T-Ball

Well the boy had his first T-ball practice last night. He and 15 other 4-to-6 year-olds took to the field at Jefferson Park to start what undoubtedly will become an every summer occurrence. It was a lot of fun watching the masses of kids chase down every ball hit from the T into the infield. The older boy got a chance to bat as well and did great. If there’s one thing he knows how to do, that’s hit.

Out past the outfield a group of young men were playing Ultimate Frizbie in the grass. For a while I wrestled with contemplating which do I hate more, the sport or the people who play the sport, but decided against it. I can get far to easily distracted by my likes and dislikes, loosing focus on what brings me out there in the first place. Last night it was to witness another passing milestone: First hit in a uniform.

On the way home he says from the back seat all excited. “The coach called me a natural.” Long pause. “…I don’t even know what that is!”

You know, come to think of it, he does look the tiniest bit like Robert Redford circa 1984.

Recording

Well the Prairie Dogs got themselves into the studio this past weekend and started working on their upcoming CD. All in all it went very smoothly and by 4pm Saturday we had the basic tracks to seven songs in the bag, so to speak. We’ll go in again on Wednesday and see if we can hammer out another four or so, leaving maybe one or two more songs to try and get somehow. Doug and I spend the better part of Friday night getting everything ready so’s all we’d have to do Saturday morning is just plug in and start recording. Quite surprisingly, that’s just about how easy it went.

I spent a good part of Sunday putting in a new hard drive in my computer, because the old one’s all full, and being frustrated because nothing I ever do to my computer is an easy project. There is always that little twist that makes things take twice as long to do and twice as complicated as I though it would be. But the good news is I won, got the new hard drive in, and dumped the stuff we recorded on Saturday into Pro-tools so we can add Vocals and all the overdubs on it. Right now the machine is working great, is very stable, and that makes me happy.

The older boy ate a lot of candy and chocolate on Sunday. It was a nice day, not to hot but warm enough for shorts. Warm enough for the all boys in the trailer park to be running around outside, burning up all that sugar by riding their bikes and beating each other up. Sweetie had to work late so by two, it was just me and the boys for the rest of the night. Ike’s taken to melting down at around 4 every afternoon and so it’s important to get him out of the house doing, or going, somewhere. We decided to go to Owen Beach, which has kind of become Ike’s favorite place to hang. Ever since we were at the ocean for his birthday, he’s enjoyed watching the water, waves and putting his toes in the sand. Went to DQ on the way home for dinner where they have, according to the older boy, the second best cheeseburgers around: the first best, according to him, being Dick's Drive-In up in Seattle.

After the trailer got all quiet with the boys down for sleep, I went back in the studio and did some more work until Sweetie got home. She had run into a doctor friend of ours that helped treat Ike when he was so sick in the hospital. Sweeties was taking Ike up to Children’s Hospital for blood labs this morning anyway, and I guess they’ll be getting together for coffee or something; talking about old illnesses, endless worrying, and dancing on that gray line between life and that old ghost death.

Christianity

I don’t understand Christianity. In fact, as I get older I find myself further and further away from unraveling the mystery of what people find so comforting in this belief system.

After the funeral today, the second this week, I was left with the lingering question; “what do Christians think we’re doing here?” And when I say “here” I mean here on earth, here in the right now. Are we all just hanging around to see if we can get into heaven? Is this reality that we’re living in just some sort of cattle pen, a conveyor belt sorting system, designed to weed out those of us worthy of the great beyond? If God created this, us, and Heaven and everything then why this unnecessary step? Why would He put us in this unforgiving world? Is it that God is just a mass producer, where quantity is the goal, leaving the weeding out of the undesirable broken toys until a later time? Has He created some sort of quality control slaughterhouse where, when He’s seen enough, the souls get divided into eternal Heaven or eternal Hell and damnation? If this is the case, then why at the end of the world does Jesus return and kill all the remaining people and then sort them as well? You would think that someone who possesses eternal life would have no problem waiting a few more million years until we become extinct ourselves. It’s not like the great sorting machine isn’t working in the meantime. Every year millions of people die, millions of people are born, and if I get it right, this is all just so God can find out who gets membership into the great country club in the sky. For this they are thankful.

Then God comes down and kills your thirty-five year old husband, and father of your five-year-old child and the priest reads this:

Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; ...

WHAT? It’s not bad enough that the bastard killed everything you’ve ever loved, now he’s there to comfort you? What kind of reasoning is that?

Well I tell you what I think…It’s the kind of reasoning a battered wife uses to go back to her abusive husband. “He hit me for my own good, and besides I know he loves me…”

I swear, every time I find myself at a Christian service these days I leave with more angry questions than peaceful answers.

Death

C_. died Monday. He had lived in the trailer park longer than anyone else, having moved here right after it opened in 1947. He was a kind old man who lived into his nineties and raised begonias in the little space he called his back yard. I told the older boy about it last night. He had grown kind of fond of C_. and enjoyed giving him hugs when he saw him. He didn't say much at first, then after a bit, asked if he had died because he was so old. Later on when we were reading books he told me he didn't really like it when people say someone died. I didn't take it personally in fact in a way I agreed with him.

One of the stories we read used the phrase that someone "croaked" and after a slight pause the boy asked if C_. had croaked. I think I told him that you can use that word, but it seems a little crass to use slang to describe death, or something like that. I think the boy and I silently agreed that no death of a kind old man deserved that.

It took awhile for the boy to fall asleep, asking Sweetie to lay beside him to help keep the scary thoughts out of his head until he finally drifted off.

Birthday Resolutions

Last year around this time I set out a small list of things that I wanted to accomplish in my 37th year. I thought I’d take a narcissistic moment to explore the results of that list and perhaps start a new one.

My goals this year include there being less of me at next years birthday week. I simply must get my lazy fat ass under control.
Success.
I’ve lost 30 pounds since this time last year.

VTo write more music and spend more time recording.
Total failure on this one.

To kiss my Sweetie more often, whether she wants me to or not.
I did ok.

To play with the boys more often.
I did ok

To eat better tasting food.
Could do better

To remember the mantra, though love and beauty are everywhere, they are found in the strangest of places.
That I know is true.

To get to bed earlier.
Dismal

To realize that watching the Styx “Behind the music” for the fifth time is probably enough even though it’s still just as funny as it was the first time.
I didn’t watch it once.

To eat less chocolate but enjoy it more.
Success

To read more books.
Failed

To become a better writer.
Failed. I think I’m getting worse.

To redesign my web page.
Success

To become a better guitar player.
Failed. I have become a better singer however.

To go to sleep and wake up happy.
I think I did ok on this one.

To enjoy my dreams, but not enough to bore you with them.
Success.

To pet the cats more often.
I did ok.

To watch at least one sunrise in a good mood.
Dismal failure

To get out to the ocean more often.
I did ok. In fact we just got back.

So lets see…Success 6, did ok 5, failure 7. I think I can live with that without beating myself up. I really need to do something about working on music though. That’s the one thing that I know just gets better the harder I work at it. I guess it’s time to start working on next years list.

The Ghost

We have a ghost.

Sweeties been hearing little footsteps at night come down the hall, come into our room and stop at the side of our bed. I've never heard it until night before last. Ike, our littlest, was crying and I was half trying to wake up and half hoping he'd get himself back to sleep when I heard a little kids voice quietly say "Don't cry baby, it's ok". I sat up and went in expecting to find the older boy comforting his baby brother, but he was in his own bed sound asleep.

It's a little kid. I don't know if it's a boy or girl, though if I had to guess I'd say a girl younger than six. My friend from Indy says we should set up the camcorder in the hallway to see if we can get it on film.

I'm just not so sure I want to see evidence. Right now I can kind of convince myself that it's all in my head and that helps me get to sleep at night. Evidence...that might just be a little too freaky.