Mindful Monday | My first baseball mitt

CGP

We’re excavating our garage like it’s King Tut’s tomb.

Not finding golden statues or mummified cats, if that’s what you’re thinking. Yet. I found my first baseball mitt, though. Even as I revere the beginning of baseball season, I felt a wave of emotion as I put on my glove.

Most of it was awful.

This cheap chunk of leather – real leather? I’m not sure – represents my introduction to a game I love today. It harkens a loyalty to a team and a reliance on hope. For what better an example of hope? A sport that lasts all summer and breaks nearly every heart.

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10 Things Thankful, and a bit of self-forgiveness

Hayden snapped this photo at Bennett’s Real Smoke Barbecue Pit in Gatlinburg. We celebrated a season with a rack of ribs and a pint of homebrew. (This class mysteriously disappeared from our table, however.)

The toughest person to forgive is often ourselves.

I’ve two Go Ask Daddy posts unpublished. Crazy, huh? If I can’t finish on my self-imposed deadline, I won’t publish. I’ll save them. I’m holding my blog hostage. I force myself to finish freelance work (veggies) before I get to blogging (snickerdoodle cookies.)

Heard of the Pomodoro timer?

I’m using that too. I’m rewarding myself for hours of distraction-free work with writing for fun. It keeps me hungry (not for snickerdoodles, although …) to put in the work to get to what feeds my soul most.

10 things grateful, plus a college signing

One week in.

I made it this far. Not gracefully. It’s 1:14 and I promised myself 1 hour, 14 minutes ago to get to bed at midnight like a normal person. Wait. Don’t normal people get to sleep at even decenter hours than that?

Blogging again has been better than any of the high school reunions I never went to.

I’m seeing friends again and spending less time in aimless pursuits. I’m also falling asleep at inopportune times and really need to work on that. I have a fantastic guest post live just before this one that deserves a load of promotion as big as the donuts I dream of.

Dads: Don’t let a big cheesy burger get the best of you

A T-rex is mighty, yes. Sometimes it pays not to take the biggest bite of your Jurassic loved ones.

I hate when I’m boorish.

It doesn’t happen often. But when it does … I mean, it’s lowkey. Well, okay. Not lowkey. But not extra, as the kids would say. Somewhere between lowkey and extra. Yes, it’s come to this. (But definitely closer to lowkey than extra.)

The funny thing – and it wasn’t really funny at the time – was that it all happened because of juicy Lucy cheeseburgers.

Juicy Lucies are Minnesota delights. Manna of Heaven. They’re huge burgers with a treasure trove of cheese inside. I made one for everyone, the biggest – the juiciest, cooked a beautiful shade of medium rare – for myself. So go the benefits of a dad with a skillet.

7 days, 7 photos – Day 4

“Seven days. Seven black and white photos of your life. No people. No explanation. Challenge someone new each day.”

Thanks, Sandra, for the challenge 🙂.

Today, I’d like to nominate Charissa, of Joy in the Moments.

The other entries:

7 days, 7 photos – Day 1

7 days, 7 photos – Day 2

7 days, 7 photos – Day 3

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7 days, 7 photos – Day 2

“Seven days. Seven black and white photos of your life. No people. No explanation. Challenge someone new each day.”

Thanks, Sandra, for the challenge 🙂.

Today, I’d like to nominate Michelle of The Complete Savorist.

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7 days, 7 photos – Day 1

“Seven days. Seven black and white photos of your life. No people. No explanation. Challenge someone new each day.”

Thanks, Sandra, for the challenge 🙂.

Today, I’d like to nominate Court, from Baking in My Bathing Suit.

 

Here’s to making 20, something (or, happy birthday, Madison)

I had to wait a day to get my favorite birthday present. That was 20 years ago.

Camdyn’s two goals Saturday come in a close second. What kid can score on her dad’s birthday? It’s just Camdyn doing Camdyn things. Hayden’s done it, too. It’s kind of Babe Ruthian to go out and deliver on a day and on a dime.

Sunday, Madison turned 20.

She nearly shared my birthday, did you know that? If her mama’s contractions hadn’t stopped around the time M*A*S*H* comes on TV, this would be a different post. That was 20 years ago now. The girls are rolling through all the milestones, 12, 13, 16, 17, 20 …

Go Ask Daddy about Floridian Rides, Martian Colonization and science stuff that has to do with eardrums

It’s time this girl got a name.

Here, finally, is a photo of my new Hyundai. It’s strange, but Gabi still inhabits our street, an empty vessel full of fond memories and great escapes. The item put Pontiac on Craigslist has burned a hole in my to-do list.

My preliminary pick for the new car’s name: Yuliana.

(I know no Yulianas. Gabi got her name from my friend, Stacey. Gabi’s touch-and-go status in the auto shop necessitated a few prayers and vexes. Stacey felt if a car had a name, maybe she’d be more apt to capture the well wishes.)

For the faith and agony ahead, I’m actually grateful

My soccer boys must face a team next week that we angered greatly last week.

We did nothing wrong. Outside of beating them. After the match, they sat on the turf in various stages of disbelief. An older, more experienced team tested and topped by a band of upstarts. It’s a sweet feeling to pull out a win like this.

And now, we must go to their place.

Moments that shape us aren’t limited to wins. Moments of discomfort and fatigue and dismay contribute to that ever-changing DNA of self. No matter what happens next week, the team we will convene as the next day will in part become a result of this match.