Life continues...

Hello, Friends.

My appearance on facebook was purely as a vehicle for dispersing news about Jack and me (mostly Jack), so I guess I better do something about that.

The kid who says “video games are MY world, daddy” is doing fine. I think. I can’t remember what conversation sparked that response, but I do remember the line. It was probably spoken in defense of MORE video game time (and less time doing homework and baths and reading). He does play a lot, but he still likes other activities as well, like Legos, word searches, and makebelieve this or that, so I’m concerned but not worried. I have had to take him with me on jobs in the last crazy-busy two months, and I’d hate to think how I’d deal without his Nintendo DS. I’m rationalizing, of course, so if one day Jack gets arrested for giving a ninja kick to an appliance repair person who ripped him off, well, it all goes back to me. Or my father. Yeah, HE’s the real culprit here. You see, when I was young…oh, never mind.

Jack’s report card came last week. He was performing at grade level or above in everything. Third grade reading level, for instance. Math was above grade level also. Dad is performing below grade level. I can’t even understand some of his homework instructions. I don’t blame his teacher as much as I blame the program she uses. I believe it was actually written by a foreigner whose first language is Cantonese. Anyway, perhaps the teacher graded a little easily in one area: reading comprehension. Jack knows the words but he doesn’t always understand what he’s reading. He races through a book without stopping to think about what he’s reading. Yet somehow he was marked above grade level there, when both his teacher and I know it’s an issue. Maybe the other kids are in the same boat?

I keep saying I’m going to write down the funny things Jack says, but generally I don’t. Here’s a few snippets of recent conversations I found amusing, though.

I had suggested to Jack that he use a dustpan to speed the clean up of his enormous (a bushel?) Lego collection sprawled out across the bedroom floor. “Too dirty” he said. I told him I’d wash it. “Too wet” he replied. So I offered to dry it off with the hair dryer. “Too hot” was his reply.

Jack remembers well the motel swimming pools from our drive to Albequrque a couple years ago. More so than the great scenery or Indian sites (I won’t say “Native American” because they don’t). He’s looking forward to something similar. I asked him where he wanted to go. “Maybe South Dakota” he said. Why? He didn’t know, but “maybe we could go to North Diego instead.”

Okay. So North Diego it is if I can find it on the map. Or maybe back to see Gramma in New York.

Today in Target I mollified my reluctant shopper with a container of Icebreakers at the checkout counter, though I extracted a promise not to whine anymore, and told him he couldn’t open the container until he finished his reading for the day and wrote in the class journal. He agreed, but then wanted to take the plastic off the container, “just to look”.

I said “no”.

The he said his legs were hungry for “icebergs”.

I said they’d have to wait. Then his fingers were hungry. “They need ten mints”.


Request denied. “My toes are hungry. My toes are going to die if they don’t get some icebergs.” “We’ll give them a nice funeral” I said.

“This is the worst day of my life”



Two weeks ago I went to the annual fundraiser for the foundation that helps buy things for Jack’s school. I lucked out and got seated at a table with four couples I like. Three have been to the house for dinner. Apparently someone worked behind the scenes setting that up. It was a wonderful event and I enjoyed the heightened sense of community engendered. Nice to see everyone dressed up, too. The master of ceremonies was Bill Dwyer, a comedian and sometimes game show host who lives in the neighborhood. I thought he did a great job, and it made me think of my own father, who sometimes acted as master of ceremonies for the annual Fireman’s Ball for local volunteer firefighters and a few other groups whom I don’t recall. That’s ironic, because my father was a stern man who could take people or leave them, and usually the latter. He was not funny to me at all. Not at all. I remember seeing a wartime (WWII) yearbook which included the faces of several hundred graduates of Army Officer’s School. Every man was smiling or looking happy. Everyone. With one exception. I did occasionally see him act gregariously with others, but it was a rare occasion.

Stopping here for tonight.
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Starting again two days later

Jack bit his Nintendo DS last night. He showed me the bite marks. Very strange. He may have been frustrated by a malfunctioning screen, but I suspect that he got frustrated by a game, bit the DS and THEN the screen malfunctioned. Needless to say, Dad was very unhappy, and in this household, if Daddy ain’t happy, ain’t nobody happy. So. We had a “talk” and moved on. There will be no replacement for some time. His birthday is in May, but we’ll see.

I am almost done with two jobs that had me working 7 days a week, (two) apartment remodels and a housepainting job. I thought that if I hired a couple painters I know the housepainting job would be easy. It’s stucco, and in pretty good shape. The windows were not, though, and it took so much work. The lead painter is Mexican (and legal), and though his English seems pretty good, I realize now that he will say he understands things when he does not. It wasn’t an issue before, but maybe because other jobs were simpler. I suspect also that he is stubborn and does things his own way. Or only knows one way. He does a good job, but still, the process underscores my own weak management skills, which I haven’t used in years.

All this work is in addition to work for regular clients. I’m backed up two or three weeks. Jack gets off soon for Spring vacation. And I need to finish my own bathroom remodel and plan that Summer trip East and find time for some social life and clean the garage and house and get this house ready for sale in a few months and, and-- oh, the list is endless. I suppose yours is too. Well thanks for finding the time to read.