Weekend Update

Tags

music, snow, weekends

I know it’s Tuesday and weekend updates should occur on Sunday night or Monday morning.  I have excuses.  Legitimate excuses.  (note — I started this blog on Tuesday and am finishing it on Wednesday, which is really really really pitiful)

Sunday night was the Super Bowl.

Yesterday I worked through lunch, left at four thinking I would cook an early dinner and take a little time to write, only to be foiled by a sales rep who called me on my cell three times.  After I finished dinner, a massive headache greeted me with fangs bared.

Excuses are now out of the way.  With a few minutes left to write before hitting the trail for work, I will now dig in to an account of the excellent weekend.  ‘Dig’ is a key word to describe part of the weekend.  For those who know I live in the Chicago area and follow the news, you probably know we had 18 inches of snow on Sunday.  That sounds bad.  In reality, it is not.  Those who live around here know that the solution is to hunker down indoors, keep ahead of the accumulation by clearing the drive and walk periodically throughout the day, and enjoy a pleasant cocoon.

View looking out on my back yard around 2 PM Sunday afternoon. There was still a lot of snow to fall.

Cocoon is what I did from around 2:30 PM to bed time on Sunday.  The couch time was well earned on Sunday morning.  As usual, I awoke a little before sun up.  Sunday was my assigned weekend for parking lot duty at church, usually involving directing traffic and greeting people as they arrive/depart services.  I cleared my own drive and front walk, got to church an hour early to perform my duties — which did not involve traffic control due to the blizzard that was happening.  Instead, I started shoveling and scraping the walks and handicapped parking area right away.  Four hours later I stopped, only taking a fifteen minute break.  I lost count of how many cars I dug out and helped push.  It sounds like work (and it was) but there is something about helping out at church, the many thanks that were sincerely given to me, that somehow creates a pleasant satisfaction.

My body was tired and sore from my shoulders to my feet, but I really liked the way that felt.  I stopped to buy mozzarella cheese sticks, pizza, and pop to enjoy with Nate during the Super Bowl, heated up some enchiladas for lunch when I got home, showered, then plopped on the couch for the duration of the day.  Satisfaction was aided by one of the best championship football games I have witnessed in years.

Alyssa brought her new beau, Caleb, home for the weekend.  Friday afternoon they picked me up at work for the trek to the Allstate Arena in Chicago for Winter Jam, a Christian music festival.  For $10 at the door we were treated to a 10 band, four hour concert.  Alyssa and I are fans of a group called Skillet, the featured band of the night and the last band to perform.  We brought ear plugs to save our ears.  Good, experienced concert goers bring ear plugs.  We weren’t weenies.  We were smart.

Contrary to what one might believe, Christian concerts are not boring.

Loved it.  Caleb was excited to go because his favorite band, For King and Country, performed.  He has good taste in music (and he mentioned that he also likes a favorite of mine, Phil Keaggy.  The kid made big points with me.).  They might be my new favorite, definitely the most entertaining of the night.  They resemble Fun… and they were just that.  Every one of the 7 featured bands were good, including Newsong, Family Force Five (white guys rapping and rapping well), Francesca Battestelli, and Jeremy Camp.

The concert was an opportunity to get to know my daughter’s new beau.  We spent three hours waiting in line outside the Allstate arena, a necessity.  A few years ago, we went but were too far back in line to get in before the arena filled to capacity.  My daughter seems to be in love and from what I observed in the boy, I approve.  The kid stayed with us Thursday night until Saturday night.  They left early due to the predicted snow storm.  He slept in Alyssa’s bed.

She wasn’t in her bed.  She slept in our bed with Miriam.

And he slept on top of the covers.  He brought his own blanket.  Caleb also brought his own towel and used it instead of the towels that Mir left out for him.  I guess he is polite.  That was how he treated my daughter and me.  He seemed quiet yet confident, evidenced by the handshake he gave to me when Alyssa introduced us.  It was a bit funny because he made sure he maintained eye contact as he shook my hand.  I think someone told him to do that as it seemed so intentional.

Alyssa and Caleb almost look like brother and sister, something I didn’t think about until I caught a tall slender teenage girl behind me in line for the concert looking a me with a smile.  Alyssa had just taken Caleb to the Target store next to the arena to warm up and buy snacks. The girl blushed at me, smiled again as she said

“It’s real nice of you to come to a concert like this for your kids.”

Ha!  I guess they do have similar features.  Had the girl’s mother not been with her, the comment would have made me feel old.  She also introduced me to her mom, a rather pleasant person who made the wait in line a lot more tolerable.  The cold gave us an excuse to dad/mom dance for our children.  We had to stay warm, after all.

Friday afternoon was sunny but cold. We’re talking mid 20s. But we had a good time waiting in line for the concert.

Saturday afternoon I also took Nate out for another driving lesson.  This time I selected a large parking lot at the stadium where a local Class A professional baseball team plays, the Kane County Cougars.  Nate seemed a little hesitant this time, probably due to how our first driving lesson turned out.  There was no driving over a curb this time though.  I went through a thorough review of the purpose of each pedal, gear shift positions, what to do with the clutch while braking.  My son killed the engine a few times, but over all he did very well.  Too well at times.  I taught my daughter to drive also.  Girls do not drive as fast as boys when they are learning to drive.  Nate was digging the speed and handling of my little VW a bit too much!

There is the weekend report.  Three days late isn’t too bad.

Let’s Just Take It One Weekend At A Time

Tags

healing, marching band parent, mountain biking, october baseball, personal time, walking dead fan, weekends

I am a bit bummed.  The Walking Dead season four premier is tonight and I have to wait until the episode is available on the WD Youtube channel.  Poop.  And I say ‘poop’ again.

It’s been one of those weekends where I don’t know what word to describe how it has felt.  ‘Alone’ might be one word if only because a lot of it has been spent by myself.  That is not necessarily a negative thing, the quiet and freedom to just do my own thing a real tonic for my soul.  ‘Discovery’ might be another because, well, there has been a bit of that.

OMG — Dustin Pedroia just made one of the most awesome defensive plays I have seen in a while.  I love love love love love love LOVE seeing baseball in October, the passion for the game demonstrated by guys pumped with dreams of winning a World Series.  The pure delight of an all out dive and throw falls in that ‘this is what makes life special’ category for me.  Shallow?  Maybe.  I can feel the satisfaction inside still and the inning is now over.  It doesn’t hurt that MY CARDINALS are on another World Series hunt and playing like they really want it right now.  I listened to them win as the sandman visited me on Friday night, the game ringing in my ears from my iPod on my nightstand.  Yesterday, my brother and I watched the game while we sipped Woodchuck hard cider, played catch with his adorable three year son Tyler, snacked on the guacamole Paul made with his wife (soooo good), and enjoyed the scent of the marinated chicken fajitas he was cooking on his grill.  Sublime, especially as we relaxed in the glow of another Cardinal win while playing Candyland with a delighted blonde haired, wide eyed three year old boy.  Tyler brought tears to our eyes as he climbed the stairs at bedtime and told me “Un-cole Steve, I love you”.  Unabashed three year appreciation for an uncle who was able to give his nephew undivided attention is what it was.  I’ll take it.

I drove two hours south to Bloomington, Illinois by myself, without my wife or son, to meet my brother, his wife Melissa, and their boy so we could watch my daughter perform as drum major with her high school marching band at the state competition.  Friday night I watched her perform with the band at halftime of the high school football game, her last as a high school senior.  Miriam and I accompanied her in front of the crowd before the game as the seniors from the marching band, football team, cheerleaders, and dance team were honored.  Earlier in the day, Miriam texted me and told me it might be best if I went to the Saturday band competition by myself.  I didn’t question it.  As she said in the text, I knew the time by myself would be welcome.  I have been that way a lot lately.  Conflict has been rampant in our house, our relationship rocky, so I did not mind the idea being in a car by myself.

It did feel very strange visiting my brother all by my lonesome, without my wife or family.  I got the idea they thought maybe this was a sign of things to come.  To be frank, it felt that way for me too.  All afternoon and evening, we kind of danced around the possible pain I might be feeling, at least the relational kind, something I just did not feel like dropping on my brother and his wife.  My goal for the visit was simple — enjoy my time with them.  They are aware of my struggles and I could feel their pity through the way they looked at me, their expressions a little too concerned at times.

I also was able to travel on my own schedule, which meant I find mountain bike trails close to Bloomington, literally minutes from my brother’s house, and tested my body by riding for ninety minutes.  My gut complained a bit, but not too much, and I really enjoyed the riding.  Hopeful for another chance to ride this weekend, I left my mountain bike in the back of my car over night.  That paid off, my afternoon cleared up after I drove Nate out west for an overnight with friends, my day suddenly clear as the 70 degrees and clear blue sky.  Two hours later and after sharing the ride with a friend I met on the trail, a guy close to my age enjoying his first ride at Saw Wee Kee park, thankful to meet someone who knew the trails.  He’s a motocross rider and offered to let me use his spare bike with him some time, an offer I might just accept.  Brian, my new friend, is also a committed Christian and seems to be someone who could provide a good influence for me.  You never know who you will meet on a mountain bike, especially since I will talk to practically anyone, plus the mountain bike crowd is one of the least pretentious class of people I have ever been involved with.

There has been drama in my household, bringing on more stress, this time last Wednesday night.  It started with my son, continued as my wife once again showed her stellar support for me by telling our son “you can’t talk to dad when he is like that”, a lack of spousal support that I found to be totally uncalled for since dad wasn’t “like that”.  He was in the middle of one of those my no means no discussions with his son, one she doesn’t agree with since everything must involve negotiation with her.  I expressed my displeasure by telling her what I expected from her — and that was to support me instead of defending our son by telling him that he was wrong, that he must accept my no and immediately stop his argument.  It didn’t work.  I had to resort to yelling, something I do but don’t like to do, but seems like the only way to get my two challenges to pay attention, to realize I am serious.  At one point, I told her she was stupid for not supporting me.  I also said that my only choice might be to leave if both do not change their behavior immediately.

A friend advised me that I should not go without talking the situation over with Miriam.  My friend was right.  Actually more than one friend told me that.  So I asked her to go to breakfast Saturday morning.  We talked.  We fought.

And here is really where the word ‘Discovery’ comes in for the weekend, although I discovered that my body still likes me and that I can survive time by myself.  But what I really discovered is that my wife is never going to support me the way I need her to.  She does not want to, will not do it since she does not respect me and does not like the way I approach her or my son, does not agree with me.  It has to be her way, won’t try to see the logic even in a little bit of what I say.  I know where I stand with her.

And there is my weekend.

Ice Bagged

Tags

golf, mountain biking, old guy stuff, weekends

Here I sit

Broken (old) farted

Tried too do too much

And now I am sitting on the couch trying to think of a word that rhymes with “farted”

The ideal weekend for me is to do so much, pack enough action into two days, that I find myself sitting on the couch with an ice pack on one or more sore body parts and telling myself over and over again “Oh man does this hurt so good”.  Tonight, dear friends, I have achieved old man-tra.  I am on the couch, ice bag on my left foot, wondering which muscle is going to spasm uncontrollably into a ball.  My money is on my right calf, although the left hamstring is a good bet also.

A golf ball. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Today I made the social rounds of my neighborhood, jumping on my bicycle with the intention of finding Nate, instead finding four neighbors instead.  I am a talker, a characteristic both loves and hates.  The kids used to drag me out of church, hoping I wouldn’t find someone to talk to.  They understand me a bit more now, but there are times they still dread taking me out into public.  ANY HOOOOOO, I made the rounds of the neighborhood, one stop being to say hello to Sean, my neighbor across the street, a young man with two little tykes who I get a chance to talk to rarely.  He waved me over as I pedaled by.

And we yacked for a good half hour.  As we yacked, I noticed he had a nice set of golf clubs sitting in his garage.

“You play?”

“Oh yeah, but with the kids and my job I rarely get to play any more.”  He paused for a moment.  “I see you and Nate loading up the clubs in your car quite a bit.”

“Yeah, I have been playing quite a bit since Nate got interested in the game.”  And I told him about some of the good deals on golf Nate and I had discovered in our quest for golf.

“What are you doing this afternoon?  I need to play.”

Hmmmmm.  I had to think about that offer for a minute.  I played 18 holes last night, walking the course for the first time this golf season, using carts up to this point due to the healing of my surgically repaired left foot.  Mir probably wouldn’t mind (and she didn’t).  I had found a course close by that had a cheap and early twilight rate.  The thing was that I hadn’t been on my bicycle since Thursday, wanted to get an off road ride in this afternoon because there was rain forecasted for this evening.  The trails may not be rideable for a few days.

“Sure.  How about around 5:00?  I want to get a ride in this afternoon, but I should be back in time to play.”

“You walk the course?”

“Of course.”

And we were set.  Mir was cool with it, liked the idea of me spending some time with our neighbor.

Trouble was that the ride was fantastic, so fantastic that I lost track of time.  I left at one in the afternoon, looked in the clock when I pulled into my driveway.  Five.  Oops.

I walked across the street, knocked on Sean’s front door.  Angie, his wife, answered and said that Sean had left a few minutes ago.  He was really looking forward to playing golf.

Oh crepe.

“Give him a call, tell him I will be there in a few minutes.”

I hustled home, changed out of my sweaty bike clothes, whipped on my golf schtuff.  Zipped to the course to find an anxiously waiting Sean at the first tee.

Dang best time I have had playing golf in ages.  We walked 14 holes and played until dark.  Talked like two old hens.  The guy could be my younger twin.  We left with the understanding that this should be an every Sunday night gig.

Cool.

But boy Is my body wondering what I did to it.  I love the tired, satisfied feeling that activity gives to me.  Ahhhhhhh.  Thank goodness for ice packs.

Until next time.