Bonfire

This past Saturday was supposed to be a big day of gut-busting fun. A day for friends, food, and music. An arena of joy. And so it was... for everyone else. I came down with a harsh sniffle that knocked me down for two days. I even had to call out of work, which -while I don't care for the institution, is not something I do. If I am two things it is a punctual and reliable employee. 

I had to miss Folly Gras. Folly Gras!! I had been excitedly scheming about the big day with everyone for weeks! And instead I stayed home, sneezing and slumping. I also had to miss an oyster roast that would have been my next option if Folly Gras hadn't been the same day. 

Enough about me though. All those other folks (Ellie, Shambles, Mom, Dad, Giggles, and Dave) attended said oyster roast and then came home and lit fire to the backyard. T'was a very hot fire and they roasted marshmallows and listened to tunes.

Little Nuggets

In case you're keeping track, Ellen ditched me on date night. I found out she was only going because she wanted a burger and so I refused to go. Someday. Someday she will love me.

Life continues on its usual fashion over here. I've been doing some scheming with Mattie from over in Madrid and we are working out some summer plans. In addition to the Mattie plans, I'm going off for some solo adventuring. I find this scary and also, not ideal but when all your friends have Big Kid jobs and motivation, you end up on your fat butt all by yourself seeking out life's sweeter things.

While I work that out, I've been mastering my Lego technique, hiding AND seeking, enduring tantrums and mommy meltdowns, and fixing hundreds of peanut butter sandwiches. I'm not going to lie. Kids are the pits. Where does your life go after kids show up? I get to cash him in at the end of the day and I STILL feel this way.

My sweet folks have been enduring some tantrums as well, but because they are coming from me, I like to think of them more as informative, Andy Rooney-style monologues, backed by truth and humor. I've been a complete grump all winter. It's embarrassing. And I don't mean it. I'm just in a slump.

Here are some blurry photos from our romantic family Valentines Day. Shambles had to work that night so Ellen spent the Day of Love with us, who spent it with ole Giggles and Dave. During this outing we watched the Olympics, laughed about old times, and created Marvel Comics newest hero; SuperJew.

To spice up my dull workweek, I hang out with musical Julie and friends. They are an odd, fun group of people who never stop drumming, strumming, and humming. They write melodies while we drive to restaurants, create percussion solos with water glasses and silverware, drumming on plates and tables. They'll take a breather to discuss local musicians, coming up with improvements to their sounds and methods. Then they'll discuss unicorns and fire breathing dragons. And usually, we'll come home to a drum circle. As one of three non-musicians in the group (though they want to borrow my ukelele. Thats right. I'm so in.), they'll give me a tambourine or a shaker of sorts and put me in the corner to cackle while they play. It really thrills me. 

Editor's note: That gargantuan beer is not mine. 

The huge margarita might be. But in my defense, I asked for a small but it was a Mexican restaurant. Hate to break it to ya, but Mexicans love me. 

Don't worry. I didn't drink the whole thing. I literally could put my whole face in that glass. I saw a girl at the next table with an even bigger one. I know!! I also watched her fall sideways when she got up to leave. Luckily a brick wall was there to catch her. She played it off well.

The things people do to themselves...

How did I get to talking about this? Can you tell I wing these blog posts?

Dad Language

It sure has been a while since I told you about them other folks. I've been on a self-centered bender on account of having a pre-life crisis. No, I haven't worked it all out yet thanks, but I think I have a plan.

So in family news...

Ellen has been working on her handstand.

I have conned her into going on a date with me tomorrow. So you know, this is quite an accomplishment. Ellen does not leave the house under the circumstances of "fun". Well, she'll go off with Chris but not with me. To this day I have not been able to get her to go to the Surf Bar with me. Dad once had to bribe her with a day off to get her to have dinner with me. I was so offended that I refused to go - but I think I've got her this time.

Mom has been volunteering her Tuesday mornings helping two little kids with their reading skills. Anthony and Shadiyah are both in the third grade and dem churn can't read real good. 

That wasn't nice.

She has also still been painting the trim around the house. She insists that the walls look "dingy" and you can hear her repeating this while she paints. I have also heard more outbursts of laugher from her recently. I'll follow the noise downstairs and around the corner and find her sitting alone, cackling about her own thoughts or the occasional magazine advertisement. (I'm starting to worry about her.)

Dad continuers firing on all cylinders. He's been attending his bunches of meetings and showings and heckling tenants for rent. I've fallen for the tenants who come up with clever ways to avoid Dad at the first of each month. He finds them frustrating. I think they're adorable. 

Even more adorable is Dad's made up language. It's old news that he messes up titles, ignores suffixes, and scans past letters in commonly used, everyday words. Recently it's taken a bit of translating to figure out what he's been saying. He gets ahead of himself see and oblivously bumbles over words with a straight face and looks up at us innocently, waiting for our answer. There is a moment of silence, slowly rising grins, and then blasts of laughter. Dad looks on in confusion until we explain.

Some recent examples;

"Let's make some of those marshmallow spores!!"

"I had to put it all into the three big, plastic kastanisters."

"This is a good song. What gentra is it?"

His sweet face while we laugh at him breaks my heart but I love it so so much.

Yucka Plucka

This winter!
I'm being held captive in my bedroom today. I'm being highly unproductive and possibly even a bit annoying to Mom who is downstairs painting trim. The city closed again today and while I welcome the "day off" I do not approve of the harsh and yucky conditions outside. So after rolling around a while and a pre-lunch nap (you heard me) I thought. "I'll do a blog post!"

So... did I ever tell you about my ukelele?

I'd been wanting to pick up a uke for a while now and my sweet folks surprised me with one for Christmas. Such a happy sound they make. The instrument- not my folks.

After coming back from Miami and before going back to work I spent a day with the little guy and learned a Beatles song and one of my favorite beach tunes by an Australian guy named Vance. But then life showed up and I haven't had much time to perfect my technique or finish learning my chords. I'm no natural but even the most basic strum makes my heart giggle a little. While I've yet to debut any artsy performances, I'll strum for my folks and the flat sound of my butterfingers slapping the wrong strings evokes pure, raw emotion from eager listeners.

I find myself so entertained by my flat notes and tangled fingers that I end up cackling my way through classics. But so long as I enjoy it...

I Can't Make A Decision

I've always been an indecisive person. Options and choices are detrimental to my peace of mind. They're like little gnats flying around my head and I can't run them off or swat them away. Action Dad has always been troubled by this quality of mine, completely oblivious to how I could just not know. "Just pick a crappin' restaurant."

The time it took me to choose dinner venues would rattle him to his core. "Pick one or were staying home!", he'd blurt out in a frenzy, while I battled inner turmoil at the thought of having to choose the dinner fate of three other people.

Normally my indecision comes from a place of oblivious contentment rather than a true opinion of any kind. I'm happy with anything. Pizza or burgers, action or comedy, atomic or locker-room wedgie. It all suits me just fine. I can't choose because nothing in my mind flags one option as a "preference". I wish it did. I wish I was more analytical. Which by the way, it occurred to me (about a year ago) that there is no, non-derogatory antonym to "analytical". This suggests that people who are in fact content not to analyze things are superficial, illogical, irrational, disorganized, or chaotic. Having analyzed and researched this idea thoroughly, I see nothing wrong with passing up on scrutiny, reviews, or evaluations. It's a "just be" thing I think. People can't just be. If you do you are lazy and irrational. But suppose you're just content?

Dad then began narrowing my choices down to two or three, assuming it would be helpful to lessen my options in order to make a decision. In turn this caused me more stress as I still had no preference and now was forced to find a restaurant that suited everybody's desires and I only had two choices. Eventually, I'd get frustrated and pick one and someone, every time, goes "Noooo! I just ate there." and then I'd feel guilty. This is precisely why I let the opinionated, analyzers in my life make all the decisions. 

Now, I do have a firm grasp on things I don't want or like. No school, no jobs, and no unnecessary responsibilities. This includes large payments of any kind, timely responses, and remembering the significant calendar days of other people. Also, not a huge fan spicy food. 

 Lately, I've been trying not only to decide what to do with my life but also what to do with my summer. I have say, three or four requirements and the kicker is that none of them can be all in the same place. So I have to pick. Can't decide which ones are more important. I've never had this much trouble deciding on the fun things in my life. Usually it's a lighthearted, somewhat spontaneous "Well alright!" and I just go. 

But I'm struggling this time and I think it's because I've been thinking about all of this for so long with no leads that I just don't care anymore. 

I just don't care.

But I sure do miss my dock time.

Can You Believe This Sky

It's like a painting. And it really looked like this. I haven't boosted the colors or anything.

What a treat in the middle in winter.

Everyone Hates Feelings...So Here. Read Mine.

Initially I had written here my thoughts on this past year. If you recall, I once stated that I never reflect upon my years past or personal growth of any kind. I'm a simple man see. But this last year was such a big festering downer that I simply couldn't ignore it. I had feelings this year and I didn't like it one bit. No wonder girls are always whining. So I thought I'd bring down your day a bit and tell you all about it but luckily for you I can't quite articulate feelings. While I can acknowledge their presence, I'm really not sure what they're trying to tell me, like the basket weavers down at the market or the gal at Taco Bell's drive-thru window.

What I do know is that I feel guilt over how well I know happiness. Those are feelings. I realized that
I rarely feel anger or real shame. I am not plagued by regrets, pained by the judgments of others, or preoccupied with my own bad memories. I happily forget most things by accident.

BUT last year was scary and frustrating. I am easily frustrated by things that don't contribute to my happiness and fear is the Beevis to my Butthead. Worse than those though, is that wistfully sad feeling you get from nostalgia or when something beautiful passes you by. These three things taunted me all year long. I felt sick, cancelled plans, bowed out, passed out, missed out, watched my friends move out, left my beautiful farm, and had several disheartening realizations. I said a lot of goodbyes last year and I acquired a sense of nausea that has yet to hit the road. Last year STANK.
I'd never thought me a weak person and while I think I know better, or perhaps I prefer denial, last year really hit me. Have I shown you my new patch of greys?

And after all that, I'm not sure I really learned anything, except that even when you feel like your body is definitely trying to die, you still won't. It's exhausting. I realized that I'm more of a bumbling idiot than I ever thought I was because who could have a year like that and come out exactly the same?

I'm a real jerky doofus.

In honor of that, here I have clips of the folks that did too good a job keeping me just the way I've always been. You'd think they help push me towards change or self-reflection but instead, we all just giggled. And danced. And probably this little video will bore you to tears but I have the biggest, jerky doofus smile on my face when I look back at all these precious people. Some of them you don't know but I was their (temporarily) fragile friend and they went to such trouble to care for me... and keep me in the shade.

Did Ya Hear That It Snowed?

I wanted to go outside and take some nice artsy snow pictures for you but GOSH that was cold. Budds and I took a few snapshots of the icy plants and then we ran back inside and cowered under blankets. Either way, our 2 inches of ice sent the city into a panicy uproar and the whole place shut down for two days. Stores ran out of red meat, firewood, and batteries. Schools were closed, bridges were shut down, and the Governor declared it a State of Emergency. I loved every minute of the Great Panic and spent my day alternating between naps and drinking hot cocoa.