Anything for the kids.

Tonight's question: Daddy, will you get a mohawk?

Love to all. Even you, anglepark mcgoo.

Accident that wasn't, I am weak-spirited.

So, I leave my house at 6am (late morning for me. seriously. ugh.) and started driving to the train station. My neighbor pulls out behind me... it's this guy from way down the road. The dude's a tailgater. There's been a few times he's hung on my ass all the way from the train station to home.

I figure I'll a slightly different route to the train station, thus avoiding him having to be held up by me, and me having to worry about being tailgated. If I can't destress myself via not caring about potential tailgating (I'm neurotic like that), I'll destress by removing myself from the situation. Not bad thinking for early in the morning, right?

I turn down the alternate road, which turns out to be a lot snowier than the main road. I'm concentrating on the snow, when I see a car approaching from the left. This SHOULD be impossible. But somehow, I've come all the way to the main road in town, and I'm literally going straight THROUGH the stop sign, and I'm going to collide with this BMW, and it's totally my fault.

Slowdown. Clarity. Little arrows across my field of vision. Options.

If I tried to break, the guy would hit me. If I tried to make the turn, the guy would hit me. So I gunned it, and shot to the other side of the road, towards a plastic-fenced construction lot, so that I'd squeak buy and worry about stopping my own car in a few seconds, vs. having a two-car, my-fault situation.

I cross the road and brake to a stop. Accident avoided. The guy goes by, honking. He honks a lot. He's pissed. I back up. We're both going to the train station, so I decide to follow him to the parking lot in order to apologize. He must think I'm going to shoot him or something, because he starts driving funny... like stepping on his brakes, shooting forward, stepping on his brakes again.

I park next to him anyway. Wave.

I get out, and say: "I'm so sorry about that!" He's like "YOU ALMOST KILLED ME." I say: "I know! I'm really sorry. You know what happened? And I tell him. (I leave out the neighbor part, but mention the snow and that I didn't see the stop sign at all, and that it was totally my fault.)

Now, when I talk to people, especially if I'm apologizing, I sometimes, touch people on the elbow. You know what I mean. It's kind of a pat, timed with "I'm really sorry." This guy jumped back like I'd shocked him or something. It was weird. He also didn't make any eye contact for the entire time he kept looking to the left and right of me.

I guess I expected him to be somewhat accepting of my immediately taking blame and apologizing. Especially considering nothing actually happened. And I KNOW I should have just apologized without giving a crap what his reaction was, but I'm not quite there yet. I'm just not that spiritually fit.

It takes me a few seconds to realize that the guy is just trying to step around me so he can continue being pissed off. The only thing he said was "You almost killed me. You went through a stop sign." My response was, at first: "I know. I'm really sorry."

I should have let it go at that. But, like I said, I'm not there yet. When I realized that he was pretty much rejecting my apology, saying "YOU ALMOST KILLED ME" again, I said: "Oh, you don't want me to apologize. My mistake."

Shouldn't have said that. What I WANTED to say, but didn't, was:

"Oh, shut the fuck up, you jackass, crybaby, dickface, loser, arrogant, scumbag. I'm pretty fucking sure you and your BMW would have survived an 18 mile an hour impact with a 2000 Miata. I'm pretty sure there wouldn't have been a scratch on your heavily hairsprayed head. Nobody almost killed you, so stop whining."

I dunno. It's weird. I was apologizing for an accident that didn't happen, because I made a stupid mistake.

Are there really people who can fully "take themselves out of the results business?" and just do the right thing without worrying about the consequences and results? Can they promptly admit to being wrong and then not obsess over it?

I'd like to get to that point, but I'm not there yet. I think that's what I'm going to pray for for a while: "God, please help me do the right thing, and stay out of the results business."

Love to all. Even you, the dude with the extensive noseblowing ritual.

Confession.

Literally.

I went to confession today, for the first time ever. I'm not sure why it wasn't part of the initial conversion process, but I was never required to do it. And I've been kind of afraid to ever since.

But you know what? I decided that it's Lent, I genuinely want to change certain behaviors, and I'm genuinely sorry for my sins. So I went to confession.

I guess I kind of went big: I went to St. Patrick's Cathedral in midtown Manhattan. The Priest was kind of funny: I was the first one in, and he was kind of messing around on the other side of the confessional, and I actually heard him say "Who put this here? Idiot." I said: "You need help over there?" And he said: "Just a minute.... just a minute."

And then said: "Okay." And I confessed my sins.

He had some concrete advice for me. And he gave me a penance.

I left feeling really fantastic. And I still do. Craziness.

Love to all. Even you, the angsty gentleman with the too-big coat.

Is it me?

Or is the Oscar countdown a little... off?

Love to all. Even you, mopey.

Panic! Again.

I laid in bed until 2am thinking about work and money.

When I fell asleep, I dreamed that my company was completely in the hole, and that I had to fire all of my staff, and that property values had collapsed so I couldn't sell the house and escape to Vermont.

I think my brain has had enough vacation.

Love to all. Even you, the three repair dudes who came before the last repair dude.

Like stars.

I've never seen snowflakes like these. My 10-year-old was, without exaggeration, moved to prayer. They were huge, individual stars, falling to earth, retaining their individual shapes as they piled up.

We're leaving for New York in two hours. This has been awesome, but I'm also looking forward to home, friends, high-speed internet, AA meetings, and making my company significantly more badass.

Thanks, Sugarbush. You rock.

Love to all. Even you, the bulldozer driver who crashed through the garage.

Wheeee!

After this picture was taken, I skied down the "Spring Fling" trail at Sugarbush yelling "Wheeeeee! Wheeeee!" I yelled "Wheee!" that is, until I got to the race course. Then, I skied alongside the course (I'm not crazy, you know), repeating "Repave the past, Richie. Repave the past."

Because last year, I got totally stuck on that hill. Embarrassment city.

This has been a killer vacation. The kids improved by leaps and bounds (my oldest skied through the woods with John Egan for four hours straight, yesterday), the weather was beautiful, and, with the exception of some vacation-behaviour-adjustments, we all figured out how to accommodate each other nicely.

Although I'm sad to leave, I'm glad we'll be arriving home on tomorrow night, since that gives us the weekend to prepare for school, work, etc.

What a blast. I love Sugarbush. And I really love this part of Vermont.

We're definitely coming back next year, if we can.

Love to all. Even you, the teacher who temporarily lost track of my daughter.

Synaptic Breakthrough.

My youngest did one of those synaptic-connection things where he kind of practiced something for a few days, then suddenly GOT IT. Yesterday, he couldn't ski five feet without falling down. Today... well...

Today was the most fun I've ever had skiing. Although I missed the morning because of the furnace outage back in Westchester, I hooked up with Maggie mid-morning and went on some really fun runs with her.

I challenged Maggie to a race, and she completely smoked my slowpoke ass.

After lunch, we went on one more run, then picked up my daughter and son from ski school. (My oldest was at adventure camp for the day.)

I went three bunny-hill runs with my daughter, then up the big quad to the green runs. On the way down, my daughter suddenly took off. I called out "slow down, honey! slow down!" but off she went, around a big turn and out of site.

I sped up to try and catch her. When I came around the big turn, she was nowhere to be found. I saw her, finally, HUNDREDS OF YARDS AHEAD, near the bottom of the hill. Stopped. Waiting for me.

I passed a group of folks taking lessons. I heard the instructor say "like that little girl who just went by." I turned around to look at the instructor, crossed my skis, and went tumbling down the hill, losing a ski in the process.

I got up, got my ski back on, and went to meet my daughter.

I pulled into meet her, she said "Daddy where were you?" I said: "I fell down." She laughed and said "That was you I saw?" Oh, it was.

The next thing I know, Maggie is next to me, saying "Look! Look!" And there was our youngest, making lazy s-curves on the green hill, showing a control and ability that, compared to the day before, was leaps and bounds ahead. Startling, really.

Yay, synaptic connections. Youth is SO cool.

The four of us went on another couple of runs, then home. Maggie picked up my oldest when Adventure Camp ended.

The evening ended wonderfully: we dropped the kids at a Sugarbush Pizza and Movie night, and Maggie and I went out to dinner at "Timbers," the new restaurant at the bottom of the mountain. DInner was actually quite good... and Maggie and I tried about six different Vermont cheeses.

Reason number 217 that Maggie and I are a good couple: we both love cheese course.

Tomorrow, we look at Vermont real estate.

This was a GREAT vacation day. Possibly the best ever.

Love to all. Even you, the lady who tried to take my kid's seat at the movie.

Furnace timing: it's spooky!

Five years ago, our furnace quit on New Year's Eve.

Four years ago, our furnace quit on Christmas Day.

Yesterday, our furnace quit. Our babysitter, who's been checking on the cats, called to say that our hosue was 48 degrees, and that the furnace was off. My neighbor shut off the water main last night, and the repair folks are meeting the babysitter at the house sometime over the next few hours.

I'm dropping Maggie and the kids off at skiing in forty-five minutes, then coming back here to make sure I'm reachable during the repairs. Which sucks, because it's 25 degrees and climbing: looks to be a beautiful day to ski.

Alas. Hopefully I'll be able to ski in the afternoon.

Love to all. Even you, the folks who miscommunicated about who should be where, when.

No degrees.

Day off today. It's cold.

We're going to take the kids to the Ben & Jerry's factory (every kid should go there once), and to see the Icelandic ponies at The Mad River Inn.

Yesterday was a wicked hard day, parenting-wise. My oldest got into a teenage-level funk and was challenging everything we said... from not being allowed to jump off the roof of the neighbor's house (!) to who gets to ski with who, to where to eat to whether we could stop for a brochure for this ski lodge to pretty much anything else we suggested... and he always remained about 20 yards back. Stopping and plopping into the snow until we called him over. The direct disagreements would be followed by long, long, moping periods. He snapped out of it eventually, but it's really hard for me to deal with.

On the other hand, my oldest has turned into an AMAZING skier. Totally fearless. I can't keep up with him at all. He skies into the woods at every opportunity, takes whatever jumps he can find, and basically radiates joy at every turn. It's kind of incredible to watch.

My daughter blew me away at the end of the day. As I watched, she skied down to the chairlift line, got on the lift alone, went to the top of the bunny hill, and skied back to me... all on her own. She looked terrific! I can't believe how much she's improved in the last few days.

My youngest has been hard at work in Ski School, and is really coming along. He's also quite taken with the teenage ski instructors.

To Maggie, there's almost nothing better than where we're it right now. The only thing that could make it better for her would be if we were staying in our own place. I'm not sure that's going to happen this year, but maybe someday. When Maggie skis, she has this terrific smile on her face... she definitely the family snow bunny.

So now, it's off to do dishes and head into town. My back is already thanking me for the day off.

Love to all. Even you, whoever parked in the middle of the one-way street.

Awesome snow. No power!

I've never skied in conditions like these: it's really deep! Maggie says that Colorado is like this all the time. Like, I'll try to make a turn, and my poles sink WAY, WAY, WAY into the snow. It's really fun and challenging. I'm really used to ice, I guess. Fabulous conditions like this are new to me.

I did the bunny hill with my oldest, then went on two runs with Maggie and my oldest... then left my them so they could go do their crazy-ass black diamond runs while I struggled down the high-intermediate hills. When I got to the bottom, I heard klaxons... then noticed that there were no lights on. Turns out the power is out in the whole valley. They mountain was completely shut down.

I feel terrible for the folks at Sugarbush. This is the biggest day of the years, and they had to close down at 12:30. Yikes. And after the winter they've had...

Maggie is picking up the two youngest from Ski school, while my oldest is out playing with some kids he just met. Me? I'm gonna post this, and then put away the groceries. We've got power here, which rocks.

Love to all. Even you, the snowboarder with the mucus issues.

7 hours later.

We're here at Sugarbush in Waitsfield, VT. Everyone's super duper tired.

There's a little bit of snow on the porch.

Repeat after me: "Yay!"

Love to all. Even you, the dude in the white pickup who flipped me off after I, um, counter-cut him off.

Vermont, here we come.

In about 10 minutes, we're all packing into the new car and driving 6ish hours to Waitsfield, Vermont, for a week of Ski and Snow at Sugarbush. I just got back from my daughter's doctor's office, because she's not feeling that great, and we wanted to make sure that she didn't have strep, like last time. She's definitely got something viral, but the instant test was negative.

We are psyched and, of course, struggling not to argue over how and when to pack and leave.

I'll report in upon arrival.

Love to all. Even you, whoever double-parked at the pediatrician's.

The Maggie List.

I wanted to take a moment and point out how much Maggie purely fucking ROCKS. I mean, I realize that I write about stresses and worries and this and that and bric and brac... but I sometimes forget to mention what a complete ROCK STAR Maggie is.

Why is she a complete ROCK STAR, you ask?

Because:

1. She's smart as shit. Don't try to out-logic her: she'll shred your ass. I'm always surprised at her ability to track and dissect a train of thought.
2. She's surprisingly funny. She's not a jokester, but out of nowhere, she can say something completely hilarious.
3. She laughs at my jokes. This is huge.
   
4. She's adventurous: she's gotten me to travel, to ski, and to basically do things I never, ever would have done on my own.
5. She's forgiving. Trust me on that one.
6. She's genuinely kind. She has no interest in harming others. I was raised with the idea that, well, revenge is a-ok, because they deserve it. Maggie has helped me with this.
   
7. She loves her children completely.
8. She's got beautiful blue eyes.
9. She let's me be me, except when I am being too much of a dick.
10. She isn't a pushover.
11. She'll take risks.
12. She's a hard working Irish lass.
13. She enjoys being alive more than anyone I know: she delights in the present.
14. She's got a better moral compass than me.
    
15. She's put up with my ADHD, alcoholic, occasionally quick-to-anger self for 13 years and counting... which is about 10 years longer than anyone else.
16. Apparently, when you mix her genes with my genes you get kick-ass kids.

I just wanted you folks to know this. And I wanted to remind myself, as well.

Love to all. Even you, the guy who has been emailing me under three different names.

A nice place to sit. In spring.

During an ice storm, not so much.

Love to all. Even you, the creative director with the shifting technical standards.

Love, love, love, love.

I'm awash in the stuff, and sometimes it's overwhelming.

I love Maggie in a lot of different ways. Sometimes it's companionate, sometimes its lusty, sometimes it's just kind of a mellow undercurrent. We've been together for thirteen years, now, so it's starting to seem like we've swapped genes, rather than just having fused them together a few times to make the youngins. These days, I spend a bit of time thinking about how to ensure that the fires remain stoked. It's really, really important.

I love my boys in a proud/worried way. They are headstrong, funny, wonderful boys that drive me up a fucking wall. I love my oldest fiercely, and I fear that I've given him a big-ass genetic dose of the things that are wrong with me... and that are also my best assets.

I love my friends in a mostly-pure way. There's one woman-friend that, under different circumstances, I might have pursued. Wait, scratch that. If I were SINGLE, I probably would have tried to sleep with every single female friend of mine. And female acquaintance. Because I am a class-A hound for the ladies. It's the subject of no small amount of ribbing from Maggie. I'm a sap for them, and I catch much-deserved shit for it. It's harmless, mostly. There's just this ONE friend that I have who I would probably have tried to seriously date, were circumstances different. It's a strange course, becoming friends with someone like that, but I guess it's part of being a "grownup."

My daughter. Well, my daughter is my ever-sustainable, always-renewable energy source. She's my big-eyed beauty and she sets off tiny bomblets of joy in my heart every time I look at her. She makes me feel like it doesn't matter what happens in the world, as long I'm able to protect her. She has changed my understanding of what it means to feel.

I'm a lucky man, to have so much love in my life.

Happy Valentine's day eve.

Love to all. Even you, the guy who shortchanged his colleague.

So I'm cheesy.

I bought two lava lamps. One for work, one for home. I believe they are gentle talismans and harbingers of peaceful times. I'm weird like that.

Love to all. Even you, the lawyer who gave away way too many details to anyone who was listening.

Oh, forget it.

I had an argument with my son. I got really pissed off and spoke to him in a really angry way. REALLY angry. Like, "you're acting like a little shit" angry. First time I've ever done that.

He had an argument with me. He was really pissed off an spoke to me in a really angry way. REALLY angry. Like, "Your're being a jerk" angry. First time he's ever done that.

The fact of the matter is, I lost my shit after he and his Mother had an extended, loud, and utterly annoying argument about whether or not he should go on a sleepover.

But instead of writing all about it, I'm just going to say that I apologized for my part, he apologized for his (about six hours later... which is amazing for two reasons. First, that I was finally, finally able to let him stew for a while, and second, that he took the time to think about it and apologize later), and I learned a major lesson about letting him express himself and leaving him alone. I better start getting the hang of this before the teenage years, you know?

Love to all. Even you, me.

Pre-post.

Before I post a longer thing about how I completely lost my shit (verbally) with my 10-year-old, hitting what could be a new low in fatherhood for me, I want to say that I bought two lava lamps yesterday (one for work, one for home ), because I sort of think they are talismans.

Love to all. Even you, the kids who talk so much trash on XBOX Live that I won't let oldest online.

Tooth Fairy III: The End (for the moment)

After getting letters from my youngest AND my daughter, I realized I had to explain that the tooth fairy needed focus on collecting teeth... because one of these nights, I was TOTALLY going to get caught either sneaking letters away or sneaking responses under their pillows.

How'd I do?

Love to all. Even you, the therapist who got it all right.

The tooth fairy discourse continues.

My daughter was so happy with the note from the tooth fairy that she wrote another one. When she woke up this morning, this was under her pillow. (Clearly, the note didn't say "[daughter]"... I put that in there for this here post.)

Love to all. Even you, the girl with the odd smell.

Tooth fairy dialog.

Last night, my daughter sent a letter to the tooth fair via pillow mail. During our evening put-to-bed games, I managed to steal the letter and put it in my pocket. A minute or two later, when I was nowhere near her pillow, I said: "Did you hear that? It's a slight tinkling noise! I haven't heard that... since... I lost a tooth!"

My daughter ran to her pillow. "The letter is gone! Why didn't the tooth fairy write back?"

I said: "She probably took the note home to read. Maybe she'll write back come morning."

When my daughter woke up, she found the note above under her pillow.

Love to all. Even you, the guy who emailed me a scan of a crumpled piece of paper.

Why I love New York, part 782

I love New York because just by walking across town to do collections at a deadbeat client, I can run across the studio of an awesome TV show.

Love to all, even you the incredibly twitchy lady sleeping next to me on the train.

20.25, and Happy Birthday, Dad.

I ran 20.25 miles today. At this point, I just need to be consistent... and not injure myself before March 25. This is no small undertaking. When I went skiing in Vermont LAST year, I threw out my back. Yikes.

Today is my father's birthday. I haven't spoken to him for something like 4 years now. The last time I heard from him was when he threatened Maggie and my father-in-law because I cc'd him on an email to my Great Aunt congratulating her on the move to California. And that was after three years had passed since there was any kind of communication between us. That kind of non-fading rage is pretty impressive. And frightening.

I had written my Great Aunt this:

Congratulations on the move! What a huge undertaking... I personally suggest you hook yourselves up with one of those fabulous California Spas for some serious pampering.

Things here are great: (Oldest) is skateboarding unbelievably well, and just finished his first season on the swim team. (Daughter) and (Youngest) are in gymnastics camp, and having a ball. Maggie’s got her hands full trying to get everyone where they need to be in a timely manner. As for me, I’ve got my 6th race of the year (and my third half-marathon of 2005) in a week and a half... I’m trying to convince (Cousin) to run it with me. Although if he does, I’m sure he’ll totally leave me in his dust.

Keep us in the loop, we’re really glad to hear what’s up!

And four MINUTES later, I got this from my father:

Never again send email to our address. Never. Keep in mind that your wife and your father-in-law committed felonies when they filed a false police report — and charges can still be brought. It was only on the advice of a Chief of Police for the protection of the children that we did not. Send a email to us just once more, and we will.

Now, he said the things he said in his note for very specific reasons, as far as I can tell. Having the kind of problems that he has: not being able to let anything go without a conclusive decision in his favor, not being able to de-escalate his anger, etc., etc., he's held on to the fact that we called the cops after he sent really threatening letters, and the cops told him to cut the shit or they'd arrest him. It's like he's been waiting, for years, for the opportunity to trump our local policeman with "A Chief of Police." The funny thing was that we didn't file a police report. We just showed them the letters, and the police asked us: "Warn him or arrest him?"

We chose "warn."

His whole "for the sake of the children" thing bugs me, though. For a while, he was making horribly scary threats about doing thing to protect his grandchildren, because Maggie and I were unfit parents for undisclosed reasons. But he never did anything.

And this is what pissed me off, and made me realize that all his raging was impotent, and sad.

Because if he really thought my kids were in danger, he should have done something about it. I would have expected nothing less from someone who really cared, and who really thought there were problems.

Ugh. Ugh, ugh, ugh.

So, Dad. Happy birthday. I can't believe that you're missing out on your grandchildren's lives. It's so unnecessary. I hope you get whatever help you need, because I know that you're a good person with some serious fucking problems. But you're a good person.

I love you.

Love to all.

Fun with PhotoBooth

My youngest has a 103-degree fever. My oldest is at hockey. My daughter MUST be entertained. PhotoBooth to the rescue!

Love to all. Even you, plow guy.

Yes, Fiona. I admit it.

Fiona asked whether I bought my 12-inch lightsticks for the kids or for me. The answer is a little more complicated. Because, Fiona, I didn't buy the 12-inch lightsticks. Nor did I steal them. Nor were they a gift.

The truth: I was given them for free because I'm such a good bulk lightstick customer.

It's true. I buy lightsticks in bulk quantities. For myself. Mostly.

Now, it's important for me to make sure you know that I buy NORMAL size lightsticks. The massive beasts from the post below were promotional. And normal lightsticks come in handy in so many ways:

• soothing scared kids
• handing them out to every single person on the beach in Montauk before the fireworks on July 4
• party favors
• random acts of giving on elevators in New York City
  

When I submitted my order for the free glowsticks, I did wind up buying 5 LED "chaser necklaces," for which I have absolutely no use at all.

But they're so cool.

Love to all. Even you, the newspaper delivery guy with the 4:30 am lead foot.

Best. Lightsticks. Ever.

Oh, baby. 12 inches of pure chemical reaction. Dig it.

Love to all. Even you, whoever whomped by mailbox.

37 years, 364 days and...

Chompity chomp chomp!

Love to all. Even you, the understandably angry traffic cop.