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that footworn path

Happy workweek-fifty, fellow serfs.

Were we not destined by our birth-caste to labor as we do, we might now be napping in an open field or floating in cool water.  Yet, here we are; running the race, pulling the millstone along that footworn path.

The weekend, at least, however, held promise – as our alma mater pushed forward to SEC victory and now awaits the national championship game next month.  So, that, in part, lifted my spirits.  But with the return to work tomorrow, my mind will no doubt once again return to those ten days in Florida…

And, speaking of Florida, I’ve a funny story to relate now that it’s fresh on the mind.

While there staying with Sharaun’s folks, Keaton shared a bedroom with us, sleeping on a neat little “pop-up” cot thing on the floor.  And, even though we worried she wouldn’t sleep well with us in the room (I snore, after all), it turned out to be no problem at all.  In fact, I ended up liking it a lot – feeling somehow “closer” to her being able to sit up slightly and watch her sleep; having her climb into our bed occasionally (although I don’t think I’d like her having the option at will).  Also, it was just a good feeling to have the whole “family” packaged together in a single living space… you know me and my pioneer fantasies… maybe I likened it to some imagined one-room homestead.

Also by virtue of our vacation cosleeping arrangements, we learned that Keaton suffers from more than just one of Daddy’s nighttime eccentricities.  See, just like Dad, it seems she’s also taken to talking in her sleep.  Yup, sure enough we heard her chattering away some dreamy nonsense almost every single night.  Since I’m not a very light sleeper, I only managed to hear the loudest and clearest of these episodes, but Sharaun assured me she did it pretty regularly even when I didn’t catch it.

Of what I did hear though, the following exchange made me realize even more how much of her Dad’s daughter my little angel really is.  Check it:

Mmmm… grrrmmphh… No… I need to cook the pizza rolls…

Errrmmm… sssss…. I need to cook the pizza rolls!!

Gaaaaahh… Hey… where are my pizza rolls?…. ffffmmmm….

Clear as a bell my little baby was talking out-lout during her dream of, what I assume, was pizza rolls.  For those who know how beholden I am to the Godsend that is pizza rolls this should bring a smile.  The sleep-funk, the sleep-babbling, and apparently a great taste in bad-for-you finger foods: all things the good Lord has allowed to pass from my to her.  Poor girl.

No apologies for my rigor of writing this week, I’m gonna do what feels right and that’s what I’ll do.  Goodnight, and I hope we get to do this again soon.

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counting the hours

Last night in Florida; this one’ll be a dirge.

We went to dinner with the family, sans a couple members who are down and out with a stomach bug.  We got together with a friends from years past who we haven’t seen in years (and, our kid played with the kids of our friends, in a series of surreal “Oh crap, I’m totally old” moments).  Sharaun and I even split up one night to canvas acquaintances, since we’ve got so many folks we like hanging with down here.

All in all though, and I know I’ve said this as many times as I’ve written over the past few Florida days, the visit felt as long as it was – which is actually a good thing, as we often end up feeling like we had too little time, even though the days numbered enough.

And now, back at the inlaws’ rambling ranch-style Florida, built strong in the old days with cinderblock and copper pipe and thick walls, Pop-pop started a fire to push the cold air back outside.  That’s right: It’s cold tonight in Florida.  In fact, the news said lows in the upper 30s, I think.  For the central Florida coast – that’s chilly.  It’s a pungent coastal oak burning, but the chimney has a good draft and all we get is a slow-moving comfy warmth.  Keaton’s fascinated by the fire, which isn’t entirely unexpected given her lineage.  Upon returning home, sated and loose, we all took turns warming while staring into the flames – it’s primal, you know, staring at fire… in our blood from those very first days.

It’s comfortable here; I’m beginning to wish we could stay longer still… because, really, what’s to get back to?

But, reality calls… it’s back to work on Thursday, and I won’t lie and say I haven’t been checking e-mail on the iPhone – because I have.  Even sent a response or five hither and thither.  It’s hard for me not too, I’m so connected to the place… umbilically tied to the sawmill, stuck at its teat even when away.  With the holiday week, doesn’t look like I missed much – so the ramp back into things shouldn’t be that bad.  Although, returning to the mill alone will surely defeat my vacationing spirit; just suck it right out and stomp on it.

And with that I think I’ll hang up the hat for tonight.  With thoughts of one more morning of Florida sun to wake to, we bid you adieu.  Goodnight.

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spurned by santa

The molasses pace of this week and a half is more than I could ask for.  Every day I wake up thinking it’s a day later than it really is, and am pleasantly surprised when I realize the error.  So, when today was Monday as I rose, and I realized we’re down to our last two days – it was something of bummer.  But, let’s move on from all the talk of vacation-end and get on to some talk of vacation-happenings.

The other night we took a short walk down to the city park near Sharaun’s folks’ place.  It’s located smack in the middle of the historic shopping district here, and the city has done considerable work over the past ten years or so really shaping the place up.  In fact, it looks really good down there – and the crowds drawn to the park, temporary ice-skating rink (yes, in Florida), shops and food seem to show that the work has paid off.  We’ve walked the short mile or so down there a couple times already this trip, and each time have really enjoyed letting Keaton run around in the park and strolling the shoplined avenues.

This particular night, however, we were there right before dinner and the light was beginning to dwindle.  As we played in the park, we began to notice a man setting up lights around a sleigh sitting central to the goings-on.  Sure enough, Mr. Claus himself showed up for pictures with kiddies just as we were getting ready to make the walk back home.  When Keaton saw him, she absolutely lit up.  She looked at me, looked at mom, looked back to Santa – and just stood there struck like a stone, mouth open and wide-eyed.  I finally said to her, “Do you want to go say ‘hi’ to Santa?”  “Yeah!,” she squealed as she tore off in his direction.

There were several kids flocked around Santa, and she sort of sidled up alongside them in the back row and just stared up at him in awe.  Eventually, the throng thinned and she had a clear shot at him.  She stared right up and him and said, “Hi Santa!”  Only, she said it sort of smallish and demurely, since that’s just how our girl is.  Unfortunately, Santa did not hear her salutation, and instead turned his back to her to talk to some other kids.  At that, Keaton waited there a minute, wringing her hands, and the walked back to me with the sorriest, saddest look on her face I’ve ever seen.  When she got to me, she said, “He didn’t answer me,” in the most forlorn little voice.

I was absolutely heartbroken; felt crushed right along with her.

Trying quick to recover, Sharaun and I both said something along the lines of, “It’s OK baby, he just didn’t hear you that time.  Go on back over and say ‘hello’ to him a little louder this time so he can hear, OK?”  With a little prodding, she walked slowly back over and found another opening for some one-on-one time.  This time, Santa saw her first and stooped to speak to her.  As he did, she was excited, but I could still see the reluctance in her eyes from his initial spurning.  When she came back, she was a lot happier, but I could tell she still had some misgivings about this Santa guy.

Later that night, as I was putting her to sleep I asked her, “Wasn’t it fun meeting Santa today?”  “Yeah,” she said, and her voice turned frost cold and sad, “But… he didn’t answer the first time.”  I about bust out into tears right then and there.  Poor girl.

Sorry for the sob story… I promise it’s not indicative of the week.  In fact, we’ve had a fantastic time – and I suppose I should’ve chosen to relate a funny story instead, but that one stuck with me as something that might “blog” well.

For now, I’m outta here.  Holler at you guys later, OK?

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Happy Thanksgiving!

Just a quick-tap from the iPhone to wish everyone a good day of thanks.

For me, I’m thankful for this moment of respite with family, and am trying not to think about getting back to the grind.

Enjoy.

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knocking the dust off

After a nice break from writing while we eased into Florida, I just wanted to stop by and knock the dust off sounds familiar.

So far, our trip to the balmy South has been just as I’d imagined.  Even as we met our ride at the airport and I took those first few breaths of sticky, clean, Florida air – I knew it would be a good week.  And, what’s better,  I haven’t felt that driven to write (you may find yourself asking, “Gee, what’s new Dave?,” but in reply to that I would tell you sternly to “Shut your mouth, smartypants.”).  I figured, however, that I better log on and say something lest folks think our plane wound up in the drink and thought us lost forever.  (Not so.)

Last night we met up with my oldest and bestest friend for a couple beers and two regret-consuming-even-while-consuming cigarettes.  Was a good time, trading stories to bring each other up to date on current goings-on and asking after family and old friends.  We hope to meet up with more long-lost friends as our time winds on this week, and have put out feelers to try and make sure we can do so.  At our age, we can actually use the pretense of “getting the kids together” to catch up with folks we haven’t seen in years and years and years (do we need pretense?).

Well, already this whole blogging thing is bringing me down… feeling tied to writing and such.  So, I’m gonna cut it loose here and give these scant paragraphs to the world before signing off.  I’m pretty sure I’ll do it again tomorrow, as the lazy, gluttonous pace of the holiday usually makes for a good writing mood.

Until then I hope you got where you’re going and with who you’re gonna be with for tomorrow’s day of thanksgiving.  Take care internet.

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looking south

Once upon a time, Spanish explorers flocked to the humid, flat swampland that is our current state of Florida in search of a fabled “fountain of youth.”

Now, near five-hundred years later, this Californian explorer is heading there in a day with similar goals in mind.

Not that I’d like to rewind my life, but rather that I’m looking forward to the restorative power that the Southern state has come to represent to me.  The older I get, and the longer away from the place I’ve been, the more I come to relish our time there.  The weather, the pace, the family and friends, the familiarity… the religion. And, on the other side of the coin, all the “nots” that go along with it being completely separated and across the country from home. Home with all its trappings of work and responsibility and stress.

There’s something about the air down there, like breathing water, like a having a nice steam.  There’s something about the people down there, sitting at Sharaun’s grandmother’s dinner table in the morning sharing coffee or catching a nap in my father-in-law’s chair.  More importantly, there’s something about me down there… something that relaxes inside me, something that either turns off or turns on – I’m not sure.  Whatever it is, I’ve come to almost idealize the place… and I look forward to spending time there more and more. This coming trip being no different – I’m ready to pack right now and get on a plane.

Let’s go; let’s go; let’s go.

Goodnight.

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flying, early

Hello Tuesday.

Sunday night I feel asleep on the couch around 8pm, so Sharaun tells me.  All I remember is her waking me around 11pm – I was really out, woke covered in sweat (an unfortunate byproduct of the first few hours of sleep for me).  It’s not like me to crash like this, but the extended slumber really felt great.

Anyway, you can blame that for the lack of writing last night.

My brain of late has been turning to our coming vacation, so much so that thoughts of getting out of Dodge on that appointed day had started to overtake my brain.  Combined with this, work has been in a strange limbo-like state for the past week, with ambiguity and uncertainty as the overriding theme each day.  It’s become somewhat of a drag, bringing me down by the end of each day and sending me home soured for the evening.

And so it was yesterday that I turned to the airline’s website to see if there might not be a comparably priced earlier flight to Florida.  Turns out there were tickets available at less than half what I payed when I bought our flights earlier this year, and they came with a four day extension our our five day vacation.  And, even after paying a whopping $300 in “change fees,” the airline owed us $240.

So, I’m happy to say we’ll be outta here earlier than planned and back later than planned, and will do it all for much less than we planned too – not much more you can ask for from a vacation modification…

It can’t come soon enough.  Goodnight.