6/30/12
Tegan and I celebrated our 7th anniversary today with a niiiiiiiiice dinner and a little drive around Ojai, our new (and old) home. I started to think about how strange it is to have grown up with this woman, and have our lives arrange themselves constantly around our growth and each other at the same time. We were kids when we met, literally. Now we have kids of our own and have built this life together that I wouldn't trade for all the burritos and video games in the world. I am seriously a lucky, lucky dude to be in the situation I find myself right now.
Except for the fact that I have had pretty awful diarrhea for the last 5 or 6 days, and I have to take myself to the bathroom about 17 times a day. HAPPY ANNIVERSARY BABY!
Saturday, June 30, 2012
Friday, June 29, 2012
Year of writing 180. Recap week 7.
6/29/12
Today for my weekly rundown of stayathome daditude, I will simply say I was doing too much. When I was teaching in East Oakland, kids constantly told me I was "doin too much," usually after I told them to stop doing something, or after I assigned an essay. "Awwww, Mr. G you doin' too much." At the time I was most certainly not doin' too much. Now, however, I am. Here's the breakdown. I won't even go into the rest of the week, just my Friday.
6:45 AM Wake up, make one strawberry waffle and one blueberry waffle for Isla, she decides she wants cereal. While pouring cereal, she eats waffles and is no longer hungry, Feed Miles his baby yogurt, drink a sip of coffee, and go to grab cereal meant for Isla, only to find cats, both of them, drinking the milk from around my honey smacks. Don't eat. Change Miles, who by now has a 14 pound diaper. Forget to put diaper in diaper pail. Dogs eat diaper all over hallway.
7:45 AM Drive to DAD's house with the kids, to take him to get his truck smogged. Isla is hungry. Give her a sticky mint from the drink holder. Stop to get coffee because the one sip from the morning isn't cutting it, headache looms. Grab coffee cup too hard while opening car door, thumb puncturing the styrofoam cup, coffee all over self.
8:30 AM Drop off Isla at farm. Yell to whoever is listening that there is a child there, please watch her.
8:45 AM attempt to install toilet in bathroom. Mildly successful. Attempt to give Miles a nap. Unsuccessful.
9:45 AM second attempt at nap for miles. 45 minutes of lullabyes, rocking, patting, back rubbing. payoff of 15 minutes for the nap.
10:45 AM Isla returns with Cousin Zia. Barbie explosion.
11:30 AM Begin work on clogged drain in guest bathroom shower. Realize it is clogged with 7 years of unknown people's bodily fluids trapped in Lime like some kind of archaeologists nightmare. Chip away at it with an old coathanger. Jury rig a hose with a rag & plastic bag and blast that shit back to whatever unholy planet it came from. Feel disgusting and triumphant simultaneously.
12:00 PM Go get a burrito. Order extra salsa plus one Habanero salsa. Forget which was which and douse the first bite with entire cup of Habanero. Drink whole Horchata in 12 seconds, lick grass, google "get habanero off tongue" Find this: http://www.wikihow.com/Cool-Burns-from-Chili-Peppers. Drink milk, sugar water, a shot of vodka, a shot of vegetable oil, and lemon juice in that order. Lament the next bowel movement.
1:30 PM Attempt to remove faucet from kitchen. Rusted in. Attempt to break rust with hammer, screwdriver, blowtorch, atomic bomb. All ineffectual. Cry into sleeve. Call stepfather.
2:00 Stepfather arrives with saw. Saws the shit out of the old faucet. Feel inadequate and grateful. Resolve to use saw to solve next problem. Miles needs a nap. Break resolution.
2:30 Play beauty shop with Cousins. Isla insists on being called penelope while she is getting her makeup done. I will be princess fairy ponytail man (the man being tagged on as she must have noticed the emasculation oozing from my glands).
3:00 Install new faucet in kitchen, by myself. Feel amazing. Realize that in the mean time Miles has had a diaper blowout and now is dragging bright orange feces across the carpet in a snail trail of horrendous proportions. Snatch him up in time for him to grab a handful of the noxious substance leaking from his backside and smear it all over my shirt and neck. Resist urge to retch all over him. Clean up 1.5 miles of poop path on the living room carpet. Pray Tegan does not have to work late.
4:30 Tegan calls and says she will be late. Consider buying cage for children so I can nap. Decide on buddhist mindstate to let whatever happens next happen. Everything is cool.
6:15. Tegan arrives. Sigh.
Today for my weekly rundown of stayathome daditude, I will simply say I was doing too much. When I was teaching in East Oakland, kids constantly told me I was "doin too much," usually after I told them to stop doing something, or after I assigned an essay. "Awwww, Mr. G you doin' too much." At the time I was most certainly not doin' too much. Now, however, I am. Here's the breakdown. I won't even go into the rest of the week, just my Friday.
6:45 AM Wake up, make one strawberry waffle and one blueberry waffle for Isla, she decides she wants cereal. While pouring cereal, she eats waffles and is no longer hungry, Feed Miles his baby yogurt, drink a sip of coffee, and go to grab cereal meant for Isla, only to find cats, both of them, drinking the milk from around my honey smacks. Don't eat. Change Miles, who by now has a 14 pound diaper. Forget to put diaper in diaper pail. Dogs eat diaper all over hallway.
7:45 AM Drive to DAD's house with the kids, to take him to get his truck smogged. Isla is hungry. Give her a sticky mint from the drink holder. Stop to get coffee because the one sip from the morning isn't cutting it, headache looms. Grab coffee cup too hard while opening car door, thumb puncturing the styrofoam cup, coffee all over self.
8:30 AM Drop off Isla at farm. Yell to whoever is listening that there is a child there, please watch her.
8:45 AM attempt to install toilet in bathroom. Mildly successful. Attempt to give Miles a nap. Unsuccessful.
9:45 AM second attempt at nap for miles. 45 minutes of lullabyes, rocking, patting, back rubbing. payoff of 15 minutes for the nap.
10:45 AM Isla returns with Cousin Zia. Barbie explosion.
11:30 AM Begin work on clogged drain in guest bathroom shower. Realize it is clogged with 7 years of unknown people's bodily fluids trapped in Lime like some kind of archaeologists nightmare. Chip away at it with an old coathanger. Jury rig a hose with a rag & plastic bag and blast that shit back to whatever unholy planet it came from. Feel disgusting and triumphant simultaneously.
12:00 PM Go get a burrito. Order extra salsa plus one Habanero salsa. Forget which was which and douse the first bite with entire cup of Habanero. Drink whole Horchata in 12 seconds, lick grass, google "get habanero off tongue" Find this: http://www.wikihow.com/Cool-Burns-from-Chili-Peppers. Drink milk, sugar water, a shot of vodka, a shot of vegetable oil, and lemon juice in that order. Lament the next bowel movement.
1:30 PM Attempt to remove faucet from kitchen. Rusted in. Attempt to break rust with hammer, screwdriver, blowtorch, atomic bomb. All ineffectual. Cry into sleeve. Call stepfather.
2:00 Stepfather arrives with saw. Saws the shit out of the old faucet. Feel inadequate and grateful. Resolve to use saw to solve next problem. Miles needs a nap. Break resolution.
2:30 Play beauty shop with Cousins. Isla insists on being called penelope while she is getting her makeup done. I will be princess fairy ponytail man (the man being tagged on as she must have noticed the emasculation oozing from my glands).
3:00 Install new faucet in kitchen, by myself. Feel amazing. Realize that in the mean time Miles has had a diaper blowout and now is dragging bright orange feces across the carpet in a snail trail of horrendous proportions. Snatch him up in time for him to grab a handful of the noxious substance leaking from his backside and smear it all over my shirt and neck. Resist urge to retch all over him. Clean up 1.5 miles of poop path on the living room carpet. Pray Tegan does not have to work late.
4:30 Tegan calls and says she will be late. Consider buying cage for children so I can nap. Decide on buddhist mindstate to let whatever happens next happen. Everything is cool.
6:15. Tegan arrives. Sigh.
Thursday, June 28, 2012
Year of writing 179. Pride
6/28/12
My daughter jumped off the side of the pool and swam to the other side without any help. This might sound banal, but the swelling of pride I felt watching this little girl, my daughter, the once mewling little thing on the bedcovers as she furiously kicked and blew bubbles across that pool almost knocked me over. I have a feeling I'm in for a few heartswells and torrents of tears before this journey is done. In the mean time, I have some swimming to do with the most awesome girl in the world.
My daughter jumped off the side of the pool and swam to the other side without any help. This might sound banal, but the swelling of pride I felt watching this little girl, my daughter, the once mewling little thing on the bedcovers as she furiously kicked and blew bubbles across that pool almost knocked me over. I have a feeling I'm in for a few heartswells and torrents of tears before this journey is done. In the mean time, I have some swimming to do with the most awesome girl in the world.
Wednesday, June 27, 2012
Year of Writing 178. Little kid speak.
6/27/12
I noticed today that the last vestiges of little kid speak are slowly eroding away from my daughter's vocabulary. There have been many things Isla has said over the last few years, notably
"Banga Banga" - this was said with a shaken fist, to indicate dissatisfaction with something. (age 2)
"Moka Loka" - an expression loosely translated to mean "I'm being cheeky right now!" Usually delivered with an appropriate facial expression not unlike Gary Coleman whilst saying "Whatchoo talkin bout Willis?" (2)
Sw, Sp pronounced as "f" as in "Daddy, I want to go Fwing on the Fwings." or "Aaaaah! A fider is climbing up the wall." (3)
"Beout me" Replaced "without" as in: "Please don't leave beout me" (retired earlier this year)
And the final (I'm sure there's more I have forgotten) little kid speak that still exists to this day. You can hear it often in the heat of Southern California:
"Daddy, blow down the windows, it's hot in here!"
I noticed today that the last vestiges of little kid speak are slowly eroding away from my daughter's vocabulary. There have been many things Isla has said over the last few years, notably
"Banga Banga" - this was said with a shaken fist, to indicate dissatisfaction with something. (age 2)
"Moka Loka" - an expression loosely translated to mean "I'm being cheeky right now!" Usually delivered with an appropriate facial expression not unlike Gary Coleman whilst saying "Whatchoo talkin bout Willis?" (2)
Sw, Sp pronounced as "f" as in "Daddy, I want to go Fwing on the Fwings." or "Aaaaah! A fider is climbing up the wall." (3)
"Beout me" Replaced "without" as in: "Please don't leave beout me" (retired earlier this year)
And the final (I'm sure there's more I have forgotten) little kid speak that still exists to this day. You can hear it often in the heat of Southern California:
"Daddy, blow down the windows, it's hot in here!"
Year of writing 177.
6/26/12
Summertime is pretty awesome. One thing I've noticed about having small children is that it jogs old old memories that have been hiding in the recesses of my brain. I take Isla to the pool with her cousins and remember the community pool in Seattle where I did my own swimming lessons, I remember the sting of chlorine in my eyes when I tried to open them underwater, and floundering around in the shallow end, where just one tippy toe could touch the bottom. We go to the beach, and I remember the shell that punctured my foot at 5 or 6, and having to wear 6 pairs of socks on one foot so I could walk without pain. I see my daughter in the sprinklers and remember our big green backyard with the silly clown sprinkler that you had to try and replace his hat with water spraying everywhere, or homemade slip & slides with a trashbag during the three hot days that constitute summer in the great Northwest. This is what we are doing during these days: generating memories. I couldn't ask for more.
Summertime is pretty awesome. One thing I've noticed about having small children is that it jogs old old memories that have been hiding in the recesses of my brain. I take Isla to the pool with her cousins and remember the community pool in Seattle where I did my own swimming lessons, I remember the sting of chlorine in my eyes when I tried to open them underwater, and floundering around in the shallow end, where just one tippy toe could touch the bottom. We go to the beach, and I remember the shell that punctured my foot at 5 or 6, and having to wear 6 pairs of socks on one foot so I could walk without pain. I see my daughter in the sprinklers and remember our big green backyard with the silly clown sprinkler that you had to try and replace his hat with water spraying everywhere, or homemade slip & slides with a trashbag during the three hot days that constitute summer in the great Northwest. This is what we are doing during these days: generating memories. I couldn't ask for more.
Monday, June 25, 2012
Year of writing 176. the 90's
6/25/12
I'm busy preparing for my first dj gig in Ojai with my friend Jon. We're going by the name "Wild Stallions," and wearing light up LED shirts that react to the music. It will be an all 90's extravaganza with new video mixing software that we copped. I'm excited as hell.
Going through all these old videos makes me wonder a bit what happened to hip hop music since the end of the 90's. It's super rare that I see anybody that seems to be having fun anymore. It's all so seriously gangster... where's all the Passing me by's or 93 til infinity? It's no fun anymore. Most of the time.
I'm busy preparing for my first dj gig in Ojai with my friend Jon. We're going by the name "Wild Stallions," and wearing light up LED shirts that react to the music. It will be an all 90's extravaganza with new video mixing software that we copped. I'm excited as hell.
Going through all these old videos makes me wonder a bit what happened to hip hop music since the end of the 90's. It's super rare that I see anybody that seems to be having fun anymore. It's all so seriously gangster... where's all the Passing me by's or 93 til infinity? It's no fun anymore. Most of the time.
Sunday, June 24, 2012
Year of writing 175.
6/24/12
Summertime
The window lets in a freeway roar,
the radio useless in this noise.
Sun slathered on my left elbow,
the oilrigs on my right working too hard in this heat.
Summertime
The window lets in a freeway roar,
the radio useless in this noise.
Sun slathered on my left elbow,
the oilrigs on my right working too hard in this heat.
Saturday, June 23, 2012
Year of writing 174. Do it yourself furniture.
6/23/12
What the hell is it about do it yourself furniture that turns me into Mr. Hyde? I start cussing and hitting things with my fists like my name was Chris Brown, and eventually just grab my head with both hands and roll around on the ground amidst the allen wrenches and bolts sobbing in silent agony.
I put together a bunk bed today. It looks nice now, but the process was an ugly, ugly thing. Why expensive furniture comes in pieces, I don't know, but I swear if I ever get a divorce it will be because of unassembled furniture.
On a lighter note, I found out that I can get a delicious plate of Chicken and Waffles, which is my favorite food of all time, in Ojai. This makes the bed situation a wash.
What the hell is it about do it yourself furniture that turns me into Mr. Hyde? I start cussing and hitting things with my fists like my name was Chris Brown, and eventually just grab my head with both hands and roll around on the ground amidst the allen wrenches and bolts sobbing in silent agony.
I put together a bunk bed today. It looks nice now, but the process was an ugly, ugly thing. Why expensive furniture comes in pieces, I don't know, but I swear if I ever get a divorce it will be because of unassembled furniture.
On a lighter note, I found out that I can get a delicious plate of Chicken and Waffles, which is my favorite food of all time, in Ojai. This makes the bed situation a wash.
Friday, June 22, 2012
Year of writing 173. Week 6.
6/22/12
As a teacher, my life was often organized in 6 week segments. Six weeks was the length of time between grading periods, so it was often for how long my units were designed. It's also supposed to be the amount of time it takes for a kid to be introduced to a large concept, practice it, and be assessed. That means that this must be my first report card as a stay at home dad. I give myself an A muthafreakin' plus. Mostly because I want my mom to put it on the fridge.
Here are my learnings, positives and negatives for the 6th week of my awesome new job.
1. One cannot be an able bodied/ able minded stay at home father missing sleep like one did in his 20's. 4 hours of sleep = Dad's an asshole.
2. Want to never have a kid whine and scream about wanting something at a store? Give them a quarter for chores, then have them bring their own money to the store with you and say they can buy anything they can afford. My daughter is unwilling to part with any of her beloved quarters. When she finally did find a doll she wanted (2.50 at a thrift store), she played the funeral march with her eyes as she handed out the ten quarters to the cashier.
3. Playdates = Happy dad. Not having to chase parents who look like people I would normally rather eat cactus spines than talk to just to have a playmate for my kid = Oh my god thank you.
4. I love summer activities. Driving the swagger wagon to swimming lessons with the windows down, blasting Fight For Your Right to Party, singing at the top of my lungs with Isla? Awesome.
As a teacher, my life was often organized in 6 week segments. Six weeks was the length of time between grading periods, so it was often for how long my units were designed. It's also supposed to be the amount of time it takes for a kid to be introduced to a large concept, practice it, and be assessed. That means that this must be my first report card as a stay at home dad. I give myself an A muthafreakin' plus. Mostly because I want my mom to put it on the fridge.
Here are my learnings, positives and negatives for the 6th week of my awesome new job.
1. One cannot be an able bodied/ able minded stay at home father missing sleep like one did in his 20's. 4 hours of sleep = Dad's an asshole.
2. Want to never have a kid whine and scream about wanting something at a store? Give them a quarter for chores, then have them bring their own money to the store with you and say they can buy anything they can afford. My daughter is unwilling to part with any of her beloved quarters. When she finally did find a doll she wanted (2.50 at a thrift store), she played the funeral march with her eyes as she handed out the ten quarters to the cashier.
3. Playdates = Happy dad. Not having to chase parents who look like people I would normally rather eat cactus spines than talk to just to have a playmate for my kid = Oh my god thank you.
4. I love summer activities. Driving the swagger wagon to swimming lessons with the windows down, blasting Fight For Your Right to Party, singing at the top of my lungs with Isla? Awesome.
Thursday, June 21, 2012
year of writing 172.
6/21/12
When we lived in Richmond, there was a Target store a block and a half away. I used to love going to Target. Seriously. Love it. I used to love it so much sometimes I'd just wander in with no real intent of buying anything. There's something comforting about being surrounded by so much processed pop culture and consumerism. After today's visit with my son Miles, I no longer enjoy this activity.
Miles screamed from the point we entered Target until we came howling back through the doors. People looked at me with pity or disgust, as they could not have known that this was the only opportunity for me to do my generic box store shopping with ONLY one screaming child. I ignored them the best I could, until Miles decided to throw up all over my chest and shoulder. The diaper bag was in the car. Dammit. I cleaned up the best I could in the Target bathroom, then powered through the rest of my shopping, until I was at the register. As the cashier rang up my Cat Litter, 5T purple dress, whole grain wheat bread, 12 pack of sponges, and spatula, I came to the horrifying realization that my wallet was back in the car. I considered against using Miles for collateral, then ran out to the car as the line of people behind me began mumbling epithets at their Iphones (full disclosure: I also mumble epithets at my Iphone in similar situations). When I came back, the cashier had canceled the transaction, and made me wait til the end of the line. Miles was still angry and telling everybody about it.
As soon as this fabulous young son of mine was in the carseat with his stuffed moose, the crying ceased, he fell asleep 12.4 seconds into our ride home.
I hate you Target. Why can't you be more like a moose?
When we lived in Richmond, there was a Target store a block and a half away. I used to love going to Target. Seriously. Love it. I used to love it so much sometimes I'd just wander in with no real intent of buying anything. There's something comforting about being surrounded by so much processed pop culture and consumerism. After today's visit with my son Miles, I no longer enjoy this activity.
Miles screamed from the point we entered Target until we came howling back through the doors. People looked at me with pity or disgust, as they could not have known that this was the only opportunity for me to do my generic box store shopping with ONLY one screaming child. I ignored them the best I could, until Miles decided to throw up all over my chest and shoulder. The diaper bag was in the car. Dammit. I cleaned up the best I could in the Target bathroom, then powered through the rest of my shopping, until I was at the register. As the cashier rang up my Cat Litter, 5T purple dress, whole grain wheat bread, 12 pack of sponges, and spatula, I came to the horrifying realization that my wallet was back in the car. I considered against using Miles for collateral, then ran out to the car as the line of people behind me began mumbling epithets at their Iphones (full disclosure: I also mumble epithets at my Iphone in similar situations). When I came back, the cashier had canceled the transaction, and made me wait til the end of the line. Miles was still angry and telling everybody about it.
As soon as this fabulous young son of mine was in the carseat with his stuffed moose, the crying ceased, he fell asleep 12.4 seconds into our ride home.
I hate you Target. Why can't you be more like a moose?
Wednesday, June 20, 2012
Year of Writing 171. The AC DJ
6/20/12
Today I bit the bullet and hired somebody to come take some of the load of this ridiculous house off of my shoulders. We have to get the AC/Heat working in the house, so I hired the company on Yelp with the most stars to come out and do whatever expensive things they do. What they did was send a dude with a thick Israeli accent and a really nice 40+ year old Salvadorian guy to mess around for a couple hours, break a few things, charge me $960.00, then promise to be back tomorrow to finish it up. This sounds like it sucked - but it didn't. Here's why: about 5 minutes into checking for whatever they check for, the Israeli dude started eyeballing my records in the garage. "So, you dj or something?" I replied in the affirmative, which unleashed a 45 minute discussion (one-way, mind you) about house music, and how this dude is a real life big deal House DJ in L.A. and Israel that does Air Conditioning work for "the fun and to meet people."
I was about to doubt dude, til he pulled up this website:
Today I bit the bullet and hired somebody to come take some of the load of this ridiculous house off of my shoulders. We have to get the AC/Heat working in the house, so I hired the company on Yelp with the most stars to come out and do whatever expensive things they do. What they did was send a dude with a thick Israeli accent and a really nice 40+ year old Salvadorian guy to mess around for a couple hours, break a few things, charge me $960.00, then promise to be back tomorrow to finish it up. This sounds like it sucked - but it didn't. Here's why: about 5 minutes into checking for whatever they check for, the Israeli dude started eyeballing my records in the garage. "So, you dj or something?" I replied in the affirmative, which unleashed a 45 minute discussion (one-way, mind you) about house music, and how this dude is a real life big deal House DJ in L.A. and Israel that does Air Conditioning work for "the fun and to meet people."
I was about to doubt dude, til he pulled up this website:
That's him. Lookin' fly with the stretched out v-neck and blazer with lasers. I had a fucking blast listening to this guy talk about how he wants to remix old disco with a 2002 House feel to it. I had less of a blast turning down his multiple offers to buy my mixer, amp, records, etc... But all in all, I would pay 960 bucks to add his archetype to my character bank. Thank god I got his card so I can kick with Malio the house DJ whenever I want.
Tuesday, June 19, 2012
Year of writing 170.
6/19/12
I've found a new paradise. It's called Tuesday, lying in the grass and daisies at a huge park abandoned by everyone but me, my son and daughter. She is picking the tiny white flowers and presenting them one by one to her doll Tiana. Each flower is a poem, she says, every poem is an I love you. My son is asleep on my chest, I feel our breaths syncopate. His eyelids flutter, he sighs and grins in sleep. There are three clouds in the sky. One is a heart, one is a train leaving it's station, one too big to comprehend. There are moments like this that happen all the time, that have happened, the difference is now I am experiencing it with them.
I've found a new paradise. It's called Tuesday, lying in the grass and daisies at a huge park abandoned by everyone but me, my son and daughter. She is picking the tiny white flowers and presenting them one by one to her doll Tiana. Each flower is a poem, she says, every poem is an I love you. My son is asleep on my chest, I feel our breaths syncopate. His eyelids flutter, he sighs and grins in sleep. There are three clouds in the sky. One is a heart, one is a train leaving it's station, one too big to comprehend. There are moments like this that happen all the time, that have happened, the difference is now I am experiencing it with them.
Monday, June 18, 2012
Year of writing 169. Recap
6/18/12
I needed that sleep so bad. Holy crap.
Here are my favorite things from the last four days.
1. Walking around a redneck town near Sacramento for a few hours, finding a thrift store that has nothing but Jesus shirts and Proud to be an American shirts, buying a couple of each, then having people say: "Walkin' with Jesus Today, huh?" Point, and walk away.
2. Watching my kids from this year graduate the 8th grade, and watching two of my favorite kids of all time graduate from high school. One of them got the Gates Millenium Scholarship for all ten years of schooling, books, room, and board through his doctorate degree.
3. Seeing friends that I hated to leave in Oakland.
4. Being scared shitless by the instructions given by the guide on our 3 day rafting trip - then promptly forgetting everything that was said when we got in the boat.
5. Hearing that the couple that was supposed to be accompanying us on our 10 dude bachelor party river rafting excursion had "second thoughts."
6. Realizing that class 5 rapids are HUGE. and FUN.
7. 105 degrees is OK, if there is a river made of snowmelt underneath you.
8. California is fucking beautiful.
9. 80 degrees at night SUCKS. So do these insects called gatherer spiders (they're not really spiders, but look like daddy long legs). These things come out in the middle of the night in the thousands and crawl all over everything gathering whatever the hell it is that they need to gather. With me, it was apparently my chest hair, since I woke up to find about 50 of them crawling all over my body. Not awesome.
10. If you have a chance to make a camping sauna or sweat lodge ever, do it.
11. The highlight of the first night camping was the late night improvised ironic christian rock E.P. debut by a friend named Richard. Imagine Gavin Rossdale singing songs like "I fell in love with God, so what do I do with her?"
12. Getting home.
I needed that sleep so bad. Holy crap.
Here are my favorite things from the last four days.
1. Walking around a redneck town near Sacramento for a few hours, finding a thrift store that has nothing but Jesus shirts and Proud to be an American shirts, buying a couple of each, then having people say: "Walkin' with Jesus Today, huh?" Point, and walk away.
2. Watching my kids from this year graduate the 8th grade, and watching two of my favorite kids of all time graduate from high school. One of them got the Gates Millenium Scholarship for all ten years of schooling, books, room, and board through his doctorate degree.
3. Seeing friends that I hated to leave in Oakland.
4. Being scared shitless by the instructions given by the guide on our 3 day rafting trip - then promptly forgetting everything that was said when we got in the boat.
5. Hearing that the couple that was supposed to be accompanying us on our 10 dude bachelor party river rafting excursion had "second thoughts."
6. Realizing that class 5 rapids are HUGE. and FUN.
7. 105 degrees is OK, if there is a river made of snowmelt underneath you.
8. California is fucking beautiful.
9. 80 degrees at night SUCKS. So do these insects called gatherer spiders (they're not really spiders, but look like daddy long legs). These things come out in the middle of the night in the thousands and crawl all over everything gathering whatever the hell it is that they need to gather. With me, it was apparently my chest hair, since I woke up to find about 50 of them crawling all over my body. Not awesome.
10. If you have a chance to make a camping sauna or sweat lodge ever, do it.
11. The highlight of the first night camping was the late night improvised ironic christian rock E.P. debut by a friend named Richard. Imagine Gavin Rossdale singing songs like "I fell in love with God, so what do I do with her?"
12. Getting home.
Year of writing 165 - 168
6/15/12 - 6/18/12
I grant myself this single transgression in updating this blog and my year of writing. I went on a river rafting trip for 3 days, and of course could not post. I am way too tired to try and recapsulate it all right here, but I will... Oh yes. I will.
Today I left at 4 AM to make it up to the Bay in time fo
I grant myself this single transgression in updating this blog and my year of writing. I went on a river rafting trip for 3 days, and of course could not post. I am way too tired to try and recapsulate it all right here, but I will... Oh yes. I will.
Today I left at 4 AM to make it up to the Bay in time fo
Wednesday, June 13, 2012
Year of writing 164.
6/13/12
I am exhausted. The kind of exhausted that only ten straight days of taking care of your own kids full time can create. If it weren't for cousin play dates, Ruben's Burritos, Tiger Bars, and late night TV, I would not have made it this far. Thank you those things.
Tomorrow I head North to see the kids I left this year graduate. I am excited to see how much they've changed in the last few months - and even more excited to see the kids I had as 8th graders 4 years ago graduating high school. Tired be damned - I'm getting up at 4AM to make it there.
I am exhausted. The kind of exhausted that only ten straight days of taking care of your own kids full time can create. If it weren't for cousin play dates, Ruben's Burritos, Tiger Bars, and late night TV, I would not have made it this far. Thank you those things.
Tomorrow I head North to see the kids I left this year graduate. I am excited to see how much they've changed in the last few months - and even more excited to see the kids I had as 8th graders 4 years ago graduating high school. Tired be damned - I'm getting up at 4AM to make it there.
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