THE PEANUT GALLERY: Stop on Pop

"Certain thoughts are prayers. There are moments when, whatever be the attitude of the body, the soul is on its knees." -Victor Hugo

THIS is gambling. (And creepy.)

Gambling isn't my thing. While I do enjoy fantasy football, filling out my NCAA tournament brackets, and the very occasional trip to the blackjack table, I'm no gambler. That is, at least some skill on my part needs to be involved for me to lay my own money on the line. I don't do slot machines, play the lottery, or amble up to those spinning wheels at the boardwalk or amusement park. Even if I'm going to lose a dollar, or a quarter, I want to do so knowing that my knowledge or ability had something to do with it. So I don't gamble, generally.

Except...

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We Took the Road Less Traveled

"Where troubles melt like lemon drops, high above the chimney tops. That's where you'll find me."- from Somewhere Over the Rainbow

I was tired, hot, cranky, and annoyed. (I'm sure this comes as no surprise.) This was not my idea of a vacation. This is not how we had said we would spend our 10th Anniversary celebration. My Director had totally hijacked our day and dedicated it to shopping. No...looking for the perfect gift to repay my sister and brother-in-law for watching Peanut for the two weeks we were away. This is one area where we, and I believe most men and women, differ. Shopping. I don't look for things. I think of what I want ahead of time and I set off to buy things. Or, I see something and impulsively say, "I'm going to buy that," finances willing. But I never say, "I want something like this so I'm going to go look for it." That's just a waste of time. Nonsense.

Yet, here we were. Immersed in nonsense.

This is 1 of nearly 6,000 identical stores.
But look at her in her cute hat. I can't stay mad at her.

We were on the island of Murano, the place in Venice famous for its hand-blown glass. And My Director had taken a one-way boat to Nutsville, obsessed with buying a set of glasses. We went into every store, on a mission. It was maddening because all of these stores are the same, except for infinitesimal differences in each figurine, light fixture, or piece of jewelry. I was stuck in Venetian Groundhog Day and I needed out. So I threw a bit of a tantrum. Albeit, a strategic, impassioned, but sympathetic tantrum. To my surprise, it actually worked.

Still, I was tired, hot, cranky, and annoyed as we boarded a boat to head back to mainland Venice, Piazza San Marco. First we had to make one last stop at "Murano Faro." This is the only place where you get a boat to the island of Burano. One of my wishes for our trip was to go to Burano, because it's little known, quiet, far away. But at this point, in the state I was in (the "done with shopping" state), I felt defeated and resigned to go back.

This selfie proves there were actually more happy
moments on Murano than not. (And that I am terribly bald.)

"Last chance," My Director called to me. "If you want Burano we have to get off here. Now."

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Dude Looks Like a Matey

"Every day is a production. You wake up to produce that day." -Norman Lear

I never thought I would see the day. Ever. The day when two dogs were living in my house. I would have told you I had a better chance of owning an alligator than owning another dog. After all, I'm not really a dog person to begin with. Then again, I guess I can't say that anymore now, can I? Another dog was never even a consideration. Luna, it's been well documented, is my soul mate. How could I ever do that to her? Then I saw his face...

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For Goodness Sake

Let peace begin with me. 

Let this be the moment now. 

With every breath I take 

Let this be my solemn vow.

I didn't give up anything for Lent this year. Growing up Catholic, I've participated in this annual rite with equal parts enthusiasm and dread since I can remember. Recently, I gave up Facebook for two straight years. (I'm on it a lot.) Two years ago I gave up chocolate. Last year it was swearing. (Success was relative.) I would approach this as an annual test of my resilience and willpower. Like most people I know, I never had a problem sharing what I was sacrificing with anyone who didn't ask. And that's why I hesitated this year.

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An Instrument of Peace

A statue sits in one of our flower gardens in the backyard. It's a small statue. Once the garden is in full bloom, you have to look for it to see it. But it's there. I know it's always there. I can see it no matter what. It's there for a reason.

During our backyard Halloween party last fall, I thought about picking it up and putting it in a safe place. But I didn't. I figured, who runs through a garden that's in the corner of the yard, away from all of the activities? And wouldn't you know it, a boy ran where he wasn't supposed to run. He broke the statue. I then proceeded to take that boy on a guilt trip that would have made my mom proud.

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I Believe

"There's no question in my mind that he does exist. Just like love I know he's there waiting to be missed." -From A Year Without a Santa Claus

Santa Claus is real. I've never seen him. But I have proof. My proof lies in the heart and mind of my daughter. Evidence of his existence can be seen in the excitement, anticipation, and joy of Christmas morning. I've seen it on her face and heard it in her voice. He is most certainly real.

But some people say we're lying to our kids by telling them Santa is real. (Even I joked about it in a recent post.) I've seen several discussions of the subject this week. While I respect everyone's beliefs as much as I expect my own to be respected, I think the people who insist we are perpetrating a fraud against our children need to relax. Kids are smarter than a lot of people give them credit for. They believe what they want to believe until they are old enough to know better. 

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Today is the Greatest

"Life is what happens to you when you're busy making other plans." -John Lennon

You've heard what I am about to say before, either here or somewhere else. But it bears repeating. Especially after two events, one routine and one unbearably tragic, over Thanksgiving.

Thankful for today

When thinking about what I'd like to say at Thanksgiving dinner when my turn to speak would come around, I kept coming back to the same thing for which I am thankful: today. So that's what I said. "I'm thankful for today because tomorrow isn't guaranteed." I've been thinking recently about my dad and my cousin, both of whom died way too soon.

Little did I know at the time I spoke those words at the dinner table that a former co-worker's 19 year-old daughter had died suddenly the day before of apparent cardiac arrest. Just out of the blue. She wasn't sick. Had no prior symptoms. Just died while watching a movie with her mom.

When I hear things like this it makes me wonder how or why something like this would ever happen, COULD ever happen. I pray for my colleague and his wife to find comfort. But at times like these I doubt God, his plan, even his existence. I couldn't fathom the horror of what they are going through.

Not making any comparisons, or making light of it, I also couldn't believe the coincidence given the feelings I had shared at Thanksgiving dinner. That I am thankful for today because tomorrow isn't guaranteed. But if I'm being completely honest, I often wish I would practice what I preach. Even though that heartbreaking tragedy is so fresh in my mind, it's still easier said than done. To carpe the diem.

My wife and I have been slogging through one of those rough patches where it's tough to see the positive in a sea of negatives. She's been having some health issues, we've both been experiencing some added stress at work, and money issues are rearing their ugly head again as a result. Our plans to have a second child have once more been put on hold because of all of the above.

Maybe it's a sign? Maybe we truly ARE meant to be a one-child family. Not that we would be unhappy, because we HAVE considered that prospect.
Maybe it's a test. Of will, of faith, of love. Of patience (something with which I struggle daily).

What's best for them is best for me

But I guess that's how I AM seizing the day. And being thankful for today. By taking care of my family. By giving them the most basic but most crucial parts of me: my heart, my time, my attention. Before putting these thoughts into words I was actually worried we were just going through the motions recently. Existing but not doing. Hoping it gets better. Living with our lives on hold. Now I'm realizing that living IS loving. As is having faith that everything will work out for the best (which I truly believe).

There are things I keep putting off. Starting my book, finding another race to run, fixing the sink in the upstairs bathroom (or calling someone who can). I get mad at myself for being lazy. For procrastinating. But these are all little things, all things considered.

Then I realize that just being there for my wife and the Peanut is the best way to make the most of the day. What's best for my family, and what they need, is what today is all about. What better way to be thankful for today? To make sure they're happy, safe, comfortable. Thats all I can do right now. And that's enough for now. Because tomorrow is not guaranteed.

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Working on Sunday

"Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven." - from the Our Father

We decided to skip church today. Again. It's not a trend, and it's not a reflection of any crisis of faith. It's just that sometimes skipping church is a necessary evil, if you will.

I used to affectionately but a little guiltily refer to these days as "Lazy Sunday." But not anymore.

When we skipped church one rainy Sunday a few months ago, that description sparked an interesting conversation between me and another daddy blogger on Twitter (you can follow me here: @DKLblog). He was doing the same thing (from the other side of the country, mind you). And he gave me a new perspective. 

He said he doesn't consider it to be lazy... that we're doing His work by giving love and attention to the things that are most important: family, home. This blogger's name is Joe, he lives outside Seattle and calls his blog Manhood v. Dadhood.  Click and check him out. He's worth following because he's deep and one of the nicest guys I've 'met' in the daddy blogosphere.

His description has allowed me to feel less guilty on Sundays we stay home. Our decision to join an Episcopal church is also a big factor in my lack of guilt. I was raised Catholic, so I know all about the guilt. My mother still gives me a guilt trip about joining an Episcopal church.

Sure, our immediate motivation, or lack thereof, for staying home is rooted in laziness. That particular day back in May, we felt we needed a day to decompress after going non-stop for a few weeks and having several busy weekends in a row. Some long overdue projects in the house needed tending to as well. And like I mentioned, it was raining.

I do believe that sometimes we can better serve God by bettering our home and making those in it happier and more comfortable. What a great way to look at things. That Sunday, I cleaned out and reorganized our garage. We played more games and read more books with the peanut than we had the other six days of the week combined.

She liked this one because it reminded her of nighttime

On another "Skip Sunday," we took her to an art museum to see an Andy Warhol exhibit. She and I played a game. Every time we entered a new room with a new group of artwork hanging on the walls, we had to run to our favorite and then say why we liked it (sounds very Pagan, I admit). She loved it, though.

I think God understands. I think we all worship Him and love Him and follow Him in different ways.

The Monday after that museum trip, we arrived home after daycare pickup. The peanut wanted to color. I love when she chooses anything besides television to occupy her while I cook. I set her up with paper and crayons at her little craft table, and started dinner. A few minutes later, she came into the kitchen holding a picture.

She hung her picture on the fridge.

"Do you know who it is, daddy?"

"Is it me?"

"No. Look. He has a beard."

I was totally stumped. Santa? My Uncle Norb? Ulysses S. Grant?

She finally enlightened me: "It's Jesus."

Holy crap.

We hadn't been to church in two weeks. And she sat down at her table and drew a picture of Jesus, cross and all, without prompting.

If that's not God's work... I don't know what is.

This isn't the first time the peanut has reminded me of our faith. Click here to read about it

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