Dear Journal, I forgot the milk. Twice. What’s wrong with me? The first time was somewhat understandable. I mean, it was cold and I had been saving it for last, during my shopping trip to Target. Of course I checked and double-checked my list to make sure I had all the items on it, but … Continue reading Dear Journal: Got Milk?
I couldn’t tell you the difference between a spark plug and an axle rod. I don’t know who won the 1987 World Series. I nod along when other guys talk about the latest Man vs. Wild. It’s just not my thing. I wouldn’t climb a mountain if my life depended on it, or if a … Continue reading Not That Guy
As she gets older, Lexi has decided she wants to be more like us, not that she wants to copy us, but that she admires what we do. In an essay she wrote for school she talked about how exciting it would be to be a librarian (like her mother). Then she has been talking about getting more songs on her iPod — Bruno Mars, Ne-Yo, and other popular singers — instead of just the KidzBop songs that used to populate her musical world, which is reminiscent of me and my love of different types of music. She even keeps asking me about when we’ll be able to get out and play some tennis since she knows its an important sport to me, and she wants to have that connection with me.
While it’s exciting to watch her grow older and discover more aspects of herself that she wants to explore, it’s also a little sad that the little girl who loved her stuffed rabbit and dog so much is gone, replaced by a young lady who sounds more and more like us, but also more and more like a future version of herself every day. But I’m embracing it because that’s what should happen. In the bath last night, she showed me more of that young woman she’s growing up to be, when she chatted with me about my number one passion: writing.
Lexi: Dad, how do I get to be a writer?
Me: You just write.
Lexi: No! I mean like you. I want to write a book.
Me: That takes a lot of hard work and commitment.
Lexi: Well, not exactly like you. I mean, I want it to be for, like, a 7-year old.
Me: It still takes a lot to write any book, even one for younger kids.
Lexi: How come?
Me: Because you have to keep in mind the age group, the words they should know and ones they won’t.
Lexi: So, if I just think about words I know, it will be okay for 7-year olds?
Me: It depends on the kid, but your editor will be able to help you figure that out.
Lexi: But I want to write it this weekend. I don’t have an editor.
Me: Lex, it’s not going to go that quickly, to get a book written in a couple of days and just publish it.
Lexi: Why not? I already have a lot of good ideas. Continue reading “Chatting With Lexi: On Writing”
How exactly did I get into these home improvement shows? Back in the day, if I had my druthers, I would have watched anything but the home improvement channel. Well, that and the surgery channel (blood is not my thing). I was into Kelly Kapowski, the crew from Friends, even Days of Our Lives, but … Continue reading Home. Improvement.
Why do I always get lost? I always get cold and clammy any time I see a “Detour” sign, which is ironic since my first novel is called Detours, but that is a metaphor while real detours just freak me out. I guess it’s because I usually only know one way to get anywhere, so when that way is taken away from me I cease to function as well. When I first moved to upstate New York it seemed like I was getting lost every single day, and getting lost here means going deep into cow country and not being able to find a road that leads out of it.
Once, a couple of summers ago, I was in Rome (Rome, NY, people) for a get-together with some teacher colleagues. I had never been in Rome by myself before, but I thought I knew the way back to route 69 that would take me back in the direction of home. The problem was that I ended up on the wrong street and I assumed it was parallel to the route I wanted. But it wasn’t. I kept driving anyway. I figured I would eventually run into an area that I was familiar with, and of course the longer I kept going straight the more likely that wouldn’t happen. I wasn’t going back, though, because that would admit I was so far off the path, so I kept driving.
The later it got, when the shadows began taking over the road in front of me and I had to turn on my headlights, the more I began to worry. When I finally passed a sign for “Ava,” which is an hour away from where I wanted to be, I finally realized it was time to suck it up and admit that I was hopelessly lost. So I stopped the car by the side of the road (I still wasn’t turning around) and I did what I usually do when faced with a dilemma. I called my wife. She directed me to a road I would have missed otherwise, and within minutes I was back on familiar ground. I guess that’s what comes from actually being from around here. Continue reading “Taking Some Wrong Turns”
“Oh, my life is changing every day, in every possible way. And oh, my dreams. It’s never quite as it seems. Never quite as it seems.” -The Cranberries
I had this dream last night, and in it some people had broken into my car. I don’t remember where it was parked, but something tells me it was at the mall, in one of the outside slots, where the eighteen-wheelers like to park across several spots at the same time. I’m not sure why it had to be there, but of course that made it more appealing for thieves. And I couldn’t recall if I had locked the car or not, if it was a passive break-in or an active one, but I sensed that somehow I had locked it and they had smashed in the back window with a crowbar or some other such implement.
I’m not even sure where I was when this was happening, but I showed up moments after the thieves left. I could even see their own car pulling away, but I didn’t have my keys so I couldn’t follow them. They were driving away but looking back, taunting me because I didn’t have my keys. Then one of them, a sandy-haired youth, tossed the ring of keys out of a back window, and then they were gone. Just disappeared, car and all. I went to grab the keys but they weren’t mine. In fact, they were a set that kids play with, the large plastic multi-colored keys. And I remember feeling stupid that I hadn’t realized I had brought them instead of my actual car keys. Of course they belonged to the baby, but if you had asked me what baby I wouldn’t have been able to tell you.
Then I went back to check out the car, to see what other damage they had done besides bashing the back window in. The passenger side doors were wide open, open even wider than they can actually go, and the car looked pretty immaculate inside. Nothing seemed out of place at first glance. They had even brushed the glass off of the back seat and I could see the shards glittering against the pavement. Then I noticed that my iPod was missing, and I broke down in huge, gasping sobs, knowing that my world was over. Continue reading “Premonitions”
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A Writer's Journey
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Exploring life, love, lifting, and (almost) literally everything else, frequently aided by laughter and libations
Just a small town girl who writes about Christian stuff.
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