I texted a friend

I was impressed that her daughter was playing so well with my daughters. They were upstairs by themselves, quiet, no running around, no wild behavior.

She texted me back and told me that her daughter loves my girls. She thinks of them as sisters. I told all three girls that I was proud of them for being so good and having so much fun together. It was a lovefest.

My daughters laughed. I asked them why that was funny. My oldest said they were all quiet because they were upstairs taking turns putting on Fin’s diapers and peeing in them.

They’re all grounded now.

Friday night and Saturday morning, via Tuesday, rushing through the points

The day started in cancer care. Concerns were quickly brushed away. I don’t need to tell you we were ecstatic. We drove away so happy, we traded our van for a new ride. We went to lunch and had celebratory beers at one of our favorite restaurants. On the way home, we got a call that our good friends had to put their dog down that day. Monkeywrench; they were watching our kids. There was going to be an awkward exchange and some smoothing over of sad feelings while we had dinner together later. There was talk of postponing the meal to another night. The couple would have none of it. Being alone in their house would remind them that they just lost their dog. There were tears. There were beers. Another couple joined us. There were more tears this time as the evening ended with them fighting. It was an odd day.

Next morning, same families, same hurt feelings, same loss and sadness. My daughter had an epic lack of sleep meltdown that ended with me making her write ten times what she did wrong and then apologize individually to all her friends with a smile on her face. She did it, but there were more tears. The ladies went to a charity event while the boys took the kids to swim at the pool. We sat and drank coffee and watched the kids. We mused about the night before and how things are sometimes brought out by strange events, and how the ups and downs keep you rolling.

We all went out to lunch together. We didn’t plan it, but it was lunchtime, and we we were all hungry. We had beers and another great time. Then, we split for a couple hours while the kids took naps, and were right back at the same place again for dinner. Sausage on the grill, s’mores, a bonfire, more beer. We found out our friends’ neighbor was someone who worked with the doctors when our son was in the hospital. We laughed at the fact that we had just had breakfast, lunch, and dinner together. It wasn’t funny, really, it was amazing. These kind of friends are the best.

another stupid story from the bar

A woman and a man, husband and wife, sit together, having a meal.

Woman: Everyone’s on Facebook these days.

Man: Oh, yeah?

Woman: I bet even you’re on it and you don’t even know it.

Man: I doubt that.

Woman: Well, did I tell you about my new Facebook friends?

Man: No, you didn’t.

Woman: I friend requested Paul McCartney and he confirmed.

Man: Really?

Woman: So I friend requested his son. Just yesterday, he confirmed, too.

Man: Is that so?

Woman: Yes, so I friend requested his wife, too. And I didn’t expect a response because she’s dead.

Man: Did she confirm?

Woman: Why, yes she did! A confirmed friend request from beyond the grave!

Man: I doubt it’s really her.

Woman: Well, I’m just saying everybody is on Facebook.

Man: Even dead people, it seems.

truthful Tuesday

We have a fridge with access to ice cubes in the door. I can never get all the ice cubes into a container when I use it. Every time I think I’ve done it right, I turn around, and a rogue ice cube comes flying out and hits the floor. It’s maddening.

I got called Sheldon twice last week, solidifying my decision never to watch The Big Bang Theory. I’m a spaz, yes, but an entertaining one, apparently.

One of my best friends used to say that he could never date a woman who was not beautiful from every angle. I scoffed at this notion, choosing to take the path of realism, but then watched as he dated a bunch of girls who were, in fact, stunning from every angle. I don’t know how he did it. Then, he married a girl who I did not find attractive from any angle.

I didn’t wear my wallet in my back pocket all day yesterday. I liked that. I think I’m trying to divorce my wallet. I kept it nearby, because I tend to freak out when I don’t know where it is, and I do frequent key checks even when I’m driving, but it’s nice not to have that fat lump under my butt cheek all day.

You guys know my son, right? Well, he rocks. Good news just keeps coming in. Over a week with no supplemental oxygen, and now the osteopathic surgeon who was curious about his development in learning to walk said he expects Fin to have no troubles. We’re not going to intervene, just let him do his own thing. That feels pretty great.

I posted the same song for the end of April last year that I did this year. I’m slipping. It’s a great song, though, and many of you hadn’t heard it, so fine, I repeated myself. I don’t mind posting the same song twice I just wish I did it on purpose. Saying otherwise would be untruthful.

Five For Friday

My daughters call me “Internet Boy” when I’m on tumblr in the morning. Pfft.

I have a wager going at work with a Chicago fan, should the Spurs and Bulls meet in the Finals. Dinner is on the line.

Last night was dress rehearsal for tonight’s middle school talent show. Tonight is the real deal. Based on what we saw last night, my group of friends decided that there will be drinking both before and after the performance. Because the use of a flask is frowned upon in schools.

I had to change my son’s diaper in the middle of the night. He had a big ol’ boner. I’m gonna be 100% honest with you here. I’ve never touched another boner before. It felt just like I expected. And I’m not anxious to do it again.

I think the biggest difference between online friends and real life friends is only that I’ve seen more of you with fewer clothes.

Have a wonderful Friday, friends.

digital obligation

When I started my Tumblr account, I loved the secrecy. The anonymity. The discovery of like-minded people in the world who were people I didn’t know. No more trying to convince my friends and cousins and family members that this cool new artist made the best album of the year. No more funny stories told only to my Facebook friends about the dragonfly that climbed into my pocket in the parking lot of the Mexican restaurant. No more living in the shadow of my son’s illness. It was like starting over.

I found a whole new arena of artwork, musical discussions, shared experiences, pain, love, support and understanding here. Tumblr is a place I don’t talk about to everyone. But there are a few people in my life, people I write about occasionally on here or who have read all my old Facebook notes and Myspace blogs, people I respect and who have been present for important aspects of my life, that I wanted to include in the process. This a small group. I sent them links to my Tumblr. I don’t regret it.

However, it has become clear to me that there is a certain digital obligation to following from outside that I’ve never really considered. I am present here in Tumblrland, more than anywhere else on the internet. I used to think that Facebook validated things to a degree. You like something, you don’t REALLY like it until you like it on Facebook. You are friends with someone, you aren’t REALLY their friend until you’re their Facebook friend. Want a coupon? Saw it on Facebook. Going to that birthday party? Not if you didn’t get the Facebook invite. You get the idea.

Truth is, I’ve neglected that place, for better or worse. I have a glut of messages and weekend plans and ignored birthdays and friend suggestions and tags and requests and recommendations and everything else over there. I stopped checking it every day. I gave up on my end of the digital obligation. For some people, this is the only way they communicate to me about the things they read on Tumblr, the place I exist, digitally speaking. The mistake is not in sharing with the people I know outside Tumblr, which is what originally bothered me about being here without them, but in failing to be there instead of here when they reached out and responded to me.

I’ve got to get my digital head out of my digital ass.

Five Things Friday

My son was restless last night. Awake from 3-5 am. So that means I was, too. But then I woke up at 6:00, and it wasn’t completely dark, daylight was breaking, so that was nice. I got up and made coffee and a fire and was ready to jump online. I needed to post a song, check the NBA scores, make some replies, and I was already up an hour later than normal. My middle daughter came downstairs and tugged my shirt and asked if we could play Dora checkers.

You know what I did.

I saw thatguyles (sorry, thisguyles) post this morning about honesty. I thought it was an excellent, thought-provoking post. And it hit home, as my wife and I had a talk this week, specifically about my Tumblr. I told her it was an open book, and I tried to write it as such, as if anyone I knew could read it. And she agreed that it was. But she and I hadn’t talked about it. And as underwhelmed posted this week and then disappeared, I’ve often felt incomplete while being here and being so free without her. I’m going to tone it down. It’s only fair. That does not mean I won’t be posting as much, or not being honest with you all, because I feel I always am. I just better behave, especially with SST and STM. I owe it to everyone, especially my wife.

Is every store between work and home out of cinnamon donuts every single day? If I don’t get a box of powdery goodness pretty soon, along with a large pint can of Coke, I’m probably going to come unglued. It won’t be pretty.

In Maine, we have two kinds of people. Natives and people from away. I’m a native, but all my friends are transplants. This doesn’t bother me. I know how it happened. I moved to a different town. As far as the natives of that town are concerned, I might as well be from away, even in my own state. Jeesum Crow.

My wife just called and said our tax return is here. She told me to go to the Mermaid after work. Have a beer. Or three. I definitely will.

Today marks the anniversary of one of my best friends and his wife

They got married in ‘97 in Philadelphia and I was the best man. So I piled into a car with his three brothers and all our girlfriends and we drove to Philly.

I didn’t really know his bride-to-be that well, and I still don’t, but he was happy and they were young and that was all that mattered. We arrived that first night, and there was the awkward meeting of family and folks I’d never seen before and would never see again, including Pappy the old senile grandfather and the entire bridesmaid party made up of cousins. Then we found our rooms and split up into who we were bunking with and got ready for the rehearsal dinner.

My girlfriend at the time was uncomfortable and antisocial and exasperated with me, and I don’t blame her. I wouldn’t have wanted to be in her shoes, rooming with a bunch of people she didn’t know, and finding out that her boyfriend was the goofball of his old crew. Ah, well. My parents said before we left that this trip would either tear us apart or make us closer. We looked at each other as if to say either was fine.

The night of the bachelor party involved lots of shots of whiskey and some Cubans on the roof of a parking garage. The groom’s college buddy obtained them for us somehow and we partook of them with great zest. I honestly don’t remember much after my first few drinks and puffs, or how I even got back to my hotel room.

But I did, and the next day was the wedding. My girlfriend spent most of her time reading or swimming and I was busy with wedding party stuff. My friend getting hitched took all of us aside and whipped out a beard trimmer. He told us we didn’t have to shave but we had to look presentable by evening. We spent the afternoon watching movies on HBO and messing with our facial hair and trying on our tuxes and decorating each other in Christmas ribbons.

Then the time of the wedding arrived and we made our way down the stairs into the dark library of the supposedly haunted inn. There was some new age incense burning and a peacock feather and my friend getting married cried. It was a short and lovely ceremony, and then we went outside with The Cousins and had our pictures taken.

After that, it was party time. I proceeded to get blitzed with my friends and my girlfriend met an old girlfriend of mine and they both spoke French and hit it off great, and another friend from high school showed up with his pregnant girlfriend and we drank some more. I had to give a toast and I’m sure I messed it up because I was hammered before we even had dinner. Then I somehow ended up with the girdle and my girlfriend ended up with the bouquet, so I had to stick the girdle up her leg. My inhibitions were blasted at that point, and I vaguely remember the emcee nervously announcing to the crowd that we were dating. Yeah, all the way up. Good luck, good night, best wishes, you’re welcome.

Then there was the after party which involved a cab ride into the city for more beer and drunken pushups that ended with the groom’s brother breaking his nose on the hotel room floor. That was a bummer because we had to leave for home the next day and he was our driver. I’ll never forget his bloody nose, hungover stick-shift drive through New York City. 

When we did finally get home, the girlfriend and I were all right. We watched Austin Powers and made plans to get together on New Year’s Eve. We did, and we drank beer and played cribbage with her sisters and some friends from college but it was nowhere near the party that was the wedding.

Speaking of friends

We had some good friends over this weekend. Their daughter is in my daughter’s class, but she didn’t come. She was spending the night at a friend’s house. This friend is my daughter’s BEST friend. We didn’t tell her why her friend didn’t come over. There will be fallout.

Speaking of falling out, the mom had breast cancer and her left breast was removed and she seemed very eager to show off her reconstructed “bionic boob”. A couple more drinks, and I’m pretty sure there would have been a show.

Speaking of drinks, I bought a Shipyard Captain’s Collection which was supposed to last me until I got paid again and her husband drank almost all of the beer himself. I had a few, but he kept going back to the fridge again and again and I didn’t want to say anything, but, dang. I have on IPA left to last me until my next paycheck.

Speaking of paychecks, my wife babysits kids after school during the week and she and I split her check from one family just to buy gas for the week. We have enough money to pay the bills, but some weeks are tighter than others and some parents don’t pay my wife on time for watching their kids.

Speaking of those kids, I overheard a cute little boy in the background while I was on the phone with my wife. He said, “When you put your finger in your butt, it smells like poop.”

Speaking of poop, I farted in church yesterday and blamed my son.

Segermullet out!

I went away for three days and two nights

It was a mini-reunion with some college friends. We went to a cabin on a lake near our school, just ten guys carrying sleeping bags, a bunch of meat and beer, and a ton of memories. There was a sign hanging in the cabin that said, “What happens at the lake stays at the lake.” And that will mostly be true, mainly because it was so precious and personal to the people in attendance, but also because for the ten friends that went, it was a truly special weekend.

I hadn’t seen some of those guys in a dozen years. Everyone was a little fatter, a little grayer, or a little balder. Some of us were all of the above. We were older, no question about it. We sat in rocking chairs on the porch that first night and drank honey mead and reminisced. It was going to be a wild night of no responsibility and intoxication and foolishness, but instead, for the early arrivals, it was a quiet night of reflection and a lot of genuine laughter. We sat by the fire until way past midnight and drank very little and caught up on everything that had happened since we last saw each other.

First thing Saturday morning, The Loon was up making coffee, eggs, and bacon. Then he went for a bike ride and a swim in the lake while Stick and Sugar Bear and I rolled out of bed late. Firebug was out in the yard again, cranking up yet another fire, even as the sun sent glittering sparkles across the surface of the lake. The musical instruments came out, Stick played guitar while Firebug cycled through the banjo, the ukulele and guitar. They picked out “Dueling Banjos” while we laughed and soaked in the September sunshine.

Then the other five showed up and the vibe completely changed. It got a lot more rowdy, a lot more rambunctious and crazy. More like college as I remember it. Beaver and The Nutt rode in with Honey Badger, who grilled chicken and threw a whole pork butt on to char while the beers were popped and cheers went all around. The Professor and Wang showed up, looking like lithe, fit twins. We sat in chairs on the dock and the camp really started to rock. We talked about our families, mostly, since everyone was married with kids. We talked about girls a lot, the ones we knew and the ones we wished we did, as well as the ones that got away.

The sky grew dark and the good times were in full swing. The Professor lectured us all on the nation’s political state. Honey Badger got real drunk, real fast, and provided the majority of the evening’s entertainment. He was belligerent and surly and bleary-eyed. Wang remarked that he couldn’t believe Badger was still employed. Beaver noted that he couldn’t believe Badger was still married. Badger asked every hour on the hour if anyone brought pot, even though the answer was always no. People got mooned. Cigars were passed around. Things that probably shouldn’t have been burned ended up in the fire. Badger leaned over and said if anyone had pot, it had to be me. I insisted I didn’t, so he got up and wandered inside and heated up a whole plate of lasagna at 11:30 at night.

In the morning, we woke up to misty waters on the lake. The Loon made a bunch of pancakes. We sat outside by the still-burning fire and talked about how everything had changed since we last saw one another. Not the least of which was the ten year anniversary of 9/11. When college started, many of us didn’t have cell phones or email. Now we carried computers in our pockets. So many movies had come out. So much music. When college started, we were kids, fresh-faced babies who didn’t know each other. When college ended, we were friends, prepared but not at all ready to set foot into the world. When we met this time, we were a bunch of teachers, therapists, social workers, scientists, artists, husbands, fathers, sons and friends.

At the end of the weekend, we were ready to see our families again. But we were already planning for next year. On a day of remembrance, we all left with a brand new batch of great memories. We won’t wait another twelve years to see each other again.

I hate losing friends

But it happens. It’s happened here and it’s happened in real life. I agonize over it. If someone disappears from my life by choice, it tears me up.

What bothers me even more is that this happens at all. I think of myself as likable. I try to be nice to people. I like to give the benefit of the doubt. Part of the problem with this is that I become a doormat for the stronger feeling in the situation. And when I finally speak up, it’s often too late.

And what’s that saying? There’s a thin line between love and hate. I don’t know if that’s true, but I do know there’s a swing of strong emotion in both directions.

Most of my friends have come back over the years. Some don’t. I miss some of them, and I’m glad to see some of them go. I hate to say that there are people out there who will never speak to me again. But it’s true.

I know, it’s been the subject of countless movies and tv shows

I’m standing around with the parents of the kids that go to school with my daughters. And I realize just where I am in life. These are my people. I go to school functions. I go to community rallies. I go to birthday parties, dinners, plays, concerts, and everything else with these people. Plans are made. Drinks are consumed. Weekends and evenings are swallowed whole by family functions, and multiple families are often involved.

And I’m okay with that.

At least I’m still the shaggy-haired guy in sunglasses. For now.

thoughts early this Thursday

I won’t complain about the rain like I complained about the heat. I won’t complain about the cold that’s coming soon. August here is gorgeous, but by the end of it, the nights get chilly as autumn creeps in slowly. I’m looking forward to it, but trying not to wish away my time. Especially summer, which has been pretty great.

My wife’s aunt who we visited this weekend ended up in the hospital the very next day. She’s in her nineties, but she’s been a machine. She has an aneurysm in her throat. She could have bled out. I kept thanking my lucky stars that we made that trip to see her. Latest word is that she’ll recover fully.

People can be so resilient with what life hands them. If you don’t believe that, spend one day on someone’s dash, read the stories. You all are an amazing lot. I also look at what my son has been through, what he goes through just to be “normal”. I have to remind myself he’s only two. We have time. We have time.

Every time I take the time to fill the empty spaces with words, I feel some sort of reward. Internally. When you talk about what’s on your mind, it releases something, it makes things better. I’m sure that’s why I do it. I’m sure that’s why there are therapists and counselors and psychologists who listen. I’m sure that’s why there are friends.

It’s early. I have things on my mind. Enjoy your day, everyone. Make time for someone. You won’t regret it.

Tumblr has changed my life

no joke.

Thank you. Carry on.

On Facebook, you’re friends with everybody, right?

I mean, everybody finds you, eventually. You can’t escape it. I would like to present a Monday list of people I’ve run across on Facebook who I know exist in the real world but I am not friends with, for one reason or another.

• The guy who works in the video game store. We have several mutual friends, but I just can’t do it.

• My college girlfriend. And her entire family.

• Former “friends” who threw my family a benefit dinner when my son was born but then deleted us when another group of friends raised more money than they did.

• That wonderful family that spent every summer in the cottage right down the road from us. They had three daughters. I only dated two of them.

• The girl who cuts my hair. I really should request her.

• A co-worker who insists on talking to me about the Facebook events of everyone we both know. I’ve added her as a friend four times, and she has deleted me, every single time. The first couple times I thought might have been accidents, so I kept on requesting her. And she kept on accepting. And then deleting. And yet she continually brings up the status updates of our friends in our workplace encounters. She does it on purpose, I know it, and it’s masochistic, on both our parts. But I keep going back for more.