rehearsal

me and kris. that's fr. john in front of us.
i have no idea what i was in trouble for.

and five years ago, this was the wedding rehearsal.

by this point, i'd managed to shake off the hangover from the previous night's revelries with my brother and a few friends that began with us watching west virginia lose to xavier in the ncaa sweet sixteens and ended with me asleep in front of the commode.

kris was pretty cheesed at my condition that morning, what with all the pre-wedding errands we had to run.

(she may have been even more cheesed that i was actually able to function and not really suffering much.)

that said, kris had everything under control by way of preparation. gifts were wrapped and ready for the bridal party and wedding organizers, the whole nine yards. she made sure there were no surprises.

the one thing beyond our control -- procuring altar servers for the ceremony -- was handled by both fr. doug, who walked us through our marriage prep, and fr. john, our officient, whom kris and i had gotten to know while we were dating and he was assigned to our parish. (we wound up with four servers for our wedding.)

we had our rehearsal dinner at taste of asia, which was a place my family liked and where fr. john was looking forward to sushi.

i failed to make the proper provision for fresh sushi for our padre and the vast quantities of fried foods being served wound up giving him a bad enough case of indigestion that  he had to take his leave early. (we owe you a platter, fr. john.)

i went to bed clueless of what lay ahead, but ready to embrace it.

and now we're here.

memoriam

a good friend's mom died this morning.

she'd gone in for some routine outpatient surgery last week and complications arose.

aside from the one-in-a-million, worst-case scenario that played itself out, it's been the suddenness that has stunned all of us.

this time last week, she was probably asleep, resting ahead of a commonplace procedure the next day. and now ...

i am one of the least patient people i know. especially as it pertains to awaiting decisions or outcomes, where i want things to happen faster, i often have to assuage myself by remembering things happen on the Lord's time, not mine.

losing this woman -- a wife, a mother, a grandmother and a teacher -- who meant so much to so many seemingly before her time made me recognize that the door swings both ways.

we don't get to keep the people we love as long as we want or to presume that everyone's time with us has a tidy, knowable beginning, middle and end. the pace and measure of life doesn't move at our leisure.

we plan and plan, heedless of the thought that the length of our lives are measured and doled out on the Lord's time, not ours. and oftentimes, it's faster than we want.

rest in peace, mrs. b.

work nightmares

me showing a high school class the press room.

been having bad work dreams for about three weeks now.

usually, they've been garden varieties of technical issues i can't resolve or tasks i keep forgetting to get back to.

this morning's was two-fold.

the first part has my buddies brad and billy and me trying to get out a saturday paper, which we were pleased to have had reinstated.

problem was our sole reporter was our recently retired business editor who had a single sheet of paper to submit with no story ideas on it.

then we had to go to the press room to get them to actually print the paper. it becomes so exhausting, i keep falling asleep.

me on talk like a pirate day.

then it becomes the dream where you keep wanting to wake up. (perfect for the guy who went to bed late last night/this morning.)

the second part was that for some reason members of the charleston gazette design staff had to use our offices to work.

it was like watching an ad agency brainstorm, with acting out dance steps and working out scenarios on the floor. i was kind of jealous.

one of our staffers or interns made a remark on how funny it was and was greeted with a snide, pissed-off remark from one of the gazetteers.

i shot our staffer a look or rolled my eyes or something, only to find that the dude was looking right at me.

weird thing is this person has been a recurring character in my work nightmares and i always seem to insult him somehow.

so i finally just said to him, "you're never going to talk to me, are you?"

he just glared.

his colleague sidled up to me and said, "i can tell you more after work."

very, very strange.

(i suspect this is all pent-up anxiety from feeling my design skills have grown stale and are in desperate need of sharpening. problem is, i don't know where to start. while i probably have the same desire to learn and improve that i had 10 years ago, i simply don't have the luxury of time or, more importantly, energy to do anything about it. i hate this.)

a day

playing before preschool.

woke up tired and stayed sleepy throughout the day. took about half a cup of strong coffee to get juiced up enough to leave the house with the boy for a haircut and some downtown mischief. this seems to be the longest-lasting cold i've ever had in my life. i'm entering week three now.

a long lunch was followed by reading every book we checked out from the library before a failed nap attempt. on the other hand, afterward, the children managed to play well together without killing each other while kris and i had some homemade fish tacos.

the mid- to late-afternoon was spent more or less making sure the two overly tired, nap-resistant children did not wind up in a crying/screaming encounter. it was a slow, not quite mind-numbing way to spend the time, but aside from a few admonishments to share toys and not take things from baby just because she had them, it was pleasantly uneventful.

if nothing else, it was just nice being small with them.

baby finally got ahold of the boy's drinking cup with the straw. i watched as she put the straw to her lips ... and sure enough, saw her draw water up through it. (plus, she actually drank plain water. she didn't seem to be all that impressed with it.)


the boy, not to be outdone after having seen mommy and daddy's pleased surprise with her new skill, wanted to show us he knew what to do, too. (a little too observant, this little doofus is.)

just sad

this giving up sports online may be the hardest thing i've given up for lent ever. i'm reading almost anything to wind down after work. (at which point, God says "here I am.") not doing too good on the sacrifice thing.

i used to be in shape

move 1: warm-up ab prep (from real simple magazine)

took a walk with my boy through the woods of  my in-laws' place and was called up to supper.

one of the ways i've learned to get the boy to get a move on is to race ahead of him and have him try to "catch" me.

well, it was uphill to gaga and papaw's house, and i wasn't going to try to sprint up. i've slowly reached a point where i recognize i can't just up and run anymore. i just don't have the wind.

i comically pumped my arms and shuffled up about halfway where we met papaw and the boy caught up.

getting out of the shower later that night, i took a gander in the full-length mirror. there, wrapped with a towel, was my dad's torso.

this only confirmed what used to be loose pants and loose shirts were telling me. i've got a nice, flat tire around my belly.

getting up from a supine position requires a leveraging with my legs to get me upright; i have no core strength whatsoever.

a visit to a parkersburg playground the day before showed i had no upper body strength either, dangling from a jungle gym and feeling gravity's pull on the full weight of my body, i knew i didn't have the strength to do three chin-ups.

i used to be able to run 6 miles at a clip and swim two without hesitating. i had a pair of sinewy guns and a six pack. or something like that. no? ok, how about "i was fit"?

anyway, now, i'm an out-of-shape dad.

we're reaching critical mass, here, before i have to get my shit together.

picking up steam

Oh. My god. (Boy) just held his fist out to baby and said, 'hey, baby. Gimme a high bump.'
— stuff kris sends (@textstogrumpnet) March 15, 2013

this was preceded by my praising the boy earlier in the day for being so good at preschool that he was picked to lead his class to the playroom. (yeah, i know, go with me on this.)

mama gave me a glowing report from his teacher, after which i gave him a hug and a kiss and told him i was very proud of him. 

i also asked for and received a high-five as well as fist bump, what i've learned to call with small people a "knuckle bump" -- also known as a "terrorist fist jab" in some circles.

apparently, he sought to share this knowledge with his sister. funny how his wiring is coming together.

weakness

so for the 30-some odd years i've been observing lent, i pretty much stick to my seasonal sacrifice -- for the past 10, it's been cheeseburgers.

this year, i amped it up -- no online sports trolling. i felt i needed something that would make me think just a little more about the season.

i figured it would hurt a bit, but was doable.

first, lemme backtrack a bit, i was probably in my twenties when i first heard about a lenten dispensation, in which you are free to partake of whatever you gave up on sundays.

at first i thought this was a cop-out by the dude who wasn't tough enough to handle six weeks without fried food.

but au contraire, i learned years later. a number of priest friends confirmed this practice, citing the gospels in which no mourning should take place while the groom is present -- in this case, Christ, on sundays.

i agreed, but in my spiritual pride, decided i was holy enough to make it through. and i did. and i was proud.

well, this lent, a lot happened with my west virginia u football coaching staff. suddenly, assistants were leaving left and right. (for better gigs, but wow.)

i knew i couldn't not know what was going on, and i broke down. today, i read about wvu's new running backs coach and last week, i read about their new offensive line coach.

i thought i'd be gorging myself on page upon page of info, but there wasn't much written that i could find in my regular searches. (plus, the basketball team is looking less than ordinary this year.)

so i'll have to satisfy myself with reports from the first day of spring football and wait another week.

daylight saving

the boy in a doghouse at greens feed and seed.

we've gotten to the point that we can blame certain bad behaviors on externals, like diet (gluten, carbs, etc.) and sleep, or lack, thereof. the rest, i told kris this morning, is the boy being 3.

by no means does this excuse the screaming and defiance, which is where she thought i was going with this, but it explains it. 

this, i meant, is what 3-year-olds do. and it is up to us to modify his behavior.

we still don't know what set off a screaming fit friday afternoon that nixed a visit to the park or the pulling off of mama's glasses that cost him a visit to see his beloved thomas the tank engine at the mall today. (possibly a missed snack/blood sugar issue?)

regardless, we were left with a saturday of scuttled plans -- and a carrot for good behavior tossed onto the ash heap.

so what to do?

kris proposed a walk on a pretty, sunny day, to get him to burn some energy and give her a few hours to get some housework done. (plus, it didn't have the sense of unearned reward that a trip to the clay center or park might have bestowed.)

this illustrates nothing at all. i just like the pic.

so we started out in the bright mid-morning and finally got to meet our new neighbor, cole, and headed toward the side of the hill overlooking the kanawha river.

but the boy wanted to go home and rake leaves, so we turned around, met our other neighbors, ms. mary -- or ms. chi chi, so as to avoid confusion with his preschool teacher -- and her new dog, bitsy, as well as ms. patty, who was ready to get her gardening started.

which sort of buttressed a percolating idea: well, since we were going to be outside anyway, why not get a head-start on the yardwork for the warm months.

the front porch needed some sweeping and we needed to clear out underneath that sad little shrub in front of the house. and this was probably the last chance we had to finally cut down that mis-planted oak started by some squirrel's lost acorn.

we had to take a trip out to greens feed and seed and two to pile hardware for gloves, a pint-sized rake, hacksaw blades, and a new hacksaw. (always buy an adjustable. no one sells 10-inch blades. ridiculous.)

meantime, the boy was game. full of moments of delay, of course, but no fits or tantrums. a steady input of cashews and cold water, plus a picnic lunch out front of pepperonis and veggie cheese, kept his blood sugar up.

last ride on the baby-sized, inflatable sled this season, i think.

his sister even came out to play between naps. the boy mostly fought off his urges to push her to the ground or throw a ball at her. mostly. 

he also "helped" daddy gather and carry what i hope is the last bag of last year's leaves to the curb.

i not only got to cut down the sapling, but cut back our front ornamental shrubs -- rose of sharon, i think -- and this amazingly thick grapevine that had become something of an obstruction and eye-poker for the unwary with its tendrils overhanging the road.

an oak sapling, overgrown shrubbery and a monstrous grapevine.

all-told, we spent the better part of six hours outdoors on a warm, sunny winter day -- probably marking the end of the season as we know it.

the boy seemed good and worn out -- as evidenced by a pre-dinner screaming fit after he didn't want to get out of his bubble bath -- but he seems to have gone down for the count. 

i'm just trying to document the day before turning in. not a bad one, after all.

golden

lola, lolo and boy, a photo by grumpnet on Flickr.

Via Flickr:
the boy says" thank you" for the pasta.

the boy and the girl kept it mostly together for mom and dad's anniversary dinner.

there was a lot of squirming and trading off between me and kris, but the boy managed to scarf down his buttered fettucine noodles and shared an ice cream with his daddy. and everyone refrained from any screaming or crying.

it helped that the boy had had a good, long nap (an hour and a half) and plenty of time to play with his cousins ahead of time.

plus, kris and i were of the mind that we would be zen and patient and go with what we were given.

it helped keep a auspicious night a good one.

thank you, Lord, for that -- and for your countless blessings on mom, dad and our family.

my hero, gyro

the last town center best of crete gyro.

you are looking at a close-up of some charleston culinary history.

this is the last gyro served up by the beloved best of crete restaurant before it closed for good yesterday after 30 years at the charleston town center. according to owner michael birurakas, the long mall hours finally wore him down and he needed to take a break.

i hadn't been to the mall since its renovations were completed back in november, but i was determined to get there for one last gyro.

we finished just past deadline and it took a few minutes before i'd gathered my wits enough to remember to get the hell out of the newsroom. as i put on my coat, i asked the folks around me if they had any orders. there were a few laughs, but no requests. i was out of there.

i admired the mall's new look as i hurried up to the food court. when i arrived, one person was leaving the counter empty. no line. great ... i hope.

i asked the woman at the counter if they were still serving, and she said yes. success! i could see lamb being cooked on the griddle.

"may i have two gyros, no onions, please?" (my sister asked for one when i texted that the place was closing.)

a scene from earlier in the day. i think my sister saw this line.

her welcoming smile turned embarrassed. "we're out of bread," she said. then my smile fell. "we could make you a gyro salad," she offered helpfully.

"well ..."

then a young woman, in her teens or early 20s, who had returned to the counter, said, "you could have mine." on a platter she had two big pieces of pita bread. "i haven't even touched it."

she explained that someone else in her party had brought her some flatbread and didn't need the extra she ordered. i looked at the counter girl and the fellow working the grill. "is it ok to cook this?" i asked as i held out the platter.

"sure!" the grill man said. (it was michael's brother, greg.) then, "use whatever we've got, right?" we laughed.

i thanked the nice girl who gave over her pitas. "the Lord will provide," i said.

as greg cooked, he said he didn't have enough meat for two gyros, so he'd make me a giant one. so they really were down to the last of their supplies. and mine was the last gyro.

they were out of their tasty phyllo dough cheese triangles, so i got three spinach and three baklavas.

i went to a nearby steak escape and ordered some fries. i sent my sister a text that we could split the gyro and that i'd gotten the triangles and headed back to the newsroom.

billy's picture of the historic sandwich.

i checked my phone after i parked the car. no text from my sister, but there was a voice mail from the assistant city editor.

oh, crap. i thought there was a problem with the front page. it was worse than that. he wanted me to pick him up a gyro.

there was an awkward silence as i returned to the room. our city beat reporter looked at me and knew. "you just got the message."

"if it's any consolation, billy," i weakly offered, "it was the last one."

"that just makes it more awful," he said.

billy bucked up enough to take a commemorative photo. i took the shot you see at the top.

i washed up, cut the sandwich in half, and took a bite.

it was full of savory, flavorful meat, creamy, tangy cheese and crisp greens. (they were out of tomatoes.) in other words, aside from the slight hint of guilt, it tasted as good as it ever did.

i'm gonna miss that place.