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.

One of the worst... oh wait.

I was going to say that this was one of the worst days I've ever had.

But then I thought about it... and it's not even close. Shit, today wasn't even in the top 500 worst days I've ever had.

True, I let someone go today. It wasn't an easy decision, and I hated doing it, but it was well thought out, and I sought the advice and feedback of two of my partners before actually doing anything. It wasn't a snap decision, either. I waited for the evidence and advice to trickle in. That's unlike me, but it's interesting how this is also the first time I was able to simply do it and move on. I feel bad, but I don't feel wrong.

Compare today with so many of those days from 1996 (when I started drinking again) to 2003 (when I quit again). Hell, I'm sober today. I didn't come home and drink myself silly. I just had a stressful day at work, like a million other people did. Lucky me.

Seriously. Lucky me.

So hey, God: thanks for the opportunity to have a run-of-the-mill really difficult day.

Oh, an update: My old bandmate (the singer), wrote me a really, really interesting email that served to:

1. Remind me that I was a dick for commenting like that. (She didn't say that. I did.)
2. Make me think a lot about how I relate to my pre-family life.

I'm going to write her back (privately, not in this blog), but I have to think about it a little.

Love to all. Even you, the vanishing man.