My son recently turned 13 and those teenage issues and drama have suddenly come crashing upon the shore seemingly overnight. He is a good kid, but like his Dad, can be very moody and sensitive. The drama has been relatively minor, but this transition has been tough. Especially for a moody, sensitive Dad. We had a good talk last week (after I got some seriously great advice from friends with teenage kids). I get to worry about the basics (he’s not on fire, he’s fed, he’s clean, etc.), and I stay off his case as long as he is respectful.
After a week of off and on radio silence with my buddy, we had a great night where we were playing YouTube videos for each other on the TV together. And I got to introduce him to some fine metal courtesy of Mastodon.
We both play Clash of Clans, and one Saturday morning while he was staying at his mother’s, he and I were texting about attack strategies for a couple of hours.
I know it’s only metal and barbarians, but talking is good.
A few days ago, I became aware of just about the worst thing I’ve ever heard of that happened to an old friend and his family. I was lucky enough to catch him online, and let him know I was thinking of him and his family. Almost immediately after my buddy signed off, I got the following texts from my little daughter, Vivienne (she’s texting from my mother’s phone, hence the SMS signature)…
I am constantly humbled by the love in my life. Be sure to be good to the people in your life today.
This softball season has been tough. My batting average never really warranted a higher spot in the line-up and a combination of new young guys on the team pushing for better spots in the line-up plus entrenched veterans with tenured spots in the line-up made for a frustrating season for myself. I came to realize my frustrations were mine alone and really had nearly nothing to do with softball.
I have had a rough stretch both the past six months both with my working for myself and the new job. Coming home and doubting your worth for 8 hours a day leaves a mark. I look forward to Sundays, it’s my chance to play a simple, easy game. Maybe on a good day, I get to enjoy a home run trot, high fives from teammates, and a beer after the game to talk with my friends. Our roster swelled this season and at bats became a premium.
But that’s all besides the point, if I get two at bats or six, I should be having a good time. The fact that I wasn’t had nothing to do with hitting lower in the line-up than I felt my past performance or tenure deserved. I felt stuck between the tenured vets and the rising younger guys. Again, that’s all irrelevant.
The name of our team is the secret. The Blazing Cannons used to be called the Trail Blazers. The name changed to the Cannons after a teammate whom I never had the pleasure of meeting, Mark Cannon, died suddenly of cancer. A memorial one-pitch tournament was held every year with the proceeds going towards Mr. Cannon’s widow. I need to remember that. We’re playing this game to win and have fun, but it’s really about enjoying our time together.
That’s what I need to remember. I am so lucky to be playing this game. I’m so lucky to be here.
Howdy folks, I will do my best to keep my fundraising to a bare minimum, but right now, I’m in 3rd place out of 4 for Athletes vs. Epilepsy… and dammit, I want to do a better job! I am currently in training for the Philly The Philadelphia Marathon and seeking to raise $1000 to provide funding for research for treatments that help seizure disorder patients like my beautiful wife, Abbe Meck. Please consider a donation if you are able to do so.
This photo is from our honeymoon, taken after I made her laugh. I look at her and I smile. Every. Time. She is worth every ounce of blood, sweat, and tears that I will endure to reach that finish line. I am sure there is someone in your life that you are defenseless against the happiness that they bring you. Abbe is one of those persons for me. I am completely helpless, only left with the option to love her.
I will be strong for her. I have no choice. I love you, baby with all of me.
Yesterday was going along fine until a big challenge was dropped on my desk. I have some ideas on how to attack the tasks, but this isn’t going to be easy. I know I’m going to have days I come home and doubt myself and wish I was more talented. But I’m going to go after this the only way I know how, hustle and tenacity. It probably won’t be pretty, but I’m a fighter and this code is going down.
Along with the step up in workload, I also have the start of my Philly Marathon training getting started the first week of August. I’ve been averaging around 10 miles a week with two short runs and a 5 miler on the weekends just to keep myself from getting too fat. Abbe and I are also planning on running the Sloppy Cuckoo again (trail half marathon) at the end of September. The Cuckoo was the first race Abbe and I did together and boy, I had a tough time that day. And just like Philly, I plan on teaching that course a lesson.
The things that kicketh my ass, shall have their asses kicketh. Fool me once, I’ll fuck you up later.