The universe aligned and put G right on a Wednesday.
I’m sure Buddha or Jesus wasn’t thinking of my blog when they invented April. Or the #AtoZChallenge. No, it was just a cosmic coincidence. I could technically write about any letters, having satisfied the whole G thing with the Go Ask Daddy part.
But I won’t.
For new folk: Go Ask Daddy is a post I use to answer my girls’ questions. I’ve tried to document every question I’ve been asked since I became a dad way back in 1997. I’ve missed a few, and the document has changed technologies and decades since.
I have several entries stuck in a worn edition of 300 Writing Prompts that I will share during the #AtoZChallenge.
The one is in response to the prompt: It is the end of your career and you are up on stage being presented with a major award. What award is it, and what have you won it for? Global pandemics tend to shed a different light on such topics.
But I wrote this response long before the COVID took hold.
I think it’s good to reflect on such things. My day will someday come. The thought now is, what will I do between then and now? Plenty. And some of nothing. And a lot that can’t be classified as either.
Mine happened in middle school. It lasted on into high school, and, by great fortune, into adult life. My first exposure to The Temptations came with the Daryl Hall & John Oates album Live at the Apollo. I learned fast the history and prestige of playing that venue.
Hearing my favorite Rock N Soul duo mix it up with legends was priceless.
Temptations songs resonated with me at 12 (and 32, and 42) Just My Imagination was my theme song for those formative years. A girl made a mixtape for me with I Wish That It Would Rain on it and it took me a decade to understand what she was trying to say.
I’d hoped this quarantine era would at least give me more casual blog writing time. What it’s become is highly distracted work-from-home time, with work days that drone into the night. At least I know this because I change from day pajamas to night pajamas.
Just getting to this point is a victory, though.
The girls amazingly haven’t had any COVID questions, but there’s plenty in the vault from yesteryear. Hell, some of these questions have been around since the Spanish Flu epidemic. (Or, close to it.)
Last time I was here, in gratitude land, I posted the blog on dial-up.
Okay, so maybe that’s a stretch. I’m grateful as hell, but just haven’t had the time to be grateful as hell. Which makes no sense, right? I love coming to this space and hearing what you’re grateful for, too.
I have a cool new job in the city and I walk from the bus stop to the office with Glen Frey’s You Belong to The City in my head even though I know this is NOT what he had in mind, a middle-aged agency writer trudging the concrete to save a buck.
I do these things, you know. Someday I’ll tell you the songs that play in my head when I: a) Make tortillas (it’s been a while); b) take the soccer field sideline; and c) walk anywhere when it’s cold enough to see my breath.
Emily Bunnell balked when I first brought up a #GirlsRock interview.
This is common. So many incredible women I approach (for this!) feel like they’re not #GirlsRock material. Which kind of reinforces that you actually are. I knew within 10 minutes of working with Emily at an ACN event in Detroit that I’d ask.
Emily had scooted aside to allow me room at the table with the company’s co-founders and other heavy hitters to prep for international training.
Speaking of training … at that table, I learned that this contracted designer competed at the highest levels as a weight lifter. I later learned after we became colleagues and friends of her penchant for taking the most incredible global adventures, too.
If it’s within a mile or so, I’m so hoofing it. Unless I’m pressed for time. Or it’s all highway with no sidewalks. Or it’s too cold. Or too hot. Also, only if I have one of my miles-walking pairs of shoes on like I wear to Target.
Last fall, Camdyn had a tournament in beautiful Gatlinburg, Tenn.
I love that place. The forecast was for snow and a low of zero. But it would get up near freezing during the day. Other parents moaned. I secretly wanted to see how Camdyn would play as a block of Camdyn ice.
I’m in a spot with not enough time to finish this, but also not so little time I can’t start.
And that’s sort of been the calling card in my life lately. Again, were this blog a goldfish in a bowl, it’d be floating belly-up. Interestingly, I feel better equipped to handle a hectic life than ever. And life is still keeping me away from this space.
I’ve kept up (mostly) every day with the gratitude journal, so there’s plenty of material. Hopefully, that’ll get finished tonight after my boys’ soccer training and Camdyn’s teams’, when that Monster Energy drink kicks in somewhere between here and the Lowe’s Y.
Kinda like the Rockies’ bats lately, my words have ground to a crawl. When this happens, you churn on. There are no timeouts in soccer or life. Your life GPS won’t direct you around it. No, the only way is through.
So when the calendar ambles along for an intersection for your kid to move to college and it’s also the 19th anniversary of the day your dad died, well, there are stories.
Even if you don’t have time right away to write them. Or maybe you try and get seven graphs in and realize you’re so not doing the feelings justice. It’s like getting Frosted Flakes but pouring them into skim milk. WHO DOES THAT?
It’s an essential part of being a parent. Or a blogger. Especially a Colorado Rockies fan. There isn’t much in this world that doesn’t get a bit sweeter with belief. In fact, the lack of it is grotesque, like those Poptarts without frosting.
In the course of my discourse and my writing, I say stuff. Sometimes, it’s about Ingrid Michaelson or enchiladas. Other times, it’s about beliefs. Not just in Jesus or Buddha or the power of the changeup pitch, but sometimes.