The long drive

It's been ten years, but my wife's family was all together again for Christmas. Last time it was in Minnesota, and we flew. This year it was in Phoenix, Arizona. We drove. With our four kids.

People called me brave, or at least crazy, for driving the 2,325 miles between my house and our host with my kids at their ages. (3, 5, 8, and 9) Truthfully, it wasn't difficult. Mapped it out, found cool stuff along the way, checked the weather, and kept more snacks than we probably needed. Now the wife and I used to be able to drive straight through, one would sleep while the other drove. We didn't plan on that with the kids, so we just made the the hotel had a pool. My kids LOVE swimming, and it knocks them right out.

 
Getting there was fine.

The family members that lived down there had homes just big enough for themselves. Mix that with the fact that there are more of us (a few weddings and a lot of kids), we found a nice big vacation rental for the duration. It also had a pool. (I enjoyed having a master bath, too)

My interactions with her family weren't quite the same as they were before. Where I used to (not necessarily by my own design) hide in the background, now I do the same while seeing to the needs of my kids... in the background.

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Now when the visit was over, and the time came to go home, things got interesting. We started with a healthy detour to the Grand Canyon. It was cold and windy, and my kids whined and complained about that. (My oldest was annoyed over the people that went beyond the guard rails, he thought they were going to die and get the park closed. It bothered him enough that he couldn't enjoy the view. My second was simply done with travel and just wanted to go home). None of it detracted - sure I've seen pictures but... I couldn't get past it. Every single scenic lookout, every major point we could stop at, it was absolutely amazing. I could spend a week there happy.

From there, we parted ways and headed home. A light dusting of snow tickled the roads in New Mexico. Hundreds of cars went off the roads. Numerous fatal accidents shut down the highways.

I was stranded in the middle of nowhere for two days. Once they cleared the summer tires convention off the roadways, we were able to finally continue homeward. No other state (which experienced the same megastorm of 0.5 inches of snow) had a problem. From Texas onward it was clear skies and dry roads. We spent less time driving from the New Mexico/Texas state line as we did *in* New Mexico.

After being stranded in a complete standstill for five hours one day (only to be turned back to find a hotel) and three hours the next day (when we were finally allowed to use the roads), we simply couldn't stop any more. We were sick of it. We had to go.

We didn't stop. One slept while the other drove. This was something we haven't been able to do since we were in our 20's. The benefits of youth long gone, we never could manage it again. But this time, this time we had something else: a grim determination to get out of that van. We couldn't take it any more. One would sleep horribly, and the other would stay awake fueled by sheer spite. Gas stations and fast food blended into each other. I woke up in a Wal Mart parking lot with a small list of supplies. I picked up what we needed before I even knew what state I was in.

I really have to give it to my kids. They were absolute troopers about the whole ordeal. They were so excited to get home that they wore themselves out in the van and got carried to their own beds when we finally made it.

Now it's almost 3am and I'm still all wound up. :/

Another Eve

I remember as a kid being too excited to fall asleep on Christmas Eve, but somehow managing to nod off at an early enough hour. My own children are no exception to this. This year, however, we're in the company of my wife's family. Five cousins on this side (with one more on the way) plus my four make nine, that's a lot of social reverb.

Turns out the best way to get them to fall asleep is to give them limitless access to a pool, let them run amok, and keep them up late.

It's also the best way to run me into the ground.

Stuff

I remember packing for a trip used to involve just grabbing my stuff. It was simple.

Then we had our first kid. Babies have a lot of stuff.

Eventually it dwindled down to the same stuff I was bringing, just with more Minecraft logos.

Now there are six of us, and that's a lot of clothing.

Baking failure

For some reason, I just can't seem to make decent cookies.

Rewind about 15 years - I could make any cookie and it was amazing. Kept it up for years. But now, utter disaster. The sugar cookies are never chewy enough, the chocolate chip cookies are uneven, I could go on.

I have a batch of cookies nearby that are *ok* I guess. I'm in a different kitchen, using different tools, and I'm trying to do this without my four kids knowing about it.

I blame everything but me.

The prep

Living in the town I grew up in, along with all my siblings, I see them all the time. Holidays don't feel *extra* special because nobody traveled to see anyone.

Unless we leave.

Of my siblings, my sister travels the most. My brother in law has family spread around, and holidays are as good a reason as any to venture out and see some.

My wife's family is much the same. Thing is we don't always travel. The last time her entire family was together was Christmas 2008. We've seen them all since then, just not at the same time. The talk among her siblings began a year ago. This year, they meet again.

...should be interesting.

The earliest

Having a 5am drop off at the airport is the best way to guarantee you'll be at work an hour and a half early.

At least I have a key.

Gratitude

Thanksgiving is two days from now. I'm grateful that I've never had to host a lot of people, and that I've never had to cook for a large crowd with diverse preferences and allergies.

I'd probably deep fry the turkey in peanut oil and tobasco, just to be safe.

First snow

It happened. The first snowfall of the season. The inaugural meeting of the summer tires club will take place in the grass on the outside curve of the off ramp. Both lanes on the highway have been merged into one (just ignore the lane lines), and we recommend you go 30mph with your hazard lights on. Braking randomly is allowed and encouraged.

As is customary, the snow plows will hold back until everyone has arrived at work. You don't get the day off.

Eight

Today was my second son's 8th birthday.

He turned 8 on the 8th. Also known as the golden birthday. My other kids were born on the 28th, 20th, and 26th. They can do whatever they want. But I had my 8 year old, and his mother was going to make sure it was worth it.

He was happy. But gold cupcakes seemed like a stretch.

RetroGameCon 6

So my town plays host to a convention called RetroGameCon. If the title isn't screamingly obvious, it's a convention surrounding old school gaming, and literally everything surrounding it. The games, the creators, voice actors, gamer culture, and thousands of random knick knacks and artwork hanging off the side.

It's my childhood packed into a convention center. This is the third year I've gone, and it's...

Ok, you really can't add more to retro. There isn't more new old stuff... at least not always. I met a game developer that was still making games for the Colecovision. A 36 year old console is still getting brand new games published. This guy has, so far, published more games for this old thing than Coleco Industries ever did.

Besides looking at some very old hardware and the uncalled for price tags on them (maybe if it was mint), meeting game developers and talking with them about what they're working on is always fun. They're exactly my flavor of nerd, and they're really into what they do. I'm not a programmer by any stretch, but I know what works in these things.

Also I won a raffle and got free stuff, so yay.

Sydney

Girl I know got hit by a car a few days ago. She's in the hospital hooked up to a dozen or so machines keeping her alive. More drugs in her blood than blood making sure her body doesn't fail.

Kids only 14 and she's a cyborg.

Her parents are putting on a good face, at least everyone but her mother. Nobody's really required to *look* good in circumstances like this, though. Everyone is optimistic. Doctors are using the phrase "looks good" talking about her brain.

Oh yea. Her brain. Her body will recover. It was the 20 minutes her heart wasn't beating, and however long she wasn't breathing that's gonna cause trouble. Once she wakes up, anyway.

I have way too many thoughts running through my head about all this.

The time over

So things at work have been busy. We're behind schedule on 90% of our work (not mine, mine is way ahead), and we're bringing on new employees. At least one, anyway. But to make up the slack, we need to work overtime.

This is, at least for me, a completely new thing. I once had a job that deliberately cut employee hours to ensure they didn't have to offer any benefits. Now here I am, staying late and coming in on Saturdays all while they throw extra money at me for the privilege.

I'm honestly not used to it. 40 hours is the max I've ever really worked, and that's because companies seem extra terrified to pay for more than that. After a few days staying late, the new departure time felt perfectly normal. Coming in on Saturdays, however.... well that just sucks. Can't complain about money if I'm not willing to do what it takes, though.

I hope it lasts, because I'm greedy. I hope it doesn't last, because I'm lazy.

Definitely have mixed feelings here.

Murder Mystery

A friend recently hosted a murder mystery party. I've been to one before, but it was... lame. You all had lines to read and the reveal happened at the end with the guilty party knowing the entire time. Nothing exciting.

This was different. Nobody knew who the guilty party was until the big reveal at the end. All we had were clues about each other that led us to pry more details until we could establish motive and opportunity.

My dear wife isn't what you'd call a social butterfly. She doesn't like the spotlight. Her character was the most dynamic, very interesting, and connected with almost every event. Me, on the other hand? The actual social butterfly? Nothing. My character was Mr Dud. To a point where nobody was asking me any important questions.

I knew my character had both motive and opportunity. But that's all I had. My character was so boring I began to think it was me.

Yea, it was me.

The beard

A few years ago, I got lazy and just grew out a beard. My wife, without saying much, loved it.

She didn't do much either. I had no idea.

I've grown it out every so often since then, but never for very long. A couple of weeks at most. However in my age it seems to have changed. Now there's a grey patch right on my chin. Now the beard alone adds 10 years to my face, but they grey adds another 5. I'm at a part of my life where I don't *want* to look older. Then the hair itself simply wasn't soft anymore. Top of my head - baby smooth. Face - iron bristles.

A friend hosted a murder mystery event the other night. Costumes encouraged. I grew out a beard for awhile for the costume. Put on a pair of old glasses sans lenses. Got some clothes I haven't worn in forever. It was awesome.

I shaved this morning. My daughter took a second recognizing me. I could feel my wife's sorrow.

Broken heat

The calendar is meaningless when it comes to how it feels. Honestly.

Sure, we look at equinox and solstice as the 'official' change of seasons, but the heat always lingers longer than it's wanted.

It finally broke. I stood outside the other day and felt the air. It was no longer the warm, wet air of summer. It was crisp. I felt the dryness of the air wanting to pull moisture from my skin. I saw my breath this morning before work.

I've waited long for this. My winter wardrobe is vastly superior to my summer attire, and I'm a vain old fool.

Age

Injuries in your 20's:

• One bruise from falling out of tree.
• Slightly achy after car accident.
• Mild fever when contracting the plague.

Injuries in your 30's:

• Bad back from sleeping slightly weird.
• Twisted ankle from hitting the brakes too hard.
• Passed out after standing up too fast.

Maybe I should just admit that I need to work out... at all.

The unbreakable piñata

My youngest son seems to enjoy piñatas. His past few birthdays he's wanted one, and honestly, fine whatever. It's a candy explosion, they happen at kids birthdays anyway.

This year, the dinosaur was strong. It was a t-rex filled with snickers and peanut butter cups. There were eight small children. Piñata limbs were broken, cracks in the body showed, but it held strong. A single candy fell after a few rounds.

The children were restless. The t-rex would not release its sweet insides. I summoned my oldest niece. She's a teenager (wasn't even participating, just happened to be there), and had several years of martial arts training. She was armed, motivated, and inspired by the hopes of the surrounding children.

She lined up a shot, and took exactly one swing. Body parts went flying. Chocolaty eviscera blasted across the lawn. She turned and walked without a second glance. The children descended like locust.

Smart TV

In theory, I like the concept of a smart TV. Not requiring a separate device hooked up to get your streaming services offers simplicity, and I was drawn to the concept.

I bought a new TV this past week. I was, admittedly, looking forward to paring down the number of remote controls it takes. But something insidious happened.

Advertisements.

Now I need to say this: I loathe advertisements. They're ugly, intrusive, and manipulative. When my son repeated them verbatim with enthusiasm in his voice, as if he really believed the claims they made, I actively sought to banish them forever. Now before this was passive. I use adblockers on my web browsers, I pay a little extra on some services to disable ads (even on my wife's Kindle), and stopped using any services that showed them regardless.

I could barely watch the pilot of the new Star Trek show because of the near 1:1 ratio of ad:show.

I'm currently in the process of re-configuring my home network to block all ads on any devices instead of relying on the devices own adblocking abilities.

But that TV. I turned it on, and a full THIRD OF MY SCREEN was an unhidable, unskippable, permanent advertisement. This wasn't a third party that I chose to do business with, this wasn't something I could make go away. This was a permanent billboard that the TV manufacturer baked right into my house.

It went back to the store immediately. A fair amount of searching later showed that most, if not all, smart TV's have some sort of built in advertising that you couldn't dispose of.

I'd rather have more remotes than a single ad

Do not pass Go

My wife found my stash. She did some deep cleaning this past week and found what I've been hoarding since we moved in. The things I've been collecting and keeping to myself.

The noisy toys.

The stupid car that sings the entire song every time you hit the button, not allowing any interruptions. The whistles, the tambourine, everything. She thought little of bringing out these toys, thinking perhaps that it was a mistake that they were all somehow inexplicably crammed into a spot our children never look. The boys were all at school, and our daughter has little interest in these things. So the consequences were not immediate.

They return home from school not long before I return from work.

The worst offenders have already been.. reacquired. The others will follow soon.

Needing a vacation from my vacation

I never thought I'd be glad to go back to work.

Wait, let's back up.

So I had this past week off (plus today, being Labor Day). The NYS Fair runs during the same week that my company closes the doors for awhile (this is not a coincidence, but that's a story for another time*), so I often go at least more than once.

Monday I went with my brother. Just about killed myself. It took me the entirety of the following day just to recover properly. Thursday I went with my better half, and while she doesn't push as far, she's more thorough. It may not have been as intense, but the damage from Monday wasn't fully undone, so it felt just as bad.

My dear wife got a call from her oldest and bestest friend on Friday morning. We haven't seen her since her wedding, and that day they planned a weekend together.

With her husband. And their four kids. At my house.

For those of you keeping track, that makes two of us and our four kids, plus two of them and their four kids. My house can handle so much, fortunately my backyard can handle eight kids just fine.

They arrived at the house late in the evening (it was a five hour drive), and the women discussed what they could do the next day (being Saturday). The next morning, they had elected to go to the State Fair.

My to-do list hadn't gotten any smaller. My feet actually had some damage (bad shoes, since removed from my life), and I hadn't slept well in days. But I wasn't about to be the guy that spoiled her surprise weekend.

So we went back. In hot humid weather. Corralling eight children. Oh, and they broke an their daily attendance record, so we were doing this among 130+ thousand people. Fun was had.

I'm not gonna lie to you, I'd be there right now enjoying the final day if I wasn't battered and beaten by my age and lack of exercise. (and bad shoes) But man, am I going to be glad to be back at work so I can relax.

*If I ever remember

Vacation weather

The last week in August is nice, only because I don't have to go to work.

That's nice.

But this week, the first several days, it's been brutally hot and humid. Really puts a damper on my to-do list. You know those to-do lists that people slowly acquire, but can never really get to until they have some time off somewhere? Yea, that's the one.

It's Friday and I have 2 out of 7 finished. Meh.

The limit

I enjoy long walks. Hikes. I can be on my feet longer than anyone else I know. But I don't know my limit. I never reached it, because whoever I was with needed to stop.

Yesterday I went to the NYS Fair with my brother. We were there for 13 hours. My watch recorded 31,313 steps. (I usually reach a third of that, depending on how work is going). Oddly, I felt like I could have kept on going. There was nothing left to do. My brain was mush - my syntax was screwy. I was a purveyor of word salads. I sat in the car and felt nothing, but discovered upon returning home that getting out of the car was... difficult.

I slept for 10 hours.

According to my food log, and compared to my watch, I burned more than twice as many calories as I ate. I suppose that was my first mistake. Having since eaten, I can think again, although perhaps today is better left to academic pursuits.

Well being

I've managed my entire adult life to not let my issues become a burden to other people, but I realized that if I kept doing that, it might just kill me.

That wasn't hyperbole.

I've taken stock of my lifestyle and compared it to my genetics. I *think* I'm doing alright. My mental health, on the other hand, has taken a serious beating for the last 20 years or so. Either I'm insanely psychologically resilient, or I'm an emotional marshmallow that just puffs right back out.

Either way, the last couple of years has shown me that I need to make some adjustments to my coping mechanisms. First thing I needed to do was actually say something.

Can't take it back now.

Coming home

Every day when I come home from work, I have to sneak through the door. If I make any noise, I lose my head start. You see, all I want to do is put my things down. My keys go on the hook, my glasses go on the shelf next to the hook... that sort of thing.

Because once my daughter hears me, she comes running right for me, screaming the entire time.

It sounds cute, but she doesn't slow down. I have to catch her or I get knocked over. If she's upstairs, she will skip five steps at a time in her efforts to knock me over faster. I have to catch her. Fact is, I need my hands empty to greet this girl or it gets messy.

Today I didn't make it. She took me down. She giggled, said "no no, punch ya butt", then did just that.

Go the f*ck to sleep

I could wax philosophical about childrens bedtime patterns. I could go on at length about how good routine helps children fall asleep easier. (They receive all the cues that trigger blah blah blah)

I could say all of this if it wasn't complete crap.

My daughter puts herself to bed. She's three, and she grabs her blanket, turns off her light, and dismisses me without any further fuss. My oldest son grabs an audio book and quietly sequesters himself. His brother simply goes to bed and lies down.

But among all this, it only takes one kid to ruin everyone's evening. Every scrap of well-meaning advice is hot garbage in the face of blistering reality.

40,000 men and women every day

So the current flavor of social media has a section where you can see things that were posted on this day last year, 2 years ago, etc. Most of the time it's fairly benign, often nostalgic, sometimes a good solid memory.

Sometimes it tells you that people are dead.

Not directly, no. I found one such memory from just a few years ago, discussing my move out of Buffalo. Turns out one such conversant was now a memorial page.

I can't tell you how surreal it is to think about the people I personally know that are now dead. There was a wave of funerals in my early 20's, but they were elderly and infirm relatives. Then there was the tragic cancer case (She was only 27) then what seemed like nothing.

Turns out they've all been dying and I had no idea. My 20 year high school reunion last week had a memorial table that was too full for my comfort. Quick google research tells me that 95% of people born in my birth year are still alive.

...dang.

High School Reunion again

Remember this? Just about ten years ago now. Well it happened again, and from the looks of it I didn't miss much.

Twenty years later, I didn't recognize anyone. I also barely remembered any of them. My short list of hopefuls from last time weren't even on the list this time. I admit I wondered if I would be missing out, but that was quickly settled by the pics that flooded the site during and after.

It looked like a room full of strangers. Some of the names were familiar, but that's it.

I stayed in that night and watched cheesy movies with my wife. We stayed up late and made fun of bad screenwriting.

Defensive vacation planning

There is a time and a place where I want to relax and enjoy myself. Where I'm comfortable, where I can party.

That is not with my coworkers.

It's not that I dislike them - far from it. We get along, but there's a bit of a hierarchy that separates us. As such, we're not *really* friends. So when there are work parties (which is really only twice a year), I feel like the freshman alone at the party.

I'm thinking of planning vacations over the same weekends.

Bowman Lake

So I've been camping. It's a thing I do. I take my older sons with me and we disappear for a couple of days, then come back smelling like campfire and... not lemon fresh.

Last year we stayed at Green Lakes state park. It's nearby, which is safe. It also makes it busy - you get a *lot* of people staying there. I always go on Mondays, which always sees smaller crowds, but the camp sites are smooshed together and you get a lot of noisy kids.

This year, I found what is apparently the least well known state park in New York. We were the only people in the tent area.

Only people. We had about 12 camp sites to ourselves. The entire loop was ours.

Of course, going right after everyone spent themselves over the 4th of July didn't hurt, but still. My only regret was not pre-loading the map into my phone, because there was no signal at all. I had to stare at a map like Magellan until my phone finally caught a tower on our way out.

One hundred and sixteen degrees

It's been hot out. It capped off at a hundred, but with the humidity it felt like one sixteen. The thermometer has been in the high 90's for several days.

That's hot for us.

My basement, being complete, is a refuge. There's a solid 25 degree difference between the basement and the bedrooms. I almost feel cold down here.

The humidity is oppressive. I can't swim, never really could. Going from my house to the car required flotation devices.

And then it rained today. The kind of rain that happens when air that's entirely too hot consumes an insane amount of water, then gets pushed upward rapidly by an encroaching cold front.

I couldn't see the end of my car on the drive home, the rain was so heavy.

Summer Saturdays

Saturdays in the summer are no different than any other Saturday for me, the adult. But in the summer, my kids newly found love of morning TV (really it's just Netflix) gives the wife and I something wonderful.

They let us sleep.

Summer boycation

For some odd reason, the school year here runs through late June. The high school kids attendance is spotty based on final exam schedules, and the younger kids don't do anything of any academic value.

Seriously, they had parties and watched movies almost exclusively the last few weeks. There's almost no point in sending them.

So today, after weeks of nonsense, my kids can waste time at home in their pajamas instead. I woke up this morning to find my boys eating cereal and watching cartoons. They didn't wake me up, they didn't wake their mom up. They just got cereal and Netflix.

I took note of this as I got ready for work, and found myself not a small bit envious as I started my work week.

Heat and furniture

It was in the mid 90's today. The first time I was in the mid 90's, I was a teenager. Flannel shirts and grunge clashed with Zubas and NKOTB.

It was really friggin warm out today. And it was humid. Today I wish to honor Willis Carrier - the father of modern air conditioner. Freon is my best friend today.

So after a decade of moving around with my wife, and relying on whatever furniture we could get that fit our space, owning a house is changing things up a bit. I'm at a point where I'm changing my space to what I want (I could never do that as a renter) and now I'm getting (albeit slowly) the furniture that best fits the new space.

I bought a desk that isn't a complete piece of crap and I love it.

Down with the sweetness

Part of getting old means finally admitting that I don't have the metabolism of a teenager any more.

I'm in my mid 30's, I should have admitted this a decade ago. Whatever.

So anyway I'm trying to cut all the extra sugar out of my diet. Junk food, soda, etc. Problem is, I'm finding sugar everywhere. How can a tiny cup of yogurt have 37 grams of sugar in there? There aren't even 37 grams of yogurt in the thing.

It's in the bread.

And when they slap labels on it saying "low sugar" or some nonsense, they've replaced the sugar with some carcinogenic garbage like sucralose or aspartame. I need to have a conversation with food producers when they get to that stage. Once they take the sugar out - STOP. Don't put the cancer in. Just leave it.

Meanwhile, my efforts to remove just the extra junk has left me... feisty. I'm eating a lot of fruit just to shut my body up. I dream of donuts. I tell myself not to the store go alone.

My clothes fit a little more comfortably. I'm not sure I enjoy the trade.

Moanday

I don't dread Mondays. The start of a work week, coupled with the demise of a weekend, do not vex my mere existence. There are some times when the weekend itself is rougher than my employment, and Monday mornings are a welcome change. (Having kids will do that to you)

No, what I hate are coworkers that whine about Mondays, every single Monday.

You know the type. Every single Monday, they start off droopy, and the first thing out of their mouths is some lamentation regarding the day of the week. As if it was some painful mark upon their calendars that burnt away any remaining joy.

...wtf? Monday happens every single week, how have you not figured this out by now? Look I'm no life guru, but adjusting your expectations to reality, especially a reality that literally never changes and has always been that way, shouldn't be that hard. In fact, I'm more surprised there are people like this left.

These are the same people that celebrate Fridays as if it were some kind of achievement. Surviving the march of time can be taxing, I suppose, but throwing a mini party every single week just because you got to it seems to devalue the whole thing.

Oh crap, I've turned into one of those people that complain about everything. I need to blog about food or something.

Memorial Play

Yea, the title is a play on 'Memorial Day'. One of the overbearing parts of social media is the endless sanctimony, especially around holidays that honor military personnel. Every friggin year I see a glut of 'holier than thou' rants about how we should be spending holidays.

"iT's nOt NaTiOnAl BBq dAy"

Or something like that.

Let me make myself perfectly clear: if someone fights for me, if someone dies for me, then the best way to honor their service and sacrifice is to cherish and exercise what I would have lost otherwise.

Now excuse me, I have a BBQ to fire up, because I can.

The (big) Doors

My workplace utilizes a forklift to accept large deliveries of heavy stuff. We, in turn, make it into many, smaller things, but that's not where I'm going with this. What it means is that my workplace has giant doors. Frickin huge doors that you can literally drive through.

Seriously. The owner once stored a car in there for awhile.

When the weather is miserable and, well, not nice, the doors make no difference. Until we get a large delivery of heavy stuff, in which case everyone gets an icy blast. However, on those delightful sunny days, my coworkers like to torture everyone by keeping them wide open, so everyone can see the wonderful day that they can't enjoy because they're stuck at work.

Also, there are such doors on opposite ends of the building, and the narrow space I occupy happens to be a choke point for the gentle breeze everyone else gets to enjoy. When it gets to me, it's half cyclone. Some days I have more paperweights than paper. I keep random tools on top of folders just in case the doors open when I'm busy elsewhere.

I'd set up a pinwheel in the doorway if it wouldn't encourage them.

Not out enough

I'm not exactly sure when I discovered my love of hiking, but it's there. I suppose it happened once I stopped working nights, and had a humane work schedule that allowed such things as "time off" and the ability to schedule events more than a week in advance.

So I've been doing more outdoorsy stuff with my family, and I discover that the further I am from any shred of society, the more peaceful I feel. Also, I realized that nobody can keep up with my natural pace, and slowing down is really frustrating.

Seriously, I'm an extrovert. Being out in nature is great, but being *alone* out in nature is creepy. I gotta strike a balance here somewhere.

My turn

So one by one I've been taking my kids to the dentist, and today was my turn. It seems that what I've been ignoring has only gotten worse.

Both the hygienist and the dentist thought it odd that I felt no pain in a particular region in my mouth. Their exam and x-ray indicated a problem that should, by all accounts, hurt. Sitting here, I can't even remember which side of my mouth they were talking about.

I'm not sure if this is really good or really bad. I'll fill you in right after they do.

The break of Sun

People are always so happy when the cold weather finally breaks. That awkward transition where you need a jacket in the morning, but then are stuck with it the rest of the day because it's too warm: it sucks. I naturally run warm, so I gave up on morning jackets years ago.

I'm not referring to My Morning Jacket. I'm actually completely unfamiliar with their music, I just happen to know they exist and my above parlance seemed like a reference.

Anyway...

I've never felt like I've experienced seasonal affective disorder. Winter never made me sad. Summer never made me happy. It was always situational. This year, the breaking of winter and all the extra sunshine seems to have coincided with an uncharacteristic bout of happiness.

I suppose planning camping trips does that.

Overscheduling

Have you ever taken a look at your calendar and realized you had way too much in there? Well I employ ghosts now.

My parents were talking with my wife about doing something this Friday. The one day this week that didn't have anything scheduled. I wasn't in the room when that conversation started, but I walked in when they were discussing what I scheduled.

(Joint access to a calendar app between my phone and my wife's is, in theory, a good idea)

I walked in where my wife was saying there was "nothing" on the calendar. My dad, hearing this, immediately thought that meant my Friday was available.

I scheduled nothing, and that's exactly what's going to happen. He didn't get it at first. My mother, on the other hand, understood right away. My dear wife, upon making the same realization, seemed almost flattered.

Darn right she should. I have a whole day full of nothing I plan on doing with her and it's going to be amazing.

The pox

I can't say any illness has ever been well timed. Nay, I would argue that any illness, ever, has always struck when unwanted. But as far as the ailment currently vexing me, I'd have to say that waiting for tax season to end was ideal.

Friday, I simply felt like I needed to sleep. Forever.
The worst of it was Saturday. Every part of me hurt. Nothing was spared. Fever, chills, a third symptom I won't describe.
Sunday was a bit relaxed.

But Saturday? Every single Saturday this tax season my wife has worked the bulk of the day. Sometimes 9-5, sometimes 9-9. For this illness to wait until I wasn't alone with my kids all day was *less bad* than it could have been.

Still, I had plans for this past weekend. I had so much stuff I wanted to finish. The only thing on my list I got to was "sleep more"

Tax Widow

Every year, from January 2 until roughly the middle of April, I'm... alone.

When my wife and I first got together, her work schedule wound its way around her course schedule. I rarely, if ever, had anything scheduled in the evenings. She was busier than I, and as such I found myself housed in solitude.

Living in Buffalo, after our son was born, my sister in law moved in with us during the season. She watched over him while my wife worked and I was away on campus. Worked out rather well for the years we spent in Buffalo.

Back in Syracuse, however, we're back to alternating schedules. It was nice to have her sister around to watch the kids, but she didn't come with us. For the past three years, I would come home from work, and she would promptly leave for work. It took some adjusting the first year (I simply wasn't used to being alone with my kids for such a long amount of time every day. My work shifts kept me estranged from the same family I was trying to support), but as my ability to organize my own kids has grown, I've found myself alone again.

She makes a paper chain. Every link has the current date, and shows the number of days remaining of the tax season. In January, it runs from one end of the wall to the other. It's imposing, daunting. Paper though it may be, that chain holds me down more than I ever expected of 20lb stock.

I'm at the end of the season. Today and tomorrow. A single link of the chain is all that remains. I look forward to shredding it with a most ridiculous glee.

Absent a dentist

I used to get a six month cleaning at a dentist. It started as a kid, but inertia held it over into my adulthood. That came to a screaming halt once I moved out to Buffalo, turning my 10 minute drive to my dentist into a two and a half hour drive.

I never found a local dentist. I didn't think anything of it. When an ache worked its way into my jaw some years later, I made a friend happy. He was in the dental school at UB, and the problem I had was the kind he needed to take care of before he could graduate.

Woo hoo, free dental work. Oh crap, that x-ray showed a few more things I should be concerned about? I promptly ignored the x-ray, muttering something about insurance and being broke. That was years ago. Also 250 miles away. Also before I had decent insurance. Just a few days ago, my son admitted that he didn't chew on one side of his mouth because it hurt.

Oh crap, I suck.

So I made six dentist appointments.

They're just baby teeth, but still. Dang. I have *not* been on top of this.

Ready Player One

So I've had the book Ready Player One on my reading list for almost four years now (it's a long list, sue me), and the impending movie release had me bump it to the top.

That book was more fun than I anticipated. It's 385 pages of pure childhood nostalgia, with an extremely heavy dose of nerd culture.

Having read the book, I felt comfortable reading articles about the book to movie adaptation. There was a lot in the book that simply wouldn't translate. (There's one part in the book where the protagonist stands at an old pac man cabinet for five hours, winning something in the process. You just can't do that in a movie) They had to change a significant portion of the book just to cram it onto the big screen. Literally all but one of the major challenges (and how they're implemented) are completely different from book the movie.

And it worked. At least *I* thought it did. I know a lot of people are annoyed the how much changed, and I suppose I wasn't one of them because I more or less knew it happened, but they kept the spirit of the book intact fairly well.

It's not quite Jurassic Park, but it's a far cry from the devastation that was The Golden Compass. Don't even get me started on that one.

Easter Fools Day

So Easter Sunday is April Fools day. While plenty of insane ideas are everywhere about how parents can troll their kids (or anyone trolling anyone, for that matter), I often wonder if April 1 is really the best day for it.

I mean come on, they're expecting it!

And while I generally have a sense of humor, I've noticed a disturbing trend in these April Fools suggestions. They almost all involve sabotaging food somehow. Have a prank in mind for me? Does it involve tricking me into eating something that's not what you're leading me to believe it is?

I'm not entirely sure why this annoys me as much as it does. I'm sure that if I were to find myself on a leather studded couch rambling to a PhD (or a microfiber couch with a game controller and an old friend) I could lead myself down the rabbit hole and figure this one out. Maybe I was tricked into eating something questionable in my childhood? Maybe I have-

No, I'm not finishing that sentence. Though it's not like me to just lay myself out like this in a public blog. Meh, I'm certain that the three people left reading this won't abuse this knowledge.

Super salt.

Whatever it is they're spraying on the roads these days to melt the ice isn't salt. This is some hyped up salt on crack. It looks like the underside of my car was hit with some sci-fi disintegration thingy.

Turns out it isn't salt. This is 'salt brine' that just sticks to the roads and stays there until it snows again. Or gets washed off in the rain, whichever happens first. Either way, it's completely destroying my car.

Daylight messing time

It doesn't work. Eventually they adapt and, once again, wake up early. I'm signing petitions, I'm calling Congress, I'm-

I'm just not gonna change my clocks any more. This is where I stay. This fall, when everyone changes their clocks back an hour, I'm gonna live an hour in the future.

Daylight wasting time

I'm sure I speak for everyone in the modern world when I say that the act of setting our clocks an hour ahead in the spring is an outdated and barbaric practice that needs to die immediately.

Don't even mention setting them an hour back later on. That's not a bonus, we're getting our time back. It's like a tax refund for time.

I could rant about how people shouldn't have to get up early, and just about every single reason people have given me for this nonsense has been, well, nonsense. (Farmers? Energy savings? LIES) People die.

But I'm the kind of the guy that sees the silver lining. You see, my kids have been waking us up early every morning. We simply never adjusted them. Ignored the clock and put them down to bed when their little bodies were used to it.

This morning we were reminded what my alarm sounded like. The pitter patter of little feet and the cacophony of prepubescent whines didn't shatter the tranquility of my morning.

No, it was the fatigue.

The haircut

Whenever I move, it takes me awhile before I find someone I like.

I'm talking about getting haircuts.

I'll bounce from one place to another, from barbershops to salons, sampling everyone until I find someone that knows me better than I know myself. Took me two years this time, but I found one.

I know what you're thinking: "Who cares?" Well let me tell you, I am a very lazy man. The kind of lazy that will take an extra two minutes to do something now if it means I save three minutes later. This translates into haircuts. I found my person, and they can deliver the same boring, basic, unassuming haircut that every 30-something married father is going for. I don't have to sit there trying to explain every little detail, I just sit down and it happens.

I'm just trying to remind myself of that, as I look at the incredibly non-standard haircut someone else just gave me. Every pass by a mirror reminds me to be a little more patient.

Winter break

For some reason, New York State has a week off school in February. When I was a kid, I first enjoyed it. In my mid teens, however, I started thinking that if we didn't have a week off in the dreary gloom of February, maybe we could get out of school a week earlier in the warm sun of June.

Good luck getting NY to change anything when it makes sense, though.

Meanwhile, my kids just had that week off. An entire week where it's too cold to throw them outside all day. Or it's not *that* cold, but it's wet and muddy. Regardless, there's some unfortunate combination of weather that results in my kids spending the bulk of the time indoors.

I once remember as a kid looking at the academic calendar and adding up all the days off, then pushing them to the end of the school year. It was something like three weeks. Given the schools out here, for some reason, run to the end of June, I felt cheated out of half my summer.

Musical upending

It took sixteen years, but Moulin Rouge! has been bumped as my favorite musical.

I was raised on musicals. My mother watched them all the time in my childhood. Not just musicals, but a lot of older movies (that aren't musicals) are still filled with singing. It's a wonder I can't hold a note.

Anyway, The Greatest Showman now holds the #1 spot

Back when Moulin Rouge! was released, I was a young, idealistic boy, in love with a girl I couldn't have, far from home and convinced he was a writer. (I still think I am). I seemed to mirror Ewan McGregor's character in that sense. Currently, I'm a married man with children, not to far from his hometown. Hugh Jackman's character in Greatest Showman is, as it seems, my current mirror.

Makes me wonder if, in sixteen years, another musical about a grandfather will be released.

Valentines deus

Look at your calendar. Read off those special days where people do fancy things. Notice anything? These holidays all have themes. "we're celebrating this for that reason" etc.

This is where Valentines day seems oddly redundant. If you're in a relationship, shouldn't you *always* be working on said relationship? Holidays are typically cultural, celebrating or commemorating an event in history.

Relationships have their own holidays. Anniversaries and other milestones that are celebrated together. At this point, Valentines day seems almost redundant. Now don't get me wrong. I'm a sucker for a fancy night out, but it always feels so.. generic.

At least there's an abundance of cheap chocolates on the 15th.

The car

During my cars first year of life, it was a rental. Plenty of people used and abused it for money.

It's red. My license plate starts with GEM.

I call her Ruby because she used to be a prostitute*.

Anyway, I'm currently visiting Ruby in the hospital. We don't know if she's going to pull through. She's old, she's had a good life, but I'm telling you I'm conflicted. I haven't had to make payments in... ever. (That was nice) But the car had next to nothing. Basic audio with a CD player. Do you even know what a CD player is? No other audio inputs, just AM/FM and CD's.

I used to have what I thought was a limitless supply of blank CD's to draw from while putting together music to listen to in this car, and she's exhausted my supply.

It's definitely been a love/hate relationship with this old Taurus.

*That's the joke I tell everyone but my dad. He gets the dad joke: "I call it Robert, because it's a Red Ford" When he laughs and everyone else rolls their eyes, I know it worked.

Face blanket

I got lazy, and it got cold. The result was a beard. I was never a beard guy. Had one for awhile a few years ago, didn't suit me then.

Sure is warm, though.

My wife is always one to let me know how she feels about it. (Note: she likes it)

My coworkers seemed to have their own unyielding opinions. Now while there are some who would be annoyed if others didn't notice changes made to their appearance, I'm not one of them. In fact, I'd rather not anyone make a spectacle over it.

I passed by a mirror last night and thought "yep, time to go".

Man was my face cold this morning.

The c-list

The company that I work for has a total of sixteen employees. Sixteen. One-six. Four squared. I make no effort to see any of my coworkers outside of work hours. (I don't even add them on social media. Only three have ever tried, and I accepted not to be awkward, but keep them on a bit of a throttle)

Yet I find traces of them everywhere I go.

My son is in Pre-K with a coworkers granddaughter. Took my daughter to the doctor for a well visit, and the receptionist is a coworkers sister. When my solar panels were installed, the electrical inspector that was brought in is married to another coworker. I could go on. (We all met at the Christmas party)

Whoever is putting together this production needs to get more extras, because you can't keep dragging out the same batch of c-listers over and over. It's getting suspicious.

Keto quitter

I used to blame my metabolism for my once youthful physique. Then I got married and realized that my wife's cooking could easily overcome that. I'm far from fat, I just have the exact same protuberance in my midsection that every other male in my family inherits.

Meanwhile, my wife gave me four children.

So she was looking at a change in her diet that would fix that. Many (very many) of our friends and the like have tried this ketogenic diet, and all have shown very favorable results. The trick is you drop carbohydrates way the heck down so your body is forced to switch its power source to fat, hence you're now burning off your fat.

Problem is, I can't really digest that much fat without my gallbladder kicking around. I learned that the hard way after a couple days. The results were... unpleasant.

"Oh, but there are ways to get around that. You can take this supplement, or alter the diet a bit, etc..."

Tried that. Didn't work. The supplements? I experienced every single side effect. Extreme abdominal [issues] and lots of dizziness aren't my idea of a good time. I actually missed work because of how extreme these were.

I'm typing this over a bagel. I'm cheering on my wife from the sidelines.

Solar Panels

Right, so now I steal power from the sun.

I was at the NYS Fair (back in 2016...) with the wife when I saw a guy at a booth selling these things. I've long had an interest in stealing power from a fusion generator that lives 93 million miles away, so I simply approached him and said: "Tell me everything"

And he did.

After a few months of back and forth (engineers, design approval, permits, regulations, financing, blah blah blah), we were finally able to stick a bunch on my roof. Unfortunately, my house has a rather small footprint. I wanted a massive array focusing gigawatts of solar radiation into my air conditioner. I got seventeen 320 watt panels instead. I'm not thrilled with the limits, but every month from the day it was installed until August we generated a surplus. (The A in August stands for air conditioning)

The difference in my power bill is, on average, equal or greater than the cost of the panels.

For years, and even when living in Buffalo, we would get people going door to door trying to sell themselves as middlemen to our electric utility. ("We want to make sure you're getting all your discounts. We just need to see your electric bill") These "people" would be aggressive and annoying, then act as if you've wasted *their* time when you send them packing. Since I had these photovoltaic beauties on display, I feel somewhat ignored.

Now if only it worked on the clowns selling Hyla.

The great (temporary) thaw

So last week it was incredibly cold. The kind of cold that makes my lungs not work right.

Side note: I had a nasty case of bronchitis about ten years ago that I lacked the wherewithal to blog about. I was moderately delirious, and was left with some damage to my lungs. The problems only show when the temperatures drop below 10 or so degrees.

So the snow kept coming, and the snowblower that I have here just wasn't working. I can't shovel in this cold (I can't breathe in this cold), so it just kinda piled up.

Today is the first day that the temperatures have finally broken past the melting point, and it's been a mad scramble to get all the snow out of the way.

And off of my solar panels. Have I mentioned those yet? Got those a year ago now.

Really? I haven't blogged about those? Man I suck at this.

Icy New Year

I pulled up last years Times Square ball drop and played it at 6:30. My kids were none the wiser and my new years party was surprisingly quiet.

That may also have had something to do with only one person showing up. Either way, I'm glad I didn't have to open my front door more than twice. Whoever stood in front of the door to open it would lose a few degrees in their core. It's the kind of temperatures that can cure a fever by checking the mail.

I'm not certain why new years diets always start on January 1. I mean I get the calendar date, but we're all so chock full of leftovers that it just seems wasteful. Even my wife and I are planning something different, but giving it another week.

Ah January... Everyone packs up their decorations (if they haven't already) and tries on a new flavor of living for a few weeks before going back to their sedentary sugars. Meanwhile, my wife disappears into a tax vortex, only to reappear sometime in mid April. I lack enough black clothing to display my mourning period, so I have to settle with baggy sweaters and not shaving.

I already do that because of the cold, though.

Anyway, a lot of people always complain about the previous year. "Oh wow, 20XX was so horrible, next year is gonna rock" etc ad nauseam. Happens every year without fail. Some years have noticeably more whining, but it's persistent. Well I had a good year, and I'm gonna have an even better one.