Life

Blogging has been a part of my life for 13 years now and so it has become the instrument I use to record thoughts and feelings about the new world(s) I enter.

Living in Texas for round two, except this time I have moved into a house and find myself preparing for the arrival of the children who have never lived here with me.

Visited yes, but lived, no.

A giant sacrifice on all our parts and one I desperately pray will work out half as well as I hope because it just has to.

Unpacking It All

Alone for now, I unpack boxes and organize preparing for a new life with a bit of trepidation and a lot of hope.

Thre is an inordinate amount of pressure upon me and all I can do is say I am a big boy and take it.

All I can do is my best and hope it is enough to make the sacrifice meaningful and worth it.

My gut says the answer will be yes, but you never do know about these things until you cross through to the other side.

So here is to taking steps into the fog of the great mystery and to having the courage to see it through.

Here is to finding out whether the joke is on me and if so, learning to laugh with and at myself.

Life is an adventure for those who are daring and willing to live it.

I am and I will.

I spent five out of the last seven days slinging iron in the gym and was reminded rather aggressively about how much time I have spent outside of it.

The audible cracks and creaks combine with sore muscles to make it clear that I can’t just pick up where I left off, no matter how badly I might want to.

Can’t just walk into and do what I did or expect my body to respond as if no time has passed and so I find myself having to make a significant effort to be patient.

It is the smart and mature move–I hate it.

And the silly thing is if my kids or friends asked for advice I would tell them to take their time.

Be smart, be safe and work your way back.

Guess I am not particularly good at taking my own advice.

Ask The Old Man About Age

I haven’t seen my family since January 1 and am starting to get excited because we’re only a few weeks away before the next visit.

And we’re all of two months or so before the move and we live together again.

That is a good thing, an important thing and something I am looking forward to.

It is not easy to parent from a distance and I haven’t been pleased that I have had to do it, but it is part of making a better life for us all and I think ultimately it will work.

There have been some very hard moments and challenges and it hasn’t been as smooth or easy as I had hoped.

There is some guilt and anxiety about the changes.

A certain amount of nervousness about whether it is going to be good and some fear that it could go south.

I don’t really think it will, but it might and that would to use a technical term…suck.

But I figure old Al is correct and that the only way to figure it all out is to keep going, got to put one foot in front of the other.

Can’t tell, know or see without trying it out so we’ll push on and see where it leads.

And that leads us back to the gym where the old man is doing his damnedest to stop the clock, if not turn it back.

Most of the time it feels like that is working, but there are moments where I wonder.

Moments where it becomes clear that I am not 25 any more and that I better act like it because this old body starts to bark at me if I don’t behave.

Got to trick it into forgetting how many miles I have put on and think it is younger or at least in better condition.

We’re getting there…slowly.

Not Quite Final Notes

The kids are a mix of excited and nervous about the coming move. They ask questions and tell me they look forward to seeing me.

Sometimes they ask if there is any way to avoid moving and wonder if maybe I could move back instead of them moving here.

I get it.

I understand.

I feel badly, but sometimes the best thing you can do is take a chance and leave your comfort zone.

I am keeping my fingers crossed, it might be bumpy, but it could be great.

Hope they see it as an adventure and a chance to explore uncharted territory.

Just have to wait and see.

Sometimes things happen and you find yourself somewhere between the familiar landscape of heartbreak and hope.

You look out the window of the train and pray it stops on the right side of the tracks but hold your breath because you know you can’t do a damn thing to impact it.

All you can do is hold on and see what happens.

It makes me think of sucker punches and suckers.

 

Of Fury & Rage

Hit some pretty big bumps in the road and found myself involved in an unexpected and unnecessary struggle.

Took a deep breath and told myself to do as I tell the kids to do, “breathe, think, breathe and work it out.”

And then I discovered the cause of the struggle could be traced back to an intentional act by someone else.

That brought out my inner Taurus and the horns were lowered and I had to work hard to not go out on a mission of seek-and-destroy.

In the midst of it all music rescues the moment.

How?

Sophie B. Hawkins singing Damn, I Wish I Was Your Lover.

Suddenly it is 1992 and I am all of 23 and hanging out in a bar in Santa Monica with some of the boys. The song comes on and a group of girls start dancing and singing along.

A couple of them are staring at us and we work extra hard to try and look cool while simultaneously debating whether they’re serious or not.

“That blond wants me.”

“How do you know?”

“Because she is staring hard.”

“You’re an idiot, she is staring at me.”

I listen the guys go back and forth and occasionally add my own comments. I am not convinced they have any interest in us and am not sure I want to be the guy to walk over to the group and get shot down.

“Jack, I’ll bet $20 dollars you can’t get a phone number.”

I smile and tell him I’ll take his money.

I walk over to the group and tell them I need their help.

“My friend bet me $20 I can’t get one of your telephone numbers. He is a cocky pain in my ass. If you give me a number that I can bring back I’ll take his money and give you the $20.”

One of the girls smiles kisses my cheek and then writes down a number and sends me back across the bar.

I take the $20, turn and deliver it.

Mission accomplished.

Some hours later I try the number and get an answering machine upon which I leave a message. The call is never returned.

Sucker Punches & Suckers

I don’t know that I agree with Freud but I have told the kids there is a benefit to struggling.

You learn how to appreciate what you have and the work it to took to gain/acquire and or obtain it.

Most of the time I believe it to be true and feel like I ought to be open to one day looking back upon the beauty of the struggle.

But the thing is I am killing myself right now to make the things work and worrying about a million different things,

I am busting my ass to not get knocked upon it by another sucker punch or punches and wondering if maybe I am the sucker.