In my Junior or Senior year of college, a lot of students complained to one of my professors about another professor who was less than personable. The story could be a long one, but the bottom line is that the professor who we all liked said in class one day, "Some things you can't do anything about." It is profound how I remember 7 words from his class, specifically remember them, and yet forget hours of discourse about communication theory. His simple statement reminds me of the Serenity Prayer:

god grant me the serenity to accept the things i cannot change,
courage to change the things i can,
and the wisdom to know the difference.

Besides the twisted power of selective memory, I am also surprised at how I try to change and sometimes the change is not received in the manner I intend. Trying something new is liberating but can be unnerving. I like status quo, but I also like growing as a person.

Me and the kids will probably plant the garden tonight. That'll be cool.

This and other illusions you'll find here: http://www.planetperplex.com/en/gallery.html.

"There's too much trash." The kids are watching the Bearenstein Bears and I found a totally waste of time game at this site.

And a seasonal treat: Make-a-Flake!

Found this interesting bird illusion.

Don't you ever wonder if the world will run out of new music? I think it is possible. What a sad day that will be.

My 4-year-old son told me this morning, "Dad, I don't want to wear Dude underwear." Guess I'll be wearing the boxer briefs by myself today!

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I actually wrote that Friday, but still a charming scene.

This story is about a boy growing up in rural Texas. One day, with the help of his best friend Jake, the boy finds himself biking to the swimming pool, giving the girl in the one piece suit the money, and splashing in the cool water under the hot July sun. This is a very unexciting story, so you can stop now. After 30 minutes, a friend of Jake bikes over to the fence and after a short discussion about the weather and satisfying icy popsicles, Jake, Jake's friend, and the boy leave the park and speed off on their bikes to Jake's friend's house. Two story house with a sidewalk out front, and minimal landscaping and a swimming pool out back. The grass is yellow and randomly long and the boy does decides the grass is not inviting.

They enter the house through the back, remove their shoes, and the boy learns no parent is home. The boy does not think about the concept of a latchkey kid, specifically the experience growing up with a key in one's pocket at the age of 11, like Jake's friend. Not enough light in the house, thinks the boy. No parents. I don't feel comfortable. I don't feel invited, thinks the boy. Of course, the boy was invited. Jake's friend invited the neighbors over for something satisfying and cool. The boy did not expect this uncomfortable environment.

Forty-four years later, somewhere in Charlotte, North Carolina, the boy decides to put away the bottle and go sober for the second time. He understands he made a choice, is responsible for the choice, will stand or fall because of this choice, and is willing to take the risks associated with this choice. He thinks about his wet feet in the uncomfortable house years ago in the hot month of July and he doesn't kick himself for being afraid.

Due to the recent success of the Detroit Pistons, I give you two visual treats tonight:

Jackson Pollock digital painting game

Dancer

Happy waste-of-timing!

I'm listening to the works of Stephen Foster and reading self-referential piece, "This Is the Title of This Story, Which Is Also Found Several Times in the Story Itself", a wonderful, charming work of art, with claims such as "This is almost the title of this story, which is found only once in the story itself." Okay, it's charming to me, but I've been called off my cracker like the cheese slid more than once before. This is silly and so is this.

I think of the stupidest things sometimes when I put the kids to bed.

Yesterday I was thinking about a phone coversation I had with my parents. My mom was trying to get me to admit I was separated from my wife. Her evidence for this deduction was the fact that the Mother's Day card I sent her was signed "Love David". She got worried from this exclusion of my wife that we were divorced or separated or something. I didn't laugh when she asked if everything was okay between us. I said, "What are you talking about?" and my mom replied, "Well your letter was signed just David". "Yes, I'm your son. And I didn't sign the Mother's Day card for her mom either." Oh, okay. Then I said, she's right here, do you want to talk with her? and I handed the phone to the wife.

Not humor.

The other ounce of evidence is that I've been with the kids a lot lately, especially when I talk with them on the phone. Makes sence, since I call them when I'm able to talk, and that is when the wife isn't home. I hope we cleared things up. I don't go to 19 years of marital therapy for nothin'.

I took a walk tonight and heard a thousand birds. I thought, "I wish I could be like a Robin."

Check out Ezprezzo.com - Pipe dream. Very visual. Very musical.

Yes, she will be the world's first retinoblastoma cancer free by design (personal preference selection (or PPS)) baby. It is my guess that the baby will be a she, because from my experience, couples of this, given the choice, choose female babies. It is a known fact that outside China and other Asian countries, selected babies are universally female. But the fact that she is female isn't even the story. The story, believe it or not, is that she will be the first PPS retinoblastoma-cancer-free baby!

Check out more info at this link.

I get these ups and downs sometimes. It's like one moment I can write forever and other times I can't write for a minute. It is like that with parenting too, at times, with my desire to parent at a high for hours & days, then the switch turns and I don't want to parent or wash dirty sheets or put the kids to bed for a few days. Someone reading this might say I have a right to take off a few days here or there. That would be nice. A parenting vacation. I've decided that I can take Monday off, and have a night to myself. Last Monday I went to see friend in the hospital. Tonight I plan to see another friend who is temporarily unable to drive and housebound this week. But if I don't take these nights off, I grow to resent the days when I have no choice but to parent & clean sheets & put the kids to bed. "No choice?!" you ask, "Everybody has a choice!" Well, yes, I could hire a babysitter for the nights I don't want to do it. But then my kids want me at night. They expect to read a book or follow the night time ritual, most of the time. I like it too, to an extent. Those days when I'm not wanting to take care of the kids, clean the kitchen, wash the sheets, and put them to bed, I drag myself to finish the tasks despite myself.

Last night my son wanted to read before going to bed. I told him I had to make his bed--he's still wetting the bed nightly--but he could read to me as I made the bed. So he pulled out one of his beginning reader books, "Mule Tune", and after I helped him with the title, he read by himself. Oh, I supplied a word here or there, but he wanted to read and realized I was busy and we got through a ritual at the same time I was able to make the bed. We didn't have the physical closeness, but his needs were met and so were mine. When he finished the book, I took out the sticker from the Parent's Guide and he put the sticker right next to the sticker his sister put down a few years earlier. He felt rewarded.

Saturday we stood in the rain waiting for my daughter to get her picture taken under a tent near her soccer game. Because the timing wasn't perfect, we left right after the group picture, headed to my son's soccer practice, and my daughter and I helped out for the first half of the practice. After a cold and wet morning, we decided not to go back to my daughter's game so she could be in the second half. I guess that was for the best because she has a little sore throat and so do I. Things will really get interesting when my son's Thursday baseball practice starts next week.

Check out Not a Poem. Try them out!

Here is a picture from my new favorite photo blog, by disneymike, at http://www.disneymike.com/photoblog. If you click on Archives, you can see more of his treasures.

Interesting story follows: I went to the library a week ago to look up two movies I recently recommended to a friend. You might wonder, Dave, if you recommended these movies, why do you need to check them out of the library. Well, I like the movies. I like them so much that I wanted a refresher, and besides, these are the types of movies a man can watch over and over again and never tire of their sincerity, humor, and tenderness. (An aside: can a man use "tenderness" in a sentence without being called metrosexual?)

So I opened the library computer, punched in the titles "About a Boy" and "High Fidelity" and scrolled up and down each page. I was mildly surprised to realize both movies are based on books written by Nick Hornby. After not being able to find either movie in the media stacks, I tracked down a librarian and told her the titles I sought. She said, "Yes, I know the ones," went behind a door next to circulation and came back 3 minutes later with both DVDs. As she handed them to me, she said, "So you're having a Nick Hornby movie marathon!" and I replied I didn't know the movies were based on books by the same author until I saw it on the computer a few minutes earlier. She went on to explain how her husband purchased both movies and both books and identifies with them a great deal. I smiled because I could identify with that.

A special musical link today. My new favorite Swedish band is Kent, the album is Hagnesta Hill. If you are inclined, check out the album, or other Kent albums at the parent level of that address. Check out track number 4, on Hagnesta Hill, Kevlar Soul. I first heard the English version of Kevlar Soul about 4 years back & I equally appreciate the Swedish version. If you like what you hear, drop me a line.

Thanks,
DT

Hilltop Trees.

And How to Talk Like Yoda.

And yet another source for Yoda Dance.

Amazing, sublime, extraordinary Yoda vs. Yoder.

I took the kids to the Olive Garden on Friday night. The kids ordered the usual, fettucini alfredo and I ordered pizza. Besides the usual complaint that the food didn't come quick enough, we had a good time.

Facing me in the booth behind us sat a couple who was dating or married. That sat next to each other and shared a bottle of wine. The wine wasn't the issue, but the arrangement of sitting together, to me, was wrong. I thought "They don't know how to do this." Okay, maybe the guy did know what he was doing & wanted to avoid lucid conversation with his girlfriend. That must be it. If I want to talk to my wife, I'll sit across from her. Seeing her eyes is important. I mean, isn't this dating 101?

My daughter hit the left post & almost scored in her soccer game yesterday. When we were talking about the game, she admitted she was glad the game ended in a tie because everyone "wins". Speaking of my daughter, did you know she likes horses?

I don't see how a woman could understand that movie. It speaks to me, and probably most men who see themselves as fighting fighting fighting and not understanding what the battle is for. I fight to understand who I am, why I feel. I fight to undermine the forces inside my head which conspire to leave me beat up before I have a chance to stand. I stand. I defy the forces I don't understand. I fight and try to understand and a little sky breaks through between the clouds. I don't want the clouds, but they persist, like the dragon in my mind. I start to retrace tracks I ran before, dozens of times before, and she brings me back. I tell her...first I stand in puddle, then I tell her I don't want to continue, I suffer from confusion and something so close I can almost taste it but my mouth is bitter like sipping sour wine and she says "NO!" then calmly recommends I try again and again is the same but never like before. Take me back. Let me cry. Let me forge bloody disks in my arm. Let me be. So I tell her I want to stop and need to stop in order to quiet the turmoil. It is not fair. I want to race 10,000 miles, or one mile really really fast until I can't race no more. I need to carry my feet to the next morning or die trying. Why can I not stop? Why can I not stop like a normal man, not question, not fight, not run, not defy, not poke, provoke, nor pry?

I don't believe a woman can understand that movie. I identify. His life is not my life. I regret my ... I regret being beaten up by the dragon during my formative years. The dragon stole my tongue and left me cold and wrapped in 19 layers of pity and self-loathing. I am.

I don't know what she talks about sometimes. I sit and dry my wet feet and she has no idea. I appreciate my smell, which comes from my work. I appreciate her in my life and she knows it and I battle without her and then I battle, then run, then battle, then clench my teeth, then battle, then shake, then walk, then run, then stop, but it is so hard to stop sometimes. Fuckin' dragon. Then I ask the green spring trees would I have it any other way?

Fine! Here.

My son collected the $0.80 bribe that was up on the mantle. I put the bribe there a week ago, telling him the money would be his the day he woke up with a dry bed. He told me this morning that I promised him a dollar. I don't have any recollection of the dollar amount, but I went to the drawer and found $0.20 for him and for my daughter. He was even more excited when his $0.20 was made up of 3 coins and his sister's only 2.

I work with Andrew Jackson and Harry Potter. Appropriate nicknames, those are.

Now I have been wanting to start a periodically updated list of the top 22 music albums of all time, as judged by myself, David Tumbarello, which may change at any time, depending on my fickle sense of enjoyment.

Over time, one will be able to observe changes in my tastes which may correspond with changes in my life. Who I am, as seen by music I enjoy.

Today's list:

Everything but the Girl - Amplified Heart
Emm Gryner - Songs of Love and Death
U2 - The Joshua Tree
Patty Griffin - Flaming Red
Dire Straits - Brothers in Arms
Emm Gryner - Science Fair
Bruce Springsteen - Born to Run
Emmylou Harris - Wrecking Ball
Holly Cole - Temptation
Sting - Mercury Falling
Niagara, Niagara Soundtrack
Paul Simon - Graceland
Eminem - Encore
The Beatles - Abbey Road
The Beatles - Revolver
Richard Buckner - Devotion + Doubt
Holly Cole - Dark Dear Heart
The Cure - The Head On The Door
McCartney - McCartney
Emm Gryner - Girl Versions
Yo La Tengo -- Summer Sun / And Then Nothing Turned Itself Inside-Out
Pink Floyd - The Wall


Hyperlinks and comments are forthcoming.