Watch out for that tree!

I had many ideas for the subject line on this one:

That light? It was a fucking train.
Back in touch with my inner dumbass.
On my ass.

Etc.

I don’t deal well with failure. No, make that I’m not dealing well with failure. No past tense about it. I always try to cut my losses. Stock doing poorly? Sell. (yeah, like I own lots of stock). Dog tearing up the house? Lock it outside. Car acting up? Sell it!

So, faced with a failing marriage, I don’t know what the fuck to do. I see a counselor, tell him I’m depressed. His advice? I need a hobby. WTF? Oh, and I’m not eating right and not getting enough exercise. I want his job! 95% of the people I know aren’t eating right and not getting enough exercise. Whee! Oh, he also said I need a marriage counselor. Yeah, I figured that one out on my own, dude. Was it because I couldn’t stop talking about how I’d lost my best friend that tipped you off?

Two hours ago my biggest worry was that I couldn’t get a Windows XP upgrade to install on my PC at home. I had fooled myself into thinking I had somehow made a step, maybe two, into digging out of the emotional hole I’ve put myself into. Now, after a rude paradigm shift, I’m wondering if I’m not in the middle of a huge test. In my mind I am, at least. If this Christmas, this holiday season, doesn’t go well? It feels like there won’t be another. Not as a family.

Tra la fucking la. Okay, I warned you this wasn’t a happy post. Up next: Denial! Avoidance! My usual blog fare.

We sang every song that driver knew

We had a fun, exciting, delightful, stressful, long weekend. Not in that order.

I’ll be boring and write a bullet list of random thoughts. If you’re looking for good writing, might I suggest the (too) long blogroll to the right. Pick any at random or I can make suggestions if you need.

Ahem:

  • We went to a Christmas party here in town on Saturday and then spent the night with family up near Dallas that evening and partied for my son (who turned seven) on Sunday
  • 570 miles over the two days. Give you time to think.
  • Too much time.
  • I had a really nifty “by the numbers” post worked out in my mind about the time I hit a dog (I think) on the highway last night. Poor thing never had a chance.
  • I can never get tired of watching my son ride a bike.
  • Shopping at Wal-Mart at 11:00 PM on Saturday night, two weeks before Christmas? Highly overrated.
  • But not as bad as it could have been. Much nicer than the Wal-Mart here at home.
  • Target was closed, so shut. up. And all the targe bikes were pink, anyway.
  • It isn’t much fun shopping alone at 11:00 PM on Saturday night, two weeks before Christmas. One is tempted to try and call metroplex bloggers and chat.
  • Fortunately, common sense prevails before you make a total ass out of yourself.
  • We went to Mass at the same church where we wed almost 18 years ago. It looks the same.
  • Damn, my wife can make some Good Eats.
  • Okay, my dad’s brisket is pretty damn fine, too.
  • 7-11 has a great selection of coffee, even at 7:00 on Sunday night.
  • There were shooting stars last night. We saw some.
  • Why the hell can’t places have a changing table in the men’s room? C’mon already. Guys change diapers, too. Sheesh.
  • This really hot brunette at the party? I’d like to get to know her, again.
  • When you’re weary, feeling small, there is nothing quite like visiting family that makes 10X what you do. I’m just saying.
  • Kids are learning adjectives:
    Boy 1: This house is big!
    Boy 2: Yeah, it’s huge!
    Boy 1: Our house is little.
    Boy 2: No, ours is tiny.
  • Also, you can learn modesty:
    Nephew: Our Christmas tree is only twelve feet tall.
  • But you can feel better because your kids are highly skilled:
    Nephew 2: I’m gonna watch him ride to see how it’s done.
  • My four year old will laugh maniacally while playing air hockey because he get’s to say “puck” a lot.
  • When your cat is acting hungry in the middle of the night, she’s not really trying to tell you that she just horked up a pile of something like a warm, squishy snowball at the foot of your bed where you would have to walk in your bare feet to get her something to eat. Really.