“I am SO good at lying in bed.”
“I am SO good at lying in bed.”
Oh, man. Yesterday was NOT my finest day of fatherhood, husbandhood (is that a word), or general human being-ness. I was irritable, prone to saying angry things, and generally miserable. And I helped everyone else be that way, too.
Admittedly, I’ve been stressed. It was pouring here in Montauk, we were stuck in a small studio, my main person at work has taken ill (possibly for the long term), and I was trying to get work done here under non-work conditions. (I won’t even mention my visiting father-in-law insisting we walk to a restaurant for breakfast in the rain. That made for happy kids, I can tell you.)
We DID try to come up with some fun things to do. We went to the Riverhead Aquarium, which was okay. It tooks us two hours to get there, though. Hamptons’ traffic. We played lots of games. But my fuse was about a micron long.
I called a friend of mine, and he gave me this advice, in re: speaking in anger. He said to ask myself:
1) Does it need to be said?
2) Does it need to be said now?
3) Doe it need to be said by me?
Smart people, my friends.
Love to all. Even you, older lady with the monogrammed towel.
My five-year-old-daughter just put me in checkmate in four moves.
Must… fight… despair. I’m sitting in a small studio co-op in Montauk, NY. It’s pouring. The place is a little small for five people. Well, actually, it’s REALLY small for five people. My two oldest have been up since 5:15am. Maggie is conked out. My youngest is still sleeping… but it appears he wet the bed. Whee! (Or is that wee?)
The cool thing is that I’m posting this with my PowerBook via my Verizon 710 bluetooth phone. Yay, technology! The other cool thing is that I’m wearing boxer briefs, and look fairly fetching.
It’s supposed to rain today and tomorrow. Possibly more, if Katrina’s remnants come this way. I’m not sure what the point is of staying here, if it’s raining. I’ve got to find something fun for us to do today, or we’re going to kill each other.
I know, I know, I’m lucky to have the chance to take a vacation. Screw you.
Love to all. Even you, the lady who probably should buy a slightly fuller suit.
I just got back from my third half-marathon of the year… and my sixth New York Road Runner’s race, also of 2005. Only three more races before new year’s, and I automatically qualify for the 2006 NYC marathon. Rock ON.
I ran this race at a slower pace, which was planned. Between the various stressors of my life, the halt in training from Ehrlichiosis, and the fact that it was drizzling and 91% humidity today, I decided to just go easy. I did 8:39 minute miles for 13.1 miles. Good enough for me today.
You know what’s fantastic? I don’t NEED to set personal records every single race I run. Hell, I’m someone who used to get fired up about things for a day or two… and then forget them completely. I’ve been running consistently for 2 years, now. I’ve run a total of 123.1 miles of races, which clearly doesn’t include training. That kicks ASS.
Although for the Staten Island half-marathon in October… I actually WILL be going for a personal record. So, um, I’m a hypocrite.
Love to all. Even you, the lady who blew a snot rocket on my foot today.
This is one of those moments where I wished that the six or seven people who know that I’m the author of this blog didn’t know it. There’s shit going on that I’d love to write about, but I can’t. FUCK. Change is afoot in my life, I think. We’ll see what goes down.
Love to all. Even you, the nameless dude behind Door Number Three.
One of my online friends was writing, somewhat negatively, about the idea of Intelligent Design. You know: the idea that biological- and physics-based systems are so complex that they HAVE to have been created by God, and that this idea should be taught in schools either alongside or in place of evolution. This is NOT a response to her… just a comment on the whole thing.
There are two separate issues, here. Let’s handle the easy one first:
Keep God out of the public schools. If you want to teach God-based education, either leave the country or go to private school. It’s constitutionally mandated to be this way, so drop the argument. Nobody has any right to use public funds to teach children about any group’s view on any form of God’s involvement in their lives. We have church for that. Or parents. Remember parents?
The land was made for you AND me. And THEM. You know? Even if if God snapped his fingers and created it all, teach what happened in the aftermath. There’s a lot of ground to cover, there.
Second: Why are God and Science are so incompatible, anyway? Maybe God started the ball rolling, and then things developed. I dunno. I just don’t think they’re so different. Unless you’re a biblical literalist.
And shit, yo: How long is a day in God’s mind, anyway? 7 days could be 4 billion years, for all we know. Hubris, hubris, to think we know otherwise.
Love to all. Even you, the dude with the argyle blanket, sleeping on 31st and Lexington in NYC.
1) Pat Robertson calling for the murder of another person?
2) Pat Robertson lying and saying he never use the word “assassinate?”
I’d say they go in order. Or maybe not.
Love to all, even misguided “Holy Men” who clearly have forgotten the Word.
WARNING: This post makes reference to pubic hair.
But not yet.
My eyes have been bugging me. I’ve always been proud of my vision… I’ve always been able to see things that other people couldn’t, and from some pretty great distances, too. But over the last six months, I’ve had a harder time focusing on things both near and far. So today, I got my eyes examined. Glasses! I’m getting glasses! Apparently, I’ve got a mild astigmatism.
Now, I have to be honest: I was sort of HOPING to need glasses. But only for reading/computer stuff. I mean, I think glasses are so cool. But now it turns out I’m getting glasses to wear ALL THE TIME. Be care what you wish for, indeed.
Add to this my slowly thinning hair (Admittedly, this is relative.. I just used to have LOTS of hair. HUGE hair. Long, curly, crazy-ass hair. Now I have regular hair. Short. Boringly normal.), my suddenly shot-through-with-gray beard, and my first GRAY pubic hair… and I’m feeling a little like walking, talking ONSET. Did I mention the hearing damage from my drumming-in-dirtbag-bars days? What? Could you speak up?
But then again: I’m running another half-marathon this weekend. I’ve lost 15 pounds (I’m now 5 pounds from the weight I was when I got married 10 years ago), and I’ve been going to the gym in earnest… Add to that that I quit smoking in 2000, and quit drinking in 2003… and I’m probably in the best shape of my life.
Ah, fuck it. I’ve spawned three times over. I’m rightfully being replaced by the younger, superior, next generation.
Love to all. Even you, the kid who plays too much CounterStrike.
Phew! I mean… I love you, Blogger… but I don’t want to limit comments to Blogger-registered folks. And as the super-helpful commenter pointed out, Blogger now has word verification for posts. This is brand new: announced August 21, 2005.
Yay! Back to our regular schedule of religion, politics, and parenting. Phew!
Love to all. Even you, the woman who forgot to set her alarm.