‘Twas Some Hours Before Christmas

‘Twas some hours before Christmas, the yard muddy-green.
Our wood stove was crackling, and most rooms were clean.

With two elders out working, and the rest layin’ low,
the afternoon slid by watching “That 70’s Show”.

With Mom making headwear, and me being on-call,
the plan was to eat, and watch, and generally sprawl.

The cat got a new toy, a pink fluff for lazy,
that caused her to temporarily go spastic and crazy.

The puppers are flaked out, and sawing up logs
but most of the time they are barky-bark dogs.

The youngest keeps tabs on the fat guy in red,
as Daughter Dearest is styling Mother Dears head.

While Number Four snorts at the jokes on the show,
the litres of tea that I’ve drunk starts to flow.

We’re chillin’ out, maxin’, relaxin’ all cool.
Theres a couple of weeks til they go back to school.

Until then, however, it’s time for the Famdamly Unit.
The fighting, the wrestling, the true Christmas Spirit.

There’s eggnog, and popcorn and all kinds of lights,
and nary a dusty bunny anywhere in sight.

This year’s been tricky. A humdinger for sure.
Sickies, and late nights and a financial cure.

But here near the end, where the time winds away,
Just being together, and happy, is okay.

So be excellent to each other, and party on dudes,
To do so otherwise, is simply just rude.

It’s the season, as always, so let’s just be clear:
Merry Christmas to all, and a Happy New Year

Twas The ‘Noon Before Christmas

‘Twas the ‘noon before Christmas, the sky colours swishin’.
Die Hard was playing, as was the tradition.

With famdamly gathered, in rooms made for living,
seasonal pjs unboxing, the first gifts a-giving.

Steaks had been grilled on the bbq with care,
with mash-ed potatoes and broccoli to pair.

With I in my work kit, and Mom holding fort,
the junior mint kiddos focused on Christmas-y sport.

When elsewhere and else when, what did arise?
Nothing, nada – no Holiday Surprise.

You see, aside from my work week, this year’s quite the breeze.
No trips, no upsets, just tranquility – yes please

So early we scooched together on cushions,
to nosh away on pre-festive rations.

Tomorrow will bring Christmas #2 in our own home.
Another year passes, and too quickly for some.

For now we’ll take quiet, the odd 12 hr stretch,
over anything that might resemble emotional fetch.

There’s too much bad news. Fake news – whatevs!
So tune out the Nancy’s who lament the Negs!

As I sit here scribing this years entry in blogs I don’t manage,
I think of the many years without such advantage.

We’re happy. We’re healthy and most importantly – together.
There is so much less we could have, I could go on forever.

Instead ‘tis the season to spread joy, mirth and cheer.
So Merry Christmas to all, and a Happy New Year!

The Eve Before Christmas

The Eve Before Christmas

‘Twas the Eve before Christmas, A Thursday this time.
The Netflix was chilling, with Frosty-ful rhyme.

The floors have been clean-ed, or so I am told,
And the laundry will one day, be ready to fold.

The Newton-Rath Younglings, from squirtly to Teen,
are louder than Motley, bare-chested and keen.

With Mom packed with peanuts, And I two drinks in,
It was finally looking like a big Christmas win.

When down in the basement, my mind did go wander,
To the exploits of earlier, memories not fonder.

You see, laundry machines, they don’t kick on their own.
They wait, just like pirates, Til’ everyone’s home.

So early we gathered, the girl and us boys,
to look upon washers, not washing – no joy.

From Canex to elsewhere, flew eldest and me,
to find a replacement swirl-swirly GE.

It’s sorted, we got one, so don’t fret a smidge.
It’s not like we had to go find a new fridge.

Smitty’s the man, at least in our neck,
We hauled it ourselves, but it was cheaper by heck.

So here we’re all sat, ’round the tube for a bite.
My lovelies are bigger, but all just as bright.

Our clothes will be laundered, Our hearts will be light,
So to all a Merry Christmas And to all A Good Night

A very August afternoon

I suppose I’m overdue for something pithy and full of vinegar.

Perhaps a smattering of smarmy, eye-winking, gum-smacking soliloquys carefully crafted to tickle your funny bone and lighten your loafers.

Better yet, an eloquent barrage of verbal velvet, gyrating languidly in the back of your pre-frontal cortex, abducting the daily doldrums out of their slumber, and into full on neural rave mode.

To finish, I could tie together the subtle and no so subtle poppity-pop culture club refs and riffs with swimmingly gentle ease and mighty mighty deft tone ninja reflexes.

The final parting shot, a clever rehash of the overall jive I’m laying down.

But I’m not going to do that.

To be honest, I realized I should probably put something up this month.

Here’s mud in your eye.

A Year of Living Anti-Sociably

So, it has been just over a year since i turned in my Facebook membership card.

My reasons were my own.

Surprisingly, I haven’t missed a thing. I think.

I have tried, and with some minor success, to increase my digital footprint in the Twittersphere. I skirted the Reddit Edge. I Skyped in words with a group of like-mindeds.

My blog has limped along at speeds that would give even the weakest of necks mild, barely perceptible whiplash.

I do feel like I might be a bit out of touch, but not in any of the really important ways.

I am writing in fits and starts. All of it is awesome, in my opinion, Even this. And this.

I guess I expected to have some kind of an epiphany, or that the experience would have a larger impact on me. But it hasn’t and didn’t.

I am, however, left with the reality that if I want to do something with my writing life, then I am going to have to commit to really putting myself out there.

Which may mean shaking hands with the Electronic Devil, and joining, or re-joining, certain social circles.

It’s mere speculation on my part of course, but if I do find myself having to consider the small print, to play wuth the user/privacy settings, and ascertain the relevance of my news feed items, then i will do so on my own terms and conditions.

It will be for my own reasons.

After all, membership has it’s privileges.

I hope.

Obligatory Blog Post

I haven’t been on here much, and for that, I can only say  – so what?

I suppose it’s like that old addage “If you have nothing nice to say, say nothing at all”.

Or in my case “If you have nothing useful to say, no one is going to notice”.

I digress.

So, in the interests of waxing my own philosophic symbol, here are some funny things to ponder that I came up with when i typed it.

1) All people look funny when on the toilet.

2) When you get a song stuck in your head you hate, why not sing a different song?

3) In 2015, we are still more concerned about what other people are doing, and why it’s wrong, than education, or healthcare.

4) Despite all the terrible things human beings do to the world and each other, a dog will still ultimately trust an outstretched hand.

5) Look at a person in front of you. Now they are on the toilet. They do look funny, don’t they.

6) Why does no one in a zombie apocalypse movie go to a Bulk Barn?

7) What if Netflix is Skynet’s Final Solution?

8) As I typed that, the power went out in my neighbourhood, for one minute. Just let that sink in.

9) The bottled water industry is an elaborate charade to use up the left over Crystal Pepsi stock – one can for every skid of bottled water.

10) The person in front of you is still straining.

If you think this was great, just wait the Eleventy-Ninth of Procteebler, when I write about that thing behind you on the wall.

Reasonable Drought

Everything happens for a reason, as the saying goes.

All through our lives, we experience ups and downs, and twists and turns, that catch us off-guard and send us down unexpected paths.

How we react to these stimuli, is what generally determines our experience.

It is, to be fair, a challenge.

To keep our minds open and our spirits willing, to face the uncertain maelstrom of change, as it rips us from comfort and cozy, propelling us to new worlds, leaving us dripping in our undone sweaters on the welcome mat of the next moment.

And when we swivel our heads side to side, we see what we didn’t necessarily expect to, what we perhaps didn’t want to, and try as we might, we shake it off, and console ourselves with that most vague of comforting sayings:

“Everything happens for a reason”.

Yeah.

That has to be the stupidest, most chock full of horseshit statements EVER in the history of horseshit statements.

Very much akin to “finding something in the last place you look”.

Of course everything happens for a reason.  It’s cause and effect. Shit wouldn’t happen if shit didn’t cause it to happen. Most likely, the root cause of said shit is closely related to the irregular lump of putty staring back at you in the mirror.

Listen – something you did, you said, you thought, you felt, led you to this, whatever your “this” is.

If you don’t like where you ended up – go somewhere else.
Not crazy about your outlook – then look in.
Uncertainty creeping into your thought process- think differently!
Most importantly – feel ok about not feeling ok.

I am talking to and about myself, of course.

All of you (those following in real time, and those reading from the future) are just the lucky, lucky people that happen to be riding shotgun on this oh-de-lally little side trip of mine.

Listen – I haven’t had much to say lately, mostly because there was nothing I felt needed saying. Sometimes less is more, sometimes little is less.

Life goes on. Shit happens. Wherever you go, there you are.

Our collective experience is littered with jaunty Hallmark sayings perfectly designed to dull the ache of the long stretch of time we affectionately refer to as seconds, minutes, hours…..

Perhaps I just needed to wait for the snow to melt, for the sun to shine a little warmer and higher in the sky, and for the air to drift sweetly by, carrying the first whispers of a new spring.

Maybe I just needed to feel like I had something worth saying.

Quite possibly, I just needed a reason.

After all, everything starts to happen, when you have a reason.

The Day Before Christmas

‘Twas the day before Christmas, sometime after 4,
Not a snowflake was sighted, through window or door.

The turkey was roasting, and drippings with goo,
as poor puppies waited to go for a poo.

The kids were XBoxing and shouting at bots,
Potatoes were peeled and headed to pot.

With Mother a-tubbing, and I in my chair,
The tree lights sat glowing, with nary a care.

When out on the lawn there came not a sound,
no howling, no thunder, there was no one around.

The sky was a pasty white-grey shadowed thing
That last one got away from me, but it had a nice ring.

I glanced through the pane, and then – pain in the groin!
from the boney and one-tooth-less fruit of my loin.

You see kids are oblivious to their feets and each hand,
To what they are doing and where they will stand.

It’s noisy, it’s crazy, they’re smelly but sweet.
These kids make the moments of living a treat.

We do a good job, their mother and I,
of raising these rugrats from low to up high.

They’re happy, and healthy, and most are well-read,
they are all fairly sociable, though none make their bed.

Each one is a treasure, a rare work of art,
And yes they’ll still giggle at the sound of a fart.

So as we tuck in for our holiday fun,
remember these moments, savour each one.

It’s Yule Time, it’s Christmas and Festivus too,
and tomorrow, of course….

THERE’S NEW DOCTOR WHO!!!!!

Merry Christmas 2014 to all of you, from all of us.

Bitchin’ Dude

Wow, do i whine a lot or what?

First World Problems.

My favourite tv show isn’t meeting my paltry expectations. Woe is me.

Meanwhile, a family has lost another son to some over zealous radical fanatic with a camcorder and a YouTube account. A town teeters dangerously on the edge of social destruction, and little girls are lost and far from home.

Sometimes a minor shift in perspective (read:swift kick in the realistic behind) is healthy. Our problems are ours. We are compelled to make them communal, but at the end of the day it only really bugs us. It’s our issue.

How serious is it really? Will your life go on without the right amount of sugar in your latte today?

How about that property line? Can you get by with the branch hanging over that extra inch?

Maybe, instead of pissing and moaning in 140 brightly coloured characters over the most trivial, inane shot? We can use our powers for good.

Pick a minute. Any minute, and for 60 whole seconds, you only say something nice. Something positive. Something, anything, constructive.

I know. Practice what you preach. I get it.

But if you’ve gotten this far, then thats my minute done.

See what i did there?

Woah. Bitchin’, dude.

Year One

So it’s been about a year since I committed to be committed to my blog.

Listen:

It hasn’t gone the way I expected, but it is safe to say it also hasn’t gone the way I expected. It’s like swimming in the ocean, and getting temporarily caught in the undertow. At first there is panic and a sense of foreboding, surrounded by the rushing, swirling maelstrom of dark water. Then suddenly deep breath fills your lungs, and you are sitting in wet sand looking out at the horizon. Kind of like cup of soup.

I am very shortly entering into the seventh year of my new reality. The new life i forged for my family’s well being, and my professional contentment, and it has been eventful and chaotic. Change, however, is inevitable. Seven years is a lifetime to a cell, and we all regenerate in our own time. What life used to be about is no longer what it is about now – and I guess that is why it is called growing up, sliding down from the pedestal we put our daddy or mummy on. The Orient expresses a multitude of ageless and varied ways in which to find inner peace, but sometimes we just need to find a big friendly button to reset ourselves with.

Thanks to our ability to experience the passage of Time, We evolve and accept our new realities because to not do so would drive us to insanity and depression. Time away and Time alone allows for fondness of the heart to grow, and the opportunity to recognize those parts of life that are most important. Regardless of whether it is Time/She, or Time/He, is the fact that we wear it like a burden, and stake our claim to its stain upon us, really the best thing we can do with it? How do we just let it flow?

That may sound a bit philosophically full of itself, but it (if I can, just for a tic tock, turn this linguistic robot off) sure would be satisfying to know definitively that my careful thoughts don’t mean I am becoming boring.

Letting go of that which hurts us, or injures us, is the only true way to find our way in the forest. Of the nights and days I’ve already lived, I never assumed I could be the one carrying injury within me. Still, the trees shield us from the worst of the weather, and ground beneath our feet is firm and strong, giving us safe and steady passage along that long, flat line to tranquility.

As it is, i am home, and I am once again faced with my own wandering self-actualization. I am Dad. I am Husband. I am The Caretaker and The Provider. And my family looks to me for strength and support and guidance. What can I say? Except that i am as imperfect as everyone else. I believe in the mystery and wonder of the Universe, but it scares me. I am afraid of, but believe in the necessity of Death; in Heaven, whatever form it may take; and in the simple things that make life bearable – hugs, the smell of fresh ground coffee, having a place to belong.

So we get on with ourselves and our lives as best we can, despite the disappointment in the results immediately in front of us. It won’t always be this way. There will be ups and downs and sides. I will still get frustrated by laundry. I will still forget something. And, to paraphrase Bill Shakespeare, start most mornings off by saying “Get up Son, kill the moon and all that jazz” or whatever the quote was that sounded niftier in my head.

It’s Time to refocus my focus. It isn’t actually all that bad. I just need to find my Tao. Grab myself by the collar and run headlong into the great outdoors. “Let’s go, pal. You’re not quite over the hill! Into the dale, kiddo!” or some other such Tolkeinesque frolicsome blithering.

Let’s be honest – I am not a guy that frolics. I’m just not that graceful. But you get the idea. I am basically an idiot. And that’s ok.