Ramble

Need to sleep more. She needs a goal, like a new house, a new baby, a new job, some kind of challenge, something to look forward to, or she's bored and she hates being bored. Pictionary is challenging. Need to keep stretching, it is working! How long before there's no such thing as a television line-up and everything we watch is literally "on demand?" The POTUS needs to give a speech and promise us Ebolacare. Is there anything artistic Meg can't do? Is there any instrument Liam can't play? Farming skills are far more valuable than computer skills.What about the future value of drone repair skills? Do you know what movie would be awesome? Goonies II, where the previous protagonists are grown up and THEIR KIDS have a new, modern quest. Old world puzzles and 21st century technology. If the average life expectancy in MS is 75, then 43 is past middle age. The world needs more puppeteers. Just stay positive. 95% happy. And blessed.

Where's Jon?

Rarely enough hours in my days. Hot weather outside. Stormy weather behind my eyes. Work? A ball peen hammer beating a snare drum rhythm against cranium. Kids? Armed with rocket launchers. And they're not afraid to use them. Training? Half-assed, usually. Heart not in it. Head even less committed.

Been doing yoga. Mon & Weds. Followed by new,sweaty adventures in the sauna and the cold dip. Experimenting with more Crossfit. The Jon-shaped sweaty outline provide evidence of the endeavors. Some weekend biking. Some weekend swimming.

Needed time off to clean my head. Probably not clear enough, yet. But time to get back out of this personal funk. Write more. Have more fun with the kids.Stretch more. Train more. See if the knee will cooperate. And shoot for a late-season 70.6. Looking like Beach 2 Battleship. May end up flying solo.

No guarantees. But only one way to find out.

More to come.

Cleaned Up

Haven't really shaved since NoShaveVember. Three months? Longest streak, thus far. Cindy said she liked it. Though she wanted more gray. (?!) That certainly isn't going to be allowed to happen. Not interested in "salt & pepper." Or "looking distinguished." Though, Cindy reminded me a couple of times a week that she liked it. So I kept it through December. And January.

Anyway, three months was enough. For me. Felt like Cookie Monster. Or a geeky wanna-be Duck Dynasty reject. So it all came off tonight.

Feels good to be cleaned up. Maybe it will help with my swim times? Or run times!

Until next November.

Day 15 & Crossfit

NoShaveVember. Let it grow! Day 15. Haven't shaved this month. And it is starting to get scratchtastic. Not too bad if you don't mind looking like a nerdy 1970s G.I. Joe action figure, without the muscles or kung fu grip. But Decemeber can't come soon enough.

Hit up Crossfit after work. One of the things that keeps me motivated is thinking, "That's impossible!" then doing it!

Case in point: hand stand pushups. Never done a single one in my life. But did more than thirty of them tonight! The actual meat of the workout included five rounds of this:

• 5 Hand stand pushups
• 12 alternating kettlebell swings
• 12 butterfly situps
• 60 single unders on the jump rope

Nobody else was able to do all of the hand stands. (Probably did 15 just warming up!) And went home feeling fantastic. Though the "butterfly" situps were brutal and (for some unknown reason) my rounds included 15 of them, instead of just twelve. Gonna be sore tomorrow. Looking forward to it.

It Is No Accident

"It is no accident that you
found this note.

This is to remind you that
God loves you.

He wants to be your Savior.
If he is not read Romans 10:13.

Have a good day."

After a long, entertaining adventure in Bay St Louis, this note found me in a gas station restroom.

My first Icy Pints event. Mockingbird Cafe. Jaci asked me to join them. Running through unfamiliar territory. Pacing Cheri. Peggy. Dark, unlit streets. Decent breeze on the beach leg. Girls tricked me, though. Only did 2 miles. Good pace. Just short.

Couple of beers later, we're splitting burgers and the ASPCA girls stop handing out their fliers and decide to hang with us. So many conversations melding across half a dozen people. Dogs and running and more food and veggie burger and that girl's name is Megan while my daughter's name is Meg and we should all do NOLA but still haven't found a room for Seaside and the band is playing her favorite song and WHOOP WHOOP and put away the trash and out of the damn blue, "Jaci lost her keys." Which resulted in an unproductive hour-long manhunt for keys. Her frantically texting people who had left. We're combing the parking lot. She's calling her estranged-husband who is watching their kids. We're searching everyone's table and pockets and tailgates. She's crying. Her coworkers still looking. Cheri ordering another round. Peggy trying to call her down. And I get on the phone with Charles, "I'll take her home, Charles. I have to leave. Please, you stay home with the kids, I'll drop her off. It is on my way." What's he going to do, decline? So she cries her way to my car, leaving hers behind. We navigate back to her house, not too west of mine, talking about work and training and plans and woes and getting too old too fast in this sad crazy world where we discover ourselves too too late.

Then Jaci is gone. Just me. And the moon. And a nearly empty gas tank. Fortunately there is a station. With a clean restroom for my surprisingly full bladder. And it is no accident that I find that note. God loves me. And I love God, back.

Lots Of Meh

Up with the kiddos. Get Liam to Golf Camp. Work from home to keep an eye on Meg. Lunch time dash to retrieve Liam and food. Then more working from home. Until 5P. And a crushing wave of tiredness descends upon Your Humble Narrator. 

Lots of Meh behind my eyes. About training. About working. About everything in between. Another attack of, "Why do I bother?" With a side order of doubt. And concern for future plans. Race in just over 100 days. Cindy graduates in just over six months. Liam starts driving in just over a year. Meg breaks into her teens in less than two. Holding it all together, one day at a time.

Ended the night craving something hardy for dinner. Manly. Something to sooth my inner carnivore. Thought a Philly cheesesteak would suffice. Favorite place ended up closed. Over to Plan B: Irish Coast Pub. Taunting me with its cider on tap. But I resisted. For whatever stupid reason I've conjured to tell myself not to drink any more. Stuck with a corned beef sammich. White cheese. Bacon. SPICY mustard. Side of eggplant fries. Super double delicious. It sufficed. And then some. 

Needed that little taste of private peace.Maybe it will last long enough.

If I Slept

If I slept, it wasn't long. Four hours? Tops. Or maybe I was just dreaming that I was awake. Tossing. Turning. Trying to get comfortable. Looking for a cold spot on the sweltering sheets. The uncomfortable pillows. Whatever happened, I feel hungover. Tired. Achy. Brain hurts. Eyes hurt. And a big fist behind my eyes eager to punch its way free.

I never really know if I slept or I'm sleeping now.

Brief Relief

Still not feeling right. Overslept by SEVERAL hours. Missed a run in Biloxi because I was so tired. Tried to do a 10K training run through the neighborhood. Threw in the towel after just over three sloppy miles. Completely NOT into the run. And my time showed.

Found brief relief in food. A incredibly delectable cheese burger. And a cup of duck gumbo. Yes, duck. Yes, gumbo. Both from Lookout. Bit loud. (Exposed brick walls and yards of glass are poor audible insulators) Couple of party people. Nice service. Eeeeexcellent grub. Especially the duck gumbo. Perfect for when the soul is worn thin.

Chased it down with tunes and beer. Initial sounds courtesy of The Quarter. And an odd quartet called: Dirty Play. Lured in with some sounds from Black Crows, then broke into unrecognizable renditions of songs from AC/DC and KISS. Not sure about those guys. Never have guessed any of them were in a band you encountered them on the street. One beer. Small. Yuck tunes. Didn't stay long.

Final stop: Irish Coast Pub. Loud. Busy. Slow on the service. Couple of Angry Orchards. Some covers from the multi-talented Ian Taylor. Cops aplenty on the roads. Stayed mostly sober. And called it an early night.

Made up for the bad run. But hope my awesomeness returns soon. Bah humbug.

Shut down my belly aching

Dark so early. Vague hint of winter. Rain on black roads. Continued delays on overdue projects. Snuffing the last few embers of a tax train wreck.

Saps the strength. Right through the bottom of my feet. Down. Down. Down. To the center of the Earth. Never. To be seen. Again.

Gonna call it an early night. Perchance to sleep. To recharge. Wake up renewed.

My old buddy Kimmer laughs at my little woes. Puts everything in perspective. When I need it. Last week he shut down my belly aching with the most awesome piece of advice: "Yeah," he says. "That was yesterday. But this is today."

Glad to say that. Tomorrow.

Bar Phunk

Busy day. From the gym (1.2 mile swim) to Mom's (wireless firewall installed) to Grandma's and over to my favorite ultralocal drinking establishment: Irish Coast Pub. The proprietor, Ben put out a call for help, on Ye Ol' Facebook, and I offered my services. Turns out that beer (oh noes!) has been sloshing behind the main cooler, stinking the place of barely and hops! Everything had to be emptied, pulled out, and cleaned. Your wayward narrator was strictly muscle. Helped hoist a few kegs. moved the biggest coolers, and offered kindly words of advice for those about to scour away the pent up bar phunk.

Not a dull day. Great swim. Cold weather. And I did my good deeds. Valhalla, I came coming!

Michael Grimm - 2013

Long, torturous day at the office. Usual villainy: over-due projects, disappointments from vendors, and salesweasles nipping at my heels. Too much trippin' and my soul's worth thin.

Rare treat followed. Neighboring casino: Hard Rock. Great view of the Michael Grimm show. Watery drinks. Wonderful performance.Fantastic music. Really impressive stuff. Including the rest of the band and the backup singers.Proud to have that guy from my home state. A shining star.

Haven't enjoyed such a good show in a long while. Shame it is so rare. Have to do to something about that for the rest of 2013. More happiness. Less woe. That's what I'm thinking.Let's make it so...

Relaxing

I like to think I work hard. I like to think I train hard. I provide for my kids. I provide for my wife. I provide for the mop-headed dog, even. I don't ask for much. I sacrifice and make sure everyone around me has what they need. All at my own personal expense. 

So I don't feel guilty for spending a few dollars and a few hours decompressing my crushed spirit and recharging my dwindling internal batteries. Okay, my relaxing happens to take place in an Irish pub. It includes a couple of pints of Woodchuck cider. Occasionally some Rotel dip. Sometimes hearing a local band. If that's a crime, I'm guilty as charged.

I'm not going to sit in a silent house, trying not to wake the sleeping masses, and idle my remaining sane years away. I think I earn some solace. Anyone who feels otherwise needs to speak now. Or forever hold your peace. In the meanwhile, you know where to find me. 

Jon On Tape

My property donated time to Books On Tape, today. Just a few minutes out of our shift to record audio for the blind. I'm guessing young blind children. I picked "STOP THIS BIRTHDAY!"

I coyly changed the Birthday Faerie to a boy, instead of a girl, and tried to sound like Liam. And I did the protagonist (Zephyr) as if it were Meg talking. I doubt anyone will ever know. But I was proud to record Jon On Tape with subtle tributes to my kids. They're probably never know. But I will.

My First Kick

For 9/11, I did something new. Give my first kick. On Kickstarter. To SunVolt: a portable solar power station. Nice little panel. Could charge multiple items. Can use it when I'm training, or on a long trip. Plus it helps out an inventor who never would have been able to bring an item to market on his own.

Long day. Need the karma. Skipped swimming due to a financial fight. Had a lovely disagreement whilst working. And projects kept me late, missing my ride.

Good thoughts. Good thoughts. Good thoughts.And microfunding for SunVolt!

Gotta be some silver lining to these dark clouds. Somewhere.

Good Deed

I do try. I do! When the opportunity presents itself, I do a good deed. Friends. Family. Neighbors. If it is within my power, I'll do what I can.

Case in point: a knock upon my door at 9PM. Who can it be? My kindly old neighbor lady. Ms Dees. Only eight years short of 100. She had locked herself out of her house, checking on her garden. I tried her other doors. I tried her windows. No easy mode of entry. Walked her back to my house, sat her on the sofa, and after four phone calls I found a locksmith (Ricky) that could bump the lock. "Just talk loud to her, Ricky. She's sharp, if she hears you." By 10PM, Ms Dees was safely back in her front room. No worse for wear.

And tonight, approaching midnight, I find myself working on a technical solution. For a friend who called in need. By the time I'm done, I'll be approaching 16hrs of work today. No rest for the weary. No rainchecks. Just me and my quest for karma. I'm hoping I can buy it with a good deed.

Last Day Off

I burned some time to turn this week into a five day vacation. Today marked the end of it. Full of awesomeness and The Happy. Started with some much-needed extra sleep. Progressed into me continuing my quest to de-clutter my life. I abandoned some of the trappings of my life in Atlanta by packing up a truck load of old computers and servers and accessories and hardware and cables then donating it to the local school district. Hopefully they can make use of the equipment. Give it all a new home. Maybe some poor teacher's workstation. Bring her a few extra moments of joy when her copy of Microsoft Word opens ever-so-quicker. Printers, speakers, switches, firewalls, KVMs, spare memory, power supplies, and everything from coax to 100 foot spools of CAT6. Haven't touched any of it in years. It was taking up space in the garage and leasing room behind my eyes. But no more. I'm done with it. And all the clutter in caused in my life.

Then off to lunch. My Mom and Grandma. Chinese food. Super Chinese Buffet, up HW49. My favorite because it has a Mongolian grill. Only I didn't eat off the grill today. Wasn't digging the thought of extra carbs attacking my midline. So I stuck with the essentials: General's Chicken, Pepper Chicken, Steamed Dumplings, Hot & Spicy Beef, Crab Ragoons (which have as much crab as a lunar landing,) and a lone eggroll. Good stuff. Great to see Grandma. She's doing well. My Mom, too. Everyone happy and fine as fish fur after the holidays.

Liam comes home to let me know he made a 100 on his district math test. But he mis-spelled "roommate" on his attempt to join the spelling bee team. Didn't really want to join, he says. "ROOMMATE?" I says. But he did make a 100 on that math test. So I don't hold it against. He doesn't really need any additional activities right now. He has a lot on his plate. Plus, he tried a new chicken dish for supper. So bonus points there.

Then off to the gym. Back & biceps. Bit of a walk around the track to stretch. Then an hour of swimming drills. Grrrrreat workout in the water. Feel 9000% better than I did earlier. Needed that. And a great way to end my last day off!

Close The Tab

Ending the year with food and drink and music. Old Man Hodge. His lady friend. Lookout. Woodchuck. The Quarter. Nothing too radical. Don't want to temp a visit from The Law. A burger. Some beers. And an odd band that plays everything from The Eagle's Hotel California to C-Lo's Eff You.

Time to close the tab on 2011. Turning 40. Finally putting together the pieces. A lot of training. Bunch of races. Never been better. Spot of trouble at the office. Continued delays on budding prospects. Liam's music. Meg's writing. The kids continuing to grow beyond my anything I ever expected. Cindy's change of careers and return to school.

2012 ought to be interesting. An all new adventure. For all of us.

To Say No

I don't understand addiction. The apparent loss of control. The willingness to sacrifice health, money, family, friends for a little bit of a rush. Or a brief escape from reality.

I've always had the ability to stop when I wanted. Or to say no. The only thing that ever held a grip one me was, strangely enough, Mountain Dew. I even remember the last one I had: August 3rd, 1999.

At the time, I didn't realize what I was consuming. Never thought to look. Each night like four or six of them. "Green devil," we'd call it. A quarter per can from the machine just outside our office. A dollar a night. Sometimes more. Helped pass the time. But while waiting for Liam to be born, I noticed the contents of the bottle. The sugar. The caffeine. The calories. And I quit that moment. Cold turkey. Twelve plus years ago. They still call my names sometime. But the voices grow fainter each year.

Come On, Irene

The little hurricane that could: Irene. My friends along the East Coast blogging and tweeting and Facebooking their every waking hour. Mandatory evacuations potentially affecting an area with a population forty million. NYC shutting down its subway. A seas of boarded windows. Obama in some kind of Death Star Control Room, warning people and pretending to devise response situations. Then, she sputters out. Come on, Irene! Only  a million folks without power? Winds dropping down to CAT1 level? And yet the media is covering it as if Irene were the Second Coming of Jesus Christ. Every single station and live show with their own footage and their own reports leaning into the wind. Anderson Cooper standing up to his ankles in rapidly draining flood water, calling it "a boring rain." Same thing on every damn channel. You can see the disappointment on their eyes. They needed some carnage and wholesale destruction to distract us from everything else happening these days.

If Irene entered the Gulf Of Mexico, you'd only be able to find detailed information online. And nobody other than The Weather Channel would send a report to cover it. Would anyone honestly care if the Gulf South gets crushed again? But, oh, God forbid, NYC is endangered! And Wall Street might flood? Washing up the corpses of our 401Ks and retirement accounts. Credit Default Swaps and Collateralized Debt Obligations bobbing to the surface. They've been dead a while though. And instantly stink up the thick New York air. Didn't we bury those toxic bastards deep enough? Won't see THAT on the news, though. Just enough East Coast misery to make the West Coast forget it is circling the drainpipe of bankruptcy. Nevermind that we've got Hurricane Double Dip Recession peeking over the horizon. We can't find any of those invisible, bearded, religious ninjas we've spent trillions defending against, so now maybe we'll have to declare a War On Weather! Those terrorist winds hate our freedom. Lightning wants to convert us to sharia law. And hail has declared jihad on our car windshields. So let's pony up about $50B for Irene and see where we can waste some more tax dollars. But keep your eye open for Jesus. Fox polls show their viewer still favor his return. He is coming back to end taxes, raise employment from the dead, and cast Obama's Healthcare Reform down to the Liberal Hell where it was conceived. Can we all join Perry and Bachmann in an AMEN? Amen.

Saturday Night. Non-stop.

Some days never end. Thankfully, this was an endless Saturday.

Started with a trip to the gym. My first visit in over a week. Back and biceps. Then a long hour in the pool with Meg. That girl is part mermaid. And she never gets tired of me hurling her through the air. I gorilla press her as high as I can manage. Sometimes she has to be 10' up. Always screams on her way down. Making a splash twice her size. I never held my breath that long. Or swam so well. She'd still be swimming twelve hours later if I didn't have her check for Wrinkled Feet. Not sure how much longer that trick will last. But it still works, for now. If her feet are wrinkled, it is a sign from God. And she listens to that!

Ate at Cici's pizza afterwards. Liam always complains when we try to go. Have to say, he's right. It is cheap ($5 for me, $4 for Meg) but not exactly the most diverse selection, aside from the actually pizzas. I was hoping I could avoid the carbs and bulk up on some salad. No such luck. The salad was dull as a slug, didn't even have cheese, and the pasta sauce tasted like a heavily processed canned product. But, Meg did get a balloon and the manager performed a magic trick. She was happy. So I was happy. Her bar isn't raised quite as high as mine. Plus Meg said Cici's brownies were excellent. Still. Might be a while before we go back there.

After a couple of hours of babysitting, I concluded the night with some business-based drinking at The Quarter, in Gulfport. Bunch of issues to sort through. Some critical decisions and clarifications. Interesting stuff abounds. Just have to find the time and energy to make it all happen. But could be some exciting stuff if it lives up to the promise. Great drinks at the Quarter, as always. And a fine fine chicken sammich from next door.

Excellent Saturday night. Even if it was non-stop.