too big

Nora is growing so fast. She is so smart. Her memory is truly amazing. She is starting to have friends over now, actually, a couple of days ago she got off of the bus with her friend "E" at our house. It sounds great and all, except we had no idea she was going to have a friend over. Just showed up here... They ran happily off of the bus exclaiming that they were going to have a sleepover. "Um...OK?  Jenny immediately called the girls mom and they were here actually before she was off of the phone. They were already on their way. It was pretty funny. They are planners... I wouldn't go so far as saying they are schemers just yet, but I bet the day will come. Nora is growing in all the right ways too. She is becoming thoughtful and smart. I love who she is.

green

If you were to open my ebooks menu on my ipad, you would see three lonely books. One of those is a guide to growing moss. I swear to you, a 250 page guide to growing moss. I am that boring. Even if you are reading this and are mocking me from a distance, you have to admit, sometimes moss can be kind of .... cute? Alright, maybe not cute. But nice though. Its like a little carpet out in the woods.

The green is going away. It does go out in a flash of color... and  I do love fall, but that green, the green of sunlight filtered through leaves, the green of moss creeping up a fallen tree in the middle of the woods, I love that green. I tend to have a hard time in the winter. I am an outdoor kind of guy, and the winter doesn't really bode well for me. Plus, I hate getting sick. As a teacher of disease prone, sneezing,  non-handwashing eighth graders, I do get sick in the winter. My plan this winter is to force myself to get out more. I am going to try skiing again. Take Chauc out for walks as often as possible. Still, its the huddling up, that mental packing it in that happens in preparation for the winter that kind of panics me. We could almost afford a fireplace this year. We are shooting for next winter. That might just be enough to turn around my feelings about the winter... snuggling up with a mulled cider. Yeah. It would be a whole different place.

breakfast

And this is why I love Country Mischief: Fire, home made corn beef hash, Fire, Hot Chocolate with whipped cream, Fire, homemade herbed bread toast, Fire, Fire, Fire.

hiking in the rain

Today was Henry's cubscbout campout night. We camp in Rutland State Park at a campground that is off limits to everyone else. I still do not know how that worked out, but it is awesome. There are plenty of campsites and a nice wooden roofed pavilion... its pretty great. We camped here once before, last year, and I woke at about 2:30 in the morning to hear a pack of coyotes running past our tents howling like there was no tomorrow. Its a really cool place. 

This year I was asked to take the cubscouts on a hike to the prison camps. I did it, we did it, but not without casualties. Most of the cubscouts that were present for the hike were tiger scouts. Tiny little guys, and the hike was a little over 2 and half miles there and the same back... a little over a five mile hike. This is plausible, but the little guys tire out pretty quick. I warned everyone before we set out about the length, but they still opted to go. We got to the prisoncamps in about an hour, and then it started raining. It wasn't a downpour, just a couple of light showers, but I could feel everyones' eyes slowling boiling me alive. I think that they thought I was in charge or some such thing. I don't know... I do know that they hated me. I couldn't think of a thing to say back. This is what I was asked to do... I warned them of the length... We all knew that it was probably going to rain. 

It was cold too. I was dying by the time we got back to camp. I hadn't taken a jacket... just a t-shirt. Henry loved it of course. He loves the rain. I have to beg him to stay in when it starts raining. Many times I just let him out in it. He played "War against the Germans" with his friend Nicholas the whole way there and back. They fell down sniper style and cleared the way for everyone... cute.... and slightly scary. 

db

Broken

Sometimes it is hard being a father. Not because of the responsibilities, although there are certainly those, but because of the expectations. I was wrestling with Chaucer on the floor tonight and I knelt down on one of Henry's Bakugons. It snapped under my knee, cut right through my pants and into my kneecap. Henry saw it happen, and lets say, it wasn't a good scene... for hours afterward. I felt like such a heel. I know its only a little toy, but it was very meaningful to him and I couldn't fix it. I told him I would buy him another, but Henry gets really attached to things. I do too. I remember crying for days because my parents switched out my bureau for another one. I understand the attachment thing.

I went out the next day to buy some superglue and fixed it in about thirty seconds. I told him and he casually said "OK." Like it was no big deal... like I hadn't tried to comfort him about it for two hours the night before. Like I hadn't swam in guilt all night and rushed out the next day to make everything better. "OK."  It is the expectations that get me. He values me as the person that can make things right. If I do so, it is his expectations that are met and everything is simply the way it should be. It isn't an amazing act of self deprivation... it is the expectation. And it is the way that I want it to be as well. I want to be that person... but I can feel the foreshadowing. When I can't run out and glue it back together. When I do something that really disappoints in a very real and harming way. I know that I am capable of that.  I am dreading those days.

Until then, perhaps it is in these little things that he learns I am human...fallible... able to mess things up. Maybe it is what he needs to be learning so when I do step into it in a big way, he is able to see through the circumstance and into my humanity.

db

minority

I live my life as such the majority that it comes as a complete shock sometimes when I am not. I look basically like everyone else around me... you know, minus the ridiculously handsome beard... No one really pays me a second glance. And I am used to that. I remember a long time ago when my family was on vacation somewhere.... I actually don't remember where, but somewhere when I was in my teens and I had big long hair. ( see the pic to the right just to help the mental image. I am the one on the far right) and we stopped somewhere for lunch. People were looking at me like had just got naked and was waving a bloody flag around. Literally parents were shooing their kids away from me as I walked down the sidewalk. It felt a bit powerful.. and I remember laughing. But it also felt wrong. I was a pretty decent guy. I didn't kill people for a living, and these guys had no right assuming anything like that about me.

I was a minority again today. I went to my friend Asima's daughter's wedding. They are Indian and Muslim and I am neither of those things. We have been friends a long time and feel no awkwardness at all regarding our differences. In fact, I love them. I love going over their house for food... trust me, the food is very very good. And I love going over their for birthdays and the like. There are rules there that I don't have, big rules, and I really do find it interesting to see them played out. So this was my first Indian wedding. I think we were the only non-Indian, non-Muslims there. We were the only ones that I saw anyway. I didn't know what I was going to think of it. It is so rare that I am thrown into a place that has such a different set of rules and culture. It was beautiful. One thing that I love about Indian culture is the color. Beautiful silks and gold flashing everywhere. I also love the singing of the Quran. I have been to a couple different things where the holy book is sung. Judaism for sure, and Islam... and in some places, Christianity. I wonder where Christianity veered from the singing of the Bible. In many Orthodox churches it is still sung. Most protestant churches it isn't. It is a beautiful thing to hear those words sung out.

In most other ways the service was very similar to any other religious event that I have been to. The Imam (I believe that's the right name) gave a message that could have been spoken in any church that I have been a part of. Love, for everyone, is central to God's desire. Yes, completely agree. People gave speeches in regard of the married couple. There was food and people mingled. It wasn't completely common day, I had to ask if it was OK to take pictures, and it was. But I wasn't sure. They prayed. I have seen Muslim prayer a few times before, and it beautiful to watch. I especially love the hand position that some people take, open hands facing their face. Some motion, what looks to me like a washing hand motion over their face after prayer. The symbolism in this, from my observation at least, was beautiful.

It was a nice night. I am happy to have been out of my comfort zone and safely in the hands of another culture.

db

boheminora

Fleece Beret................................................................................ √
Matching sweater dress ...............................................................√
Black tights..................................................................................√
Black sparkly sequin shoes..........................................................√
Tri-color beads slung asymetrically over one shoulder.................√
Mandolin in backpack case strung loosely across back................√
Extra guitar leaning against wall...................................................√
Psuedo-hipster half smile..............................................................√
Devlish glint in eye.......................................................................√