A Trip Through The Minefield
I lost my parents over twenty years ago. I’ve been alive longer without them than with them, and I’m not an old guy. So yes, from time to time my thoughts wander across the minefield as I wonder things like "how would Mom feel about this?" or "I bet Dad would have figured this out by now."
Unlike a real minefield this is one you can build up a resistance to. What used to blow off a leg now just means I need to brush my pants clean. The metaphor fails in extended application.
Today I’m positively giddy with excitement. A new (but very good) friend and consummate professional is joining me and some of my other consummately professional friends (also very good) for two days of recording sessions. I sprang awake at 5:15am with the sort of enthusiasm I usually reserve for Christmas.
And I wondered, casting my mind back to my early years "when Dad was 43, was he ever giddy with Christmas-morning-esque enthusiasm?"
[CHING-KLICK] goes the pressure plate to the mine I’ve just stepped on.
"No," I say to myself in irritation. "This isn’t ‘I miss Dad,’ this is a serious question. Do you ever remember him being giddy?"
I ponder the matter, poring through the jumbled mess of poorly indexed memories from twenty-five, thirty, and thirty-five years ago.
"No," I reply. "I don’t."
[BOOOM]
Did it explode because I can’t remember something I should, or because I wish my Dad had been a happier person? Regardless, I’m going to need to change these pants.
Dressing Down
I wore a t-shirt in public today, and threw a "Halo ODST" cap on my dome to complete the grungy ensemble. My usual crisp, professional look stayed in the closet.
I think this is the first time I’ve been this grubby while shopping in around two years.
It’s also the first time a checker has asked not just to compare the signature on my card, but also checked TWO photo IDs (one on my Sam’s Club card, one on my Driver’s License) to confirm my right to pay with Howard V. Tayler’s Discover card.
The moral of the story?
Dress nicely if you want to get away with stealing other people’s credit cards.
Nap Time
I used to share nap time with my youngest. Well… it was nap time for me. Or it was supposed to be. I’d lie down for a nap and he’d tumble into the bed and decide that it was play-time. He’d offer me his blankie, I’d accept, snuggle it, and then he’d steal it away. I would petulantly say "hey!" and he would giggle. Then he’d offer it again. Repeat.
It was called "The hey game."
I lay down for a power-nap about 45 minutes ago and discovered that my youngest, now almost eight years old, had left his blankie in my bed. It’s a nice, thermal item — too small to be an adult blanket, but perfect for wrapping around a bald head, turban-style. I did so.
Nobody stole it from me. On the one hand that left me longing for the days when my children were younger. On the other hand, I got a nice, warm nap with a blankie wrapped around my head.
Sometimes the good things in life are better when they’re enjoyed while savoring the memories of other good things in life.