Saturday, I turn 40 and get to spend the evening with some of the childhood friends that populate the memories floating through my daydreams. Right now, I’m smiling as I think of the conversations I’ve had recently while planning this get together. The voices on the other end of the phone are different and so are some of our waistlines, I’d imagine, but somewhere in our cores, there are still the same kids from school, church, birthday parties, and sleepovers. Here’s to being a kid again even if for just one night.
I just spent a long time writing my first blog post in a while where I ranted for about 1500 words, and the words were flying from my fingertips like flies from a hog farm. The prose was pure genius as I lambasted my target. Then, I got 3/5ths of the way through a brilliant closing paragraph when I stopped and re-read what I’d just written, and it hit me… Dammit, Robbie! You’re being an old jackass and you don’t need to let everybody else know that.
The past few days, I’ve been mulling over what to write, and my thoughts always returned to the tragedy at Charlottesville. I couldn’t quite figure out what to say, and this evening, I was flicking down my Facebook feed when I saw my neighbor, Kim Tarver, posted something profound on the subject. Now, with her permission, I am reposting her words here.
In vino veritas…
I was having a progressively deeper conversation with a buddy the other night at $3 beer night at the local minor league ballpark. As we doled out solutions to most of the world’s problems, the subject came up of how kids view others who are different from themselves whether it be a physical, mental, or learning disability, socioeconomic status, or what have you.
I’m sitting on the porch enjoying my after dinner cigar, and it feels magically delicious out here today. You can still see the humidity, but the temperature is quite pleasant (as I sit in front of a turbo power industrial cage fan blowing hard enough to move the leaves on the tree across the yard.) The overall point is that, unlike yesterday, I’m outside, I’m clothed, and I’m not begging for the sweet relief of death.
Global warming is a tricky minx.
…motivation. Global warming is real, folks. It’s sucked every last drop of energy from me. This summer more than any before has rendered me a melted blob of ugh. How are we supposed to survive in this world where we need to wear a dehumidifier mask every time we venture outside, and the very real risk of heat stroke exists just for opening the door for the UPS delivery man (who must be some sort of android)? Continue reading
On the way home from work one day 10 years or so ago, I decided to pick up a burger for supper, so I drove through the new Dairy Queen and grabbed a cheeseburger value meal with a root beer. I’m a fan of DQ’s cheeseburgers because they’re super cheesy, and they don’t force me to pick off a salad’s worth of soggy vegetables before I take my first bite. (I get all the vegetables I need with the ketchup.) Continue reading
I took a break from everything Saturday and spent the day at the farm doing a bunch of not much. Before lunch, mom and dad scurried around picking vegetables, hoeing, and fertilizing the garden- which is looking pretty good so far this year. Continue reading
When driving out of the neighborhood in Brandon the other morning, I noticed something about the houses. None of them had front porches large enough to serve any purpose other than keeping a visitor dry during a rain event while waiting on an occupant of the house to answer the door. The porches were certainly not large enough to relax or entertain guests on. That outdoor entertaining duty has been shifted to back porches and patios hidden from view by tall wood fences. Continue reading
There are only a few days left until the donation window closes for the 2017 MDA Muscle Walk. This has been my first foray into fundraising, and I have to say it’s not easy. I’ve spent a lot of time shaking the trees, hoping something would fall out. Continue reading