Category: Parenting

  • ODDS and ENDS: C’mon Rangers, Time, and Keep it Together

    (I’m just waiting on a friend…)

    I grew up in Arlington, Texas and as such I spent a lot of time watching the Texas Rangers. The ownership of that team has always sucked. Sad to find out that the owners and management are continuing the tradition of being awful.

    I am bad with time. I was supposed to spend an hour on writing this little blog post, but I am now entering my second hour of work on this. Mind you, fifty-five minutes of that first hour was looking stuff up online. Things from Texas history (due to the article above) and general curisoty of stuff, like “what are the best lights to buy for an art display in your living room?” I knew I needed to get my writing done, so I could clean up and go run my errands… But I could stop farting around. I don’t think this qualifies as procraternation… just a general laziness and… well… farting around.

    There are many thing I do for my family, but the one I have found myself doing the most this week was being the calm guy in the room. Which isn’t my natural state, as I am loud, talk too much, and can be a rather obnocious drama queen/king from time to time. But being in a family means that sometimes you have to take on different roles to get things accomplished. I think in the olden days, this would have been called “being the strong one.” What it really means is that I can’t freakout until everyone else is doing freaking out. There’s nothing major going wrong; just getting the taxes done, and the kid dealing with school.

  • Short Story Review: “A Private View” by Douglas Stuart

    (The short story “A Private View” by Douglas Stuart appeared in the April 20th, 2026 issue of The New Yorker.)

    Illustration by Karolis Strautniekas

    Douglas Stuart’s “A Private View” reminds me of the short stories that The New Yorker used to publish back in the 50’s and 60’s. (This is meant as a compliment, FYI…) Those stories of old were all set in fabulously wonderful Manhattan, the characters had fascinating jobs in the arts, the stories took place in some social event or interaction, and everybody had lots of baggage. There was a strange comfortability in those old short stories, yet I would never call them predictable, as they seemed to project a New Yorker contemporary literary ideal. In this light, reading “A Private View” was the equivalent of reading on a rainy day in a warm sweater drinking a cup of coffee.

    This was a story that did lull me in. Perhaps I should admit that I am a sucker for stories about mothers and sons. The more troubled the better, and for that reason, I wasn’t paying strict attention to the story, and just let it easily roll and unfold before me. Also, with characters that were from Texas, it was almost too much up my alley.

    With all of that, I still have to say that I appreciated that this was a story that wasn’t afraid to take it’s time, flesh out the characters, and sprinkle the little clues on the edges of the frame. I also enjoyed Stuart’s use of the art show and the sculptures of the stations of the cross, and his descriptions of the contemporary figures that were worked in. It played wonderful with the theme of the story, and also provided a very fertile Gen-X visual vocabulary of childhood characters that still seem to flourish in the imaginations of people of a certain age.

    But what struck me as the most honest and true aspect of the story was the relationship between mother and son, and the satellite of the sister as well. It was palatable how uncomfortable all these relationships were with each other, and also understandable why each of the siblings made the choices that they did. One couldn’t stand to be disappointed anymore, and the other couldn’t let go. Perhaps the son was closer in personality to his mother, or perhaps the sister made her decision to let go, and the son had to hold on.

    I am keeping this review vague as I don’t want to give away anything in this story, but clearly I feel you should read it. Especially read it as Stuart does an excellent job with the climax, and the dénouement. Though heartbreaking, I found protagonist decision at the end of the story melancholy in its acknowledgement of the truth. A truth was needed, for this hero had been on this journey for some time, and it was time for him to move on.

  • ODDS and ENDS: Stressful, Blue to White, and I Gotta Run

    ODDS and ENDS: Stressful, Blue to White, and I Gotta Run

    (I will sing, sing my song…)

    Man in blue tracksuit frantically running out of the Sakura Heights apartment building door.
    Word Press’ AI creates some awful images, huh?

    You know the one thing in my life that I had no idea would be stressful; Planning a kid’s birthday party. I thought planning our wedding was bad. I had no idea that birthday parties for 10 ten year old girls causes me to lose sleep at night. I wake up in a cold sweat scared that I have forgotten some detail. My stomach churns at the idea a kid will come to the party and not have a good time, or will be excluded for whatever stupid reason, and then it is my responsibility to make sure EVERYONE HAS A GOOD TIME! Seriously, there should be a list for new parents of all the shit that will stress you out that you have no idea on God-s Green Earth are stressful. Making memories here…

    So, it seems my default colors right now is white and blue. I say all of this because as I start to “Spring Clean” and de-clutter my closet, I’m tossing shirts which are old, and have holes in them. What I am left with is an amazing spectrum of blue to white, all in an Oxford style. I have written a couple of times, how in my middle age period, I have taken on a Classic American/Oxford/New England/Ivy League look. It feels comfortable, defined, and at the same time casual on me. The draw back here is that I seem to have boxed myself in color wise. I do have some Nantucket Red pants, but really, I seem to have dropped the ball on having a splash of color in my life.

    Ah… It’s almost 11am, and I need to run to the grocery store. It’s a busy day and I have a lot to do.

  • Earworm Wednesdays: See, I’m Not Too Old

    This one is brought to us by my daughter.

    We do a lot of road trips over the Summer as a family. And with long hours on the road, playlists are needed. The wife and I both make one, and when its our turn to drive, our playlists get played. This past year, the kid requested some songs to be added to our respective lists, as the kid claimed there wasn’t any of her music being played. (This year, she is making her own playlist, which means that we will all take turns sharing music in the car.) On the whole, the music she suggested was fine; a bit of Taylor Swift, and some other people that I kind’a heard of.

    But one song that stuck out was Dua Lipa‘s “Dance The Night” from the Barbie soundtrack. It’s a fun song, that is crazy catchy to me. I mean, the whole song is one big hook.

  • Spring Break Broke Me (Unedited)

    I take full responsibility for my actions. Let’s start with that.

    The kid has been on her Spring Break for the past week, and on the whole, I have enjoyed the time we have spent together. The older she gets, the more fun she is to talk to. She very smart and a very opinionated kid, which makes conversations with her enjoyable because she is very passionate in what she believes in. She’s at a fun age when the world is brand new and just waiting for her to explore it. I didn’t try to over schedule her, but we did some fun stuff like spend an afternoon at the Whitney Museum, and we shot some arrows over at Gotham Archery in Brooklyn.

    But I did make a mistake with this Spring Break; I fell out of my routine. This was the kid’s Spring Break, not mine. For some reason, I got it in my head that I was also going to enjoy some “time off.” Unfortunately, this was a miscalculation, as you see, when you are a stay at home parent, you never really get a day off. Your job is to keep the family on track and moving forward. This I lost sight of.

    What I ended up creating in myself was a feeling of anxiety, and the sense that I was letting “everything” fall behind. Everything was taking longer to do, and thus created situations where I wasn’t able to complete the tasks that were important to me; mainly writing and catching up on my reading. But if I took time for myself, then I started feeling guilty, and then those feelings rolled up into a ball angst, as I wasn’t doing enough for my family.

    I chalk this up on bad planning, and too high of aspirations, on my part.