  As I listened to my daughter talk about her aunt, I had to fight the temptation to talk to her about her mother.  Why?

Let’s just say negativity runs in the family.  Listening to my daughter, coupled with what I had read about how a wife’s negativity affects her husband, made me realize why I am having such a hard time sitting alone with my wife.  She is constantly piling it on me, problem after problem after complaint after issue after failure failure failure.  After a while she makes me feel like a complete failure.  Her life is an utter mess and I have done nothing to deliver her.  No wonder that years ago I quit being her prince.

Our daughter is a college freshman.  I started a new job a few months ago, allowing me an extra hour or so in the morning before going to work, where I can sit for a quiet breakfast with my wife, who also has more time due to a new job and less responsibility around our house with a daughter away at college.  At first, I welcomed those morning moments with the hope that maybe we might find something in those early mornings that will draw us together.  We need that, our relationship so strained that thoughts of divorce are very real.  In the evenings after our daughter left for college we sat down at the table, occasionally sharing a meal together, talking about our day and actually having some good moments together.

Somewhere in those times together, a pattern started to develop, especially as the strain of my wife’s new job started to hit her.  Every conversation started with a complaint that snowballed into a barrage of complaints.  Never one to take responsibility for a task very well, my wife suddenly became unwilling to do even the simplest of tasks herself, instead calling me to come ‘help’ her (do it for her) — even if I am asleep or meditating in the throne room.  One morning, after she had woken me up to complain about our son’s grades and had followed me into the bathroom to talk about that and a few other things while was taking a shower, then continued as I tried to have a quick bowl of cereal, I asked her to stop for a second.

“Please, can we just have some quiet for a few minutes?  I want to listen to you, but it seems like all you are doing lately is complain.  It’s really dragging me down.  I am at the point where you are overwhelming me.”

And she was.  And she was offended.  Angry.  After all she needed to unload.  So she did not stop.  I put my shoes on, grabbed the back pack that I take with me to work, stood up without a word, and walked out the door, left for work early.

Instead of sitting with her in the morning now, I find myself fleeing out the door.  Most evenings are the same.  As I listen to her, I can feel a tightening in my chest, the stress of listening to her complain making me sick.  There is just too much.  One thing is fine, but how in the world can she worry about so many things at once?  It is impossible to solve everything, no matter how much I want to.  Many of the things she worries about, such as constantly monitoring our high school aged son’s grades to the point of being in daily contact with several of his teachers, I do not agree with — and years ago disagreeing with her became so frustrating that I gave up.  That weakens me and also takes away my ability to solve or offer any type of active listening.

I do not feel like she is reaching out to me.  She never touches me.  She never does anything to try to make me feel special.  Her main focus is our children, her sisters and friends, her job.  I am no where close to the top of her list.  No wonder I feel overwhelmed by her problems and complaints.

No one should ever expect their spouse or significant other to change.  My wife sees everything through an obsessive gray lens.  That is her personality.  I will not ask her to change, but the negativity expressed to me has to stop and I will tell her so.

Geez, I think I have complained enough…..

I Am Not God

09 Tuesday Dec 2014

Posted by shenrydafrankmann in Uncategorized

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I am not god.

While that may be an obvious statement to most, there was a time in my life where I felt the pressure to be god.  Many years ago, I was a church pastor, not a full grown one because I was single and young and a youth pastor, which meant some of the older church members didn’t take me serious.  Some did.  Some came to church and expected me to be, in a lot of ways, god.  Pooh pooh that statement if you want, but think about what how we describe any church pastor who is caught making a mistake.  We describe them as ‘falling from grace’.  In a lot of ways, a church pastor or a priest or a nun or anyone whose vocation is dedicated to serving god, is elevated to the point of being god in the eyes of many.  To many, they are god.  There are standards that must be met, standards that ordinary people don’t have to meet.

Although those outside of believing in god like to set those standards on people who do believe in god.  There is a certain way that any type of believer must act.  It’s a believers’ box and if they don’t fit in, well, ummmm.. god forbid.  Trying to fit that mold can be stressful, the expectations seemingly almost impossible to meet, and I have seen many give up simply because they know they can not meet those expectations, especially young people.  It is tough even when reality, even god says, it shouldn’t be.  Contrary to what I thought at one time in my life, it never gets easier to live as the world thinks a Christian should or even as other Christians think a Christian should live.  You don’t reach certain levels or earn badges as you progress in life.  The challenges are different in each stage of life.

I am not godly.

Or at least I struggle to be godly.  My idea of what is or is not godly has also changed, especially as I break away from the clichés I was brought up to believe (whether those clichés are right or wrong is not important).  I have learned to expect that god accepts me as I am, found out that there is a common sense to what god expects from me, seen that I can still make mistakes and still be accepted by god.  Big mistakes make it more difficult for me to approach a holy god, but even a holy god is my creator who understands the spiritual struggle I am dealing with.

I hate not being perfect.  I despise living in the world and the mistakes that I make.  Sometimes the world seems like a big fishbowl where everyone is looking at me and expecting me to swim straight.  I can’t.

That is why going to church can be so cool.  When I go to church, a place where I am with other Christians escaping from that fish bowl existence, there is an hour or two each week where I do not have to worry about being god or godly.. just with other people who want to be in the presence of god.  A church is a good church when it becomes a refuge.  I know there are churches that are not and that makes me sad,sorry.  Mine is.  Mine helps me to understand that worship (church) is a whole lot more for me than it is for god.

Think about that the next time you go to church or pray, if you are one who does that type of thing.  Going to church or praying or singing a song is for you.  It is not an obligation.  Going to church is not your duty.  It is your time to be with god and with others who are there to approach him, to enjoy the refuge of one who knows you and really doesn’t care who or what you are, in a place with others who mean nothing more or less to him, who leave whatever shortcomings, successes, and whatever else defines them outside as they approach god.

There Is freedom.

That freedom makes me want to dance like David, a man who made so many mistakes, yet knew the freedom that made him one of god’s most beloved.  Don’t worry — I will not dance naked like David did.

I have a shot.

What I Need

09 Tuesday Dec 2014

Posted by shenrydafrankmann in Uncategorized

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You know what I need right now?

Money?  Maybe.  But that would only be a temporary fix.

Sex?  I can answer that one with another question — what’s that?  Once again, only a temporary fix and one that would put me to sleep, like most men, quickly.

A fast mountain bike ride?  Actually, that one might be a yes.  It’s not number one on my list though.  Usually it would be.

Season tickets to the Bulls?  Ha.  Ha ha.  Hahahahahaaaaaaaaaaaa.

What I could really use is a day of uninterrupted video gaming, a Call of Duty marathon.  I need to shoot ’em up for a while.  It has been months since I have hijacked my son’s Xbox and I miss it.  A totally wasted day would really give me the jollies right now.  Stock the freezer with pizza rolls, warm up the flat screen, slip on the Angry Birds fleece pants, and I am all set.

Too bad there are things like work and chores and adult stuff to do.  I need a break from being responsible.  I want to be my teenage son for a while.  Perhaps it is time for a Freaky Friday type of reversal.  Hmmmmmm.  No.  My son could not handle being me for even a few minutes, especially since there is no way he would be getting access to my credit cards, even if he were me.  On the other hand, he might thank me once the reversal was over.  I am certain he would be in much better shape once the reversal was over.  Chicks would dig him.  He might actually have some muscles he didn’t know he had.  Certainly he would be better looking.

OK.Snapshot_20141208_2

Alone In The Star State

04 Thursday Dec 2014

Posted by shenrydafrankmann in Uncategorized

≈ 4 Comments

I love it when I come up with a catchy blog title.  This could be the first blog ever to be made into a movie.  I’m thinking George Clooney will win the scuffle to play the lead.

Since May I have seen enough airports to start writing a blog to rate them.  Airports are much improved from the old days, my first experiences flying the pterodactyl.  Negotiating security on this side of the water has improved to a near non-event status these days, pre-check making the process quick and painless.  Entering Midway (Chicago) and San Antonio International took a total of two minutes.  Everything stays in my backpack, including the laptop PC, shoes and belt can stay on, and even if I beg for a body cavity search, it doesn’t happen.  Even writing ‘Helter Skelter’ on my forehead with a Sharpie draws (pun intended) no attention.

There have been headaches.  Mister BooHooIWantToKnockMyselfOff screwed up air travel in Chicagoland by attempting a combo suicide/arson at the Aurora, Illinois radar facility.  The last few months saw average delays for flights to/from Chicago of 2-4 hours or more.  That problem seems to have been solved by speeding things up, apparently, since I had the Mario Andretti of jet pilots this Monday morning.  There was apparently no line for the runway and he didn’t even slow down to make the turn for take off.  I think my loud WHOOP during lift off frightened the girl next to me.  She shrunk against the window and stayed there the entire 2.5 hour flight to Houston.  I experienced having my luggage lost on a return flight earlier this summer, the customer service person insisting I was a obsessed lunatic when I claimed, after waiting an hour, that my luggage had been lost.

She was not correct.  Don’t even go there.

My luggage was found on Elizabeth Perkins’ front doorstep, another one of her attempts to lure me into her web.  It’s OK if you don’t know who she is.  Let’s just say she heard of my undeniable crush on her and is overwhelmed by my charming good looks.  I am resisting.

I found out what car rental service NOT to rent from on this trip.  I waited for an hour in line to rent a car on Monday, then found a dent in the car I rented but could find no one to process the form to document it, then spent 45 minutes circling the San Antonio airport this afternoon trying to find the return center.

My travel week started at 4 AM with the limo picking me up at home to take me to Midway airport in Chicago.  I like Midway now.  At one time it was a hole in the wall airport and I swear I saw pilots wearing leather helmets with goggles there.  Now it is modern, the hub for Southwest Airlines (my fave simply because it is inexpensive).  There is plenty of open area and eating areas to relax while waiting to board.  My flight went without a hitch, although my seat mate offered me gum at one point.  Oops.  I forgot to put mints in my carry on.  Even with the delay at the rental car counter, I made it to my appointment in time to introduce myself and let them take me to lunch.  It was a productive day.  My hotel was close by and I saw several clients.  The evening was quiet, with a good burger and a chance to see Mockingjay (I was the only person in the theater).

Yesterday was an interesting drive from Houston to San Antonio.  I like seeing Texas, an interesting state with unique terrain.  It still feels like the old west in places.

Today was sales calls with one of my salesmen.  If you like visiting waste water treatment plants, then you would have had a good time.  We had to climb the stairs and negotiate the catwalk above 30 foot tall effluent tanks.  I washed my hands a few times when I was finished.

I am in the San Antonio airport now, relaxing and working while I wait for my flight.  Oh, and I do like the long legged women with jeans and boots here.  I may have had a few opportunities to cast a quick glance at a few.  This airport rates high on the ‘creep opportunity’ scale.  The only airport that gets a higher rating in that category is Schiphol.

Which airports are my favorites so far?

1.  Schiphol

2.  San Francisco

3.  O’Hare

4.  Midway

5.  Nashville

Least?

1.  Atlanta

2.  O’Hare (yes)

3.  Houston Hobby

4.  San Antonio International (claustrophobic and poorly organized)

I like an airport with ease of access everywhere.  Nice places and space to relax at the terminals.  Refinied security.

Can’t say I am an accomplished traveler yet, but I am getting there.  I can negotiate the details well now and so far, with ease.

OK, I just heard the Southwest ding dong that precedes the cattle call.  Ciao!

Yes, I really do say these things

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Categories

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Blogs I Follow (and maybe even read)

  • glennkaiser.com
  • There and Bach Again
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  • 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
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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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