Never raise a hand to a child, I read once – it leaves your midsection unprotected.
Comedy writer Robert Orben said that. I’ve never raised a hand to any of my children. I have, however, left my midsection – from the bottom of my rib cage to my upper thigh – vulnerable. I’ve been kicked by kids in shopping carts a thousand times.
I should be writing this post in falsetto.
There are better, healthier ways for a dad to remain vulnerable. It’s crucial for us to exude strength to our kids; we often want to take it to the extreme, though. There’s a balance to discover, between The Terminator and The Cowardly Lion.
You know me. I’m mostly the agreeable type. Sure, I mutter insults to people who tailgate me and blow past me on the highway – all while snapping chats on their mobiles. But for the most part? Live and let live.
Except for, maybe, refs.
Not all refs, mind you. I’ve had enough run-ins with our striped adversaries to write a post on it. I’d be itchy afterward, though. I don’t really want to get into it. How bad does it get?
I wouldn’t go to Sports Clips for awhile because the stylists wore referee shirts.
I’ve known who news reporter Caroline Vandergriff is for a while.
Besides having a cool name, Caroline did a story on a hero of mine, Mildred Meachem. Mildred played in the All-American Girl Professional Baseball League. I knew Mildred from my time as a member at St. Andrew’s Episcopal Church in Charlotte.
Caroline treated my friend like the treasure she was. I expressed my appreciation, and told Caroline I wish she could have met Mildred, a pioneer for women’s sports whose accomplishments paved the way for girls like mine in athletics.
I had to go with that opening line, because I’d promised someone I would. I’m glad, though, because this friend suggested it as we talked about how things are going for me now, and it perfectly tells the story.
No, I’m not coming out of the closet.
Not that there’s anything wrong with that. You might have noticed more of a mindful bent on Mondays around here. I can’t help it. Between meditation on Wednesday, yoga on Friday (something old and new), and prayers for world peace on Sundays …
I was in an outlet store with Hayden and Camdyn shopping for school shoes.
As I walked past the back aisle, on the clearance rack, I saw some nondescript black and gray Nikes. “Try them on!” Hayden said, and I did. They fit wonderfully, and I felt an inch taller because they actually had soles.
“Get them!” Camdyn said.
I couldn’t bring myself to. My current sneakers didn’t even have holes in them yet. That was my reasoning. The girls hounded me until I took them to the register. I kept thinking, “I’ll pack a lunch for 17 weeks … I’ll sell a few golf discs … I ‘ll skip meat this month …”
Meaning, there’s some deep philosophical questions here. Well, one at least. And one about cheese, which to me is a sign of higher intelligence. Although, when I was in college, it didn’t really feel like a haven of higher learning.
Was it just me?
I once got an 8 – yes, e-i-g-h-t – on a science test. I stayed after to ask, “is there any mathematical reason I shouldn’t hit drop-add after this?” My prof, he of feathered hair and a beard before beards were cool, simply shook his head.
My goal for this Sunday post feature is to finish it before midnight Saturday night, so i can go to bed and hope for those of you so inclined can open a link or three and read something good I discovered during the week.
Not to be up another night of the week fending off sleep to finish a post.
(Did you know that sometimes, I read my posts the morning after, and it feels as if that’s my first go through? It’s true. I’ve found the same photo in twice, or sentences that jumble together, and once I even found that I forgot to title the damn thing.
I powered through my first book reading/book signing. It was kind of unexpected, but a wonderful experience. I wasn’t sure I’d go through with it, honestly. I won’t bore you with the grim details. Let’s just say I made a well-informed conscious decision.
I vowed I would just show my appreciation for all who showed up!
A funny thing happened. It wasn’t just the cup of wine I had before, or the fact that Christine from the blog I’m Sick and So Are You showed up (how badass am I that my friend who showed has a blog name like that?)
I can make my famous brown and white sugar pancakes by heart now.
I save time. And a great way to avoid leaving out key ingredients – such as baking soda – or doubling key ingredients – such as baking soda. I’ve flipped these classics – this same recipe – for years, probably since the Milwaukee Brewers (or Jewel) were any good.
I looked Saturday at the dry ingredients in the bowl, mostly white even with the brown sugar integrated, and it started the wheels turning.
Not of Hispanic America’s integration or dispersion into modern caucasian culture. I thought of how sugar – brown and white – mixes with salt, baking soda and flour, to become greater than the sum of parts. To become something delicious.
And if you were forced to choose a single grain of that to eat, you’d wish for sugar, right?
I wish I had more time for other things, too. Like, watching Elizabeth Banks commercials, or melting cheese on anything, or eating cheese with Elizabeth Banks. I somehow manage, during times I should be doing other things, to read a little every day.
(Don’t tell my boss.)
Actually, tell my boss. Reading’s essential to be a writer. I think Stephen King or Steph Curry said that once. Lots of my blogging friends put together a list of favorites every week, and I’m honored they have the misguided tendency to include me sometimes.