"Short"

“Life is short.”
That's the old saying,
But it's not really true.
Life is the longest thing
You’ll ever know.

Contentment is short.
Sunsets are short.
Play dates in sandboxes with colorful toys
Are short.

Relationships,
Walks on the beach with your dog,
The taste of lobster and butter,
A first kiss,
A last kiss,
A crackling campfire,
A rainy Sunday,
The first warm day of the year.
Those are short.

Life is long.
The moments that matter
Are short.

David E Morris, July 2006

Anatomy of a St. Louis snowstorm

A blow-by-blow account, as the snow piles up.

1 inch - TV stations broadcasting at 50 locations. File video of tires spinning. Reporters sporting Alaska-style parkas. Morris opens a bottle of scotch, while his neighbor considers putting a shirt on.

2 inches – Ada posts picture of stocked beer fridge, opens bottle of Drambuie, wishing he was a real scotch drinker.

3 inches – Morris opens second bottle of scotch. Dr. Mike considers calling Smuda to shovel his driveway.

4 inches – Fox 2's Dave Murray has mini stroke, slurs words like ‘apocalyptic’ and ‘polar vortex’.

5 inches – Morris wishes he had the hot tub heater fixed. Wishes he was a real Drambuie drinker.

6 inches – STL’s Channel 4 reports “KMOV has learned that ice chemicals are only effective above a certain temperature.” (Yes, they actually said that. Duh?) Channel 5 news director pissed that they got scooped again.

7 inches – Morris considers leaving couch to watch Emily shovel the driveway. Opens third bottle of scotch instead.

8 inches – Morris neighbor actually puts his shirt on, continues mowing grass. TV stations’ snow bunnies are now out in full force in tight ski suits, recommending military rations.

9 inches – White guys snicker and do that cocky sniff. Radio stations finally reporting snow is in the forecast. Dave Murray requires defibrillator but continues broadcasting.

10 inches – Is it time to buy another Hummer? Yes.

11 inches – Ada realizes his hot tub is also out of commission, does closest thing, farting in lukewarm bubble bath.

12 inches – Black guys snicker and do that cocky sniff. TV stations start fading. Is it snow on the satellite dish, or is Morris passing out?

13 inches – Dave Murray dies, is reanimated via a weird stew of stem cells and Irish cream, continues reporting that O’Fallon MO has 14 inches. Morris snickers and does that cocky sniff.

 14+ - Emily and Mike make snow angels in swimwear. Now a frozen ball, Earth slips out of orbit and begins drifting aimlessly through the cosmos. Dave Murray still doesn’t know how much snow we’ll get Wednesday night.

One night, a long time ago...

I'm having a really cool experience and felt like I should record it here.

It's the end of a crazy day, and I'm sitting in the living room. The house is dark, except for the light of my notebook computer. Above me are huge windows which provide a fucking amazing view of gathering storm clouds. Now and then in the distance, lightning flashes across the sky. A half-minute later, a low rumble of thunder and a slight gust of breeze.

It's surreal... and it takes me back.

It was a night in 1978. The light of the computer would have been the glow of the dial on a portable AM radio. The station I was listening to, The Mighty 1090 KAAY-Little Rock, was playing "Dreams" by Fleetwood Mac. I remember hearing the rain begin to hit my window and it felt like it was raining everywhere in the world. I felt this unexplainable combination of melancholy and elation.

It felt like the rain washed something away that night. Maybe my childhood, I don't know.

Tonight, my computer is providing the Fleetwood Mac... otherwise it feels eerily similar. I'm not sure what the rain is washing away this time.

What a trip.

... you live in a zoo...

So. Forty-five. Today I am halfway through the period most noted for middle-age crises, the onset of gout and a last-ditch effort to cling to your youth by having a child.

So far I am two for three.

Phrases like "young at heart" and "patriarch of the group" are starting to sting. I still look 40, I guess. But at somewhere near this age, you start aging in bursts. You'll look the same for three years, then age five all at once.

You start worrying that every little pain is a disease. That other people your age are making more money, enjoying more success and are more healthy than you. You begin realizing that your vision isn't QUITE as clear, your thought processes aren't QUITE as fast, and the idea that you will skydive or whitewater raft for a living fades a little further into the din. (Oh, don't worry, the hope is still there.)

A family member sent me an email this morning to excoriate me for forgetting to pay their satellite TV bill this month. The great news is, I can more believably attribute it to forgetfulness. The bad news is, they didn't even wish me "happy birthday." All the better I suppose. I DO hope to someday forget this date.

Here's hoping it blows through like a gentle breeze. As Lucy Larcom said, "Whatever with the past has gone, the best is always yet to come."

Yup. And I'm the luckiest son-of-a-bitch on Earth.

One last longhorn...

Technology is a take-no-prisoners juggernaut, leaving the destruction of Americana in its wake.

I love my HDTV, I am writing this on a new laptop while sipping coffee from an automatic grind, drip coffee maker. Technology and modern convenience are necessary evils in this forward-thinking, evolving world. I get it.

But sometimes I mourn the loss of the Cowboy. Not the kind that melted down in the run-up to the NFL playoffs. The real Cowboy.

The guy that didn't need a GPS to know where to poke the cows. He knew instinctively where to go and what perils lie ahead. We don't have instincts like that anymore.

The real cowboy knew the forecast by gut and by watching the horizon... not The Weather Channel, which was still 180 years in the future. Honestly, his forecast might have been more accurate.

Everything he needed was in his saddlebag. Rope, soap, beans and bacon, jerky, a kettle, flint rock, ammunition, coffee, cigarettes, salt, a good sharp knife, maybe a Bible, and certainly a flask of whiskey. The essentials. No shampoo, no Blackberry, no 16 year old scotch, no pager.

He spent his time alone with his cattle. There was always enough time (and quiet) to think. His true love was likely the memory of a woman. His commitment was to his herd and the horizon.

His idea of luxury was a hot bath in the next town, which might be two weeks away. His best friends were ranch folks and the occasional friendly Indian. His idea of mass transportation was a stagecoach, and his only communication was a telegraph wire. No cell phone, no text messages.

Just a man, his horse and the great outdoors.

There are cowboys today, but they're not the same. Real Cowboys are as extinct as purple sage and unowned land. They died when barbed wire and highways appeared.

Ironically, to those who enjoy today's advanced technology, it's popular to call those simpler times. I would argue they were infinitely more complex and difficult.

Back in the day, it was common to find an occasional feral horse, saddle still on. That usually meant that somewhere, a cowboy had thrown his last rope and gone to meet his maker.

What I wouldn't give to have him back.

Haircut Day

It's weird.

Today started with crappy roads and cold weather, which made the task of transferring the baby seat and driving both vehicles out so the van could get serviced rather dicey.

Then the session of one of my bigger clients, which was a very full page of several hard-to-read promos, was running a quarter-hour late.

I began the daunting task of bringing all of my billing in-house, which involves heavy levels of data entry and client contact. I did some banking and balanced the books, which is never a positive experience. (Why is it you never err in the positive? This time I was off less than 2-grand.)

The van wasn't finished on time so we ended up leaving it overnight, which isn't at all convenient.

The baby was very fussy today, as he struggled with teething and sinus congestion. He also had a diaper blow-out.

Not exactly a great day by any measuring stick!

And yet, at the end of it, I looked in the mirror and remembered I* got a haircut today. It's odd that such a simple event made such a positive impact. I look younger, it's easier to take care of, and it was a chance to socialize with the "barber"... the usual small talk about weather, the stock market and Christmas.

But it made my day. Renewing and invigorating, haircuts are.



*No, that's not a picture of today's haircut.

It is just me, or...

• Do you also get a feeling of comraderie and synergy with the person in the car in front of you when your turn signals are blinking at exactly the same time and rate? It's like we're in the same positive chi aura. That, or we're both driving Chryslers.


• Do you also feel bad when the Chinese restaurant delivers more fortune cookies than you need, indicating you're a big, fat, overeating hog? Is it really that unusual for one person to order Sesame Chicken, Kung Pao Shrimp AND Peking Duck?


• Do you also wonder about what the hell kind of future lies ahead if Dippin' Dots will be our ice cream? (and how goddamn far into the future do I have to wait before I witness someone actually making a Dippin' Dots purchase?)


• Are you also afflicted with an itchy rash on your arms after assembling and lighting a Christmas tree? I think I'll invent something called Tannen Balm* to ease the pain.


• Do you also have a love/hate relationship with bumper stickers? I would never put one on my vehicle, but I am amused by the sarcastic, offensive ones, while completely put off by the "my son is an honor student" ones, and the latest rage, the stick figure family stickers.


• Are you also having writer's block in YOUR blog world? I mean, look at the shitty material I came up with for this post. Surely it gets better from here.

*FUCK! I thought I had another Dave Original, but when I google "tannen balm" there are seven results. I swear I started this blog about 5 years too late.

Pet peeve

People who form nicknames for others (or themselves) using the first syllable of the person's first name, followed by "ster." Example, Davester.

Secondary peeve for usage of the suffix "meister." It's all sooo early 90's.

Is the term "special" offensive as well?

LINK

I wonder if we're losing the ability to laugh.

During the course of the new movie Tropic Thunder, Ben Stiller's character is repeatedly labeled "retard." The character is not really retarded, mind you.

So now people are protesting the movie. That's fine, protesting is a good thing. How else will you let people know how you feel? But understand that in this country, there exists no "right" to not be offended.

Making fun of ourselves (and each other) is a cornerstone of comedy. I like comedy. It tends to be funny.

The other day as I was giving my son "eskimo kisses," it occurred to me that I might not be able to use that term much longer, for fear of offending Inuits, Aleuts and others. (even though the term Eskimo seems in no way offensive)

Are we becoming so politically correct that we're harming the cause?

Your junk is showing

As I box up all the dumpsteriffic stuff from the garage so we can park two cars inside, I've been making trips to our storage space this week.

There are few places more lonely than a storage lot on a late weekend afternoon. I've never seen another person there. Most of the spaces are occupied by stuff people no longer need but can't seem to throw away. Family "heirlooms," bikes no longer ridden, golf clubs no longer used (because I SUCK at it), boxes full of divorce file folders and other various and sundry junk. (this is a shot of our particular storage space, complete with large pink flamingo)

There are lonely, partially wrecked cars parked all around with flat tires and broken windows, a dumpster for move-outs, and tumbleweeds. There's just something melancholy about the place.

While there I snapped a few pictures and wondered how long it would be until someone else happened along.

Things that unfortunately occur to me

So goes the cat foot jingle from the 1980's:

"My kitty cat craves chicken,

my kitty cat craves milk,

my kitty cat craves tuna,

so my kitty cat craves Crave."

You know what? I don't give a shit. I hope for his sake that he's craving Meow Mix again today. When he contributes in a meaningful way, he can choose his own food.

-----

Emily's running around like a crazy woman this morning, so I'm staying out of her way. She clearly has tasks and an agenda.

Isn't that man's finest role? Just being a stay-out-of-the-wayer? Grayson, ESPN and I will just be over here on the couch with our breakfast Budweiser until she needs us to work the grill or something.

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Yet another old friend has found me via this blog and Google. It's a guy I haven't talked to in 20 years, so we played catch-up via email this weekend. Very cool! We had a lot of fun back-in-the-day.

Several old friends have now Googled me up. Isn't it weird (not that I'd WANT it to happen) that no old girlfriends have seeked me out? I suppose that says something about my dating prowess.

Oh wait, I always used fake names with girlfriends. Never mind.

I hope no old enemies look me up.

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Is it possible for there to be an epidemic of hypochondria? Think about that for a few minutes - it gets funnier.

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Here is a picture of some gnarly-assed chompers that'll make bile rise in your throat.







Remember kids, at least 10 strokes for each tooth.

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Speaking of teeth, my son just gave me a big, toothless grin. There is no amount of money that I'd trade for one of those per day.

Ok, so he just barfed on my robe and let a rather suspicious sounding fart. I'd consider trading those.

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New e-trade baby commercial with a Blackberry phone. I wonder how much it cost them NOT to make it an iPhone...



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I'm considering doing something so emasculating - so incredibly capitulatory - I almost hesitate to bring it up.

In fact, I've decided not to say anything about it now. I'm completely on the fence still, so bringing it up will only tempt fate and cause the cold, noxious prejudice to seep from your black soul.

I'll let you know if/when I decide to remove my own testicles by committing this act I'm considering.

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I'm pretty tapped now. I'll add more if I think of anything. Grayson and Dad, signing off!

Know what I don't understand?

When did camels ever carry straw? In all of history, I've never heard of a camel carrying a single straw, much less enough to break a back.

"The only human institution which rejects progress is the cemetery." - Harold Wilson

Tonight, as we dined outside under the stars on the deck, we saw a great example of how things change. Within one year, the payoffs for our personal wagers have gone from sexual favors to who'll wash the bottles.

In one year.

So I rustled up a few quotes about change. Don't expect them to change your mind about anything.

If you don't like something change it; if you can't change it, change the way you think about it. ~Mary Engelbreit

Change is inevitable - except from a vending machine. ~Robert C. Gallagher

If you're in a bad situation, don't worry it'll change. If you're in a good situation, don't worry it'll change. ~John A. Simone, Sr.

There is a certain relief in change, even though it be from bad to worse! As I have often found in travelling in a stagecoach, that it is often a comfort to shift one's position, and be bruised in a new place. ~Washington Irving

Faced with the choice between changing one's mind and proving that there is no need to do so, almost everyone gets busy on the proof. ~John Kenneth Galbraith

Change always comes bearing gifts. ~Price Pritchett

The only difference between a rut and a grave is their dimensions. ~Ellen Glasgow

You can avoid having ulcers by adapting to the situation: If you fall in the mud puddle, check your pockets for fish. ~Author Unknown

I put a dollar in one of those change machines. Nothing changed. ~George Carlin

All change is not growth, as all movement is not forward. ~Ellen Glasgow

There is no reason why the same man should like the same books at eighteen and forty-eight. ~Ezra Pound

God grant me the serenity to accept the people I cannot change, the courage to change the one I can, and the wisdom to know it's me. ~Author Unknown

And my favorite:

We would rather be ruined than changed; We would rather die in our dread then climb the cross of the moment and let our illusions die. ~W.H. Auden

Happiness is not a destination, it's a journey

For years I've heard that phrase and for years I thought it made perfect sense. But lately I've been thinking maybe it's a matter of perspective.

How can you tell someone who has been divorced many times, fought cancer, lost a child or lost their home and recovered from those things to land on their feet, that happiness is found in the journey? THAT journey doesn't sound happy at all.

It's really an individual thing, isn't it? Maybe for some, happiness is where they are now.

Our neighbor's son recently suffered a house fire and had to come live with his parents. At about the time the rebuild was complete, the pipes burst and flooded the home, which delayed their return. A couple of months later, while his son awaited repairs from the pipe burst, the neighbor's wife died. Then, last night, the basement of his house (where the son and his family were still staying) flooded from the rain.

Not a happy journey.

Of course today isn't really your ultimate destination - it's just one stopping point along the journey. But I'd say for some, happiness is still somewhere down the line...

I can see your house from here

Ever wonder if you've reached your pinnacle? If today is the best you'll ever be?

I do. If I had to pick a time in my life that represented my happiest, most secure and content time, I'd have to say now. Today.

So what does that say of tomorrow? I wonder. I guess I'll know when it gets here.

But for now, I can't help but feel that if my life were a play, act two has already begun. Time is ticking by, and I've yet to find a way to make the audience cry.

Some aging white guy in some office somewhere

It's posts like this from Steve Mays that got me interested in blogging:

"I have this fantasy of some guy serving a life sentence. In his cell 23 hours a day. No TV, no radio, no books or magazines... just a computer that can only do one thing. Show the images from my webcam.

What sort of story would he construct from these images. Year after year, some aging white guy in some office somewhere. People walking past the open doorway, sometimes coming in to talk. About something he'll never know. Would he wonder about my moods from my facial expressions? Would he feel as though he knows me after years of watching me, hour after hour?"

Many of us, the brotherhood of the blog, choose to leave the curtain of our window pulled aside a little in the event someone wants a peek. There is worth and interest in all of our lives, whether your view is from the top of the Sears Tower or a basement window overlooking a pond.

Mousetrap

Putting a baby down to sleep is a little like setting a mousetrap.

You must gingerly "set" both... for the baby, it's a fresh diaper, swaddle, a little soothing and a pacifier. It's analogous to putting the crossbar of the trap into the little slot, releasing the tension and hoping it holds.

Then, you have to quietly, easily, set the baby down. Much like a moustrap, if you make the wrong move...

SNAP!!!!!!!!!

If you're a parent and have ever set a mousetrap, you will get this analogy. Sometimes, in either case, it's best for the faint of heart to leave the room and allow someone more brave to handle things. Which is why, at 4:45 am, I'm in the kitchen writing this.

Thoughts during my drive home

I think I've had a pretty good life. Not in the same way Bill Gates or Ron Jeremy have, but I've managed to pack a lot in. (Ron Jeremy joke - click the link if you don't get it)

Don't misunderstand, I've had plenty of hard times... but the quality of your life isn't defined by how easy it is. Good means a positive net result, even from negative events.

Henry David Thoreau said "How vain it is to sit down to write when you've never stood up to live." While my life is a work in progress, I have plenty to write about already. Some things I've learned:

• Be careful about who you marry. In fact, unless you find someone so great you just can't help yourself... by all means HELP YOURSELF. Having said that, we're checking on banquet halls and facilities for the ceremony. Do as I say, not as I do.
• You are a product of your past and the events of your life. There's no getting around it, so it's best to just accept it. That's why they make Zoloft.
• If you're doing okay in life, it's okay to take credit for it. Nothing is free, everything takes hard work and there are no exceptions to that rule. Unless you're Paris Hilton.
• Pets are cool, unless they shit on your bed or shed on your couch. I've had few better friends than my cat, Kramer... and he's done both. I don't even like cats, and fully believe they will someday arrive by the millions in spaceships to take over the Earth. Kramer will be the Darth Vader of that movement... but he's still pretty cool.
• I miss the feeling, when I was a kid, of hearing "David! Time for dinner!" I was always hungry by then, and on the way in, it was fun to try to guess what would be on the table. My modern-day equivalent to that experience is Emily yelling down the stairs to me, "Dave, which restaurant are we going to tonight?"*
• You can't smile while you're wiping. I've mentioned it here before and all my friends agree. They've tried.
• I can hold a piece of my son's clothing or one of his stuffed animals (he's scheduled to arrive in April) and feel like I'm holding him. Same with my daughter. It's a connection that comes with parenthood. Kids feel that same connection when they hold their parents' wallet.
• There is nothing more soothing than sitting at a piano, playing. I suspect the same is true of an acoustic guitar, although all I can play is "Smoke on the Water" on one string. Both instruments feel really personal and emotional to me. It's why I like Jackson Browne and Billy Joel.
• Music might be the quintessential emotional connection that bonds us all. If you doubt that, listen to "These Days" by Jackson Browne, "Waitin' On a Sunny Day" by Springsteen or "Go Down Easy" by Fogelberg.
• 4:00 am is a great time to write Things I've Learned lists on my blog.

I'm headed back to bed now, I have to be up again by 8. It sucks to be in demand! ;)

*Em's a wicked-amazing cook, but we never seem to have time.

Thought sausage

Recently I was talking to a friend about Emily in the abstract, and couldn't decide how to refer to her. Girlfriend seemed trite. Wife is waaaaay heavy (and not even accurate yet) (and so scary too) so I settled for fiancée.

After I got off the phone, it occured to me that fiancée is a really stupid word. It's way too complicated. Fee-ohhhns-aaaaay.

The English language is like a five-bedroom house that started as a one-bedroom bungalow. You can tell where the original house was, and the additions look like... well, additions.

Side note: Before you tell me fiancée is French, yeah I know. There is no simple English word for it. Betrothed? Ha, it's like the sound you make when you throw up. Prospective spouse seems a little formal and like you're not sure it's going to happen.

The language is a mess. Lead and led. They're, there, their. Damn, dam. C'mon, aren't there (They're? Their?) open words available that aren't being used, so we can simplify a little??? It is my opinion that this five-bedroom house needs to be torn down, and replaced with a nice atrium ranch with a pool.

Yeah, I'm suggesting starting the language almost from scratch.

Side note again: The Mexicans will hate us, since they've only just learned to say "please," "thank you" and "your shrubs need trimming and I can help" in English.

I think we should begin converting the longest words first. We can assign them unused one-syllable words. For instance, the longest word found in major dictionaries is Pneumonoultramicroscopic-
silicovolcanoconiosis. Let's give it... meeb.

Another good one is Antidisestablishmentarianism. It is now ard. We'll use (you's?) all (awl?) possible combinations of single-syllable words first, then move on and add (ad?) a second syllable as needed. No (know?) two words will have the same sound.

One of the other words I'll be glad to (two? too?) see changed is cantaloupe. What the hell is the deal with THAT word? It's now ap. (which is fine, because it's pronounced "app," not "ape"... and app is no longer short for application, because application is now bem.)

And so (sew?) now, fiancée is... beeb.

Final side note: As an example of how stupid the language is, how ironic is it that abbreviation is a five-syllable word?

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I was relieved to learn that they found a family that had been lost in the woods of Northern California for three days.

When they were back in civilization and were warmed up, they were asked how they survived in such harsh weather. "Jesus Christ" was their answer.

Let me say that I think faith in God is a fine thing, and many find great strength in their faith. (I don't go to church as often as I should, usually only around the holidays.) But it's sad to me that people rob themselves of credit for being smart, strong, or brave. It must be a pretty strange feeling not to feel like you're in control of your life. Personally, I think that Dad is pretty heroic.

Anyway, it reminded me of an old joke:

A guy was sitting on the roof of his house in a flood and a boat happened along. "Ahoy, climb aboard, we'll get you to dry land!"

"No, that's okay, I'm a man of faith and I'm waiting for God to rescue me." So the boat left.

A little later a helicopter hovered above and a man on a bullhorn shouted, "Grab the rope and we'll pull you up. The water's rising and you don't have long!"

"No thanks, I'm waiting for the Lord to save me. I'm sure he'll be along momentarily. Save someone else!" he said.

About then, a wave came down the river and knocked him from his perch and into the swirling water. A little while later he found himself at the gates of Heaven, talking to God himself. "Lord, I put all my faith in you to save me, and you didn't. Why?"

"Shoot, Bob, I gave you free will, a boat and a helicopter, what more did you expect?"

(I love the idea that God would use a word like "shoot." Haha!)

Stay in the truck

There are very few more poignant, ass-kicking insults than telling someone to "stay in the truck." In effect, you are saying: "Your opinion means little here and you are a newbie, a rookie, a novice... therefore I shall handle this transaction and you are to remain silent."

Except all you need are those four short, mentally debilitating words.

In fact, I've found that with just a few added words, it can be even more stinging: "Stay in the truck with the windows rolled up." Meaning: "You are an EXTREME novice, and you don't even deserve to overhear the transaction I, alone, am about to handle based on your rookiness."

Level three is: "Stay in the truck with the windows rolled up and the radio loud." Meaning: "It is ridiculous that I would even attempt to explain the transaction I am about to handle singlehandedly, even after-the-fact, because you are the mental equivalent of a toddler with Reyes Syndrome."

Finally: "Stay in the truck with the windows rolled up, the radio loud, and a hose through the window from the exhaust pipe." This is the ultimate insult. Meaning: "I am so far ahead of you, and so much more capable of handling this transaction, you merely staying in the truck isn't enough... you've begun to take up space that I cannot afford, so the world would be better off if your noviceness were permanently removed."

I think I had too much coffee this morning.

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I've started a new website - Rad or Bad. It's a place where I'll post reviews of my experiences with customer service people, businesses, companies, restaurants, etc. I'll post both good and bad for the whole world to see. Via comments, it will be interactive - feel free to contribute anything you'd like. I will begin posting tomorrow, and I'm sure the posts will be every bit as sporadic as the ones here. http://www.radorbad.net/.