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Mostly that Earth Day is Every Day

Going to the dentist

I don't want to put the dental industry out of business, but to save time and pain there could be a number you call every six months that tells you to floss. Or they could text a reminder that I should be more gentle when I brush.  (So why do they get an ice pic and go Dahmer on my mouth?)

I'll let you know how it goes.

Earth Day

Yes, every day should be Earth day. Even the dumbest denier wouldn't burn tires in their house, so maybe we should lighten up on the petroleum in our shared abode. Besides, it's time to move on. It's time to invest in industry that builds a bridge to a cleaner future...instead of one that buries men in West Virginia, creates earthquakes in Oklahoma, tethers us to terrorists in the Middle East, has the Pentagon on edge and most certainly leaves our kids with a shittier place than we found it.

Earth Day Kids

When my younger son gets mad he's a little like Jerry Stiller's character from Seinfeld (George Costanza's dad.) He shouts in all-caps crazy to articulate simple things like "I KNOW 3 + 4 IS 7" and "QUIN IS LOOKING AT ME." Quin is the older brother and has played a large role in turning his brother into an occasional mad man.

Here's a recent, real-life example:

Quin: Today is Earth Day.

Otto: Every day is Earth Day.

Quin: No, Otto, today is Earth Day.

Otto: My teacher said that every day is Earth Day.

Quin: No it's Earth Day. One day.

Otto: EVERY DAY IS EARTH DAY!!!

And I think having an angry child shouting that at people would be an effective campaign.

Matinee Fatinee

We saw Paddington Bear today. It was in the cheap theaters, which meant for the two boys and myself we paid only 9 bucks. That's really reasonable mostly because a regular theater is so very not reasonable. What a psychological victory for commerce: you typically pay 40 dollars so anything else seems like a steal. I've rented new movies online for $9.99, and while that makes even the heady days of Blockbuster seem like a miser's dream, I'm comforted that I'm not getting fiscally molested by a teenager at the Cinemark.

Loved Paddington as a kid. Not even sure why, but he seemed so chill and comfortable.

Loved Paddington as a kid. Not even sure why, but he seemed so chill and comfortable.

They nailed us on the snacks though. Two packs of Sour Patch Kids, a soda and popcorn = 20.00. It is really weird that we consent to paying that. I mean I've hovered over the buy button for a pair of pants that cost less than that. I've balked at donated fewer dollars to end malaria. END MALARIA. And I give twice that amount for a shot at tooth decay and intestinal regret. No, really, you can buy a mosquito net for less than ten bucks in a preventative measure that has proven to be the most effective way to save children's lives.

"That'll be $19.95, sir."

"Oh, wow, that must come with an erotic massage, but my kids are here so I'll just settle for something that's seven times its actual retail value."

The boys are some of the best movie watchers I've ever known. It all began when Quin was three and we took him to Toy Story III. We were worried that he'd be restless and, ultimately, mess up our movie experience. Two hours later he still sat stoically watching the cutting edge cartoon, while Sarah and I made strange nasal noises crying at the beautiful story that unfolded before us. It was the beginning of a movie Renaissance. After avoiding the theater for years, we were back. Otto learned from his brother and sits, unmoved, while his father has to climb over for dire pee breaks. We're worried Eliot won't be as cool about sitting for two hours, but she could surprise us.

Paddington, though, would make most kids wiggle. Our boys crushed it (can you go to hell for kid hubris?) but kids all over the theater were getting restless. It's not a bad movie; it's just not an animated thrill ride. The family ahead of us actually let their son play games on their phone. I mean if you're kid isn't going to watch the movie, then take off. Get out. Or does that mean if my kids get bored I can break out the yard games? Do NOT spill my twelve-dollar soda, but here's a pogo stick.

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Driving Home: Thoughts in the Spring of 15

Marriage Part 1

So I'm listening to this lengthy NPR story about gay rights and gay adoption and all these court cases around the nation and this woman says something to the effect of "this is how lesbians live. Not the crazy lifestyle you'd expect." And it got me thinking about how marriage is marriage no matter who's marrying, so if you really want to sell gay marriage to right wingers terrified of "immoral acts," then convince them that, like with all marriages, there will be a steep drop in sexual activity.

Boom. Gay weddings galore. 

Marriage Part 2

Some nights Sarah and I laugh like crazy. Tonight has been just such a night. I'm trying to think what we were laughing about, but it was good. Ok, like with the wine. Sarah poured me a huge glass to the brim. I was like "whoa, hey" and she replied, "you're going to want a second glass anyway, so you might as well get that while you're here." Laughter ensued. And while it doesn't seem all that funny (and that we're just as boring as NPR lesbians,) it might have had something to do with the soul-freeing fact that we were about to drink a goblet of wine. 

And we've pretty much been laughing ever since.

Our daughter has developed this crazy fake laughter for any occasion when people are laughing.  It's been good for my self esteem.

Our daughter has developed this crazy fake laughter for any occasion when people are laughing.  It's been good for my self esteem.

Marriage Part 3

And I've noticed that when Sarah and I are laughing, that the kids laugh too. They may not even know why, and it very well could be at their dork parents wheezing over one liners, but it's cool to have everyone stoked for what could be no other reason than we're all in the same place. 

I'd better stop before I start shilling Hamburger Helper or some crap. BTW, General Mills I'm totally available.

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This shouldn't be so difficult

It's a thing. I don't want it to be a thing, but my sister, who's far more honest than I am, texted me exactly what I was feeling. She shared with me exactly what I was doing to others.

I wanna hold days and weeks and years in a bin and shake them around. I want them to matter less than they do; sanding each moment into a sunlight swirl. I want to make better use of the present and not carry around the past. But that's my satchel--rather my bulging baggage--of days sawed away from my time here. Some of them are heavier than others.

It took me a few years to fully realize what was happening. I'd get irritable and restless. There was a tendency to recoil at others. The wind pissed me off. I was a shoe-in for a big Pharma commercial. A candidate for the spotless mind.

Let me tell you, if I can, about what it is that haunts me most. It's being unable to talk without crying. I sat there on the edge of her bed and kept trying to say something but could not. I wanted a cooler version of me to walk washed through the tears and say "Oh shit, I'm sorry about him. Let me tell you how much you mean to me, to the world." But it was thousand miles of gumdrop sticky and big sniffles. I couldn't get unstuck from the big, dumb swamp of human frailty. So frail.

Turns out I was doing what you're supposed to do: weep like a kid who's just lost his mother. Once, in the Ferncliff General Store in Allenspark, I thought I was walking with my mom when I looked up to see the very visage of horror. A child's nightmare morphed into the gentle smile of a woman who was doing her best not to terrify me. I'm sure she was an attractive human, and I still remember her dark hair, short and tidy around her surprised brown face. But I was holding her hand and she was not my mom. In another day of a kid who spent a lot of time in space, I grabbed the wrong woman. She did her best to calm me and even notified the omnipotent intercom of customer service, but she scared the shit out me. My mom gave up her groceries, ran to me, and carried me into the comfort of a Kodachrome summer so long ago.

Had she ran up to me and I was not at all perturbed by her absence, I imagine she'd wonder what had gone wrong. How could her son be so cold in the face of dramatic maternal trauma? Well, dammit, 28 years later, at the tender age of 54, she would again not be disappointed by her son's reaction to her departure. And now another birthday, and nearly another ten years. Again and again she will not be disappointed.


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Special Easter Edition

The family tradition in my house is trying to figure out why we're celebrating Easter. I'd stop but I worry the neighbors might think we're Jehovah's Witness.

You just keep doing it because the kids get into it. That's how they get you; they suck you in with the kids. Easter used to be a Pagan celebration of spring and reproductivity, not that that would be any less weird with kids. 

A Quick Note from Cancer

It's the sleepless month for me. A month where hope can go anywhere but mostly awry. It's hope without merit, I guess. It's hope without studying, without science and left to flake away in the corrosive winds of reality's crackling dissent. I shouldn't kid anyone. Sleepless month has spread to sleepless year, and from what I know of the human body, it's hard to make sleepless years plural.  

But in April there was this idea that we--or that I--could somehow find a way to make my mom better. The medical community had failed. Maybe it was that the technology wasn't there yet, or maybe it was little bits of incompetence piling up with equal speed of crumbling odds. Things were going fast. The situation hadn't been declining in only the previous few weeks, but in a decade-long tyranny of apathy and optimism.

Optimism, I think, is a bit like luck. They're both only of value with the work necessary to ignite them. Without the work they're just concepts. Feeling good about either but actually imbued with neither. I'm not saying we were always off, and I'm most certain that my mom was always on, but we were left to believe more than could be achieved.

I know there is a lesson: do what you can when you can do it. (That could mean napping. You don't have to kill yourself. Napping is amazing and is hard to come by.) I'm talking about fortifying your luck, your positive attitude and your future night's sleep with a sunrise-to-sunset, hesitation-free, full-forced hunger for life. And that means you'll crawl to bed without anything to wake you up at night. Not even the dead.

Constantine Pitching the Christian Easter to the Romans

Constantine: Sooooo...we're not going to do the orgies this year.

Crowd: Kill him!

Constantine: Wait...wait. We've been doing Easter but it's way too Pagan. It's about sex. It's about fertility. We're Christians now. We don't do that.

Romans: Well what are we going to do on some random mobile Sunday in the Spring?

Constantine: Two words: Zombie Jesus!

(crowd murmurs...unsettled)

Constantine: And....and there will be candy!

(Crowd cheers)

Constantine: And to make it even more exciting...how about a giant bunny creeps into your house at night and hides the candy?

Crowd: ooooooh...

Wrong Constantine, but what the Hell, it's Easter.

Wrong Constantine, but what the Hell, it's Easter.

Constantine: But here's the thing: You're the bunny. You're actually the bunny. You'll be close to nodding off on a Saturday when you're jarred awake by your wife to hide candy around the house.

Crowd: We don't get it!

Constantine: That's OK, no one really does.

Crowd cheers

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Digging Holes: Not Just for Dad Anymore

Parenting Tip: You can till the soil and wear your children out by telling them that there's treasure in the garden.

Parenting Tip: You can till the soil and wear your children out by telling them that there's treasure in the garden.

On this March 30 edition of Scraping I get to wish my sister a happy birthday. She's the kind of talented that ticks you off, taking a job she'd never done before and quickly becoming the premiere cake decorator in Colorado. Here's a Facebook page s…

It's Laura's Birthday

On this March 30 edition of Scraping, I get to wish my sister a happy birthday. She's the kind of talented that ticks you off, taking a job she'd never done before and quickly becoming the premiere cake decorator in Colorado. Here's her Facebook page http://coloradocake.ninja that's about to surpass my fledgling comedy page.

about the holes

Every spring our boys end up digging holes in the garden. This year they're more serious than ever about making a network of tunnels. I think they have the Star Wars rebel base on the ice planet Hoth in mind. (What a terrible way to be known, "The ice planet." "Hey I'm selling my house for cheap!" Where is it? "The Ice Planet." Oh...yah, I'm renting in Scranton but thank you.) These holes are bigger than any previous efforts, even the one that's purportedly going to China and is compromising our home's foundation on the south side of the house. I was actually at work for a few hours and when I came home the boys and Sarah had passed the two-feet-deep mark and had stumbled across some 'treasure' in the form of discarded concrete. I helped pull that out of the ground and we were all high fives and happy until we realized we'd spent most of the day making our home less safe for our toddler. As the third human child, we're totally cool with putting her outside as we would Paco (our first child of any species) but now we've rigged her toddling wobble-scape with craters that would make even an ice planet feel superior.

an exciting gig

So I've been asked to emcee the Go Code Colorado apps challenge, where over 200 coders will compete to improve how government operates. No word on if we can reprogram greed into compassion and lobbyists into renewable energy, but we can be inspired by civic engagement above the call of (jury) duty. (I worked for the government. Talk all the smack you want, but managing you people and your issues is a pain in the ass.)

The kickoff soiree that I'm hosting is on April 8th, is free to the public, and promises to be amazing. Learn more about this premiere event at http://gocode.colorado.gov/

 

Politics: acronymous acrimony

I'm calling Indiana's terrible new law where business owners can use their religion as an excuse to discriminate America's ISIS (Indiana's Stupid, Ill-Conceived Statute.) Whether your Middle Eastern or Midwestern, there seems to be some common tangles amongst the fringe of world's right wing.

The oxford comma

I've been using it more lately. Please don't think me an asshole, an elitist, or a douchebag who would like you to take more pause with my sentences.

This morning's meerkat

It's interesting to see how the Meerkat shows up on YouTube. Any point where the connectivity was too low and goes to 'audio only' it cuts that part of the video. I thought you'd at least get a black screen of some sort. What you missed at the end there was the giant worms in the holes we dug. I know...it's going to be hard to get over.

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