We got to play at halftime of a Colorado State football game in Ft. Collins. It was Band Day, and they played the University of New Mexico. I played baritone sax. I was first chair, I might add. The cheerleaders came with us.
Stick with me … this will tie together eventually.
Her name was Kaylie. (It was actually Shawna, but I don’t want to use her real name.) She was dreamy. Silky, curly brown hair, hazel eyes, braces. Sigh. The universe had a little fun that day and put Shawna – I mean, Kaylie – next to me on the bus.
Take a look at his face, his car, or his home. All will have sustained some degree of damage in the process of fatherhood. Worry lines, spray stains on the ceiling of his car, and a host of tell-tales in his place of residence.
Busted furniture, chipped wall paint, crayon marks on … everything. Markers, too, and stray bits of strawberry, Goldfish crackers, and even beef jerky, in a man’s car, behind a man’s couch, and stuck in a man’s hair. That’s just the beginning, as any of you who parent know.
Some stuff you know about. You know, portion control and getting my hair cut at regular intervals. Okay, and there’s that keeping-your-car-clean thing, too. I’m also not good at promoting a book that I have a small part in.
And it’s a book an author who knows her way around the New York Times best-seller list has compiled, with a ton of marquee names.
Not actually Obi Wan. But, the voice. Know how he told Luke after he self-incinerated him when he was losing a lightsaber duel with Darth Vader – Use the Force, Luke? Only to me, he says stuff like, Use more cheese, Eli, or, Write about Kesha, Eli.
This time, he was clear, as usual: Cinnamon Toast Crunch, Eli.
You don’t question a dead Jedi. I’d already plopped a rotisserie chicken in my basket ($4.99, Harris-Teeter), and turned on autopilot toward the cereal aisle. I am one with the Force and the Force is in me, I muttered repeatedly.
Unless you count those blogs that drop off sharply. Not because of quality, but from lack of posts. Sometimes, it’s not sustainable. Or we forget the password. Either way, the blog floats along in the ether, like a dead satellite.
Most often, we cycle toward and then away from blogs and blog friends, and when the cycle brings us back close, it’s as if no time had elapsed at all.
Kids are busy, though. There are church camps and chicken fajitas with friends in restaurants way past the dinner rush. There’s a whole day spent with a friend from school, laying out at the pool and baking chocolate chip cookies.
Kids my kids’ age don’t have time to pretend anymore.
So I will. My friends at Uncommon Goods have the coolest stuff you could possibly get your dad (outside of one of those sweet Rockies jerseys.) Uncommon Goods has some uncommon traits going for them as a company, too, in an effort for sustainability.
Courtney of Baking in my Bathing Suit suggested I extend an invitation to the grown-up world for Go Ask Daddy. A handful of readers submitted questions, so there was enough to set the girls’ questions back on the shelf for today.
I covered racing for the Hickory (N.C.) Daily Record. It was my second job out of college. A racing writer at a tiny paper doesn’t make enough to pay country club dues. Hell, it barely pays enough to buy a club sandwich. In the country.
When I was a kid, I wanted to be friends with Elliott.
He’s the boy who befriended E.T. in the movie. He just seemed like the kind of kid I would like to hang out with. Looking back, I believe I probably admired his loyalty and courage in all that happened when E.T. came to town.
Every month, I collect responses for a post I call 6 Words.
If you’ve been around here a while you know Ernest Hemingway inspired this idea when he said all stories could be told in six words. I ask friends, strangers, bloggers, and strange blogger friends to respond to a prompt, in six words.
Hi. It’s me. Eli. How’ve you been? Yeah, I noticed you. No, I wasn’t trying to avoid you. I was … hey, we can be honest, right? Yeah, I was ducking you. It’s just … it’s just that I’m happy, you know? No, I haven’t gotten a raise, and I haven’t really replaced you.
I mean, I’m doing things, mingling.
That space you once occupied in my life? It doesn’t really exist anymore. I can’t say that I’ve replaced you, one for one. My life is different right now. It doesn’t involve trying to get the most of you, or understanding you, or making a case for or against you.
Some ideas are so great it’s great to use them more than once.
(Using the same word in the same sentence twice isn’t a great idea. Oops. I did it again.) Think about some great ideas in history. Playing football on Thanksgiving? Great. Let’s do it again. The beautiful and comedic Elizabeth Banks on a real estate commercial?
You can’t have greats without grrs, however. A grr is … playing football in a stadium like Heinz Field in Pittsburg, where it’s impossible to kick a field goal on one end. Ever. Or … persistent ads on Pandora for problems of men my age.