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like a big girl

Working on being strong.I guess it feels like dinner is so late because I’ve been home from work since around 3 o’clock today.

Yeah, I managed to sneak out and dial-in from the couch for the last couple hours (the boss was out the door just in front of me, and no doubt those who work for me continued the domino).  So, even though it’s only 7 o’clock now, the smell of the roast Sharaun’s got in the crock pot is making me feel like I’ve not eaten in days.  (Trust me, that’s not true at all… just today at lunch I had a burrito that I’m still surprised fit entirely into my insides.)

I gave up on TV hours earlier, switching on the holiday music channel on the satellite instead (I don’t have XM anymore, as I downgraded my TV package to the most basic levels allowed in some strange media protest slash money-saving scheme).  I took the time as an oppotunity to read the new Newsweek that came today… but sometimes news just ain’t where it’s at.  So, bored with that, I instead had a tickle-fight with Keaton.  That can always make a guy smile.

Lately, Keaton’s been coming into our room partway through the night and trying to get into bed with us.  Most times she’s successful, as either Sharaun or I will hoist her up by her armpits and nestle her in between us.  Some times, however, she doesn’t manage to wake either of us.  In these instances, she doesn’t simply give up and return to the comfort of her own bed… she just makes her own little bed right there on the floor next to ours.  No blankets; no pillow; no nothing.

In the middle of the night last week I woke up to find one of Keaton’s baby dolls next to me in bed.  Thinking it odd, and not remembering a baby doll in bed with me at the beginning of the night, I decided to think about it a bit.  “How on earth did Phoenix get here in bed with me?,” I pondered.  I sat up to get my brain working a bit better, and happened to look down.  There, huddled in on herself in a fetal position, was Keaton.  Sleeping on the carpet about two feet below me.

I got out of bed and scooped her up, rousing her a bit.  “Keaton, how long have you been here?,” I asked her, sliding her cold little body under the comforter in our bed.  She mumbled something, but not an answer.  Then, as I took my place next to her, she lifted her head and asked me in her little sleepy voice, “But Dad, did you feel me touch your arm?”  “No baby, no I didn’t.”  Awwww man, I felt bad: Here she had tried to wake me, wanting to join us in our bed, and I hadn’t responded.  So, like a faithful dog, she simply curled up as close next to me as she could.  (Is it wrong to compare your daughter to a dog?)

Anyway, I felt bad.  But, I know that, in the long run, we have stop letting her into bed with us.  I have to admit it’s hard to do, I really like knowing she’s there next to me – sometimes she even puts her little hand on my arm or shoulder, or cuddles her head up to my face.   Alas, as much as I like her being there with us – I don’t want it to become an every night thing.  So, Sharaun and I agreed this morning to take a harder line next time she toddles in clutching Laka or Claudia or Emilia… time to go back to your own bed, like a big girl.

Wish us luck.  Goodnight.

Posted on

desert island iPod

Light me up.Tuesday night and the week creeps along on creaky wheels, just a rusted axle away from a breakdown and a gear above reverse… it’s a sorry sight to behold – a lame animal limping towards death.

Sorry for all the negativity lately… work really has me wound up.  I’m throwing silk darts at moving targets, waiting around to do some more waiting around, and trying to build a house on sand.  Hopefully things will solidify in the new year – because despite my normal tolerance for dawdling, this is absolutely draining my soul.  I have faith that the coming week with my folks in town will lift my spirits – so Mom and Dad I’m counting on you.

Sometimes I think my iPod is endowed with the divine.  Seriously, I love to sit back and marvel at the eclectic library I’ve built on this 160GB device.  I put so much stock in the thing, it’s literally become a piece of technology I’d hate to live without; akin to such commonplace conveniences as credit-card purchases and the telephone.  I’m so cloven to this device, that I often find myself thinking about absurd situations involving it.

For instance, you don’t know how many times I’ve imagined myself as the Tom Hanks character in Castaway, my aircraft crashing into the sea and later finding myself washed up on a deserted shoreline.  In my head, my iPod was in my pocket at the time and survives the saltwater bath… whereupon my mind turns to how I can now figure a way to use it on my new island home.

Believe it or not, I have actually done real-life research online in all of the following areas as related to the survival scenario described above:

  • Wave-powered DC generator (I only need 5V/~1A… now to find some natural magnets and wire…)
  • How to make a battery (save some of that power for later)
  • iPod connector pinout (to see what voltage I need to power the thing and where to apply it)
  • How to make speakers (would be nice to rock the island while I’m at work doing things like building huts and whatnot)

Yeah, I’m that serious about the absolute necessity of an iPod as a survival tool – it’s that essential.  Because, after keeping myself alive – first priority would be getting some tunes to motivate me in my raft-building.

I guess… I don’t have much more for tonight.  Think I’ll watch a few episodes of I Love Lucy and wait for Sharaun to get home.  Goodnight.

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tumbleweeds and me

Work is slow.Cold and rainy where we make our home this week; snow just a few hundred feet higher up the hill.

Saturday I forced Sharaun to be complicit in one of my cleaning/organizing jags, and we tore through dusty closet shelves, cluttered and overspilling bedside drawers, and under-bed catacombs.  And, after shifting storage locations for an innumerable amount of useless junk, we managed to actually rid ourselves of a good bit and better hide the rest.  Sunday night I made hot cocoa and we rented a movie.

Keaton awoke that day from her nap and was burning up, carried a fever throughout the night.  She was running hot off and on all Monday, but we keep it down by dosing her with Motrin.  Even when that girl’s got a high fever, she’s bright and bubbly – the day she ever gets really sacked by a cold is the day I’ll be worried.

You know… I’ve never had much need for country music, but if you read here with an regularity you likely remember me softening quite a bit on that position over the last half of this year.  Think of it as a “country awakening” or something; my personal realization that almost no genre or style of music is, in a wholesale sense, “bad.”  Well, I suppose there are exceptions – death metal being the one coming to mind.

Anyway… as the year turns colder and greyer, and the doldrums I’ve been navigating at work persist daily – I’ve decided that some good, solid country crying music suits my mood quite well.  Explains my recent wont for the earlier works of Waylon, Willie, Merle, and the like.  Some of these whiskey-soaked ballads just “click” during downtimes like these… guess country is good for something after all, eh?

The aisles at work are already showing early signs of Christmas evacuation, even ten days out.  It’ll only get worse (or better, depending) as this week works its way into the short one following.  I like it, actually, because it affords me an opportunity to get some work done without interruption.  And, being honest, it also makes for a great “sneaking out early” environment.

When it’s just the tumbleweeds and me holding down the sawmill, I don’t feel as guilty about heading for the homestead to finish the day remotely from the couch and spend some time with Sharaun and Keaton.  A wise manager once told me not to “waste” vacation time on Christmas, advising that most of our customers and we too effectively “shut down” around the holidays – making for some great “short days.”  Since we usually head south for Christmas, this’ll be the first year I’ll actually get to try that advice.  I so desperately need some “don’t care” time, I pray the advice is sound.

Until tomorrow then, wish me luck at shirking work, K?  Goodnight.

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just me, huh?

And, a week later...

Thursday night: Comes before Friday; comes before the weekend; comes after too much week beforehand more often than not.

Finally got our Christmas tree done tonight; no more boxes littering the living room, no more half-strung lights, no more furniture where it shouldn’t be.  I actually managed to put back in the garage most of the stuff I took down out of the garage last weekend, which leaves the place looking  semi put-together, as far as Christmas spirit goes.  Keaton helped with the ornaments, and actually did a great job… check the tree there to the right there.

I’m getting really excited now for a “family” Christmas and, with my folks coming into town next weekend, it’s not too far off now.  It’s hard for me to believe that another year has gone by… and we’re still here, happily hoeing our row.  Well, maybe when it comes to the row-hoeing, my mind drifts a bit more lately… but I suppose that’s something normal.  Right?  I mean… you guys sometimes think about dropping everything you know to go run a diner on 66 somewhere, right?  No?  Just me, huh?

Lastly, I upgraded to WordPress v2.7 today – and really like the new backend.  So far I haven’t noticed anything broken on the frontend, where you’d see it – but do let me know if you find something amiss with your sounds familiar experience.

Goodnight.

Posted on

home it is

Hi.  This space is where I write on the internet.  Below is a sampling of some of that writing.  You can read it if you want, and it may even change on some days.

I know people tend to skip the paragraph when I talk about music, and that’s fine really… I don’t have a gun.  But, for my sake, I’d ask you sometimes try to muddle through – I often bury very real commentary in there.  Sometimes some of my favorite bits of writing I do are some of the talk-ups I’ve done for this record or that song.  Again, you don’t have to like what I like, or even like what don’t like, or even anything at all – I still don’t have a gun.  That said, here’s a paragraph on music.

I really never thought I’d like this Bon Iver album everyone’s been conferring sainthood upon over the last half of the year.  Turns out, while it’s not gonna top my list, it’s actually really good.  Maybe it’s that the lonely unaccompanied guitar and soft double-tracked vocals are speaking to the general melancholy I’ve been mired in the past month (self-imposed or not).  Instrumentally it’s built of twigs, but tunefully it’s strong as steel – something that’s sometimes hard to do without getting stuck sounding like some Mazzy Star wrist-slitting dirge.  What’s more, it lends itself well to the cold weather (which may be exacerbating that melancholy, come to think of it) – so it fits well with the clouds and morning fog.  I like it; I really do.  At least it’ll hold me until Merriweather Post Pavilion leaks…

Evenings lately I’ve been spending my post-work time helping out as a backstage guy for our church’s Christmas production (I attach little microphones to peoples’ ears, tape them down to their faces, and tuck the transmitter packs somewhere conspicuous in their costumes).  I’ve actually enjoyed the post-work “work” quite a bit, I never was much of a “drama” guy in school – and watching the people work (it is a full production, quite serious business to a novice like me) while safely in the wings has been interesting and fun.  I haven’t got to see Keaton but for in the early morning before work the past few days, but tonight was the last night of rehearsal so I’m released until the actual show nights at this point.  I know, you’re thinking, “Dave, spending your evenings at church doesn’t sound much like you.”  Yeah, well, maybe it doesn’t… but, then again, maybe it will.

I know I’ve written about it before… but I love the random urge to just “keep driving.”  You know, the moment when, as you’re driving along the highway homeward, you start thinking, “What if I just sped right past my exit and didn’t look back?”  I thought that the other day, imagining Sharaun and Keaton in the car with me.  Just drive on… right into the horizon.  Sleep where you get tired, eat where you get hungry, and stop where you please.  Maybe visit long-lost relatives, or national parks, or just the open road.  Just drive on… put something good and long on the stereo and settle in.  I guess I’d have to stop somewhere tho… and home really is the best place I know, so… home it is.

Goodnight.

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optioning tradition

Another hump-day.  Right now I’m simply counting down until my folks get here.  I’m actually not taking any “true” vacation while they’re in town, but I have high hopes that work’ll be light enough that I can phone it in for a good portion of the time.  End of year is typically quiet, so cross your fingers for me.  OK, go.

A couple of bloggers I read regularly lately wrote nice little bits about what they termed “Christmas tradition.”  I found their timing (while ultimately probably predictable, taking into account the season) quite, well, timely.  See, Sharaun and I had decided that, with Keaton nearing an astounding three years old (proof, in my opinion, that time is a cruel, cruel thing), it’s time we started a Christmas tradition that’s based around our little family.

Mostly this just means that we’re going to try and do Christmas at our home and not travel each year.  It was a hard choice, as we both love being with extended family – holidays or not – but I think it’s a good choice.  Now, neither of us is opposed to traveling on occasion, but for the general case I think we’re going to start doing Christmas at-home.  Of course, family can come to us – that would be great – and, in fact, this year my folks are going to celebrate Christmas at our house, which will, I think, be the first time since way back in college I’ll have been able to wake up on Christmas morning with them there (neat).  But, again, an at-home Christmas as a family is something I feel is important, and that’s the real goal here.

So, Sharaun’s been in charge of getting us some family-type Christmas traditions.  Sounds funny to say we’re “creating” or “starting” tradition – but, really, what else is it?  A young family with no history of the time together and a need to inject something static to build memories and enjoy the occasion.  I’m not really sure what she’s got planned, and we are in fact marching closer and closer to the holiday with nothing established as-yet.

To be fair, we did just get back from our Thanksgiving vacation late last week, and our tree is still in some 25%-done state due to busy evenings and busier days (boxes and Christmas flotsam currently litter our living room, and, as much as I love the holiday, the mess is killing me).  We hope to have things up and cleaned by the weekend – but who knows; things need to at least be in cheery Christmas order by the time my folks arrive, I say.  And, if we’re diligent, we should be working on establishing some Christmas rigor for the family to boot.  Let’s hope.

Anyway, I think it’s interesting to hear bloggers of a similar age and family-status mulling the same things.  Perhaps there’s hope for our generation after all, and maybe we won’t end up a bunch of MTV and reality-TV –suckled ne’re-do-wells.

Nothing more today, I’m out.  Goodnigh.t

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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.