So much to believe in.
Some of it is colossal – like politics and religion and which state makes the best barbecue. Some of it might seem trivial – like politics, religion, and whether the designated hitter has a place in baseball.
I’ve started to listen to myself, and examine some of those beliefs.
I’ll keep them tidy in a Word document until I have 42. Then I’ll post them together and see what kind of picture it paints. It might or might not even look like how you see me or how it looked the last time I did it.
What do you believe?
I believe posting isn’t even half of blogging.
I believe reading you’re not required to do is always the sweetest read.
I believe there’s nothing like day baseball to appeal to the boys in us. Watching a game instead of sitting in school or work? Yes, every time.
I believe awesomely ridiculous is 99% of the time the best possible outcome.
I believe it’s impossible to go wrong with zest and provolone. By zest, I don’t mean the soap.
I believe two things are sure to make a guy cry: A swift kick where it counts, and his favorite baseball team, eventually.
I believe a little donkey dies every time I get store-bought tortillas.
I believe exploration is as much about thought and writing as it is maps and telescopes. Maybe more.
I believe kids rock. So do their mamas.
I believe serendipitous zest is the best, even as grownups.
I believe sometimes my orbit gets wide, but it always makes its way back.
I believe I don’t love the problems of being a dad, but I love being able to have the problems of being a dad.
I believe I’m a jumbled mess but comfortable in my own Play-Doh container.
I believe it doesn’t matter what time it is when it comes to good food.
I believe a heart cannot be too full of joy.
I believe “dreamer” is the one designation of me that catches the most thorns in the world.
I believe parenthood wrinkles our face and bends our spine, but I wouldn’t change it for anything.
I believe so much of what a girl becomes as a woman comes from within, but it’s our jobs as dads to protect it and not mess it up along the way.
I believe kids watch so much more of what we do as parents than listen to what we say.
I believe a smile is just a nudge away from a laugh.
I believe a mom with kids in the cart and smiles to match is the best thing I can see in a grocery store. Besides 2-for-1 specials on Frosted Flakes or Provolone cheese, of course.
I believe if we can blow a little carbon out of our brains with a bit of challenging read now and then, our engines run smoother.
I believe Yoda could kick a coyote’s ass.
I believe when you’re mentioned in the same breath as a Colorado omelet, that’s good stuff right there. Real good stuff.
I believe fire-building is part of boyhood – like baseball, pimples and the Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue.
I believe I’m far from a great dad, but I do put my heart into it. And that’s not an attempt to fish for compliments, so let’s not comment on this one.
I believe breakfast out seems like such an exotic experience right now.
I believe given the choice of spending a whole day colored blue like a Smurf or feeling blue all day, I’d pick the first one. (The second one can happen any day, all on its own.) It would help if it was also game day for a team with blue as the primary color. (Or the opponent. I can live dangerously.)
I believe there’s always room for a little more mayhem.
I believe we fellas become better partners when we listen rather than hear.
I believe I might never be ready to celebrate my style, but I’m awfully good at tolerating it.
I believe every day with my girls is awesome – even the unawesome ones.
I believe all brainstorm sessions should include waffle talk.
I believe the Colorado Rockies are a big reason I drink tequila.
I believe if a boy is unkind to one of my girls, I’ll be on them like they were an Imperial commander behind schedule on the Death Star.
I believe youth sports teach parents as much as it teaches kids.
I believe the universe makes dusk so beautiful so we’ll have it to go by through the night.
I believe if something’s fun and I get fed – I’m in.
I believe it’s not easy to remember soccer balls when you’re stuffing animal crackers into your pockets before practice.
I believe there’s no more abominable a creature at times than the sideline soccer parent, spitting venom at a teenage referee.
I believe goofy is good stuff.
I believe we all alter each other’s trajectory just a bit, don’t we?
I believe we need music on Mondays more than perhaps any other day of the week. Except for possibly Wednesday.