Tag: Ma

  • ODDS and ENDS: I Hate Fractions, Breakfast Memories, and I Have a Problem…

    ODDS and ENDS: I Hate Fractions, Breakfast Memories, and I Have a Problem…

    (Three is a magic number…)

    Fractions suck. They have sucked since I was first introduced to them back in 5th grade, and to this day, they are still sucking away. I know that their suckage has continued because my daughter came home with math homework that was nothing but stupid word problem fraction questions. “It takes 1 3/4 cups of flour to make a batch of cookies. Dave wants to make 4 1/8 batches of cookies. If Dave has 8 2/3 cups of flour, how much flour will he have left over after he bakes his cookies?” Honestly, who gives a shit. Why aren’t they teaching kids to convert the fractions to decimals, because the world runs on decimals. Lucky for the kid, she didn’t inherit her father’s useless mathematical mind, and at least can handle it better that I did.

    This morning, as I was waking up the kid, and getting breakfast started, a memory shock-shot into my head. I returned to being four or five years old, sitting at the kitchen table eating Franken Berry cereal, watching my mother in her old yellow robe whisk and glide around the kitchen make school lunches for my brothers. There was a radio on top of the refrigerator that was playing “Fun, Fun, Fun.” I was trying to follow the lyric, but was confused. “What’s a T-bird?” I asked my mom. “It’s a car,” she said. “Why does the dad take it away?” “She got in trouble.” This was all confusing to me.

    I’m addicted to my phone, and it’s becoming a problem. Sure, a little of it has to do with doom scrolling because of all the news of late. Yet, I know that I am spending too much time on my phone. I lost a half hour just now, looking a videos of people signing about how awful musical theatre is. Like, I need to wrap up my writing this morning, and get to my chores… but I had to see if there were any new ICE videos. Now I feel like I am behind, and the day is slipping away. I have to put it down. I have to stop. I have to do better and more constructive things with my time. Like come up with a good button to end this piece…

  • ODDS and ENDS: In the car with the Dog, Talking The Beatles, and Tottenham Update

    (Must be the clouds in my eyes…)

    Not a bad Autumn morning. Took this while doing the Alt Side Parking dance.

    I brought the dog with me. Everyone loves dog pictures, right?

    Had fun talking and playing Beatle songs with the kid last night. Right now, she’s have fun with “I Am the Walrus” and the lyrics “Coo Coo Ca Choo,” as she’s heard them referenced in other songs, TV shows, and movies. I think for her, it’s like decoding a mystery from the long ago past. She also finds the “Paul is Dead” stuff really weird and funny as well. She wanted me to play my favorite songs, and tell her why I liked them so much. When I got to “Your Mother Should Know” I was struck with how melancholy it made me. Part of it was thinking about my mother, and the music that was popular before she was born, and then thinking how The Beatles are now music that was around before my kid’s mother was born. I felt like I was grasping for a moment that had already passed me.

    How do I feel about the state of Tottenham’s season so far? That’s a good question, that I’m still not sure how to answer. They are doing better than last season. BUT… they are having trouble winning at home. And the Champions League matches haven’t been awful, but it does feel like they can’t get out of their own way. Like, they are playing better, but not smarter. I do believe that if Maddison was out there, then it would be a different story, and they would be top of the table. Yes, I might be delusional.

  • Earworm Wednesday: What the hell is a “Disco Round?”

    I mean, I know it’s referring to a disco floor, but “disco round” is still a weird term.

    Though the song came out in 1978, when I hear it, it makes me think of getting ready for elementray school in the early 80’s. My mom would play the “top 40” radio in the kitchen as she got all of us ready for school. And for whatever reason this song played one morning as I ate Frankenberry cereal, and became lodged in my memory.

  • Talking to my Dad

    I video chat with my dad every week. We occasionally text when something funny happens, or when we need to change the time that we will video chat, but video chat is the main way that we communicate with each other.

    He sits in his study; I sit in my office/bedroom. Sometimes my wife wanders in to say hello, or to join in the conversation. The kid comes in from time to time. Usually for about five or ten minutes to tell grandpa about all the things that is going on. I don’t force them to join, nor do I try to exclude them from talking to my father – it’s an open-door policy – but I especially don’t want them to feel obligated to talk to him.

    These chats are a continuation of the weekly chats I had with my mother before she passed. I mean I always called my parents on Sunday, as they did to their parents. The video chatting started when the kid was born, and Ma wanted to see her granddaughter. Who can blame her, the kid is pretty cute. Yet, in all these video chats in the past, my dad would be there, but he would hang out on the periphery of the screen. He was there, paying attention, throwing in a comment or two, but he was clearly in a supporting role.

    After my Ma passed, I made a point of wanting these chats to continue. Making sure that my Dad had someone to talk to, even if I was 1,500 miles away. (I wasn’t the only one. My brothers and sisters-in-law also made sure that he wasn’t alone, but they do live within driving distance of him.) For many reasons, it wasn’t easy at first. With so much loss and sadness, it can take some time to find your footing again, and also discover that joy can still be had in this world.

    Now, six years on, the guy doesn’t stop talking. It’s like he’s had all these conversation in him, and now he can’t wait to get them out!

    I know that I am lucky and fortunate that I am getting this time with him, to know him.

  • ODDS and ENDS: The Dog Groomer, Fart in French, and Ice Cream

    (We’re all excited, but we don’t know why…)

    I love my dog. I always thought of myself as a cat person, but once we got the dog… well, I’m still a cat guy, but I do want to have a dog from here on out. And loving my dog, means loving all of her, including the bad stuff that she does. Which is very little, I might add. What the dog does that drives us nuts, and we haven’t been able to get her to stop, is that the dog goes ape-shit anytime she sees another dog. Like growling, and barking, and trying to break free from the leash so she can go and kill that other dog. It can make taking her for a walk a very challenging endeavor. Anyway, so when we take the dog to the groomers, the dog does her normal stuff when she sees the other dogs getting groomed, she goes bananas. So, we leave her, and when we come back to the groomers, they tell us how great of a dog she was; so kind, nice, and friendly. And we’ll ask if our dog was this nice version, even when other dogs were around, and the groomers tells us yes; that our dog was even friendly to the other dogs. This has happened enough times over the past five years, that I have come down to one of two conclusions; the groomers are telling us lies because no one wants to hear that their dog is an asshole, or our dog puts on this tough act in front of other dogs only when we’re around.

    My mother was a very proper woman. You had to really make her mad to swear, and she did embarrass easy. Yet, she raised three boys, and there was a lot of farting. BUT, my mother never said the word fart. No, that would be most improper. As she was raised in a French-American home, she did bring one, and only one, French term into our lives; péter. (That’s French for fart.) For the first several years of my life, I thought everyone also used the word péter. When I got to school, I learned quickly that no one used this word. Yet, the tern stuck with me, and in honor of my French heritage, I have made sure that my daughter knows that péter means fart in French.

    And, I want ice cream for dinner.