North and Low

I have been a bad blogger again. It is difficult to motivate myself to write sometimes, though it always helps me feel better. The truth is, it's been a low year here in Michigan. I miss the heat of San Antonio, the friends of Texas and Kansas, having a job and feeling like the man of the house. Graduate school has been nice, but I have ruptured two discs in my back and haven't been able to sit or stand for three weeks now. I am only funded to do research through the summer session, and I doubt I will be able to contribute much from my prone and medicated position. My long-planned vacation to Mexico is occurring without me, and I spend my days eating percocet like candy and waiting for the doctors to consider my pain as urgent as I do.

Miss Neverpoop is at least enjoying her Tour de Grandparent: a three week trip to Kansas City and Fort Collins to visit her four sets of grandparents. She will be joined by Dr. Wife for the last 5 days, who will visit her family. I'm sure by the time I see her again she will be thoroughly pampered by doting parents. Dad will be much less entertaining than the boating, camping, puppy-owning, attention-lavishing grandparents. But that is as it should be.

As for my brain, it has been occupied with a retarded amount of facebook ogling, daytime TV drooling, and moping about. I have lost 15 pounds, because I have no appetite and I spent a lot of my time tensed in pain. It has been a long three weeks, though parts of it were a blur of sedative.

I keep looking for bright sides, but there are few to be had right now. I'm not going to fall apart, but I think life has gotten the better of me for the time being. I dislike being this negative, but until the pain stops this may be the best I can do. I should know more in a day, as I am scheduled for an epidural injection in the morning. If that works, I will be back to mobile by the weekend. If it doesn't, I will get on the list for surgery as soon as possible.

End of 2008

Let me start my "End of 2008" post by saying clear and straight: I have no fucking clue. None. I never have, and the older I get the more convinced I am I will never have one. Normally, I'm ok with this. Zen. Yoda. But not right now.

Right now, I would like a clue. A little insight. I'm having a tough time not getting bogged down in the moment. For the first time since high school, I feel like I'm in high school. And in case you didn't know me then, that isn't a good thing. I lack confidence, perspective, reality, and drive. I find it difficult to trust. I'm quick to anger and cynical. My heart pounds with fear. I'm getting fat again.

"Unclench," I tell myself. "Really, it works its way around, this world. You don't have to push it." I'm carrying the baggage of the past few years too heavily. My past mistakes, losses, responsibilities, and failures are heavy like dripping canvas laid over my head.

And that's not right. Why is it so easy to feel those burdens but so difficult to remember the blessings, wins, privileges, and successes? Why don't they dry those canvases, fill them with laughing gases and launch me into the air? Maybe they do for you. I hope so. For me, it's tougher.

There are some fundamental principles that I want to live by, and I will try to adhere to them better this year. Here are the ones of which I am aware:

1) My daughter first.
2) My happiness is my responsibility, and I can't ignore it.
3) Trust my gut on people. I'm really never wrong when I listen.
4) Get past the grudges.
5) Breathe deeply.

Goodbye 2008. You did a good job of proving to me that I still don't have a clue. But really, that hasn't stopped me yet.

Rolling along

Miss Neverpoop's first bike ride at the local park. It was her first time going down hills (which terrified her), and her first time going up hills (which terrified her). She is afraid of everything these days.

• Hills


• Spiderwebs


• Bees


• Dust bunnies


• New food


• Hair


• Doctors


• Medicine


• Band Aids


• Removing Band Aids


• Loud sneezes


• Lint


• Speed Bumps


• Fire


• Pickies (hangnails)


• Toilets flushing


• Going fast


• Monsters


• Moths

It is a little disturbing to see her so frightened all of the time. We never allow her to give into her fears (alright, maybe fire...). We calmly hold her as she faces them. She loves adrenaline, but is terrified of trying anything brand new. If we can get her to try it once, though...

I'm working with that in my own world. Leaving teaching is scary, especially when I failed at doing so last year. In the middle of it all, I am trying to figure out how to find a new job, prepare for the next venture (owning the microbrewery), deciding whether to buy a house, rent, or get the hell out of Texas, refinancing the house in Kansas, and trying to manage the stress without letting daily life scare the shit out of me.

Yeah, working on that. It was a good day for a bike ride.

The eye of the beholder...

photo copyright Matt Whitlock of Zeta-Alpha Studios, 2005

Every now and then, I feel unkempt. Not quite together. My clothes seem to fit poorly, my hair not quite disciplined, and I truly doubt that the wife will remain as such.

Then I attend a Truckstop Honeymoon show. And halfway through the gritty vaudevilian banjo/bass thwacking goodness I look around. And that, my friends, puts it all in perspective. There is nothing uglier than a bunch of grinnin' hillbillies. Overalls, dirty denim, sweat-stained flannels, and straw hats that have obviously been chewed by mouths lacking all requisite teeth. I felt dashing.

The music of the two is as genuine and real as they. It tells of getting kicked out of summer bible camp, chasing a mosquito fogging truck on bikes, and the things that make momma cry. It is written by two people who obviously mated for life and are as comfortable with each other as, well, old denim.

The married couple that make up the band aren't exactly models themselves. Katie, the prettier of the two, thumped the strings of the upright bass in worn out jeans, self-cut hair, and horizontal stripes stretched across her pleasantly pregnant belly. Singing makes her damn good looking, despite a rather intense gaze. Her husband, Mike, well...

Some people are born for their jobs. Looking at Mike, he was given an option: serial killer or redneck roadshow rockstar. At times his eyes blaze maniacal. His unwashed, uncut, unshaven head dances over the top of his banjo with an eerily lucid awareness. I promise you all, I will continue attending their raw performances if for no other reason than to prevent him from slipping into his alternate career. Because he would be just as good at that.

And for those with an ear for banjo and meth, check out Fast Food Junkies, the opening band. Damn fine night in Kansas, it was. Damn fine.