Good Morning, Sunshine

Sometimes a person can just wake up in the morning, see the sun come up over the horizon and think "That's how good I feel!".

Alternate Post: "Two Scoops!" Too obsure?

Kicking me while I'm not down

Every so often, someone emails a swift kick to my virtual ass to remind me that I started a blog and that they were kind enough to take a half a second out of their day to click "subscribe", the least I could do is provide some entertainment.  Grace's blog gets all the love while weeds grow up in the cracks around my ignored "f as in frank" blog.  It reminds me of my years of traveling when I would look at my journal, pick up a pen and then suddenly think of something easier and more fun to do.  Journaling is something that I found myself doing when I was at some self-reflective, melancholy and probably lonely moment.  When I go back and read those entries I wonder how I managed to drag myself out of bed everyday and once up, how I managed to get through the day without drowning my sorrows in a fifth of Jack Daniels, a four-pack of Bartle's and Jaymes wine coolers or whatever I could get my tragically sad hands on.  And those were the best of times...

The truth is that Grace's blog is just much easier.  I can write one paragraph, throw a picture of her with a goofy grin in the middle of it...

...and Voila! it seems like it was written by the love child of Shakespeare and Bill Cosby.  It doesn't matter what I write because everyone gets the point:  I love my daughter, I think she's cute, perfect and hilarious. Because I don't think of myself in those terms, writing about me and
what is going on in my head, is arguably..well...a little different.  I can't just throw in a picture to make it work.

See, it's just not the same thing...

But I wouldn't have started a blog,  if I didn't want to write, right?  Whenever I get one of those subtle "get off your ass" emails I am reminded that there are people that might read something if I wrote it and one or two of those might enjoy it.

I have another reason for turning this whole thing up a notch...competition.  My lovely wife started a blog and, as it turns out, is pretty damn good at it.  I have to think that if she can put down the Tequila and Bon-Bons long enough to post about my hatred of pickles, then I can set aside my fear of committing words and desire do find something more fun to do long enough to lie about her liquor drinking and chocolate eating habits.

So thanks for the kick, I felt it loud and clear.

Remember to walk the dog...

Are they served on a Sesame Street Bun?

Would you order a slice of Big Bird or some Elmo with fries?

Comments (more) welcome (now)

I figured out that I was not allowing people to comment anonymously. Since anyone reading what I am writing probably also would want to hide their identity, I have fixed that. Comment your heart out, Anonymous!

Thanking the Yous

It was only a few days ago that I mentioned Leslie Harpold and her advice on creating a Thanksgiving feast for many. If you liked that, you should love this one. Her old writing spot The Morning News just reran her even more popular and useful piece about writing Thank You notes, so I thought I would mention it too. If you have ever received a gift, Leslie offers simple rules to follow to get that all important note out quickly.

'Tis the season, after all.

Death and the Morning Commute

I'm sitting on a train on my way to work. I got a jump on the day due to an earlier-than-usual crying baby which brought me to an earlier-than-usual train. All advantages of that jump disappeared when the announcement came over the PA that there had been an "incident" with a "trespasser" and we would be delayed indefinitely, which is defined as 20 minutes to an hour. I don't know what I expect them to say when the train hits a person but the judgement in specifying them as a "trespasser" (which is standard) always seems a little crass.

The train got the go ahead to move closer and closer to the incident closer to the 20 min mark than the 2hr mark. We must have been the next train down because we had to stop to pick up the passengers of train 210 the one that hit the guy. Just before that we passed all the sheriffs milling about near the yellow tarp that almost covered the body. The passengers that we picked up are the regular commuting crowd and a whole lot of high school kids (damn, they are small) all on their cellphones telling friends and parents that "their train ran over a guy". I bet those kids will be the talk of the school for a few hours anyway until the story gets boring.

Weird morning all around. Weirder still when we passed the body and I mentioned it and said to the 60ish Portoguese (maybe) woman in the next seat that the day could be worse. She agreed and said "Yes, it could be raining".