Category: Art

  • ODDS and ENDS: Gym Time, CUBS Anxiety, and Corduroy Pants

    ODDS and ENDS: Gym Time, CUBS Anxiety, and Corduroy Pants

    (Dear I fear we’re facing a problem…)

    I wanted to go to the gym today. I know, I’m a little scared, too! (In a weird way, this feels like the call is coming from the inside of the house, if you know what I mean.) I guess I shouldn’t be surprised at this development. For the past month, I started going to the gym at the start of the day. In the past, I had fit the gym in later during the day, and I found ways and excuses to not go. This shift came from two places. The first was that I had to admit to myself that my old way of doing things wasn’t working. If I was serious about getting healthier and back in shape, I had to try something different. The second place my change came from was my best friend and old college roommate. He, in his very subtle way over the past year, had hinted that starting you day with a workout can help you in multiple ways, the most important being if you schedule it as the first thing you do, then you are less likely to miss it. Provided you stay committed. I guess I’m committed, because I wanted to go this morning. I’m up to four days a week, and I think I will add the fifth. Things are changing… What’s going on?

    It has been a weird time for me when it comes to the Cubs. I’m very excited that they are in NLDS and at the same time I can’t watch them. I say this because every time I have watched them, they have lost. I’m not saying that I am the reason they lost, but it does seem odd. The other odd thing is that there was one game I didn’t watch and they lost, so there must be another Cub fan out there that is cursed with this ability. Oh, I know it’s not like it was in ’16, and the Brewers are pretty damn good, but I would like to see Cubs play the Dodgers for the NL Pennant. But if the Cubs make it to play the Dodgers, odds are I won’t be able to watch them. My anxiety would be too high, and it would doom the team.

    I want some corduroy pants! I used to have some, but maybe ten years ago, I tossed them as the knees were wearing thin. I have regretted that decision every day since. The pair that I tossed I had purchased at the GAP back in 2003. I remember this because I went with my then girlfriend to the mall near our campus, and working at the GAP was a mutual friend of ours who was willing to give her employee to my girlfriend. While at the store, the two of them talked me into trying on a pair of brown corduroy pants, which I had no intention of buying. But hot damn, I sure did look good in them! Not that I had the money to buy pants that day, but I did it anyway. The girlfriend didn’t last, but the pants did. Well, lasted until 2015 that is.

  • Short Story Review: “13.1 Septillion Pounds” by Emily Rinkema

    Short Story Review: “13.1 Septillion Pounds” by Emily Rinkema

    (The short story “13.1 Septillion Pounds” by Emily Rinkema appeared on September 19th, 2025 at Okay Donkey.)

    Image from Okay Donkey

    I like being a dad. Fatherhood has been more rewarding than I imagined. And I will also say that parenting is harder than I thought possible because unforeseen changes seem to happen every three months. Just when I think I got it down, life with the kid takes a right turn. Though me and the wife had plans and best intentions, we learned that we weren’t in control. Reading Emily Rinkema’s cute and humorous “13.1 Septillion Pounds,” I was reminded of all of those emotions, especially when our kid was still a squirmy baby.

    The premise of the story is that two parents go to wake their baby only to find that the child has written math formulas and equations on the walls the night before. The math is accurate, as two mathematicians arrive and verify. I feared this setup was going to lead to a one-note joke; kid does something crazy therefore the parents have a crazy reaction.

    I needn’t have worried.

    What the story is playing on is the unintended consequences of the parents’ well intended actions. Perhaps the Grandma was correct and the child is just gifted, and this situation would have come about inevitably. Or, maybe it was the mobile displaying the galaxy that influenced the baby? Clearly the basketball that the father left in the crib helped the child formulate the weight of Earth. Though I’m not sure I know a parent that would leave a Sharpie in their child’s crib, but hey, I can let that one go. The truth, and the humor for that matter, of this story lies in an honest fear and hope that parents have; they hope their children will do better than them, but fear that in succeeding the child will become someone they won’t understand.

    The conclusion that the parents reach is correct, and one which makes the world right again. It is wholesome, right and honest, all the things that I hope parenting is. Most of the time, I have no idea what I am doing as a father. It’s a scary tough job. But being able to help my kid become who they are is a deep and profound privilege. It’s just a really bumpy ride that loves to make a bunch of turns.

  • ODDS and ENDS: Fly the W, Baking Brownies, and The kid Hates the MTA

    ODDS and ENDS: Fly the W, Baking Brownies, and The kid Hates the MTA

    (Love and happiness…)

    The Cubs won! They beat the San Diego Padres and are moving on the NLDS! This season I was pretty hands off with the team. Followed them through the MLB app, mainly because baseball on TV is now behind a paywall, and due to flex pricing, the better the Cubs did, the more expensive the tickets cost when they played in NYC. (But a discussion on how MLB, clubs and players have made the game too expensive an elitist will have t happen on another day.) The CUBS are moving on to the next round in the playoffs!

    Brownies make me think of home and comfort. It won’t be cooler this weekend, as Summer has returned for the next four days. No bother! It’s October and the time of the year to start making this home nice warm and cozy. That means afternoon coffee, and brownies in the oven. Warm gooey chocolate seems to solve all problems, and I will be baking on that this weekend. Not that anything awful is happening. I feel like I should be prepared just in case.

    The kid hates the MTA now, and especially the randomness of the C train. This school year, she’s venturing out more on the subway, and gaining valuable mass transit experience. And what she is experiencing is that the MTA sucks. It costs too much and the train you need is never on time. And of all trains, the C is close to the worst. Like, two of them will arrive within three minutes of each other, then the next one is in twenty minutes. It makes no sense. Her anger at the MTA is a deep dark red seething cauldron of rage and disappointment, and never have I been more proud of what a great New Yorker she is becoming.

  • Earworm Wednesday: Bird and Being It

    First of all, I love The Bird and The Bee and if you don’t know them, you should know them.

    Second, their album Recreational Love is amazing and you should listen to it.

    Third, one of their best songs is on a tribute album to Hall and Oats called “Heard it on the Radio” and it’s Inara’s chorus that lodges into my brain, and won’t leave. This is one of those breakup songs that’s forward looking, and circumspect. Just a lovely piece of pop music.

  • Playing Sports (Unedited)

    My kid is on her school’s soccer team, and she loves it. We love it too, as it is the best way for her to burn off the huge amounts of energy that she has in reserve, and it keeps her off a screen. I don’t know if she will be a life longer soccer player/fan and honestly, I don’t care. I like that she’s playing on a team, and doing something physical.

    If you are not aware, I come from a very competing family. I wasn’t blessed with the athletic gene (though I wasn’t too bad at tennis) but playing and winning at games was a big thing in my family growing up. Lots of board games and wiffleball in the back yard. With two older brother who were nine and seven years older than me, it was difficult to beat them at sports as a kid, but that didn’t stop me from trying. My oldest brother played baseball, and my other brother was all about basketball. I tried my hand at both, but didn’t have the skills. I could through a baseball well, but couldn’t hit to save my life. As for basketball, I don’t ever remember feeling that I was coordinated enough to be good at it.

    My father had a rule in our house, which was we had to play a sport up until we turned sixteen. After I washed out of Little League, and junior high basketball didn’t have a place for me, my father suggested that I take up tennis, which was a sport he played. I took lessons once a week for two years, and I got kind’a good, but not that good. But my father’s point did sink in; you have to stay active and physical, or you will just go pot.

    So, I guess I am keeping the tradition alive. Going to keep her in a sport until sixteen, when she can decide for herself if she wants to continue.

    When I turned sixteen, I stopped the tennis lessons, and committed myself to my high school’s theatre department. Which, in a round about way, is also a team sport.