Deuces

Your hand on my knee, Come drive with me To wade in an ocean salty I'll claw fingers through sand, Sun on my hands The warmth to the cool on wet palms For a time, we'll bask Good humor with laugh, Hold tight, hold tight, remember

It's the run, I'm sure. The 6 miles that felt like 12 that reminded me I am way out of shape where endurance is concerned. As the thoughts of my lack of fitness and commitment to consistent, long runs washed over me, I shrugged. "Oh well... No one's perfect..." As I sat in child's pose shortly thereafter I felt the layer of all the devoured Christmas cookies fold up across my mid-section. I was nonplussed by the holiday weight. "It is what it is..." I heard the neighborhood children running through my home and overheard them playing "kidnappers" as they spiritedly held my child for ransom.  I wondered if I needed to intervene but I found it akin to something twisted I would play as a child so I didn't overstep their creative liberties. "So be it..." My home was left sometime later in utter disarray.  I shrugged. I picked up a few toy soldiers that lay underfoot and pushed playthings

Maria reprimanded me for lack of blogs... and it isn't because I don't have much to say...it is, perhaps, because I have too much to say.   Too many things in a year gone by too quickly... too slowly... too painfully in the growing department, too full in the raising of a daughter department.  Too many things I once wanted to share that I now hold too close.... privately, quietly, with great uncertainty.  But I had, for certain, one of the best days of the year last Friday. That... I want to share.   Each December my brother, Corbin, along with all local fire department and police personnel get gratis entry into our favorite amusement park.   It's a time to be kids, to visit the endless craft vendors in Ghost Town, toddle through Camp Snoopy and take a ride on Montezuma's Revenge- the roller coaster I first rode with Corbin nearly 30 years ago when we went with our parents for the Halloween 'Knott's Scary Farm' adventure.     Knott's reminds

You know what I want to talk about with you? Everything. The thoughts we have and then the metathoughts. I'd like to talk about who we were and who we are becoming. I'd like to get tangential, and follow the tangents down the rabbit holes. I'd like to talk about discoveries, about lessons, about people. I'd like to talk about why we exist. I'd like to talk about the rest of our lives. I'd like to talk about funny things- the nonsense stuff that brings out the deep, spontaneous belly laughs. (I'd like to do that often) I'd like to banter and chit-chat. I'd like to have a difference of opinion. I'd like to discuss the world and travels. I'd like to change my mind.  I'd like to change yours, too. I'd like to unveil, unravel, unearth, I'd like the past to undo, I'd like to be the one who uplifts you. Guess what cover I found on Youtube this morning over coffee and Lollaloopsy?

They're the only sounds I want to hear lately.  The trombones and trumpets and all the soul and Parisian-inspired, oft blues-flavored, full-bodied, soulful jazz and slow-waltz, smooth as fresh-cream harmonies.   It's getting lost between Louis and Django and moonlight harmonies with Dinah and Billie.     I recently asked Lloyd if, when considering instrument choices for Sayler to try, we might consider trombone or trumpet.  We're in hung jury status at the moment- though I expect a verdict in a few year's time.   The heavy brass is in all the music I tend to enjoy when I need to decompress in solitude, and in the scores that accompany my scat singing I reserve for when I'm a healthy distance away from friends or co-workers. Let's be honest- my cool reputation is at stake.  But it's recently become 'our' sweet compromise- something her and I both equally take solace in and the only type of music we get lost in these days.   When

This is the moving on slow, This is the gave it a go, This is the end by now I should know. This was the stop-start, This wasn't for the faint-of-heart, This was the almost-fell-apart. This was the bounty loss, This was the unexpected cost, This was our catch, so quickly tossed. These are no-more-moments, These are no-more-days, These were my unknowns' Unexpected delays. "Urban Light" outside of LACMA, Los Angeles- and more spectacular in person.

"I am uncertain what sorcery that place bestowed upon me, but I can't think straight and my body is in pain..." -Me. Yesterday. It's summer. Pardon my Gaelic, but I am so, so f'r'k'g happy. Summer always brings out a much, much, much more fun and lighter side to me and I get to see people I care for more often.  I have some more time to try new things, find time to do the things it's been too long since I last done did, and I get to enjoy more precious time with my daughter who has really good taste in things to do, like painting,  and watching Monsters University. Again and again. It's time for baseball, swimming... Lots of swimming... Floating in an inner tube... Maybe falling asleep mid-floater... And yesterday I decided every day until mid-August I will do something new Every. Single. Day.   Maybe the new thing I'll do tomorrow is not lift a finger or clean one single thing in my house. (Just kidding... Let'

Here we sat. We were diligently working on the Minnie Mouse puzzle for the umpteenth time. The monotony of the pieces coming together and trying, once more, to teach my daughter what "the corner" meant.  And when it didn't resonate, I echoed in Spanish "... En la esquina, dulcita" to which she responded in kind "en la a'kina?" She still didnt understand as I lightly touched the edges of the chest-turned-coffee table centered on our family room floor. Mira.  Corner. Esquina. Corner. Esquina. She reached for the center and confidently touched the table while saying "a'kina"!? I smiled.  Too weary to continue with a lesson that could wait, the fatigue of a nightly run washed over me. The run was short.  6 miles trying to beat the sunset washing over the horizon of a warmly lit desert landscape.   I was in love. Do you remember what it was like to fall in love?  I fell in love with each step that raced

I woke up late. I missed my flight I was racing to get my things in order, frantically throwing items into my luggage in my hotel room. The feeling of despair consumed me. As I rolled up my luggage I wondered how long it would be before a new flight home would be available once I got to the airport. And then I woke up. I was already on the first leg of my flight home, in a sky floating somewhere between Tampa and Denver. I had nodded off and had this dream. I let the relief wash over me before resting my head again sideways, staring out the window.  I watched the clouds roll past for a short while longer before letting myself drift back to that murky place somewhere between sleep and confusion. I blame the long work days.  I blame the way I over-think. I blame the time zone difference. I blame the 4 lemon drops and 2   3 4 beers I had on Thursday night. I blame the efforts it took to pack all of my belongings while feeling nauseated, and wondering