What a week it was

When I wasn't at work, life was good. A bit expensive (Andre Rieu concert, baseball game, brakes for the car), but it was good.
When I was at work, life sucked. Little problems, big problems, frickin' huge problems...I was not having fun.

why do we have to work? What's the sense of it? Make money...for what reason? Only reason why I work is to keep a roof over my head and my kid taken of. Sure, I spend a good bit of cash on music and electronic toys, but I can live (believe it or not) without them.

Some folks define their lives with their jobs. I'd rather have spend my time exploring my world, find myself, and go to more baseball games. ;)

Why couldn't I be wealthy and not this damn handsome? (sarcasm mode off)

The goofball danced

Somewhere, in Andre Rieu's video archive, there is video of me dancing like the goofball that I am.

But you know what?

Sitting there, second row left, two seats from the aisle...it was worth it.

Baseball been very, very good to me

Tickets. First base line. Front row for me and the kid tonight.
And I'm sitting at home watching the game on TV.

It's been raining for the last four, five, twenty days here. I'd hoped it would stop by game time, but it hadn't. We had warm clothes (it was in the mid-fifties) and rain ponchos to keep us dry. We got to the park, it was raining. We ate, it was raining. We sat in the seats waiting for the game to start and it still rained.

After about an hour and a half, I realized the water was ponding down at my feet. My shoes were soaked...and I was worried about the kid (diabetic neuropathy), that she wouldn't realize her feet were getting too wet.

I made a decision I rarely make. I told her we were leaving.

We left. Got in the car. Started to leave the parking lot. I turned on the radio to the game...and they said the game was gonna start in 15 minutes. There was a break in the rain. They were gonna play...but we'd already left, and once you leave, you can't go back in.

Yet it was the best decision. I'd do it again in a heartbeat.

The kid's health is more important than a game. We're gonna go see Andre Rieu tomorrow night. I'd rather she be healthy to see that.

I'll be back at the ballpark some other night, preferrably some dry night.

Oh, and for the record, as of this writing, the Pirates are winning 7-3 in the top of the 8th. It started raining again after about five innings.

Yeah. It was the right decision.

Working hard or hardly working?

The weekend. The time when we take all the things we should be doing around the house all the time and try to cram them into two really short days.

Joy.

Painted the front porch yesterday. My bud came over with his power stripper, and we got a good bit of the old paint off. After he finished, I proceeded to put paint to porch, only to have the kid (supervising, of course) sit down in wet paint.

:|

So much for that skirt, I suppose...but the colors match fairly well, so it might not be a total loss.

Taking the kid out to do some shopping this afternoon. She wanted to get a new jacket for the concert this Wednesday, and a new nightgown. Problem is, the clothes she likes went out of style 30 years ago. It's difficult trying to find something she likes, but I'll take here whenever she wishes to go to shop.

But first...I'm off to take a nap.

An experiment...

Hmm. I've never tried to post a photo here.
I wonder what it'll look like.



I guess it'll look like that.

PNC Park at night, after a game last month.
That's all for tonight.
Maybe I'll have something more interesting to say next time when I'm less tired.

Summer's officially here, I guess

About a month or so ago, I ordered new front porch awnings. The old ones I threw out last year...they were torn and starting to look a little...bad. I think I started to see mold on 'em, and at that moment, I knew it was time for them to go.

So, the guy from the awning company told me they'd take about a month to be made, and they'd call us before they came out.

This afternoon, they showed up at the house without calling. Told the kid they were here to hang the new awnings.

Gotta love that.

When the front porch awnings went up, that was, for me at least, the unofficial beginning of the hated time of year: Summer. I've never been one for the heat. Give me cold weather any day (or night). Like a computer, I work better when cooler.

The screens are in the doors. The windows are open. The ceiling fan's spinning, and I'm on the couch with the laptop and my shorts are on. If it must happen, then please, please...if there's some greater being out there...let it be a cool Summer? Please?

There is a balance to life, ya know

Good news: The kid doesn't have an infection. Tests come back negative.
Bad news: She's still perpetually cold and "sick" this afternoon.

Someday, she'll accept that this is a part of growing old. Nothing more than that.

I just pray I go before I get old. I'm not afraid of dying, I'm just afraid of growing old.

Note to self

The Philly Cheesesteak flavor of Hambuger Helper is hereby put of the Permanently Banned From My Diet list.

I have no idea what they put in there, but Montezuma's Revenge has nothing on that stuff...

What about me?

In my last post, some anonymous person left this:

Anonymous said...

What about things for you ?

What about me? Hey, I'll be the one going to the ballgame. Really and truly, that's what I enjoy more than anything, and I'll be doing that for me.

As for the other stuff, especially taking care of the kid...

I was raised to take care of others before I take care of myself. It's a value that was instilled in me early on. Make sure everyone else has something to eat before you eat. A host takes care of his guest before he worries about himself.

My kid's needs are more important than mine. My friends needs are more important than mine. Yeah, I'll take care of myself, and I will...only after YOUR needs are met.

That's part of who I am. That's part of what makes me me. That's not gonna change.

If you disagree with me, I'll respect your decision, but you're not gonna change my mind. Taking care of those I care about means more to me than taking care of myself.

Pure and simple.

Almost a life.

May is shaping up to be a busy month here.
Two baseball games (for sure)
Andre Rieu in concert
Long Memorial Day weekend.
Plus a oil change/brake repair for the car, three different doctors visits for the kid, and whatever else life will throw at me.

I'd better be careful. I might just be getting a life here... ;)

More of the same, less of the usual

Took the kid to the docs today. I like her doctor, and he's got a good understanding of my kid's problems. Sure, some of it is physical, but some of them, she puts on herself. Someday, she'll learn to act her age...maybe.

This is gonna be a busy month, doctor wise. Pacemaker checkup. Podiatrist checkup. Stress test. She's not gonna be happy about 'em, but it happens...

Of course, I've got a couple things to look forward to this month as well. Two Pirates games. Andre Rieu in concert. New awnings coming in. Of course, the downside is that I'm probably gonna have to get the breaks fixed in the car as well, but getting them fixed would probably be a good thing. Folks don't like it when you crash into 'em.

Mayday

Had to take the day off work today. The kid wasn't feelin' too well.
She'd been sick all weekend...sick at the stomach, and sitting out in the sun in 70 degree weather with her sweater and jacket zipped all the way up to her neck, and STILL she was cold.

Took her to the emergency room. They ran the usual litany of tests, but couldn't find anything. I wonder about that hospital sometimes. I have my doubts if they actually know what they're doing sometimes, or if they aren't missing something.

I was ready for them to admit her for a couple days, but alas, she was sent home without even a lollypop.

Back to work tomorrow, and she'll be home all alone again...

Take Me Out to the Ballgame

This is an archived post from my old blog.

Baseball.

The “Great American Past time” as it has been referred to in the past. While some folks no longer believe this to be the case (more people watch NASCAR racing these days, and American “football”, for some reason, is an obsession with many), baseball has had more than its fair share of problems over the past 20+ years.

Between scandals, strikes, and steroids, The Boys of Summer have seen their images tarnished time and time again. Sure, they've lost some fans, but every year, starting with Spring Training, the faithful return to ballparks across the nation to enjoy warm evenings, hot dogs and foul balls.

And as for me, more than ever, I'm there with them; watching the game, cheering the home team and savoring every moment of it all.

Yeah, I still love baseball. Despite it all, I'll be in the stands cheering, clapping, booing and having a good old time.

Baseball, when all is said an done, is really just a simple game. Whether you're quoting Tim Robbins' character from the movie Bull Durham, when he says “this is a simple game: You throw the ball, you hit the ball, you catch the ball”, or George Carlin, who's said the purpose of the game is to “go home”,
there is nothing like being there.

I've sat in the outfield, keeping score on the scorecard (yes, I do know how to score a game, even if I still have problems doing the math for the averages and the concept of the “balk” continues to escape me). I've sat on the right field line, hoping a foul ball would come my way (and I'd be paying attention and not have it go off my back...again). I'm there from the first pitch until the last out. I'm watching for the vendor to come around with Cracker Jack (since I don't drink) and sit there and munch the whole bag down.

I'm standing there with my cap over my heart for the National Anthem. I'm there for the seventh inning stretch, singing “Take Me Out to the Ballgame” slightly out of key. I'm on my feet when there's two outs in the bottom of the ninth and the home team is one pitch away from winning the game and sending the fans home happy.

Sure, there have been problems with the game as of late. There's scandals with steroids. Anyone who takes a look at a picture of Barry Bonds today and compares that to when he played for the Pirates in the late 80's-early 90's knows he's on the juice. Ain't no way he could've developed THAT many muscles at his age.

This isn't the first scandal baseball has had. It's suffered before, back in '94 when the strike canceled the World Series. A man named Cal Ripken, Jr., breaking a record many believed would never be broken, won back a lot of fans. Sure, there are over-paid players, but for every Yankee paid ten times his worth by Steinbrenner, there are dozens of hungry young guys trying to make it to the majors, who know where they came from, who will stay there and sign every autograph for every kid who asks.

Is the game perfect? No. Nothing in this world is perfect, and nothing ever will be. If everything was perfect, then the world would be a bloody boring place. We take this game with its flaws, its spoiled overpriced crybabies, and the second mortgage we have to take out on the house to get dinner for the family.

Why?

Because we love this game. I love this game. Even though my hometown team, the Pirates, haven't won a season for the past 14 years, I still love them as much as I love the game.

And you'll find me, out there in the stands, enjoying another warm Summer's night at the ballpark.

Join me there sometime. I'll even share some of my Cracker Jacks with you.

Dang it

Looks like I re-injured my right foot again.
I was playing with the neighbor's dog, running around the yard, chasing it...some kids never do grow up, I suppose.

It's hurtin' tonight, but tomorrow, it'll just be sore...again. Sigh...

Thankfully...

...the back isn't hurting as much today, and my foot's doing better as well.

Amazing. I'm 38 years old, and I'm already bitching about how much things hurt. Guess that's what happens when you get old early. C'est la vie, and all that...

Every day life...

So, I've decided to use this "blog" the same way as everyone else does: Blather on about daily life, things that happen, my ups, my downs, and bore everyone.

I'll save the rants, the columns and the pieces of that sort for my Joeuser blog. It's a better fit for that.

Still no promises that I'll update this frequently, but I might fool ya. Might fool myself, even.

---

My back's trying to go out on me. I can feel it...lower back, above the left hip. It twinges every once in awhile, reminding me its there and telling me to watch it. S'all right...shouldn't be too much in the way of heaving lifting (I hope).

Gonna rain tonight. Gonna get cold too. I need to get a new bed, that's all there is to it...

A followup on the consequences of punching a wall...

Originally posted at my old blog, archived for posterity...

Oh, yeah. You knew it.


My right hand is broken. It's a boxer's fracture: A bone in the knuckle of the pinky, and a fracture in the meticarpule itself.

At least I don't have a full cast on...just a half-splint that I can remove to shower.

Doesn't hurt, but it's a life lesson...for both me and my kid.

Oh, well...

The consequences of punching a wall

Originally posted on my old blog, archived here for posterity.

Another tale of raising an 80-year old kid...

My hand hurts.

Of course, when one proceeds to punch a hard wall (although, in my defense, it was carpeted and I believed it to be well paded...which it wasn't), one should expect pain afterwards.

Punching things isn't the smartest thing to do, but when you're angry, upset, or mad, rational thought isn't exactly at the forefront of one's mind.

But yeah, I punched a wall today...all right, it was more of a partition...and now I'm paying for it. My hand's swollen, and while my pinkie hurts, I do have full range of motion and can use my hand, albiet with only a minor amount of pain.

So, I'll bet you're wondering what could nake me do something really stupid like punch a partition?

My kid. If you're not sure what I'm referring to, please check my last journal entry.

My kid has an obsession with the yard. If it's messy, uncut, out of sorts, she hates it. Wait...this is a good use of bold...hates it. With a passion. And I won't hear the end of it until the grass is cut and everything looks neat.

Well, it's getting close to Winter. Days are shorter. I haven't had time to cut the grass, and I figured it was going to get covered with snow soon, so there was no sense in cutting the grass.

My kid figured otherwise.

She called me at lunchtime and told me she'd cut the grass. Needless to say, I went ballistic.

I was so mad, I couldn't talk to her. I had to put down the phone and walk it off.

Please let me state this before I go further: Yes, I have a temper, but 99% of the time, I can keep it under control. When I do feel the need to express it, I generally kick things, always inanimate objects, like doors, walls and boxes. I was so...angry...that I had to lash out at something, and the victim of my blind anger was a discarded partition wall.

What can I say? It had carpeting on it. I thought it was padded...but I was proven wrong.

It was the first time in my 38 years on this planet I ever truly...really and truly...punched something with all my strength. Probably the last time I'll do it too.

I called my kid back to apologize. She'd been crying...she knew I was upset with her, and couldn't understand why. I told her I shouldn't have been angry, and I was sorry.

She couldn't remember why I was angry with her...

I told her she'd told me she went to cut the grass. She can't see that well and she can't walk that well, and carrying a heavy (electric) lawnmower up the stairs from our basement might have been deadly...that, more than anything, was what upset me.

I've assured her I'm not mad at her. She's accepted it, and she's trying to calm back down.

So, right now, my hand hurts. There's a good bit of swelling, but I can still type. I'll consider this a reminder than, when you have kids, you've gotta take your time and be rational, not angry, because there are always consequences to our actions.

I'll get the hang of this parenting thing yet.

I have a kid

This is an archived post from my old blog.

I have a kid.

Granted, this isn't a spectacular revelation. Many people in the world have kids, so that doesn't make me any better or worse than anyone else.

However, my kid is a little different. She has problems with her health...so she has some special needs, and requires a bit more attention than other kids her age.

She can't see that well. She has trouble walking. She doesn't have the best memory in the world. She's got diabetes. She needs help in doing the littlest things sometimes, even something as simple as getting up off the couch. So I'm there to help her whenever and however I can.

She needs a bit more attention than some other kids might, but she's my kid, and I love her with all my heart.

Taking care of my kid sometimes seems like a full-time job, but I don't look at it that way. Despite the fact that I'm still somewhat young (although, at 38, I feel older than I should), I don't go out like some folks my age do.

I come home from work because my kid is lonely and she needs a little attention. She's fairly self-sufficient...I don't need to put her in a daycare...and my neighbors help out by keeping an eye on her for me while I'm at work. They love her just as much as I do.

Sometimes she gets sick. She forgets where she is, what day it is, what time it is, what she should be doing. I do my level best to be calm and reassuring, and try to tell her not to worry about things and to relax, but it can be very frustrating. I never did like to repeat myself, and there are times I'll have to tell her something over and over and over and it still doesn't sink in. It doesn't happen too often, thank goodness, but when it happens, it can be very stressful on the both of us.

She's got her fair share of doctor's visits, and thankfully, I'm in a job where I can get the time off to take her where she needs to go. From her "regular" doctor, to the Ophthalmologist, to the Urologist, to the Podiatrist...sometimes, it just seems like it's a never-ending stream of doctors. But it's all right. I'm there with her, to help her remember what she needs to remember, to tell the docs, and it's quality time for us, even if it a waiting game sometimes.

My kid's seen her share of highs and lows. She recently lost her sister, which has hurt her deeply. It's not easy to lose someone you're so close to...especially when it's your baby sister. She's been crying...a lot...but I hope she's come to accept that her sister is no longer hurting and is in a better place.

You never want to see your kids suffer, and there are times, when I see her in pain, unable to walk up a flight of stairs or struggle to see something, that it breaks my heart. I want to help her, but I can't do everything for her, so I just stand there and smile and be there when she needs her.

Yeah, taking care of my kid is a full-time job, and it has...cost...me. I've lost friends, lost women I've loved, because I've had to put my kid first. I've tried to explain to them that she is a part of my life, but it's not easy. They don't feel like they're first in my life, and although I've tried to reassure them that they are in my heart, it doesn't help. Yeah, it hurts...it hurts both of us...so I've had to give up a little of my happiness for my kid. I only pray that someday the women I've loved and lost understand that, and they forgive me. Maybe someday, I can forgive myself.

I have a kid. My kid is 80 years old.

She's my mother.

Don't get me wrong and don't misunderstand what I'm saying here. I love my mother. I'm happy to be able to help her any way I can.

It's just that the whole parent-child relationship has changed over the years, as she's grown older and has had more problems develop. I've had to take over some roles that she did for years.

All I'm saying is...I have a kid. She's the apple of my eye. Anyone else who has had kids...whether they be their own, or their parents...will understand exactly what I mean.

I'd move Heaven and Earth for her, I'd do anything within my power to help her while she's still here. Yes, I would love to be able to share my life with another...and maybe someday, I can, but for now...I am where I'm needed. This is my life, for good or ill.

I have a kid. And I love her.

Whoever said it never rains in Southern California...

This is an archived post from my old blog.

...obviously has never been there when I'm there.

The last time I went to visit my family in Southern California, it rained. It was a brief, and somewhat unplanned short trip almost two years ago...my plans to visit someone else fell through, so I took advantage of the long weekend and headed out to visit my family.

Today, I'm headed back to see them again, and once again, the forecast call for rain. I'd say that I'm cursed to bring them rain whenever I visit, but although once again unplanned, this trip isn't for the happiest of reasons.

I'm off to say goodbye to my aunt.

Summer vacations were spent with my aunt and uncle out in the San Fernando Valley. My mother's sister and her husband moved there from Back East in the fifties, raised a family there, and have a great little house that I always loved to visit. There were the trips to all the usual tourist traps...Disneyland, Universal Studios, Magic Mountain...and there were the quiet times we'd just spend around the house.

My uncle and I never seemed that close when I was younger, but my aunt and I could laugh and joke together quite easily. To this day, whenever she'd call the house to talk to Mum, I'd spend more time talking to her than Mum would...and then Mum would always joke, when I'd hand the phone to her, that it was finally her chance.

My aunt got sick about three months ago. They'd rushed her to the hospital, and couldn't figure out what was wrong. Turns out it was something from a long-past surgery that was causing the problem, and for a bit, it seemed like she was on the road to recovery.

Until Saturday night, that is. I got the call from my cousin that she'd taken a turn for the worst. The doctors gave her days...if we were lucky.

Plans were put into place. Arrangements were made in a hurry...finding a decent flight out West with minimal stops and layovers to tax my 80-year old kid...I mean, my mother. The family was notified, and while some couldn't fathom why my mother would want to, given her health, try to make the trip, I understood.

This is her baby sister. She's gotta be there. And I'll move Heaven and Earth to get them together. One last time.

One more trip out West. One more visit with my aunt. One more chance to tell her how much I love her.

And then say goodbye.