Chris Minich's Blog, page 3

Why, they could percolate the ocean in Brazil

Three months into the New Year. That’s where I find myself this morning. Three months, how did I let it get this far? I’m off my game. Dad likes to change things up, to mess with me I believe, and this time he’s really gone and done it. Perhaps it was the color? Maybe the shape? Perplexed, how did he do it? I’m sorry, I should back up and explain what this is all about.

At Christmas, the parentals exchanged gifts and Dad got a new appliance. The box was massive. So much so, it required a handle to carry. You know a present is massive when the box comes with its own handle. After dad opened it up he started to remove various items and he let my brother and I play with all the Styrofoam as he unpackaged this behemoth of a gift. Please, I’m not impressed with big chunks of foam – like my brother. He tries to eat the white blocks. Now that I think about it, this explains a lot about my terrier of a brother. Note to self, terrier = terror. Uh huh, you get it.

I saw it for a brief period when he was reading the instruction manual. I’ve seen space ships on the pane of knowledge and this didn’t quite resemble that. No, this looked more like an alien. It had a big black base to support the frame. Directly in front looked to be a spout of some kind. The top half of the body had a sleek chrome like finish and appeared to be hunched over in front of the rest of the device. It even had pods. More on that later. Dad adjusted a lever and the chrome body slowly lifted upright. What did mom get him? How does this benefit me? I don’t see a spot for peanut butter. I don’t see a built in cheese slicer. That would be handy. I don’t see where you would store bread or other baked goods. I also heard talk of it going in the kitchen. Didn’t make any sense. After the big reveal dad quickly moved it to one of the counter tops. It must have been heavy as he made a grunting sound when moving it. That or dad is getting up there in years. Uh huh, you get it.

Once dad settled on just the right spot on the counter, he adjusted it four times, he plugged it in and did some kind of “test.” He grabbed a glass from the cabinet and placed it under the previously mentioned spout. Pressing a button on the alien’s head the monster started to come to life. A sudden whoosh was heard. My brother Buddy, still chomping on foam, whimpered when he heard the noise and ran to find mom. To this day, he won’t come near this section of the kitchen. The initial noise was followed by a grinding sound that went on for a few minutes. Dad even checked the manual, yes again, probably to make sure the sound was normal. Feeling satisfied he continued to stand and watch. I could hear what sounded like a liquid, probably water. In a few minutes the sound stopped. Dad removed the glass which, sure enough, was full of water. He seemed pleased with himself and went back to show my mom. Water? He got a water machine? Water comes out of the sink or sometimes the fridge. From that point forward, until today, I didn’t pay the machine any mind. I already had water in my dish. His new device seemed like a giant paper weight. Merry Christmas Dad!

In the last three months dad has started to have more and more “water.” At first he had it once or twice a week. He then progressed to four to five. In the last two weeks, he’s had it every day. I think he’s now addicted to “water?” Okay, I had to know more. Water, really!

I followed him downstairs this morning. First things first, he put on his shoes. He’s becoming more and more like Mr. Rogers with each passing day. He just needs more sweaters. Like clockwork he heads to that special section of the kitchen. I trotted right passed him and stopped at the counter.

“Are you hungry,” he said to me.

“No, I’m thirsty,” I replied looking up at the counter.

“Sydney, you can’t have any coffee it will burn your mouth and I’m sure it won’t taste good. Don’t even get me started on what the caffeine might do to you.

Coffee, this is starting to make a little more sense. I thought coffee came from the Starchild. Wait, no that’s the singer with white makeup on his face and a star over his right eye. I’ve seen dad drink coffee before from Starbuck. Wait, no that’s Starbucks. Starbuck is from one of dad’s favorite shows about a spaceship and aliens. I see, it’s all coming together now.

“Sydney, do you want to make some coffee with me? Keep in mind, you can’t have any – understand?”

Oh yeah, I understand and we shall see about the consumption part. Dad turned to see if mom was around. Sensing the coast was clear he had me sit up and place my paws on the counter. Normally I’m not allowed to do this but if he insists I’m happy to help. In the interest of science and exploration of course.

Dad pulled open a tray from under the machine with four sleeves. Each contained different colored pods and sizes. Ah, the pods. Dad picked one and held it to my nose to sniff. Whoa, very strong. Dad noted the smaller pods were a type of espresso and the larger a more standard coffee. He selected a standard and opened the chrome top of the alien. Once open, the machine revealed a nifty space for the pod to go. Dad closed and locked the pod inside. He pointed to two containers attached to either side of the machine. One contained water and the other empty pods. Huh, I should pop up on the counter more often. This is fun.

Dad told me to stay and he went to the fridge and returned with some milk. He pointed to a jug on the counter he called a frother. He poured out some of the milk until he had just enough. Dad noted this was to heat up the milk that would go with his coffee. In a few short minutes the milk was warm, I took his word for it, and he emptied it into a mug. Geez, a lot goes into making coffee and he hasn’t gotten to that part yet. It’s a good thing he doesn’t do this for a living.

“Are you ready Sydney?” he said to me. Yes, hurry mom may be downstairs shortly and I haven’t come this far to miss out.

Dad placed the mug, with milk inside, under the spout on the front. He pressed a button on the machine and the whoosh and grinding sound began. What followed was a heavenly scent of coffee brewing right before me. Somehow the water mixed with the coffee pod and began to flow from the spout into the awaiting mug. Before I knew it the machine whirled to a stop and dad removed the mug. He let me smell it but wasn’t about to let me drink it. I took in a deep breath. This may in fact be the best part of waking up. Now I get what dad has been saying these last three months – “world’s best cup of coffee.” I thought he was just quoting mom’s favorite film but he actually did it.

Congratulations, Dad! Not only did you make some wonderful smelling coffee, you restored my faith in you. A water machine, that’s just silly.

 

Maybe I’ll Hold My Breath and Jump Right In

Do you ever find it difficult to climb out of bed? Let me start again. Do you ever find it difficult to climb out of bed, on a Saturday? One more time for good measure. Do you ever find it difficult to climb out of bed, on a Saturday, before – seven?  As someone who isn’t, nor plans to be a morning person, this is a herculean task. Saturday mornings are for sleeping in. No alarm clock, no schedule to keep. No hustle followed by the inevitable bustle of the morning routine. Saturdays require no routine. Caution, it’s out there in the wind.  The comforter someone how feels, yes more comforting on a Saturday morning.

It’s nice and cozy and should remain so on this late-to-rise day of the week followed by everyone’s favorite abbreviation, TGIF. Look for SIS coming soon. Sleep in Saturday. Hint, it also works for Sunday as well. Some Saturdays I feel like I’ve gotten enough rest but stay in bed – just because I can. I look forward each week to my sleep in day. I have another week of looking. This past Saturday I was up and out before I could even contemplate what was happening. As I think about it now, I was actually mobile before my normal work week. This, my friends, is no small feat.

My wife was on a mission. She was up before the dawn. No shock here. In the seven plus years I’ve known her, she has always been an earlier riser. Where I must climb out of bed – she springs out. Ready to go she’s checked her Facebook status and email just as the party goers from the night before are about to crash. No coffee, no tea – not yet anyway – she embraces the morning and the possibility of a new day. I’m still in awe, or mid yawn, as I normally roll back over and enjoy more slumber.

“Are you going with?” she said to me during my roll over. Oh crud, that’s right. This Saturday morning was dog groomer day for our two little ones. The little terror, I’m sorry terrier, who always gets up with my wife was circling the bed. Buddy was pumped up and ready to go. I don’t think he actually likes going to the groomer but he’d follow my wife anywhere. She managed to get our other dog up, Sydney, and a moment of quiet fell back over the room as they went downstairs for breakfast.

Almost enough time to fall back asleep – almost. Before I could return to never-never land the room was a flurry of activity. Sydney jumped up on the bed and started licking my face. This is her way of saying if I have to get up guess what, so do you. Buddy followed my wife into the bathroom for some teeth brushing, her. If I was going to get up it had to be now. With a heave and I’m pretty sure a push from Sydney I was up and on my feet. Minor miracle number one.

In my sleep induced haze I opened the bathroom door a little too quickly. Light, it was everywhere. The room has lights over the two counter sinks. Two light fixtures over the sunken bathtub. Another in the shower. All of them on and shinning bright, too bright. My hand quickly covered my eyes. Not to worry. I know the layout of this room well. Essentially blindfolded I navigated the floor and quickly found my way to the adjoining closet, missing the bathroom scale which could have really hurt my bare feet. Drat, that light was on as well. As previously noted, not to worry. I’ve trained for such instances. Black Friday comes to mind. Each year on that magical day, for my wife, we get up – even earlier than today – to head out for great shopping deals. Those training exercises have allowed me to move through the bathroom to the closet, pick out some clothes and emerge under cover of the night. Thank you Black Friday. On this Saturday morning, I got dressed and was downstairs and ready to go in five minutes – lights and all. Minor miracle number two.

To help with a busy schedule my wife dropped me at the local gym while she continued on with the hounds for their spa day. The gym is a relatively quiet place at six thirty on a Saturday morning. Oh, now I remember why. Everyone is sleeping in. Too late for that. If I was to do this it must be done right. I stepped up to the elliptical-style machine. I spent the next couple of minutes stretching as I was still trying to wake up. Finally, time for that last component before beginning the workout. Unzipping the little pouch from my gym bag I unraveled my headphones. Not any headphones, noise cancelling. Goodbye outside world, hello heavy Darth Vader style breathing. Locating a playlist from my phone I hit play and for the next thirty minutes I was sweating to the not so oldies. On a day when I didn’t want to get up and would have been happy to still be at home sleeping I finished that workout awake and alert. I would go so far to say I was happy to be up, out and enjoying life and what turned out to be one of the most gorgeous days in this young calendar year. I hadn’t even had my coffee yet. Huh, maybe there is something to this getting up early thing after all. Minor miracle number three.

Break Out of Captivity – Sydney

Valentine’s Day. What did you do last weekend? I was treated to dinner and a movie. Okay, I was taken to dinner with my parentals. They were celebrating the special occasion and my panting sidekick of a brother was along for the ride. Mom and dad dined on shrimp and crab and I sat with “Bud-man” as dad calls him. The heavy panting only lasted a few minutes as my brother got tired and fell asleep over on his side of the car. Since the car was parked, mom had unhooked my seatbelt before she and dad went in for dinner. I took this opportunity to people watch. Hence, my movie for the evening. I didn’t realize I would star in it later that night.

Dad had parked the car in a good spot on the south end of Lake Union in Seattle. I had a spectacular view of the marina once I climbed into the front seat. The sun was just about to set and the sky was turning pink. Plenty of couples out tonight holding hands coming to and fro along the dock that led to the restaurant. I tease mom and dad for all the hand holding they do and – gulp – kissing but I realized sitting in the car that they do this all year round. Not just on a certain day in February. Dad has been known to bring mom flowers on a random Tuesday in July. Mom leaves him little notes before one of her trips out of town. Mom doesn’t know that dad keeps those notes – each and every one. I’m a lucky poo to have such great parentals. But really, do I need to see all the kissing?

Thankfully a noise pulled me from that unfortunate image in my head. Look, up in this sky. It’s not a bird, not a plane, no it’s a float plane.

I’ve only seen these on the pane of knowledge when watching Alaskan shows with mom. Keeping my eye on the plane, and why wouldn’t I, it flies the length of the lake and turns back toward the dock. Three, two, one we have splashdown. The pilot kills the engine as the plane floats up to the dock in front of the restaurant. Quite the entrance. A couple emerge decked out in a tuxedo and evening dress. The man in the tux helps the lady off the plane and together they head toward the building for dinner. Nice touch. Style, elegance and grace. People pull out all the stops for love. I’d be happy with a walk outside this car about now. All the action is out there while I’m stuck in here.

After their dinner mom and dad return to the car. Once I’m belted back in we head towards home. The sun has gone down now and as I settle into my seat I watch all the lights from the city as we zoom by on the freeway. Such a clear night for this time of year. Back east across the lake I hear mom and dad discussing a pit stop they need to make before the night is through. Dad exits one freeway and picks up another interstate and heads north. In a few short minutes he pulls off and we head toward a shopping complex known as the mall. I’ve never been in but the parentals come here sometimes for dinner, a movie or whatever else you do in said mall. Mom and dad exit and alas I get to stay with my brother in the car – yet again. Look at him, still asleep on the seat. Mom opens my door to unhook the seatbelt but this time attaches my leash and motions to me to get out. Don’t have to ask me twice. I jump out and land on the cool concrete of the parking complex.

“Well Sydney, do you want to go shopping?” mom says to me. Do I? I walk with mom and dad from the parking lot to a set of stairs which we go down. Am I dreaming? I’m really going into the mall. I’ve never been this close before. Dad has taken me for my own version of a pit stop before but then it was right back to the car. The three of us walk across a bridge over the street and head to a set of double doors. This was it, the promise land.

“Okay Syd,” dad says to me. “Let’s stop for a moment.” Not one to screw this up, I immediately sit.

“What a good sit,” I hear mom say. Darn right. Best sit ever!

“Syd,” dad continues. “Your mom and I recently learned that you could bring a dog into the mall. However, you must be on your best behavior. I won’t lie, there will be a lot of distractions – hence why your brother is still in the car. We think you can do this. Are you ready?”

I give dad a quick head bob to the right. Right is always the side of understanding. Just like that he opened the glass door and in we went. The sign on the door read Nordstrom. Wow! The beautifully waxed floor took a second to get used to if only for my paws. The bright lights from above guided our way. So many types of apparel. Jackets, pants, shoes. Here, there, everywhere. And the smells. So wonderful. Sweet, flowery. The best part, the valentine love. Everyone wanted to come up and say hi – to me. I was the hit of the outing. People were so polite asking to pet me. Asking my name. Mom even did a little not so shameless promotion.

“Not only is Sydney our cockapoo but she is now the title character of her own book.” Mom keeps postcards in her purse about dad’s first book. She handed out a few copies to the eager shoppers. If they weren’t in love with me already (I know, right?) the notion of me in a book pushed them over the edge.

We walked around the mall for about an hour. I was on my best behavior, but of course, and there was absolutely no fuss or mess.  I think an additional trip is in my future. When we returned to the car and dad strapped me back in my brother was none the wiser. During the drive home mom turned on the radio. Old blue eyes was on and the lines in the song echo how I feel about this special day in February. “Stay little valentine stay. Each day is valentine’s day.” Still the chairman of the board.

Smoother Than a Fresh Jar of Skippy

“See you soon,” mom said as she gave dad a quick kiss goodbye. Ooh, I’m sitting right here. Respect the boundaries. My parentals love each other. I have a great place to live and brother I can tolerate (from time to time). Do I need to see the constant displays of affection? Hmm, considering what dad has accomplished and the reason for today’s trip – I can let it go – for now.

The ground was wet and I could hear the water moving through the treads of the tires as she backed out of our driveway. I could see Dad putting a folding table and chairs in the back of his car. Not an easy feat for a two-seater. He waved to us as mom drove down the street. Today was the big day. Mom and I were headed to our favorite store, okay mine, for a book signing. Okay, a pet store. Pet Place Market. Oh, and the book is about yours truly. I’ve been trying to let the parentals in on a not so secret since – well my entire existence – I’m pretty awesome. It seems like Dad has just caught up to this notion and he wrote a book it. He spent the last year following me around the house. He said he was studying my movements and watched my interactions with my mom and brother. This might seem weird to you, the reader, but for me it was great. I like attention and I may have hammed it up a little for dad. I will leave the ham reference alone for this entry.

“I’m very proud of you and your dad,” mom said to me. As she turned out of the neighborhood and we picked up speed she reached across the center console to give me a quick pet on the head. No time for a full on tummy rub but a head scratch works in a pinch. “I think your dad is a little nervous today. It will be your job Sydney to keep him calm.” Not to worry as I sit upright in my harnessed seat. I’ve got dad’s back. What’s to be nervous about? New friends to meet – love to make new friends. I’m a firm believer that you can never have too many friends. Adoring fans to ask for a “paw-tograph” – where do I sign – I mean stamp? I don’t know about dad but I’m ready for my close up. If dad was nervous I was hyped. Together we balance each other out. When he fills out the “best cockapoo of the year” ballot I better win. The click, click of the turn signal brought me out of my momentary daydream.

“Here we are,” said mom as she parked the car. After removing my harness she walked around the front of the vehicle and let me out. I guess the red carpet was at the cleaners as my paws were met with the cold and wet cement street of North Bend, WA. Okay, this wasn’t the Oscars but I was going to enjoy my first book event. I walked side by side with mom as she held my leash on the way to the store. Just before we entered I looked up and saw my likeness on the front window. It was and advertisement for this afternoon’s event. What a good looking dog. Can’t wait for the movie poster.

The afternoon went off without a hitch. Dad arrived soon after and he setup our spot in the store. One of mom’s besties, Tess, was in the house. She helped dad with books and acted as the cashier for the day. No visit from Tess is complete without the inclusion of her daughters. My sisters, that’s how we role, offered support and all the attention this cockapoo can handle.

We met many new friends. All the younger readers said hi to my dad and he signed books for all. However, I was the real star. Shocker! The kiddos were so nice. They asked my mom if they could pet me. “Of course, she said. They were very well behaved and pet my head and shoulders. Some were a little shy at first so I flipped right over for tummy rubs and the love and attention resumed. Kids are so smart. The day continued with family and close friends who stopped by to show their support. I got so many tummy rubs during the signing that I lost track of the total count.

I kept an eye on dad and he seemed to be handling things just fine. He smiled and was happy to sign books for all the kids and parents. When we had a moment of downtime I ran over to him and put my front paws up on his legs. “Hey Syd,” he said to me. “Thanks for having my back today.” I gave dad a big lick across his face which made him laugh. Always.

Our time at the pet store seemed short and no sooner had the event started when it was time to break down the table and pack up the car. “By Sydney,” one of the employees at the store said to me as we headed out. “It was great to see you today.” What a great feeling. My people need me, and I them.

Okay dad, when’s the next one?

 

But Never Forgets What I Lost

After the sparkle and glow of New Year fades, we begin the process all over again. In the Pacific Northwest, that means more wind, more rain and maybe a sighting of the sun. Well, maybe. This January is a little different for me. On the fourth, I had an anniversary of sorts. On that day back in 2000, my dad passed away.

He was diagnosed many years earlier with Parkinson’s disease. I remember that night like it was yesterday. He had been sick with pneumonia while in a care facility. My mom, brother, his wife and I all visited him that night. The care center had him on an oxygen tank. That giant green tank. I knew he was very sick and battling his disease on top of that. I didn’t know I wouldn’t see him again.

The four of us left to have dinner together. Why we stopped at Denny’s I will never know. Normally at certain restaurants, you might have a standard go-to meal. I didn’t really have one for Denny’s and ordered Chicken Fried Steak. I had never had it before and thought I would give it a try, something new. In the fifteen years since that night, I haven’t had it again. After making, it home and trying to rest, the phone rang a little before midnight. My mom answered and even though I was down the hall, I knew he was gone. Whether accidental, tragic or after a long illness you’re never ready when that call comes in. I wasn’t. That memory will stay with me for the rest of my life.

I started to think this month about all that has happened in the last decade and a half. How my life has changed and what my dad would think if he was still here today. That first year my brother and I started something we never got to do with my dad. In May of that first year, we flew to Indianapolis for what would be our first Indy 500. My dad had been many times before we were born and took my mom to time trials just after they were married. He loved the sound of the cars as they roared past on the two and a half mile oval. He would buy a copy of the local paper which printed up the driver’s information. He would keep track of lap times and record the details down, in pencil. That love of racing he passed to us. 2015 will mark my fifteenth year going to the track. I love it so much the logo is tattooed on my leg. In a way, my dad is with me every day. Some people regret getting a tattoo. Not me.

In the early 2000s, I moved into my own place and started to establish a life for myself on my own. I had a decent job. Car completely paid for and a fondness for a band that would take me all the way to NYC. Life was moving on but I missed my dad. I missed my dad before he was sick, before he had Parkinson’s. He first developed symptoms when I was a teenager. I never really got to know him as a man. It was hard to understand what was happening to him. It’s hard to watch someone you love physically and emotionally change right before your eyes. Something I don’t wish for anyone. Shortly before he passed, I sat with him and talked about what was going on in my life. I sat and just talked. I’m not ashamed to admit that I cried. In hindsight, I’m glad I went to visit him that day. I told him I loved him. I still do.

A few short years later, I met a girl. We would fall in love and get married. On that spring day when I took her hand in mine, he was there. There in spirit. Looking down on us, no longer burdened with disease. I wish my dad could have met my wife. I believe he would have really loved her. She is a special woman and truly a gift from God. I’m thankful for her each and every day. Early on in our relationship she came with me they day I bought my first Corvette. My love of the Corvette also stems from my dad. Before I was born, and just before he met my mom, he purchased a brand new 1968 Vette in British Racing Green. I would grow up only hearing stories and seeing pictures of this beautiful car. You see, after they married and my mom became pregnant it was decided a car like that wouldn’t be suitable when raising a family. So, as I was about to enter the world my parents opted to drive me home from the hospital in a Volkswagen Square Back. My parents loved me, and I them. I never remember them ever raising their voice with one another. I recall hand holding and my dad treated her with upmost respect. I try to do the same for my wife.

As time continues to move on the memories of my dad live with me. Everything from the way I walk, to how I spend money to my love of American sports cars my dad lives on. Not only in me, not only in my brother but now in my five year old niece. He would have loved to be a Grandfather. I don’t know if I said it enough, or appreciate you enough but I love you dad. I miss you. I’m proud to be your son. Your spirit carries on.

Enter to win a free, autographed copy of “Misadventures of Princess Sydney”

Hi Friends, Janelle here – I’m writing to let you know about a fun contest we’re having, in honor of Chris’s book signing next weekend.  We are giving away a free, signed (and “pawtographed”) copy of the book PLUS a $25 Amazon.com gift card to one lucky winner. There are lots of ways to enter, you’ll see the options on Chris’s public Facebook Page.

Please visit this link to enter:

Or, you can enter here.

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Good luck!

I Want to Wake Up in a City That Doesn’t Sleep

It only seems natural to think about the year that was and the year to come as the calendar flips over to December 31st. What an amazing this year has turned out to be. I started the year with a rough draft of a book and ended it a published author. It’s amazing to listen to the kids I know sharing details with one another about the book. In a weird and non-parental way, I’m a very proud papa. The star of the show, Sydney, seems un-phased by the process. She just looks at me as if to say, “Where’s the next one?” Well my favorite cockapoo, that’s what goals are for. 2015 will be a busy one as the process for book two is underway. If you thought Sydney got into adventure/trouble around the house, wait until she goes on vacation.

2014 was an amazing year of travel for my wife and me. Not only did we travel to Florida, I know right, but we flew overseas to visit Paris and London as well. I love traveling with my beautiful wife. Janelle is a seasoned traveler and when you travel with her, you travel in style. That’s a lot of travel in two sentences. Eiffel Tower, saw it, lines were ridiculous.

 

Toured the Louvre, saw the most famous painting in the world, the Mona Lisa. You’ve probably heard of it. What you might not know it is also one of the smallest. Maybe it’s just me, but I was expecting more. Sorry Leo. Tower of London, a must see if you are ever in London. Take the Yeoman Warders tour, absolutely worth it.

Beatle fan-boy moment came true as I walked across Abbey Road. No white VW’s but plenty of traffic. Be careful. Mile marker 1 in the Keys, yes second Florida reference. This will be the last one. Made the now annual trip to Speedway Indiana where for the 98th time the Greatest Spectacle in Racing commenced. This was my fourteenth year. My dad introduced the “race” to me as a kid. I have been in love ever since. Thanks Dad!

How do you cap off such an awesome year? Simple, you treat your mom to a five day excursion to the epicenter of the known universe, New York City. In mid-December the three of us did what everyone should get to do once in their life – see NYC at Christmas time. The first night we arrived, it was raining but we didn’t care. Okay, I didn’t. To see the streets glisten from the shine of the Rockefeller Christmas Tree is something special.

The queen of travel, my wife is the best, secured us a hotel room with a view of the most famous icon in Manhattan – the Empire State Building.

Our room may have been small, it’s New York you’re never in it, but all you had to do was open the blinds and there it was. It made you want to go back out and explore. That’s exactly what we did.

When you think of New York, you tend to think of Broadway. Well, so did my mom and wife. Up first was a musical named after my wife, Beautiful, about Carole King. Coming from a guy who likes heavy music, I can safely say I liked it. We saw not one but two shows while in the big apple. The second show, a gift for my wife to see her favorite singer, Idina Menzel. Known for singing, “Let it Go” from Frozen, maybe you’ve heard it; she is a huge talent and a powerful singer.

Wow, two shows in this big city. That should fill the quota for live entertainment on any trip. Well, this trip was special – REALLY special. For the first time, and perhaps only time, my wife and I checked off a huge item on the bucket list and saw Billy Joel at Madison Square Garden. In almost thirty years of live shows, yes I’m that old, this concert ranks right up there in the top five. Something special happens when you have eighteen thousand people you don’t know all singing a song for the piano man. I started this paragraph and will end it with the same word – Wow!

Walking is a key component to getting around this city. I believe my wife’s FitBit clocked in at over thirty miles. You need to walk that far to enjoy all the good food the city has to offer. Pizza at Lombardi’s in Little Italy, check. Hot Dog from a street vendor outside Radio City, pass. Stop in at Juniors for Cheesecake, um yes please. Pizza, cheesecake, that sounds like New York but what about breakfast you ask? One morning, too early for vacation, I convinced my beautiful bride to ride the subway across town for a pastry treat. Well, so I hoped. In line over an hour early before the shop opened, we braved the cold weather out front of Dominique Ansel Bakery for the Cronut.

Part croissant part donut part genius – this blend of sugar, flour and love was worth the wait on an early December morning. Finally, on the food front, remember A LOT OF WALKING, we visited Carnegie Deli not once, but twice on our trip. Some of the best pastrami you will ever have – ever. On trip number two, my wife opted for a chicken bacon club with just a little extra bacon. Nothing in this town is “little.” Over a pound of bacon later we determined that yes – their indeed was chicken on that sandwich.

Our last night found us in the middle of it all – Times Square. The sights, MASSIVE Google HD screen. My eyes are still fried. The sounds, New Yorkers in full voice. “Hey I’m walking here.” To the traditions, the ball on top of One Times Square where tonight the world will tune in to ring in 2015.

Earlier in this blog, I noted what an amazing year this has been. As I read back through this, I’m so thankful to God, my wife, and family friends and to you. Here’s to an exciting new year in 2015.

Happy New Year!

Have you ever looked fear in the face and said I just don’t care?

Today I’m honored to have a guest post by my dear friend and mentor, Tess Thompson, writer extraordinaire. Check out her latest book, Blue Mountain, available on Amazon.com.

 

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“Have you ever looked fear in the face and said I just don’t care?” Pink, Glitter In the Air

I come from a family of teachers. My maternal grandmother was a kindergarten teacher, a second career after raising three children. All children loved her, especially little ones. How many children she taught the alphabet to over the years, I couldn’t begin to guess. I visited her classroom once when I was a little girl. It smelled of paste, new paper and chalk. Little tables waited for children to begin the first leg in their journey as students. I was jealous, standing there. How lucky, I thought. They were to have my grandmother usher them into education.

My father taught the middle grades and middle school for over thirty years. He was a natural teacher, although it was not something he set out to do. I believe it was more of a calling that seemed inevitable – a young man with an English degree given the opportunity to become a teacher through a program called the Teacher Corps.

In the small town where we lived, he was a legend. Growing up I often heard about his dynamic teaching style; his strict discipline; (my mother always said, after visiting his classroom, that is was so quiet you could hear a pin drop); his zest for education; his verbal teaching style. He was the type of teacher you couldn’t take your eyes from and remember all your life.

Many of my favorite people are teachers. I suppose it’s because they’re a little better than the rest of us. Low pay, demanding parents, unruly students, and yet they dedicate their lives to the idea that without education our society will fall to ruin. It’s a lofty idea we all agree with, of course. We all know we would not be where we are at this exact moment if it weren’t for the men and women who taught us from the first day of kindergarten to the last day of whatever higher education we reached. As Americans we agree that education is a fundamental right of all human beings. However, the difference between our ideals and a teacher? We’re not in the trenches of classrooms every day carrying out the most important job in the world.

So it is no wonder I gravitated to the idea of teaching myself. As a child, I planned on being just like my first grade teacher, Mrs. Preston, 1970’s pantsuits and all. But my path did not lead that way. As was the case of my father, I was led to my calling without actively choosing it. My calling to write seems to have chosen me, despite my denial and fear for many years. Doubt and fear led me down a circuitous path, to be sure, one in which I wasted too much time under the dark cloud of uncertainty rather than fingers to keyboard. Now, I am right where I’m supposed to be. Finally.

Recently, I’ve started offering creative writing workshops to children and adults. I love it. Teaching about writing as a craft, which is quite teachable, by the way, is as large a passion as the writing itself. Teaching is in my DNA, I suppose. It’s not just teaching the craft, however, that thrills me. Even better than discussions about dialogue and plot and setting is watching an adult student conquer their fears and start writing. (As an interesting side note, children have none – they all thing they’re the best writers in the world). In my adult classes we call it the “Inner Critic” (not my original term) and we learn to tell that cruel voice in our heads to “suck it”, because no matter what they tell us, we’re going to write our hearts out without worrying if we’re any good or not. I know, it’s bold. But our Inner Critic needs to be taken down.

And the way to get good? It’s simple. Read. Write. Do these both more than you do anything else in your life.

I understand the reason we don’t write. Because we’re afraid. I used to be. I still am sometimes. There’s no such thing as writer’s block. It’s writer’s fear. (That’s an original phrase, by the way). But to write well we must not succumb to fear. We must look fear in the face and say – I just don’t care. Because what I know to be true in all areas of life – fear is not only the opposite of love – it is the single largest darkness that keeps us from our dreams.

All this to say – when one of my first students, Chris Minich, sealed a publishing deal earlier this year for his middle grade series, The Misadventure of Princess Sydney, I couldn’t have been more thrilled. I took pride in his talent, in his burgeoning craft, but mostly that he conquered his doubts and fears and found his voice so that he might pursue his lifelong dream of becoming a writer. Because of his bravery, children all over the world will enjoy his beautiful books for years to come.

Perhaps it’s this feeling that keeps all our beloved teachers going each and every day?

 

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Tess Thompson is a bestselling Women’s Fiction author of three series, including the River Valley Collection. She lives in Snoqualmie, Washington with her lovely daughters, Ella and Emerson, and their naughty cats, Midnight and Mittens. She blogs about her crazy and miraculous life at: www.tesswrites.com . Follow her on twitter: @tesswrites

I’m just a girl in the world

Driving home from work today, I realized it was officially two weeks until Christmas. I actually feel ready for it this year. Leaving the racetrack feel that is Interstate 90, I reach my exit. In a few minutes, I would be home. Navigating through the suburban streets to my neighborhood is a pretty drive. Even though we still have fourteen days to go, many homes brighten the night sky with all the magic and beauty that come with the season. Sometimes I drive right past all the lights and decorations and just don’t notice. Tonight, I take it all in. As I finally reach my neighborhood, it feels like I am back on the track. This time more of a street course. It has been windy as of late, and today happened to be trash day. Slowing to a conservative speed, I weave and bob through many a recycle and compost bin that lay scattered across the roadway. As an avid viewer of the IndyCar series and pilot of a sports car, I was ready for such obstacles. I wasn’t quite ready for what was waiting at home.

Approaching the house it was easy to see our own holiday decorations had a little trouble with the wintery weather. This year my wife and I set up some yard art. No silly Santa or Rudolph for us. No, we went with a giant size version of our dog Sydney. Yep, we have a giant illuminated dog in our front yard. It’s actually awesome.  Well, except for that wind part. See, “not Sydney’s mom,” (that’s what we call the larger than life hound) tends to blow over easily.

Sydney herself is quite good with the “stay” command. This lighted display, not so much. I spent a few minutes working to adjust the stakes in the ground for support and felt comfortable it would stay upright for at least an hour. On my way back to the garage, I noticed a package at the front door. My night was about to get so much better.

 

Sure enough, the box had my name right on it. Christmas came early for this man who sometimes acts like a kid. All week long, packages arrived with my wife’s name on them but this one was for me. Hmm, don’t remember ordering anything. Picked it up and brought it inside. Boy, oh boy, this was a heavy one. Wait, starting to get an idea what this is. As I entered the kitchen and worked my way to the table, my two favorite furry friends escorted me. Sydney and Buddy seemed just as excited as me about the package. The dogs circled me in anticipation. “Open it,” I could hear Sydney saying to me. Yes, we communicate quite well. “I love boxes,” is what I picked up from Buddy. The two of them were in rare form tonight. Scissors – need scissors. Back across the kitchen I went. Now I was just torturing myself. Finally, back at the table I cut through the tape and opened the top of the box. Sydney put her front two paws up on the table with me. “What is it?” as she looked at me. Pulling the box open further, I had to remove a couple of layers of tissue paper to get to the present that awaited me – and Sydney. I was actually touched to have her standing there with me. The tissue paper removed to reveal a year’s worth of hard work. Inside this cardboard box were twenty five copies of my first book, “Misadventures of Princess Sydney.”

I stood and stared at the box for at least a minute. A dream of writing a book and having it published has come true. It was almost surreal to be staring at the cover with Sydney’s likeness and the star of the show standing next to me in the kitchen. I called my wife to share in this very special family moment. This really happened. Christmas is here. No time to rest however. Now that Sydney has entered the world in all her literary splendor, it’s time for book number two. I couldn’t have done this without the support of my beautiful wife and our dear friend Tess. Merry Christmas one and all!

“Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus.”

 

I’m a Finder and I’m a Keeper

Whoa! Where is my Mom? Where is she? Dude, I can’t find her. I’ve been walking around the house for the last few – well it seems like quite a while looking for her. I checked all the usual spots. Kitchen, this is where the food comes from. Nope, don’t see her. Office, this is where she does – well office things. Nope don’t see her. Bathroom, this is where she tells me to stay outside. Nope, don’t see her. My noggin hurts. She’s got to be here somewhere. What would my sister do? I will ask her. After some searching, I am able to track her down. At least I can find her. Hmm, she appears to be sleeping. What was it she said never to do when she was sleeping? Don’t wake her, that’s it. But Mom is missing. She will want to know that. She loves Mom. I will be the good looking guy, that doesn’t sound right, by waking her up. “Hey,” I bark. She’s asleep after all and can’t hear me. “Hey,” I bark again. This is such a good idea and she will thank me later.

I can’t seem to catch a break today. My sister wasn’t very happy about the awakening. I notified her several times Mom was missing. She was not pleased. I believe she said I was the “scarier terrier.” I don’t know what that mean. My name is Buddy. I see her all the time. I don’t believe I’m scary. You would think she would remember. And she says I’m the forgetful one. She told me to leave her alone. I think this is why I don’t wake her. She also noted Mom was on a trip and not even in the house. Gulp! Trip, I remember something about that now. My sister didn’t appear happy so I quietly exited the room. I was sure someone was here in the house. I have a sense for these things. I was sure I heard something earlier. It sounded like a cough. After that noise, I heard another cough. I hear it again now. Never fear when Buddy is near. I run upstairs to find the cough. Someone is here. Oh happy day!

At the top of the stairs, I hear more coughing. I race down the hall to the bedroom. Its Pops, he is coughing. I’m not a doctor, we just watch a lot of them on TV, but Pops doesn’t look well. I jump on the bed facing him to see if he needs assistance. His face looks weird. I want to say puffy. Yes, that’s it, puffy. New word! His nose is very red. Similar to some kind of antenna head that Mom signs about at Christmas. Presents, I love presents. Oh, Pops is sick, focus. His skin looks wet. I walk up to him and give him a quick lick. Definitely wet, got that right. Yay me! He has covered himself with blankets. He starts to cough again and the whole bed starts to shake. This can’t be good. Don’t worry Dad, Bud-man is here to help. Somewhere under there is my Pops. I cuddle up next to him to try and provide warmth.

“Is that you Bud?” he asks me. I can see one of his arms emerge, ooh emerge-good word, from the blankets. He gives me a few pets on my head. “I’m not feeling well today and you need to be the man of the house.  Watch after your sister. Your Mom is away and I need to look after things while I try to rest.” He rolls back over to sleep. Pops is down for the count with the sickness. I’ve never seen him cough and sleep so much in one day. Don’t worry, Pops. I won’t leave your side.

As the light started to fade in the room, I stayed with Pops. I snuggled up to him good and tight. Occasionally, bonus point for that big word, he would get up and “blow his nose” as I’ve heard my Mom say. Each time I got up with him and followed him to the bathroom. Sometimes while sneezing he would begin coughing again. It looked like he might fall over. I rushed over to his side and put my paws up on his leg to offer support. The last time he was up my sister came into the bathroom as well. “Pops has the sickness,” I said to her. We need to stay with him. He crawled back to bed. Both my sister me jumped up with him. She covered his body down by his legs and I got up close to his back. He was pinned. I kept watch. During the evening while Pops was asleep, I took my sister downstairs for some water. Back upstairs, the two of us stayed with him all night. I love my Pops and don’t like to see him like this. I hope you feel better soon Pops, We love you!