Go Ask Daddy About Inflections, Infractions, and the Voice of Garfield

photo credit: (vhmh) via photopin cc

photo credit: (vhmh) via photopin cc

I’m at that golden age of 42.

It doesn’t feel magic. It doesn’t suck, either. Pretty much, I can handle most of what I could at 32. Only I feel it more at the end of the day. But it’s not what I expected. And I have only two months to figure out the secrets of the galaxy.

Ever read A Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy? In it, Douglas Adams says 42 was the answer to to the ultimate question of life, the universe, and everything.

He later said 42 was a joke. I thought I could still find the answer, at age 42. I have just less than two months left to figure it out. All I know now is that I can see better with my new glasses.

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Guest Post: Julia of Diary of a Word Nerd, on Why Parenting Requires a Lollipop

photo credit: ShellyS via photopin cc

photo credit: ShellyS via photopin cc

I read a lot. But I don’t reeeaad.

It’s like, do you hear Jimmy Hendrix? Or do you just listen to Jimmy Hendrix? (Thanks, Wesley Snipes in White Men Can’t Jump.) I read many blogs. I read comments and I read scouting reports for my fantasy football players.

I might read bios of NPR reporters and meteorologists.

To reeeaad, I need an actual bookJulia Tomiak reads enough for us both. She writes the blog Diary of a Word Nerd. A lifelong reader, Julia took a similar career path as me. It starts on the school paper, lead to college and advanced degrees and parenthood.

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On the Road Again: This Time, at The Inklings of Life

photo credit: number657 via photopin cc

photo credit: number657 via photopin cc

There’s big stuff, and there’s little stuff.

Not just in cheeseburgers and historical fiction. A lot happens in parenting, and some of it … some of it, even dads can comprehend. There are little things, like the 9-year-old who struts onto the soccer pitch in goalkeeper gear just as she sees her sister do.

There are big things, too. Like when you type in your eighth-grader’s English paper for her at 10:30 p.m. and you recognize her writing voice.

With the big and little, are beginnings and ends. We often lament the ends. We lose things with the ends. No more bedtime stories. No more rear-facing car seats. No more piggyback rides or Garanimals pants or daddy/daughter dances.

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Go Ask Daddy About Bikes, Buns, and Baggy Pants

photo credit: homard.net via photopin cc

photo credit: homard.net via photopin cc

Monday, I told you a little about our boy, Leo.

So many of you responded with stories of your beloved pets. Thanks for that. One of our friends, Laurie of Adventures of Writing blog, sent me an email and photo with his story. I’d like to lead off Go Ask Daddy with it.

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ramboHe slept on top of the fridge in summer and on the floor in front of the fire in winter. Some nights when the wind blew hard and the tin roof rattled he would leap onto the end of the bed. He wasn’t scared, I think he wanted to make sure we were okay.

He came into the world in our laundry in 1986, and ended up the only survivor of six. His mother was a Himalayan chocolate point Persian. A real lady, that is until she met his father and showed him a good time in the gutter in front of the house. I’d read the novel Rambo and decided that would be his name and he lived up to it in spades.

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Guest Post: Amy, of Long Drive Journey, on the Lessons of Dad

photo credit: Matthew Oliphant via photopin cc

photo credit: Matthew Oliphant via photopin cc

Amy came along last winter as we were talking snow days.

She first commented on my post There are No Days Like Snow Days, and told the story of how she isn’t usually a big fan of the flaky white stuff. But that during a recent storm, she couldn’t help herself – she pulled off her glove and snapped a picture.

Amy, of the wonderful blog Long Drive Journey, stuck around throughout the summer and into fall. She’s contributed to our six-words posts.

Who is she? She’s a writer about half my age. In pursuit of her PhD, she already has learned a lesson that will carry her far life – that life is more about the journey than the destination. She’s written excellent posts on raw beauty, healthy living, and my favorite, How to Be a Blogger Without a Baby, Dog, or Significant Other.

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Thank You, Leo Our Boy, for Your Love

photo credit: red5standingby via photopin cc

photo credit: red5standingby via photopin cc

This is a post about a boy.

It’s about a boy cat. A boy cat named Leo. Leo looked like a dollar-store plush toy. With unkempt fur and unmatched temperance and a meow too meager for his mass, Leo was Marie’s first best friend, really, a best friend with crooked whiskers and dark brown tabby stripes. A few months ago, Leo got sick.

Not long after, Marie had to say goodbye to her boy, Leo.

We bought special food to make him well, and sometimes he ate it. Sometimes, he just sat next to the bowl. Marie sat with him in the kitchen. She’d place the bowl in front of him, and move it when he moved, to keep it in front of him.

Marie wanted to give Leo every chance.

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Go Ask Daddy About Cockney Tarts, Womany Parts and Geological Arts

photo credit: Pedro Vezini via photopin cc

photo credit: Pedro Vezini via photopin cc

Sometimes, the journey to Coach Daddy is a long, strange ride.

Ever look at the search terms used to find your blog? Here’s the three most intriguing for the past seven days, 30 days, quarter, year, and all time.

Past 7 days

10 things middle aged never do: Early in Coach Daddy history, I ranted on things men should give up on in their 20s, 30s, and 40s. Aside from “Would You Die For Me, Daddy?” this post is the most viewed ever on my site.

pizza eater funny: Someone’s been watching me on Friday nights.

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