B.
Or more specifically, Buh.
Jack made his first consonant sound today.
Maybe it's because we call him Bubbuhs (as in bubbles). Or maybe it's just the first consonant his mouth could figure out.
Either way.
Jack said Buh.
Friday, November 30, 2007
Monday, November 26, 2007
Friday, November 09, 2007
Monday, November 05, 2007
I try no to live under any illusions. Illusions are for magicians.
I'm reading about Rousseau and his Confessions, and basically (according to Paul Johnson), Rousseau was a hypocritical delusional liar who was totally insane (ahem) I mean mentally ill.
So I try to be honest with myself at all times. For one thing, it's a good way to know you're not insane (or chemically imbalanced). If you think your life is a certain way, and you're the only person who thinks it, you might want to re-examine a few things.
Know thyself. Or at least think about thyself once in a while.
It is in that vein that I consider everything in my life. What am I truly capable of? What should I not even consider? I'm not stunningly handsome, but I don't scare children. I'm not an Olympian, but I know my way around a batter's box. Never sell yourself short. But don't be delusional.
Like most things, it's about context. And we all live within numerous contexts: work, marriage, family, friends. Everything we do affects everyone in an ever diminishing circle. What I do affects my wife and son first and most significantly. That's as it should be.
So while I think I'm important, I have to remember to look at it objectively at all times (OK, once in a while, whenever possible.)
Penny is the one who makes the lists, doles out the chores and pays the bills. Penny is the motivator and the moral compass. Penny is the one who takes care of our son.
I'm the guy who brings in a little cash, changes the occasional diaper (and is a little too proud of himself for doing it) and gets stuff down from the higher shelf.
There's definitely room for improvement.
I'm reading about Rousseau and his Confessions, and basically (according to Paul Johnson), Rousseau was a hypocritical delusional liar who was totally insane (ahem) I mean mentally ill.
So I try to be honest with myself at all times. For one thing, it's a good way to know you're not insane (or chemically imbalanced). If you think your life is a certain way, and you're the only person who thinks it, you might want to re-examine a few things.
Know thyself. Or at least think about thyself once in a while.
It is in that vein that I consider everything in my life. What am I truly capable of? What should I not even consider? I'm not stunningly handsome, but I don't scare children. I'm not an Olympian, but I know my way around a batter's box. Never sell yourself short. But don't be delusional.
Like most things, it's about context. And we all live within numerous contexts: work, marriage, family, friends. Everything we do affects everyone in an ever diminishing circle. What I do affects my wife and son first and most significantly. That's as it should be.
So while I think I'm important, I have to remember to look at it objectively at all times (OK, once in a while, whenever possible.)
Penny is the one who makes the lists, doles out the chores and pays the bills. Penny is the motivator and the moral compass. Penny is the one who takes care of our son.
I'm the guy who brings in a little cash, changes the occasional diaper (and is a little too proud of himself for doing it) and gets stuff down from the higher shelf.
There's definitely room for improvement.
Friday, November 02, 2007
Today was awful; just plain shitty.
Frankly, it was one of the worst days I've had (emotionally) in easily over two years. Work blahblahblah, bills blahblahblah, people are idiots...you get the point. It's all there all the time, but today it all came together at once...the Perfect Shitstorm, if you will. I won't go into the details (I know - what kind of writer leaves out the details?) but suffice it to say, today sucked.
I came off the bus (a crowded bus smelling faintly of gasoline fumes, and not so faintly of stale fast food, and the farts of the guy sitting in front of me) to Penny and Jack, bundled together on a crisp November night, and Finley running in the park. He charged the fence at the sound of my voice and reared up excitedly, teetering on his back legs and waving his front paws at me in unison.
Instantly, I felt...better. Though it made none of my day's issues disappear, I was granted sudden perspective. A view that was soon to be amplified.
We watched Blood Diamond tonight. Not a great movie, but well done and worth seeing. Sure, it's preachy, and a little too predictable. But the message it preaches is real and the ending is satisfying (to whatever degree stories of death and war can be considered "satisfying.")
But for me, at least for today, the question of perspective was brought in to full blossom - fellow citizens are not cutting off the hands of my friends and family. No one I know is being imprisoned in forced labor camps. My son is fed, warm, safe to a degree that some parents around the world can not even conceive of.
When I wake up will things be perfect? I'm guessing no. (99 years and the Cubs still haven't won a World Series...what the hell am I complaining about?) But I will wake in a warm bed, throw on my robe, shuffle to the kitchen and marvel at the array of breakfast options available to me. I will see Penny and Jack, my wife and my son, and Finley sniffing around underfoot, and they will smile at me. Penny will tell Jack that daddy is up, and Fin will shuffle to me so I can rub his ears.
And I will ask myself again, what the hell do I have to complain about?
Frankly, it was one of the worst days I've had (emotionally) in easily over two years. Work blahblahblah, bills blahblahblah, people are idiots...you get the point. It's all there all the time, but today it all came together at once...the Perfect Shitstorm, if you will. I won't go into the details (I know - what kind of writer leaves out the details?) but suffice it to say, today sucked.
I came off the bus (a crowded bus smelling faintly of gasoline fumes, and not so faintly of stale fast food, and the farts of the guy sitting in front of me) to Penny and Jack, bundled together on a crisp November night, and Finley running in the park. He charged the fence at the sound of my voice and reared up excitedly, teetering on his back legs and waving his front paws at me in unison.
Instantly, I felt...better. Though it made none of my day's issues disappear, I was granted sudden perspective. A view that was soon to be amplified.
We watched Blood Diamond tonight. Not a great movie, but well done and worth seeing. Sure, it's preachy, and a little too predictable. But the message it preaches is real and the ending is satisfying (to whatever degree stories of death and war can be considered "satisfying.")
But for me, at least for today, the question of perspective was brought in to full blossom - fellow citizens are not cutting off the hands of my friends and family. No one I know is being imprisoned in forced labor camps. My son is fed, warm, safe to a degree that some parents around the world can not even conceive of.
When I wake up will things be perfect? I'm guessing no. (99 years and the Cubs still haven't won a World Series...what the hell am I complaining about?) But I will wake in a warm bed, throw on my robe, shuffle to the kitchen and marvel at the array of breakfast options available to me. I will see Penny and Jack, my wife and my son, and Finley sniffing around underfoot, and they will smile at me. Penny will tell Jack that daddy is up, and Fin will shuffle to me so I can rub his ears.
And I will ask myself again, what the hell do I have to complain about?
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