MIXBAG OF MUSINGS

I can't blog! Every single attempt, however slight, to post something has been interrupted by some inconvenient, urgent, can-not-wait issue that requires my immediate attention!! AAAAUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! My work is interfering with my blogging! I'll be back when time permits...

Click here for mood music There are many pages to the book of my life. Some that I am proud of, others that I would change. But there are no regrets and I bravely claim every move I've made as my own. Though I was born in the U.S., I grew up in a major South American city, surrounded by poverty and the deep rooted classism that emerges in people's subconsciousness when surrounded by an utter lack of upward mobility in most non-professional jobs. Those who were born underprivileged stayed that way, and passed it on to their children. The only realistic expectations the country places on the public school system is to teach the poor to read, write and add. Those poor, deprived children (not because they don't have Gameboys or Air Jordans, but because they live on dirt floors and sleep on rush mats) will grow up with the modest hope of finding labor in the cities, migrating from the fields and countryside in search of better possibilities that never materialize.

Click here for mood music I'm in a state of panic. I'm coaching my daughter's Peewee Teeball team this season. Well, not really coaching. Assistant coaching. The coach conned me into it a few weeks ago. I figured, what the hell. Maybe it'll help my daughter feel more comfortable out there with all those boys. We've only had three practice sessions, so far. Coach told us the first game would be a week after they gave out the uniforms. Well, a couple of hours ago my wife phoned me. She said,"Sorry babe, I forgot to tell you Lisa (the coach's wife) called yesterday and said you were having practice today." "Today?" I asked. "But we always practice on Fridays." "You've got your first game tomorrow." "Tomorrow??? Are you kidding? But, we don't have any uniforms!" "They're handing them out today." "But...but we're not ready!" I stammered. "We haven't ev

I don't want to be very graphic about my activities, late yesterday afternoon. Suffice it to say that having several gloved medical personnel prying open your buttocks so that another may cut and scrape away offending blood clots from your anus, is not an enjoyable occurrence. I rank it up there with root canal or having my toenail removed (I had hemorrhaging below my big toenail and it was getting infected - they had to remove the entire toenail to get to it). I guess it's a sign of age, that the last few years I've had to undergo so many procedures. Things that ten years ago I barely knew existed. How we change... My wife turns 39 today. I turn 39 on Sunday. I married an older woman. This will be our last year before we hit the big ***40***. Funny, how I used to consider 40 as being old. Now, I'm vigorously trying to view it as a new beginning. We'll see. I have a whole year left to ponder it.

"Daddy!" she yells in delight when I walk through the door after a hard day's work, running into my arms and planting a big sloppy kiss on my mouth, successfully diluting the day's sour remains. "Hi baby," I say, smiling from ear to ear in pure, unsurpassable joy. "I missed you! Did you miss me?" "Yeah," she says, matter of factly and moving on to more important issues. "Today Fluke went out through the right door. Can we give him a snack?" "He did? Through the puppy door? Are you sure?" I ask incredulous. "I opened the door for him." "And did he go potty, like a good dog?" "He only went peepee!" she says, frustrated. "Can I give him a snack, and Rocky too?" This has been one of my biggest problems with the new puppy. He doesn't want to get out of the screened patio and into the yard through the flapping pet door. He insists on tearing right through my sc

Click here for mood music Ruby caught the ball and faltered briefly, bouncing for balance with one foot, then slid back onto her pinion seat. "You knock over ma' horse, I'm gonna knock you over, woman!" Kevin yelled from the garage. He was helping Artie put some padding on the back of his saddlebags. Artie didn't want to mess up his paint job by throwing the saddlebags bareback on his bike. Ruby threw the baseball back at me. I caught it with my helmet. Didn't even have to tilt my hog over. The helmet law had just become effective in California, courtesy of Pete Wilson. We wore the helmets, but only after we'd placed stickers on the back that read: "Fuck Pete Wilson." "Let's go, let's go!" I said to the guys, impatiently, "I wanna get moving!" "We're waiting on Ron and Dean," Artie mumbled, without looking up. I tossed the ball back at Ruby. A bad throw. She stretched her rig

Rather than leave a long comment on this post by Standing Naked , I felt inspired to seek out some answers to her questions on my own post. In my daily frame of my mind, I consider home to be the tangible house I own, where I reside with my wife and child. The place where I eat and sleep, and where the bulk of my income is sunk into. But on a more subconscious level, I think of "back home" as the land I grew up in, my parent's house, the farm we spent our weekends at, the schools I attended and the streets I was reared on. Rather than a specific place, home consists of a series of memories. As George Webber finds, in the events so eloquently narrated by Thomas Wolfe, "You can't go home again." As trite and overused as that saying may be, it is one that is true on a multitude of levels. The most obvious and common of truths - and the one I am primarily concerned with here - is that the home we leave behind is never the same as the one we retur

Hi Everybody! Well, we got through it okay. Pretty windy, loud and drawn out, but my only casualties were a banana tree, two screen sections around the pool, a whole bunch of different branches, and a tarp covering I had over the door to my outdoor workshop (which will now be replaced by a much sturdier piece of plywood!). Not too bad, considering. Before I go any further, I would like to thank all those of you who expressed concern for my family's safety. Every kind comment and email was very much appreciated! The damned hurricane was sooooo slow that we were holed up from mid-afternoon on Friday through Sunday morning. Our power came in and out periodically, but was never out for long. We were one of the lucky ones. Many homes out there are still without power. Our phone line went out early on. In fact, I still don't have a dial tone. Since this afternoon, my DSL is able to use the phone line to grant me internet access, but I can't use the phone. Go figure.

Closed for Business! Well, it's been a struggle, but I finally got the house ready to weather the storm yesterday. I meant to post last night and let everybody know we're doing alright, but every muscle in my body aches - I feel like I've been run over by a semi - so I let myself pass out watching the endless TV coverage. If you've never been through a situation like this one, let me explain to you how it works. No matter how prepared for a hurricane you think you are, when one approaches you discover there are always a few things you still need to get. Inevitably, things like drinking water, canned foods, and essentials such as milk, eggs and bread. Enough supplies to get you through a week. Gas. The moment it becomes evident that there will eventually be a landfall, even if it's north of us, the fuel trucks stop coming down here, afraid they won't be able to drive back out. So the lines at the gas stations that still have fuel become

Click here for theme music It's getting pretty hairy down here. No time for blogging. We're preparing to welcome our dear friend Frances. I think some of you may already know I work in the import industry. I manage a brokerage firm which clears flowers arriving from South America and Europe and forwards them out to wholesalers throughout the country. Well, right now all the truck routes going north of Miami are closing, which means we're going to get stuck with thousands of boxes of very perishable cargo here in Miami. It doesn't help that next Monday is Labor Day and they've already set up holiday schedules! Anyway, I'll let you guys know what's going on as the storm approaches. I've still got to get home and re-fit my hurricane shutters. Can't leave that stuff until the last moment.