Saturday, February 27, 2010

Happiness Amonsgt Devils and Demons...

There are not too many fancy photographs on this blog, I am sitting across from a photograph of happiness right now - she thinks I am working, doing my best to look serious, but in all reality, my mind does nothing more than wander to that vision and dream that I always had - that perfect life of a little space that I could call my own, with loud music, lots of things to play with, and a soft comfortable bed to lay down in - where your skin does not feel so uncomfortable, and things are just right...

I had a conversation with my best friend tonight - and things feel right - he is on the proverbial tilt that all of us feel from time to time, when the mind takes over and the heart takes a back seat to what is right - when thinking becomes what we do - and I think anyone who has read this blog long enough knows that when I think too much, I end up in an alley in Portland, Maine wondering what kind of snowflake is going to freeze to my beard next...

Do you know how good it feels to not go on tilt anymore - it feels pretty good.  It feels good to walk into a store and buy a bed and assemble it and hurt your back and know that you are doing it because it is what you wanted to do.  It feels good to sit in a hot tub scented of grapefruit, and , although a little gay, know that it soothes your tired back and makes the day worthwhile.  It feels good to listen to the music and hear every ounce of the bass drum and the guitar and to just breathe in, and live and know that the sun may not rise tomorrow - but if it does, you are more than happy to be a part of it...

Things get heavy at times, they get really heavy, but in those times when they are just too much, there is always that burst of some life - I am living that dream.  I get my fill every fourteen days - it is a struggle to get that, but to hear my daughter tell me she loves me, to see my son do whatever the hell they call it when they do that Karate stuff, and to see my Cadence in the morning with tired eyes - you know, those conference calls and airplane rides and suits and discussions and all of it - they are secondary - and I will move beds all day long to get those devils and demons out of the way.

Anyway, I just wanted to write a little bit.  Not much in the way of length (trust me, I have heard this ALOT in my life) but it is alot in the way of waking up in the morning, and knowing, rain or shine, that no matter how things seem, no matter how we think it to be - it is better.  I know this, I feel this, and it only takes one "I love you" from an eight year old blonde haired girl, or I miss you Dad from an eleven year old genious (okay - so maybe I exagerate), or the smile of one brown eyed brown haired girl after setting up a new bed to let me know that the devils and demons are there - but they just have to wait for me to deal with them later...

Until next time

George

Tuesday, February 16, 2010

My Life on Mars.


I don't have anything in particular to blog about these days - so far, things are going swimmingly, you know, no crappy emails, wonderful weekends, great visits, work success, just about everything that horoscope from Yahoo said I would get.  That really sucks for someone who needs inspiration to write - I am not the most positive writer in the world, (note - I use the term writer very loosely - I have a habit of drinking too much coffee, screwing with my blood sugar, not sleeping, and then offsetting the affects by having a glass or four of red wine to make me tired - and I write whilst the affects slowly work their magic - so by the action of both drinking and writing at the same time, and the fact that I live in a two bedroom apartment across the street from a gambling establishment - that should give me enough street cred to at least have delusions of grandeur of finding myself somewhat closely related to what one may call a writer) - but back to the normalcy of things lately.

You know those phone calls with folks you have not talked to in years - the how's the weather phone calls - the ones where there is silence after every sentence either because you really have nothing to say to the person or you are too busy updating your facebook page to really pay attention - and you are wondering how the hell they got your number in the first place?  That's what things are like right now - just slow - now for most normal folks, I would think that closing on a house in two weeks, the amount of travel coming up, some work deliverables - might be good enough - for me, it is sort of like Life on Mars - foreign at best, and imaginary, and, based on the latest scientific information - hazardous to ones health.  So I prefer to have things running at or about mach speed.  Don't like the quiet one bit - I always expect the banjo player and the toothless pig humper to show up when things get quiet - and you know what happens next - it ain't good - I figure if I go so fast then I can at least outrun most of the crap that is tracking me down - and so far it has worked for 38 years (with the exception of a few minor bumps in the road) -

There are only so many ways to mop a kitchen floor.  I have done it three times this week.  Why, you ask?  Because, I answer.  Because.  Sure, I could go to the apartment complex workout center, do forty five minutes on the ellipitical next to the 80 year old lady with the oxygen tank who has Dr. Phil blaring so loud my ear drums bleed - sure, I could go across the street to the once prestigious dog track that now houses a poker room and simulcast racing and see how much of my paycheck I can bet on the greyhound that just pooped, sure I could even go down to the beach and do some shelling - but all of those things seem a little less entertaining when you have time to do them - I like to do them when I don't have time to do them - yes, Doctor, I could use another prescription now please sir...

So instead, today, while helping my daughter take the FCAT prep tests, I found myself dreaming about a life on Mars.  Thought even that it might be pretty cool to live in one of those geodesic domes that you see on the sides of highways that hold salt for the winter complete with those weightless exercise equipment things.  I actually thought about it.  Man, I need some kind of distraction and how.

That's it - nothing more to write, uninspired, a little bored - and as the song says...Too much of nothin makes a man feel ill at ease...yeah, I would have that eight track on Mars too.

George

Saturday, February 6, 2010

Help Yourself...





I think both of the kids are asleep, it was a windy cool day - nothing quite like what they are calling the Snowgasm or Blizzardorama or, from my own creation, Winterbamalamadingdong, up in the Mid-Atlantic States - it was sunny, and the perfect Florida late winter day - a polite reprieve from the summer days that are just around the corner, where the mosquitos don't even bother to leave the shade, lest their wings burst into flame -

Last night I went to the Girl Scout Daddy Daughter dance, and I would like to think, for just a moment, that she is going to remember last night - that I was her first date, that I danced with her, and shared crudites from a cheap paper plate, and that she, by far, was the most beautiful girl in the room - and I was the luckiest father in the room.  Scrolling through my camera today, I got a couple of the photos, and although not the most artistic, or most prolific, it was, for me, a part of growing into a better Dad - it was an accidental photo - an eight year old girl, spinning to greet a friend in the middle of a photo - and funny, although I laughed at her blonde hair as she ran to say hello in the midst of a photo - when I looked at them today, it hit a chord - how many times do Dads get to see that in an average life time - and how many Dads are lucky enough to see as many as they possibly can.

Getting your daughter back, developing a relationship, trying to be a better father is not hard work.  In fact, it is easy.  It is easy to be there, be committed, be supportive, and be a part of that small life, that, for me - for now, is simple and uncomplicated - but for her, a strange experience of growing up and learning what it is to be a young woman, a fun child, a little girl. 

She is one of the best things in my life - she is care free, unassuming, not too worried about what folks think, and pretty much just ready to tackle life when she can - when she has the support that she needs.  This was the first year she built up the courage to ask me to the dance - I think I was the problem in the past - always tired, too busy, disinterested - but the day before the dance, she called, and in her best strong voice, built up the courage to say "Dad I want you to take me to the Dance" - and I have to admit, the old voices in my head came up with a million reasons to do something else - but there was really nothing else - those newer voices, not distracted by work or turbulence at home or just selfishness said "I would love to go to the dance with you" - and shortly thereafter, I was given the short list of rules - no funky dancing, no crazy faces, no screaming and yelling, and no embarrassing her...

Too bad I had to pick her up in the Publix parking lot - she had her toes done, and was wearing white heels with a royal blue dress that made her shiny sea water eyes standout against her blonde hair and pink cheeks - she smiled when she saw me puff my chest - in my best suit, and the closest thing to royal blue I could find in a tie - and she bashfully handed me my boutiniere, and watched as I carefully pinned it to my chest - and there were no other words for me then, other than "You are the most beautiful thing in the world, and I am proud that you asked me to the dance".  That about summed it up - she is the most beautiful gem in the world, but with fire and brilliance that goes beyond anything that riches will ever buy or that kings will ever possess.  Yeah, the grocery store parking lot was not the red carpet that should have been rolled out for her - but to her, I think it was all the same, Dad put on a suit and tie, and smiled and said how pretty I was.

We went to Starbucks, and then to the Cupcake Bakery, and she blushed as the baristas asked where we were going together, such a perfect couple, and she would say, under her breath, in tiny little words - i am taking my dad to the dance...and they smiled and when they smiled, she looked up, and somewhat embarrassed and somewhat proud, she held my hand tighter, and grinned at me, as if to say "Thanks Dad".  The Boston Creme Pie Cupcake that we shared with two forks was sweet, and I took one bite, and just watched her - someday, one person will have the opportunity to treat her with dignity and respect, and I hope that is what he does - but for now, that is my reward - and to fail at that, well, let's just say failure should not be an option. All of us could dwell on those things that did not go quite right, or were just not perfect - but last night, the first dance, the pomp and circumstance, the little woman that asked me - that made up for all of my mistakes - and gave incentive to not make more - it gave reward for being there, for being a Dad -

We only danced three dances before we went into the food line - she wanted to spin - until she got a little dizzy, she held both my hands, and I awkwardly spun her on the floor, her silk scarf flowing behind her, her laughter from ear to ear filling the good memory spots in her mind - and refreshing my spirit -

Sitting down at the cafeteria tables decorated in purple and green, she reached onto her plate, and handed me a chalky licorice flavored heart - and it said in red splotchy letters "I love you" - and I knew she picked that heart, I knew that she felt loved, and I knew, that I was being the Dad that she always wanted - be there now, be there tomorrow, and be there.

I tucked her in late last night, she was still excited about her chorus recital this morning - but tired - and she told me she loved me - and had fun, and I told her that I loved her, and that I could not wait until next year - and most of all - I told her thank you - because if she only knew how much she gave to me last night, that thank you and a little time is a small thing to give back...

Broken Bones...and Heavenly


Okay, so this weekend has started pretty damn good - long flight from the West Coast all night Thursday night - that is another story entirely, the red eye is never easier, but I can assure you that working all night long really impresses folks when their inbox is full of crap at 3:00 am...hopefully they had their mobile devices on vibrate or silent, otherwise they got an earful of pings as annoying as the microwave that is going off behind me letting repeatedly know that my breakfast is warm...(yes, I am too damn lazy right now to get up and go get the SuperPretzel that is going to go perfect with my Starbucks...)

Anyway, so last weekend was great - the only other time I have ever been to Lake Tahoe was in the backseat of my girlfriends car being driven by some drunk guy that I worked with at the Hyatt Regency San Diego - apparently, Mammoth mountain was not big enough for them, so they went on an all night gambling junket to the Lake - I slept through the entire thing in the backseat of the car - sort of like the Hangover - I was not supposed to have the car up there, but hell, if I could count the number of endless things that I am not supposed to do - well then I would be a REALLY good counter...

The weather was really mild down at the bottom of the mountain, flying in late Thursday night, tired, a good week with the kids, but the schedule during those weeks makes for absolute craziness where laying my head on the pillow before 2 am becomes a wish list item - I was tired, and ready for a night of sleep - I think by the time I hit the Homewood Suites Reno, that I was more zombie like - getting to Reno from Florida is sort of like Christopher Columbus and the discovery of the new world - I had to fly from Jacksonville to Detroit to Salt Lake City to Reno - the only drawback of free tickets - all the while being told by such educated seat mates that it would have been significantly easier to get to Lake Tahoe by flying into Sacramento - don't worry, I held my tongue at this unsolicited advice, and hid very well the thought 'well kiss my ass Mr. TravelPro, and move your fat ass to your seat..." -

It was still hard to sleep that night - I was excited, not just because another exciting rendevous in an exotic location - but a ski trip and entertainment and snow and three and a half days...I woke up in the morning in my blue jeans and pullover - so apparently, reading "Things to Do in Lake Tahoe", was not enough to keep me totally awake.  I was at the airport an hour early to pick up Cadence - and for me to ever get to the airport an hour early for anything is a pretty big task....

Driving the road that leads to South Lake Tahoe was, for lack of a better word, amazing - getting past the snow line, glimpses of the glass blue lake framed by icing covered mountains, the coyotes darting across the street, the small bungalows with trails of smoke wisping out of the chimneys, it was a good drive.  It was a good time - those long drives with a friend and coffee and good music - those are the best of times - wanderlust is always better when there is someone to share it with - the drive back to the airport - not so much - you know, the old sinking feeling of goodbye - but those goodbyes are now short lived - I can deal with the ten days in between visits - as long as it is only ten days.

We get to the lift Saturday morning - and the air is clear and crisp and of course Cadence was beautiful.  Her apprehension about being on a mountain as large as Heavenly was evident, and me, in my infinite wisdom, drag her up to about the top - where the only way down is a series of very narrow, snowboard unfriendly trails - but all the while, she was patient - not yet pissed or defeated, just patient.  Selfish I guess, but then again, I have never been accused of reaching self-realization yet, and am happy that I finally made it through my anal retentive stage. 

The picture above is how I prefer to remember this trip - before the first run, before the spill, before getting separated on the mountain, before the panic of trying to find where Cadence went - before finding her back at the hotel with a broken arm, in pain, and a little upset with me about the day - it is amazing when being angry goes through that progression - anger, storming off, realization, searching, reconciling, and consequence - then you sit in the urgent care center for an hour while your girlfriend refuses to hold it against you (it would have been easier if she would have been a little bent about the entire thing...)  The perfect pink smile, the dimples, the bright brown eyes, the mountain serving as the a backdrop that highlights everything that is right about her, and good, and natural.  Nice to be natural and feel that way...

Anyway, not much more to describe about the weekend - other than it was too short, the broken arm gave me the perfect opportunity to take care of her - and you know, sometimes it takes a broken arm for her to let me do that, but the smell of grapefruit, the sound of slot machines and comedy clubs, the chintzy horse racing game, the late mornings...always too short - but well worth the trip...

Until next time,

George