Happy Belated Birthday, Sas
love you,
Dad

Sometimes, the problems you must face
are more than you wish to cope with,
and tomorrow doesn’t seem to offer any solutions.

You may ask yourself, “Why me?”
but the answer is sometimes unclear.
You may even tend to feel that life hasn’t been just or fair
to burden you with such obstacles.

The roads any of us choose to follow are never free
of bumps or curves,
but eventually the turns lead to a smoother path ahead.

Believe in yourself and your dreams.
You will soon realize that the future holds many promises
for you.
Remember . . .  difficult times don’t last forever.

~Geri Danks

{dedicated to my three girls}

Pamela and I were outside raking the endless falling leaves the other day,
actually it was on our anniversary.
I know, romantic, huh?
It’s a mundane chore such as this that allows the grey matter to play around a bit,
reminisce about autumns past, maybe even give the constantly buzzing hemispheres in my cranium a bit of a vacation from the vagaries of the daily rat race.
I began thinking about my life as being partitioned into ‘seasons’,
and that from where I stand I am currently in the midst of my own personal autumn.
It’s a time of great change, a biological necessity and ever so slight rewinding of the clockwork that makes me tick.
I accept the fact that my life has experienced changes from as far back as my days of ‘spring’.
I do find it sad though that my endless summer has come and gone taking with it certain elements of youth, the embers of the burning innocence that once defined my life reshaping my thoughts on a daily basis.
This is my autumn, I think,
when my eyes focus on an enormous pile of leaves that need to be raked onto the tarp and dragged behind the shed (where all the bad leaves go).
I stare at the pile of vibrant colours,
the burnt yellows and searing reds, like a fire in front of me.
Things change and life continues to change me.
Caught inside the moment, in my mind I see three little girls going down the slide headfirst into a pile of leaves that I’ve left just for them, Pamela running into the house for the camera, never one to miss an opportunity for a silly photo.
I see myself raking, smiling, listening to those echoes of laughter and the beautiful sounds of a fall
that was so damn very long ago.
It’s no surprise that I miss it, almost as much as I miss the old me that was raking those very leaves.
I shake myself out of this melancholy daydream and notice
that the sky above me is a putty grey replacing the daydream skies of an innocent blue from a thousand moments ago.
As I drag another tarp full leaves to the opposite end of the yard,
I smile, because off in the distance I can hear the sound of a rusty swing
going back and forth, back and forth, back and forth . . .
And as the leaves continue to fall, I continue to rake

Heart my coconut
Aerodynamic brilliance
Forever full moon

My daughter Sarah came by the house a week or so ago and decided to
lounge around on the couch and do some work for school.
Methinks she needed a break from the campus crowd.
At one point she got up to go into the bathroom and I heard her start laughing.
Holding my precious bottle of Headlube, she looked at me and said, “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“What?” I said.

“Headlube? Come on, Dad. It comes in a friggin’ water bottle for God’s sake!” (she’s still laughing)

“So what,” I said, “It’s usually 8 bucks and I got it for 2.50. It’s just moisturizer and besides it’s my head.”

“See you got the ‘matte’ finish. Nice.” she said.

Yeah, I’m all about the silky smooth but understated cueball noggin’ I guess.
Headlube.
Hmmm . . .
Can’t wait to see how long it will take for the comments to plummet this post to rock bottom.
Yeah, I got it coming with a product that sports that kind of name.
As it says on the bottle, “It’s your head. Buy this lube.”
So, I did and I might add that some days my glabrescent dome is a blessed work of art.
IMHO . . .

It was August of 2005 when I wrote this post.
Since then my life has flown by me at a rate faster than a hummingbird’s wings in flight.
Labor Day weekend I’ll be moving in not one, but two daughters into college.
This will be Sarah’s senior year while Jenna will be a freshman.
Both of them are excited for a variety of reasons, though there’s a slight bit of trepidation on Jenna’s part, with butterflies of the unknown creating havoc on her nerves.

Sarah has been there, done that, and bought the t-shirt (and the socks, and the sweatpants, and the coffee mugs, and the baseball hats).
It’s a year she’s worked incredibly hard to get to and it’s one that will undoubtedly be emotional when it comes to an end. Pamela and I consider most of her friends extended family.
For Jenna, this is new territory. I can tell she’s excited though as she watches her pile of stuff growing in the living room next to Bob.
My life is once again undergoing a significant change as the “soundtrack” of our house changes.
There’s nothing I’m trying to figure out here and no tears to wipe (yet) but I wanted to put a timestamp on this time in my life.
Even if I could slow it down, I probably wouldn’t.
That would be like locking the door on two precious lives thirsting for self-discovery, knowledge and ultimately their independent happiness.
I could never do that.
Maybe I just wanted to write how much I already miss the both of them.
The kitchen door just won’t be opening and closing as much.
Laundry will be lighter.
Dirty water bottles in the sink will be virtually non-existent.
The two thousand pairs of sneakers and sandals that now litter the first floor will be rendered invisible.
I want to think that life will get simpler but it won’t.
And that’s okay because I know in my heart that they’ll be okay.
And I’ll use the bathroom whenever I want to.
Maybe.
Anyway you look at it, I’m going to miss them.
As I always do.
I figure it won’t be long until I write a post that starts,
“It was August of 2008 when I wrote this . . . ”
In the meantime, life will go on,
and our old backdoor will remain forever open . . .

Having three girls, there are things that as a man you just know, or don’t know.
I’ve been thinking about this for sometime and have come up with a list of things they’ve taught me.
Sometimes it’s just observing their bizarre womanly ways and sometimes I get a hands-on lesson.

• I can spot a Vera Bradley handbag from 100 paces. (yeah, I know. Scary)
• Orlando Bloom is hot, but Jensen Ackles (Supernatural) is way hotter.
• Folding laundry is quite natural now except when it comes to folding a bra.
• “I love you, Daddy,” loosely translated means, “I need something and you will get it for me.”
• Girls can be downright nasty to each other.
• Nothing dries tears quicker than a trip to Hollister.
• They know the ins and outs of Itunes way better than I do.
• They can use the T9 word when texting on their cell enabling them to send me the “Gettysburg Address” in less time than it takes me to text the word, “Ok” and hit send.
• There are countless stars in the sky, but every one has its place.
• Never honestly comment on a new hairstyle. Just say, “It looks very nice.”
• Not all facial moisturizers are created equal.
• Patience. (4 women getting ready to go out for a Saturday evening is excruciating)

Look for a future post and update.
Learning about women is an ongoing process and I’m still a beginning student, apt but beginning.

~m

Like me, so much like me
you are oceans deep, my silent little girl

A face that’s like a saving grace; it’s a prayer I will always pray
I know you as well as I know my overly complex self,
and I am forever in love with you
as I was 18 years ago

@8:11am . . .

If these words turn you crimson, then so be it, that makes you real
You are my hurricane on the water, my own personal blizzard of ’90
And you’re like me, sometimes so much like me
And just maybe
that’s a small, good thing

Happy 18th birthday, Jenna
You are a true diamond in the rough
Gráim thú . . .

~Dad

And she likes John Mayer . . .

[youtube=http://youtube.com/watch?v=f38Ne96R3iE]