Jack asked Mike and I our thoughts on marijuana this weekend, I had two initial responses:
(1) I need to tread carefully here, lest one of us ends up sounding as evasive as Bill Clinton, and
(2) Ooh, yay! Another blog topic.
Mike thinks a blog on talking to our teenager about pot has the potential to draw a little ire, and he’s understandably a little anxious about my broadcasting this kind of conversation to the whole, wide world.
Mike says he can’t remember his dreams, but when he does, he’s sometimes running from the law. I imagine he’s not remembering why he’s on the lam because his subconscious is taking the fifth.
Ironically, those of us around here most likely to have something weighing on our conscience are also the ones with completely pleasant dreams we do remember.
“What’s that word for being in the middle of a dream where you realize you’re actually dreaming?” Jack asked me this afternoon.
I’d forgotten there was such a term, so I looked it up. It’s a lucid dream.
Anytime I have a dream where I realize I’m actually dreaming, I immediately try to do one of two things: fly like superman, or ask Tony Stark if he’s in the mood to come up to my place for a nightcap.
I was thinking about my blog on running terminology, and realized there are items and events in the sport of running for which there are, as yet, no real words.
With a nod to Rich Hall and the stuff we watched before John Stewart, I have generated the following glossary of more running terminology to help runners, and those who love them (or would like to have a special language with which to make fun of them), convey all that heretofore remained unsaid for no other reason than we lacked the means of expression.
Glidegrief: The realization, well into your run, that you forgot to use the anti-chaffing stick that’s melting in your car right at this moment, and you’re going to be walking funny and screaming in every shower for the next few days as a result. Continue reading
Mike forwarded me an article recently about how hipsters are turning their noses up at their signature beer. It’s apparently become too mainstream.
Makes me feel sorry, poor hipsters. What are they going to drink now when they’ve had too much poor-over coffee and their nerves are frazzled, or it’s just time for an aperitif for their dinner of wild kale and kimchi tacos?
And then I feel super bad because I like kale and kimchi (mostly), and I’m sort of a food snob, and most definitely a beer snob. Who am I to make fun of hipsters? Continue reading
People discipline other peoples’ children all the time.
I’ve done it. It was called for. When the neighbor kids were climbing on their garage I told them to get down. They were first or second graders, or something, who couldn’t possibly be doing anything productive on top of a garage.
When they sassed me in response, I assured them yes, I was the boss of them, by virtue of the fact that every sober parent on the planet would agree with me, as would any emergency room physician.
And then I repeated, rather emphatically, that they were to climb the hell down from the garage roof right now or things were going to get serious.
I’m a parent now, and realize everyone knows get serious really means: I am going to keep hurling empty threats at you until you get tired of listening to me and give me WHAT I WANT.
Fortunately these kids didn’t wait to find out what get serious meant. They climbed down. Continue reading
You GUYS I’m on the Fun Committee!
Hang on. I just wiped out the stores in my enthusiasm department. I need to sit down.
I don’t mean to poke too much fun at the Fun Committee. Being assigned to a task that involves pulling people together for no other reason than to enjoy each other’s company is something I really enjoy.
Mike and I have signed up for another half marathon, which is tomorrow. The event sounded like a really good idea back in, I don’t know, April or something, when we forget it’s Death Valley-type hot here in August.
Following the event, we’re loading up the car and driving a hundred miles across the high desert to a beer festival, for probably no real reason except just so we can say we did that.
Before THAT, and for your reading pleasure, I’m offering up the following glossary of very real and frequently used running terms:
Chip Time – That time after a long run, when I tell myself it’s probably fine to eat a full-sized bag of Fritos, because not only am I so freaking hungry I could chew my own arm off, I am also pretty sure I burned enough fuel anyway to make it a net neutral calorie intake (wrong). Continue reading
Maybe you’ve guessed I don’t keep this blog up for the fame or fortune, nor the many interesting requests I get from people who want me to post reviews on their dog accessories, toys or skin care systems for free (your readers would really love to know about our new, interactive floor mat … would they now, really?).
Although, maybe you have a life and don’t spend a lot of time thinking about my motivation. I occasionally get comments from people who are worried about my sanity, or the safety of my children, but maybe that’s not you.
If you want to know the truth, I don’t spend a lot of time thinking about it either. I enjoy dumping the contents of my brain out, sorting through the garbage, and then sharing whatever seems to make sense. Sometimes people tell me it makes them snort coffee out their nose.
I was going for poignancy, but okay. Continue reading
To our darling son who wants to go to a gaming convention in Texas next summer – an epic road trip with his friend and his friend’s brother who will technically be an adult by that time, and doubtlessly fully capable of assuming all the responsibility for your posse:
We do trust you. It’s not that. And dad sincerely apologizes for snorting Pepsi out his nose at your heartfelt plea. That was insensitive of him.
Our ‘no’ should not be taken as a reflection our trust or lack thereof. Nor is it a statement about your friend, or your friend’s brother. Or their whole, entire family or their ancestors for that matter. We’ve never met these people, so we obviously can’t form an opinion about them.
You asked me “What could possibly happen” to two boys who will be sixteen by then, and a just-recently-turned-eighteen year-old on a road trip from Idaho to Texas.
That’s an excellent question. Continue reading
We’d finally convinced the kids to leave the living room the other night for an extended period of time so we could catch an episode of Orange is the New Black.
We don’t want to ship them off for another session of summer camp, nor stay up until the wee hours when they finally go to bed, but we still want to watch our show, which last night meant begging them to stay out of the room, and then remaining on high alert lest they enter again, inadvertently getting an eyeful of the random soft-core porn scenes that seem to be a hallmark of the series.
This isn’t that blog, the one where I talk about balancing inappropriate television habits with lax summer bedtime schedules. It’s the one that starts out with sounds of distress coming from the basement.
Mike paused the show. We found Jack splayed supine on the basement floor.
“I broke it,” he said. “It won’t work.” Continue reading