And I mean that in the most positive way possible. I am not speaking of a “fat” day, or a guilt day. Just leaving the house this morning, without a jacket, with sun shining the whole day seemed large and open before me.
It could be directly attributable to the fact we are on our fourth amazing day in a row, at least morning, and I speak in terms of weather. The suns is bright, greens are starting to look green, reds more reddish. I have really felt like nature has been literally coming back to life. The funny thing is, the winter wasn’t that bad at all. It was mild, and we did have a fair amount of precipitation (rain and snow) but not much to really call over whelming. But there was a real feeling of dreary, of winter. I think this week has kind of been like an old dog getting up and shaking the cobwebs off.
It could be my inevitable reaction to payday, on a Friday. And the fact that Kara and I have plans for the weekend, nothing stringent, restrictive or dire. For that matter nothing overly elaborate or awe inspiring either. Just plans with the kiddos, and with friends.
There is the distinct and definite possibility that the BBQ will be churning and burning most of the weekend, and that our friends will be on hand to share good times with. These moments have started to become bittersweet as we are picking and moving on in few months, as are two of the friends involved in our weekend plans.
My reaction this morning could have been for this morning and sharing the love of my kids, (before the #$%^in sun came up) or the love of my wife who remained lazily in bed, with a grin on her face, long after the sun came up!
Before this blog runs on with me and goes on longer that it should I will come to somewhat of an indulgent and personally profound conclusion.
Today is a large day; there are infinite possibilities in every moment. The is so much possibility for joy and good times for the next bit that it could outweigh everything but the most catastrophic turn of events.
It is a Friday without borders.
31.3.06
29.3.06
An Awesome Tuesday!!!
Well, I do believe Spring is here, (and yes I have likely jinxed us to one more bad turn of weather) and I consider it official as yesterday marked the first day of barbeque season for the Lang family.
On the weekend, Kara made reference, in passing, to the barbeque. Of course I’ve been following the weather ever since. Yesterday, Tuesday, was an awesome day. It was an awesome day for running and an awesome day for barbecuing.
Both Kara and I got excellent runs in yesterday; I got a quick 6.5km run in at the trails behind the gym, and Kara did her first hill work out just round the block from the house. So what better way to get to suppertime!
Bubba was in the yard the whole time and was initiated on the “BBQ”! After a few tense moments wondering if it would light (we weren’t sure how much propane we had) WHOOSH! We were in business, and Bubba and I both kept our eyebrows.
There were a couple of spiders that dropped out of the barbeque after lighting and Bubba got a big stick and moved them safely to the driveway, where Phia put them out of there misery…we’ll have to work on compassion…
At any rate a short time later we enjoyed an amazing supper of grilled pork chops, with Bullseye BBq sauce, grilled sweet potato and zucchini, and sautéed mushrooms and onions….
Great recovery food!!
Nathaniel is hoping for nice weather Sunday, and so am I, BBQ’d Pancakes here we come…!!!! YUMMY!
Happy barbecuing all!!
Til Next Time.
On the weekend, Kara made reference, in passing, to the barbeque. Of course I’ve been following the weather ever since. Yesterday, Tuesday, was an awesome day. It was an awesome day for running and an awesome day for barbecuing.
Both Kara and I got excellent runs in yesterday; I got a quick 6.5km run in at the trails behind the gym, and Kara did her first hill work out just round the block from the house. So what better way to get to suppertime!
Bubba was in the yard the whole time and was initiated on the “BBQ”! After a few tense moments wondering if it would light (we weren’t sure how much propane we had) WHOOSH! We were in business, and Bubba and I both kept our eyebrows.
There were a couple of spiders that dropped out of the barbeque after lighting and Bubba got a big stick and moved them safely to the driveway, where Phia put them out of there misery…we’ll have to work on compassion…
At any rate a short time later we enjoyed an amazing supper of grilled pork chops, with Bullseye BBq sauce, grilled sweet potato and zucchini, and sautéed mushrooms and onions….
Great recovery food!!
Nathaniel is hoping for nice weather Sunday, and so am I, BBQ’d Pancakes here we come…!!!! YUMMY!
Happy barbecuing all!!
Til Next Time.
28.3.06
Why I didn't do my LSD on Sunday.
Sadly, the following statement is true. It is the account of a man, whose ego has been not just bruised, but taken outside the local pub and given a “severe talking to” by the local hoodlums.
When we first moved to Oromocto we bought Nathaniel a Safety First tricycle, it was blue and yellow. They were neutral enough colors that we hoped Sophia would not become offended when it was handed down to her. It had nice big rubber tires and a no slip patch on the axle. Our PMQ is designed in such a way that there is a doorway from the kitchen to living room and both connect to the dining room. Thus creating a great racetrack in the house for Nathaniel to practice on. And practice he did, he got so good that last year Kara and I bought Nathaniel a small bike; it is black and red, with cool training wheels. It became his most prized possession. He would put on his glossy black helmet, and his Harley Davidson ™ leather jacket and ride relentlessly up and down the sidewalk in front of our house. He was like a gang member cruising his turf, back and forth, back and forth. He would be out there rain or shine and was noticed two weeks in a row by a photographer from the local paper, who snapped his picture and lo and behold he ended up in the newspaper.
Since last summer we have experimented a couple of times with taking his training wheels of and he rode/fell around the basement with reckless abandon. The experiment was short lived once we went outside, as there was no furniture to hang onto on the sidewalk. At any rate Nathaniel knows spring has sprung and he has been racing lap after lap in the basement, getting his form some would say.
I told you that to tell you this.
The date was 26 March 2006, a Sunday. It started as a normal day, like most other Sunday’s (with ice cream and nuts, oh wrong Sundae). It started with pancakes and coffee, and some nice family time. Kara put the finishing coat of paint on what used to be a dreary brown vanity that is now a Debbie Travis Creamy White buffet. And I was preparing to run 13km later that afternoon.
For the sake of brevity I ask you to accept the normalcy of the Sunday, and we’ll fast forward to the afternoon, when I again prove how big an idiot I can be. Nathaniel and I were watching the Nextel Cup Nascar Race from Bristol Tennessee on Fox. (Can I hear groaning already?) Nathaniel started doing the figure eight track around and around the basement. Off the carpet round the pole, on the carpet, around the couch. Off the carpet round the pole, on the carpet, around the couch. Off the carpet round the pole, on the carpet, around the couch.
The race went to a commercial so I got up and started chasing him around, and then I spotted it. The ironically named Safety First Tricycle. I stepped on the back grabbed the handlebars and gave a test push across the carpet, “YES, we’re in business now!!” Now, whenever Nathaniel wants to ride his bike in the basement he needs two things: his helmet, and sneakers. Why dad felt he could ignore this rule, I’ll never know. The first fourteen laps or so were eventless, a lot of giggling, yelling, bantering. And we had the figure eight track down, we were perfectly choreographed, barely missing one another, and in retrospect there was no warning, not even a hint that something could go wrong. Of course one could point out that there is something hinting at, no SCREAMING that there is something categorically wrong with a grown man racing around his basement at break neck speed on a kids Safety First Tricycle…in sock feet.
Lap 15.
Dad comes past the cat litter too fast and too aggressively into the right hand hairpin turn around the pole. There was a bizarre and surreal moment when the tricycle was sliding on one wheel, the right rear wheel, when I could hear the Nextel Cup announcer saying matter-of-factly, “Looks like the dad has gotten loose in turn three” I thought everything was going to be okay. Then my sock foot slipped on the no slip foot spot and my momentum (and weight) shot through to opening at the rear of the tricycle and kept going until the left pedal caught my ankle abruptly.
There was a delicious slap as my 185 pounds hit the bare grey concrete floor. I looked across my stunned body to see my right leg painfully tied into a pretzel in the tricycle.
Nathaniel is a smart boy; this time there was no laughing when dad fell. He rolled up in his helmet and sneakers, and applied the brakes on his bike correctly then looked down at one half of his genetic donation (scornfully?) and said “Ow dad, that hurt?” I groaned “Ima go get mum.” And he tears off up the stairs.
I don’t need to go on. I haven’t run since, I’m still limping a bit. Kara has been challenging me as to how I am going to explain my old man limp to every one. I told her I’d be direct, to the point, and lie. But this was too good a story, even at my own expense, to pass up. I’ll probably run today. Maybe not 13km, and maybe not fast…
When we first moved to Oromocto we bought Nathaniel a Safety First tricycle, it was blue and yellow. They were neutral enough colors that we hoped Sophia would not become offended when it was handed down to her. It had nice big rubber tires and a no slip patch on the axle. Our PMQ is designed in such a way that there is a doorway from the kitchen to living room and both connect to the dining room. Thus creating a great racetrack in the house for Nathaniel to practice on. And practice he did, he got so good that last year Kara and I bought Nathaniel a small bike; it is black and red, with cool training wheels. It became his most prized possession. He would put on his glossy black helmet, and his Harley Davidson ™ leather jacket and ride relentlessly up and down the sidewalk in front of our house. He was like a gang member cruising his turf, back and forth, back and forth. He would be out there rain or shine and was noticed two weeks in a row by a photographer from the local paper, who snapped his picture and lo and behold he ended up in the newspaper.
Since last summer we have experimented a couple of times with taking his training wheels of and he rode/fell around the basement with reckless abandon. The experiment was short lived once we went outside, as there was no furniture to hang onto on the sidewalk. At any rate Nathaniel knows spring has sprung and he has been racing lap after lap in the basement, getting his form some would say.
I told you that to tell you this.
The date was 26 March 2006, a Sunday. It started as a normal day, like most other Sunday’s (with ice cream and nuts, oh wrong Sundae). It started with pancakes and coffee, and some nice family time. Kara put the finishing coat of paint on what used to be a dreary brown vanity that is now a Debbie Travis Creamy White buffet. And I was preparing to run 13km later that afternoon.
For the sake of brevity I ask you to accept the normalcy of the Sunday, and we’ll fast forward to the afternoon, when I again prove how big an idiot I can be. Nathaniel and I were watching the Nextel Cup Nascar Race from Bristol Tennessee on Fox. (Can I hear groaning already?) Nathaniel started doing the figure eight track around and around the basement. Off the carpet round the pole, on the carpet, around the couch. Off the carpet round the pole, on the carpet, around the couch. Off the carpet round the pole, on the carpet, around the couch.
The race went to a commercial so I got up and started chasing him around, and then I spotted it. The ironically named Safety First Tricycle. I stepped on the back grabbed the handlebars and gave a test push across the carpet, “YES, we’re in business now!!” Now, whenever Nathaniel wants to ride his bike in the basement he needs two things: his helmet, and sneakers. Why dad felt he could ignore this rule, I’ll never know. The first fourteen laps or so were eventless, a lot of giggling, yelling, bantering. And we had the figure eight track down, we were perfectly choreographed, barely missing one another, and in retrospect there was no warning, not even a hint that something could go wrong. Of course one could point out that there is something hinting at, no SCREAMING that there is something categorically wrong with a grown man racing around his basement at break neck speed on a kids Safety First Tricycle…in sock feet.
Lap 15.
Dad comes past the cat litter too fast and too aggressively into the right hand hairpin turn around the pole. There was a bizarre and surreal moment when the tricycle was sliding on one wheel, the right rear wheel, when I could hear the Nextel Cup announcer saying matter-of-factly, “Looks like the dad has gotten loose in turn three” I thought everything was going to be okay. Then my sock foot slipped on the no slip foot spot and my momentum (and weight) shot through to opening at the rear of the tricycle and kept going until the left pedal caught my ankle abruptly.
There was a delicious slap as my 185 pounds hit the bare grey concrete floor. I looked across my stunned body to see my right leg painfully tied into a pretzel in the tricycle.
Nathaniel is a smart boy; this time there was no laughing when dad fell. He rolled up in his helmet and sneakers, and applied the brakes on his bike correctly then looked down at one half of his genetic donation (scornfully?) and said “Ow dad, that hurt?” I groaned “Ima go get mum.” And he tears off up the stairs.
I don’t need to go on. I haven’t run since, I’m still limping a bit. Kara has been challenging me as to how I am going to explain my old man limp to every one. I told her I’d be direct, to the point, and lie. But this was too good a story, even at my own expense, to pass up. I’ll probably run today. Maybe not 13km, and maybe not fast…
A Little Advice
I recently had a close friend of mine, a displaced (or misplaced) Newf http://fieldbehindtheplow.blogspot.com (shameless plug)
write me an email fearing he had taken steps that would have been catastrophic to his male psyche. He had out of the goodness of his heart offered to vacuum, and clean…yes, I can feel all the males shuddering…Fortunately, I was able to intervene and send him the following email which should rectify the entire situation.
"I think you may have taken your first step down the path of irreversible domestication my friend. I have the following 4-step program to help you break the habit.
1- Stop at a bar on your way home from work, get pie-eyed
2- Leave bar got to liquor store, max out credit card
3- Come home, leave your shoes on and walk to the TV (stop at bathroom if necessary) turn on picture in picture sports channels.
4- Say things like "Hey you make me a sandwich," or "get me another beer," or "go wash my car...inside and out"
5- repeat as required.
Of course if this proves to be unsuccessful, use the following action in case of emergency.
1- Stop at Wal-Mart on your way home from work, get seashells for the back of toilet, and some flowers, for her, not the toilet.
2- Leave Wal-Mart go to jewelry store, max out credit card
3- Come home, take your shoes off, walk to the kitchen (stop at bathroom and put seashells on toilet) turn on front burner and back burner of stove as you prepare the latest gourmet fiesta you saw on Martha Stewart reruns instead of sports (The glazed lemon chicken is great…it worked for me)
4- Say things like "Hey baby, let me make you a sandwich" or "let me get you another glass of wine" or let me run a bath for you, and give you a pedicure after"
5- repeat everyday, for the rest of your life."
Well I never claimed to be Dear Abby, but in a totally unrelated note; I heard the memorial service will be early next week, and there will be no viewing. I guess he didn't read the "IN CASE OF EMERGENCY!" fast enough. Oops.
write me an email fearing he had taken steps that would have been catastrophic to his male psyche. He had out of the goodness of his heart offered to vacuum, and clean…yes, I can feel all the males shuddering…Fortunately, I was able to intervene and send him the following email which should rectify the entire situation.
"I think you may have taken your first step down the path of irreversible domestication my friend. I have the following 4-step program to help you break the habit.
1- Stop at a bar on your way home from work, get pie-eyed
2- Leave bar got to liquor store, max out credit card
3- Come home, leave your shoes on and walk to the TV (stop at bathroom if necessary) turn on picture in picture sports channels.
4- Say things like "Hey you make me a sandwich," or "get me another beer," or "go wash my car...inside and out"
5- repeat as required.
Of course if this proves to be unsuccessful, use the following action in case of emergency.
1- Stop at Wal-Mart on your way home from work, get seashells for the back of toilet, and some flowers, for her, not the toilet.
2- Leave Wal-Mart go to jewelry store, max out credit card
3- Come home, take your shoes off, walk to the kitchen (stop at bathroom and put seashells on toilet) turn on front burner and back burner of stove as you prepare the latest gourmet fiesta you saw on Martha Stewart reruns instead of sports (The glazed lemon chicken is great…it worked for me)
4- Say things like "Hey baby, let me make you a sandwich" or "let me get you another glass of wine" or let me run a bath for you, and give you a pedicure after"
5- repeat everyday, for the rest of your life."
Well I never claimed to be Dear Abby, but in a totally unrelated note; I heard the memorial service will be early next week, and there will be no viewing. I guess he didn't read the "IN CASE OF EMERGENCY!" fast enough. Oops.
22.3.06
The Running...
This past Sunday was a good day for running. I had hydrated the night before and actually planned on doing the 15km run.
Don't let me mislead you, dear reader, I did do the run. But what was unique is I normally approach my Long Run on Sunday's with out approaching it. What I mean is: I book the time, make sure the family is in the loop, and wait patiently until I am three- four kilometres into the run before yelling "SURPRISE!!" and acknowledging the fact that, "Yes, I am doing a long run," and "No, I did not prepare for this." Which is the truth because personal mental subversion is not akin to actual preparation. This past Sunday I prepared to meet my running partners J2 complete with water bottle and snack.
The run itself was refreshing and fun, as refreshing and fun as the Lincoln Road can be. James set off at his blistering slow pace and Jaime and I followed, conversing about everything but the plight of 21st Century humankind. It was a good run.
I have run since a slow recovery 6km and plan on 8km tomorrow (Thursday). I am building confidence heading towards my first Half Marathon, the Fredericton Half, about 50 days away!!! I am a firm believer in establishing confidence and skills, and developing a plan is a key aspect of that. With HCD's help I have a strong plan that has brought me this far, and he has done the same for Kara.
This upcoiming Half marathon and tag along Cabot Trail Relay (CTRR) were to be the gateway to my running season, my first running season. However, the best laid plans of mice and men, (tell me about the rabbits...) Details are coming in as to my professional future... but that is another blog for another time....
Til next time...
Don't let me mislead you, dear reader, I did do the run. But what was unique is I normally approach my Long Run on Sunday's with out approaching it. What I mean is: I book the time, make sure the family is in the loop, and wait patiently until I am three- four kilometres into the run before yelling "SURPRISE!!" and acknowledging the fact that, "Yes, I am doing a long run," and "No, I did not prepare for this." Which is the truth because personal mental subversion is not akin to actual preparation. This past Sunday I prepared to meet my running partners J2 complete with water bottle and snack.
The run itself was refreshing and fun, as refreshing and fun as the Lincoln Road can be. James set off at his blistering slow pace and Jaime and I followed, conversing about everything but the plight of 21st Century humankind. It was a good run.
I have run since a slow recovery 6km and plan on 8km tomorrow (Thursday). I am building confidence heading towards my first Half Marathon, the Fredericton Half, about 50 days away!!! I am a firm believer in establishing confidence and skills, and developing a plan is a key aspect of that. With HCD's help I have a strong plan that has brought me this far, and he has done the same for Kara.
This upcoiming Half marathon and tag along Cabot Trail Relay (CTRR) were to be the gateway to my running season, my first running season. However, the best laid plans of mice and men, (tell me about the rabbits...) Details are coming in as to my professional future... but that is another blog for another time....
Til next time...
17.3.06
TGIF
Hello reader,
Sometimes its just good when Friday comes along, y'ah know?
I had my first go at speedwork this week. I thought of adding them back at the beginning of my training plan (January) but took them out so I could concentrate on building my base. After the success of 11 March I decided to toss them into my weekly routine in order to build up a little for the Fredericton Half.
I developed my speedwork timings according to the FIRST HM program in one of the recent Runners Worlds. I based my timing and calculations on a 2:04:53 Goal Time, Though in reality I am hoping to break 2:00:00. What my calcualtions determined...
Pace (based on 9:32 HMP: 2:04:53 Goal Time)
Speed
400m = 2:01
800m = 4:08
1600 = 8:53
Tempo ->9:02 / mile
Long->10:02 / mile
Sometimes its just good when Friday comes along, y'ah know?
I had my first go at speedwork this week. I thought of adding them back at the beginning of my training plan (January) but took them out so I could concentrate on building my base. After the success of 11 March I decided to toss them into my weekly routine in order to build up a little for the Fredericton Half.
I developed my speedwork timings according to the FIRST HM program in one of the recent Runners Worlds. I based my timing and calculations on a 2:04:53 Goal Time, Though in reality I am hoping to break 2:00:00. What my calcualtions determined...
Pace (based on 9:32 HMP: 2:04:53 Goal Time)
Speed
400m = 2:01
800m = 4:08
1600 = 8:53
Tempo ->9:02 / mile
Long->10:02 / mile
So I did 4x800m. The first thing I must say is as a military guy I am lucky that I get full access to the gym for free, and we are expected to utilize the facilities to the maximum. This is great, except for week day mornings when every one on base tries to do PT at the same bloody time. There was literally 100 people trying to use the 200m indoor track!!!
Anyway I did the first 800 m way too fast...and it got better from there.
Friday saw a great tread mill 6.5km
But Kara has just arrived to remind me it is Friday with,
"Do you want a Pina Colada?"
"Sure"
"Okay get of the damn computer and help me open my coconut"
"......?"
"Yeah I have the dremel out"
"!!"
Til next time...
13.3.06
Who Knows?
Who knows what could happen.
Do what you do, just keep on laughing
One thing's true, there's always a brand new day
Avril Levigne “Who Knows?” Under My Skin 2004
It’s odd what inspiration can strike you and when, or what can strike you as profound. Music always seems to hit me, get me, slap me, inspire me. Normally I listen to whatever music is popular, though I do remain faithful to bands and singers that have always impressed me.
I have always had a thing for female singers. Especially ones who can be vulnerable and strong at the same time. Sarah Brightman is a classic example I always use, and probably ranks as the most adored female singer in my world anyway. I think the woman could yodel the ingredients in Preparation H and I’d be happy… but I digress.
Today I was hanging out with the kiddos, playing a silly game on msn, and as per normal I had music filling the void behind the game. I’ve been in a Avril Levigne mood for most of the day, I think I had heard a snippet of a song yesterday and it festered in my brain like a piece of popcorn between my teeth.
At any rate “Who Knows?” started and I found the lyrics particularly poignant. And I told Nathaniel, where he’s almost old enough to get it, to remember tomorrow is a brand new day. He said, “I know dad, tomorrow we live in Moncton, and I go to school.” I smiled, and replied, “Yes buddy it is. As long as you tell time with a calendar.” He looked at me like I had a toaster on my head….
The song has new meaning to me now, so if you get a chance listen to it, study the lyrics, and enjoy.
That’s all, not much a blog. But no matter where you go there you are.
Til Next time…
11.3.06
I thought my heart would burst.
As a side note, and by no means a lesser sidenote, I want of make quick mention of Kara's performance today.
If anyone told me a year a go that Kara would ever run 10k I would have laughed at them, I am not trying to be mean, and I know Kara would agree with me.
But in August she got off the couch and started chugging. In October she ran her first real event at the Run for the Cure. She did 5k in just over 35 minutes. To snobbish elite that is a time to be scorned, for Couch Potatoe royalty it is a time to be marvelled.
So, with the lead up to today Kara had completed several runs in and around 10 km, topping out I believe at 13km. She approached these as LSD's and her best time previous for 10k was around 1:20.
Also leading up to today's events Kara went through some jitters, wondering if she prepared enough, wondering if she would have the mental fortitude to complete a 10km race, (no matter how sparse)
But let me just say, Kara ran the whole event, and when I saw her come over the hill as I went back to see her, my heart leapt. Her she came still chugging, smile on her face, grooving to her music.
She picked up her pace and finished strong.
I was so proud i though my heart would burst.
Good job, baby!!!
If anyone told me a year a go that Kara would ever run 10k I would have laughed at them, I am not trying to be mean, and I know Kara would agree with me.
But in August she got off the couch and started chugging. In October she ran her first real event at the Run for the Cure. She did 5k in just over 35 minutes. To snobbish elite that is a time to be scorned, for Couch Potatoe royalty it is a time to be marvelled.
So, with the lead up to today Kara had completed several runs in and around 10 km, topping out I believe at 13km. She approached these as LSD's and her best time previous for 10k was around 1:20.
Also leading up to today's events Kara went through some jitters, wondering if she prepared enough, wondering if she would have the mental fortitude to complete a 10km race, (no matter how sparse)
But let me just say, Kara ran the whole event, and when I saw her come over the hill as I went back to see her, my heart leapt. Her she came still chugging, smile on her face, grooving to her music.
She picked up her pace and finished strong.
I was so proud i though my heart would burst.
Good job, baby!!!
Solitude and The Age of Disappointment
Let me begin by saying: I do not want to insult or offend any one over the age of thirty who reads this. Now you’ve all said, “oh…great”
I turned thirty not that long ago, and I wondered if the Age of Disappointment had come.
By Age of Disappointment I do not mean a catastrophic ‘end of an era’ that meant my life was going to be one big plummeting spiral to the toilet from this point on, but more of a quiet realization that my “potential energy” was losing steam.
What I mean: when I was younger I had hopes and dreams of athletic success, and I truly mean unrealistic multimillion-dollar career dreams. There were also dreams of moviemaking, acting or directing my way to winning Oscar’s, or doing the talk show circuit, etc etc.
And recently after a conversation with Kara had realized I had had similar dreams of writing success, Stephen King-like success.
But though people have enjoyed what I have read, I believe I have always lacked the disciple and ability to polish whatever talents I possessed.
When I took up running for fun in August, in effort to share the wave of Kara’s enthusiasm, I had begun to have similar ideas. Though I enjoyed the running and saw great progress in consistent and coherent training I wondered if my prime had already passed and that I had given the potential of my twenties over to challenging Alexander Keith and Ronald MacDonald.
So in recent months I set goals of the Cabot Trail Relay Race and the Fredericton Half Marathon. As a side note James and Jaime got me into the possibility of doing the Fredericton Half in 2005. I started training with them, with nary a clue as to what I was really doing, and not only did I become intimidated by two athletic, and skinny people (they will challenge me on this but they are far closer to if not bang on their ideal weight than I!) but I also went and had a Vasectomy. Talk about the catastrophic end of an era…though it is a story for another time…
Needless to say, my “training” took a “hiatus”. But I digress.
I have approached the upcoming “Race Season” more adequately called “Event Season” with vigor and intelligence. I have seen steady improvement that has kept me going. So today March 11 2006 I have hit close the halfway point in my training plan and a RR March Break Away 5K and 10k fell perfectly on today. Not only was this a perfect opportunity for the four of us to run together, for us to challenge our selves, but also raise a few dollars for the Rotary Club.
The past week had seen near perfect weather, for March anyway. It was warm, sunny, and the wind was not playing too much havoc. So when the slushy crap landed on Thursday we feared the worst. But the weather cooperated, and this morning the weather was warmish, the ground was close to dry, and the wind was howling like a gale force storm. If we had been boats…
As we arrived at “the potatoe place” there was confusion, searching for the registration van, and more importantly looking for the pee place.
The set up was sparse, with only a small clot of cold impatient runners. No fanfare, no freebies (except safety pins), not water tables…We just got our bibs, a little warm-up, a couple words and then…go.
Now that I have spent so much time on build up, here comes the kicker. I don’t remember much of the race.
I remember saying over and over to myself, “Set your pace, run your race”
I remember the kilometer marking on the ground in blue chalk. And they seemed to come quicker than I expected.
I remember the wall of wind that hit me after the third turn, especially on the second lap. And then upon reflection, I realized that we ran almost 2/3s of the race into the wind.
I remember trying to catch the “damn woman in the blue jacket” who remained frustratingly 200-300m ahead of me.
I remembered thinking of Kara, and wondered how she was doing.
I spent almost the race alone. There was a bit of shuffling at the beginning, but because of the small numbers we all found our niche and ran in it. The biggest thing I remember besides my result is the realization that running is a truly solitary sport. I had no gadgets, no watch, nor MP3 player.
Just the sounds of the race, the wind, my feet, the traffic, the cursed wind.
There is absolute truth in running. If you do it with out distraction you can come face to face with yourself.
It all went quick, and my results surprised me. Given the wind, given, the fact I spent most of my work this winter on a treadmill with out hills, or yes hah-ha no wind.
It was to be a day of personal bests.
10km 53:38.
Given all that I have said, Screw thirty; I think the age of disappointment can wait. I am so happy, so content, and so proud. It was just a good day.
I turned thirty not that long ago, and I wondered if the Age of Disappointment had come.
By Age of Disappointment I do not mean a catastrophic ‘end of an era’ that meant my life was going to be one big plummeting spiral to the toilet from this point on, but more of a quiet realization that my “potential energy” was losing steam.
What I mean: when I was younger I had hopes and dreams of athletic success, and I truly mean unrealistic multimillion-dollar career dreams. There were also dreams of moviemaking, acting or directing my way to winning Oscar’s, or doing the talk show circuit, etc etc.
And recently after a conversation with Kara had realized I had had similar dreams of writing success, Stephen King-like success.
But though people have enjoyed what I have read, I believe I have always lacked the disciple and ability to polish whatever talents I possessed.
When I took up running for fun in August, in effort to share the wave of Kara’s enthusiasm, I had begun to have similar ideas. Though I enjoyed the running and saw great progress in consistent and coherent training I wondered if my prime had already passed and that I had given the potential of my twenties over to challenging Alexander Keith and Ronald MacDonald.
So in recent months I set goals of the Cabot Trail Relay Race and the Fredericton Half Marathon. As a side note James and Jaime got me into the possibility of doing the Fredericton Half in 2005. I started training with them, with nary a clue as to what I was really doing, and not only did I become intimidated by two athletic, and skinny people (they will challenge me on this but they are far closer to if not bang on their ideal weight than I!) but I also went and had a Vasectomy. Talk about the catastrophic end of an era…though it is a story for another time…
Needless to say, my “training” took a “hiatus”. But I digress.
I have approached the upcoming “Race Season” more adequately called “Event Season” with vigor and intelligence. I have seen steady improvement that has kept me going. So today March 11 2006 I have hit close the halfway point in my training plan and a RR March Break Away 5K and 10k fell perfectly on today. Not only was this a perfect opportunity for the four of us to run together, for us to challenge our selves, but also raise a few dollars for the Rotary Club.
The past week had seen near perfect weather, for March anyway. It was warm, sunny, and the wind was not playing too much havoc. So when the slushy crap landed on Thursday we feared the worst. But the weather cooperated, and this morning the weather was warmish, the ground was close to dry, and the wind was howling like a gale force storm. If we had been boats…
As we arrived at “the potatoe place” there was confusion, searching for the registration van, and more importantly looking for the pee place.
The set up was sparse, with only a small clot of cold impatient runners. No fanfare, no freebies (except safety pins), not water tables…We just got our bibs, a little warm-up, a couple words and then…go.
Now that I have spent so much time on build up, here comes the kicker. I don’t remember much of the race.
I remember saying over and over to myself, “Set your pace, run your race”
I remember the kilometer marking on the ground in blue chalk. And they seemed to come quicker than I expected.
I remember the wall of wind that hit me after the third turn, especially on the second lap. And then upon reflection, I realized that we ran almost 2/3s of the race into the wind.
I remember trying to catch the “damn woman in the blue jacket” who remained frustratingly 200-300m ahead of me.
I remembered thinking of Kara, and wondered how she was doing.
I spent almost the race alone. There was a bit of shuffling at the beginning, but because of the small numbers we all found our niche and ran in it. The biggest thing I remember besides my result is the realization that running is a truly solitary sport. I had no gadgets, no watch, nor MP3 player.
Just the sounds of the race, the wind, my feet, the traffic, the cursed wind.
There is absolute truth in running. If you do it with out distraction you can come face to face with yourself.
It all went quick, and my results surprised me. Given the wind, given, the fact I spent most of my work this winter on a treadmill with out hills, or yes hah-ha no wind.
It was to be a day of personal bests.
10km 53:38.
Given all that I have said, Screw thirty; I think the age of disappointment can wait. I am so happy, so content, and so proud. It was just a good day.
Prerace
Well, it's just after midnight. Nine hours-ish til race time. We just got back from Jx2, they laid out a wonderful carb loading spaghetti super complete with a decadent carrot cake for desert...
No real jitters, wondering how it feels to do 10k not at a forced event.
We'll see.
I'll let youz all know.
No real jitters, wondering how it feels to do 10k not at a forced event.
We'll see.
I'll let youz all know.
10.3.06
Links
Dear Reader,
Just a quick explantion of my links.
The first one is the normal Blogger link so yu can get your own.
The Yin-Yang crouching tiger, hidden dragon style is a link to a online version of the Tao te Ching, a resource of sorts that I find a lot of wisdom in on a daily basis.
The Running man in Circle is the logo for RunningMania, a great (predominantly Canadian) website that offers a lot of open discussion about running, training, eating, multisporting, and Manties...
The "Sheva" link is to the website of a friend of ours, Sheva Solomon. She is embarking on what will be a very successful career in music. Kara and I met and worked with her at Upper Clements Park and we shared the "honor and priveldge" of being on the entertainment staff. Also, worth noting that Sheva sang at our wedding back in the day...along with Stephane Desraspe, also from UCP and key element to...
Shaydid, my last link for now. They are a band out of NS that are also starting to take off. They have toured the maritimes and Ontario a lot and are bound for bigger things.
That's all for now.
Til Next Time,
Just a quick explantion of my links.
The first one is the normal Blogger link so yu can get your own.
The Yin-Yang crouching tiger, hidden dragon style is a link to a online version of the Tao te Ching, a resource of sorts that I find a lot of wisdom in on a daily basis.
The Running man in Circle is the logo for RunningMania, a great (predominantly Canadian) website that offers a lot of open discussion about running, training, eating, multisporting, and Manties...
The "Sheva" link is to the website of a friend of ours, Sheva Solomon. She is embarking on what will be a very successful career in music. Kara and I met and worked with her at Upper Clements Park and we shared the "honor and priveldge" of being on the entertainment staff. Also, worth noting that Sheva sang at our wedding back in the day...along with Stephane Desraspe, also from UCP and key element to...
Shaydid, my last link for now. They are a band out of NS that are also starting to take off. They have toured the maritimes and Ontario a lot and are bound for bigger things.
That's all for now.
Til Next Time,
Raven-
Our young little Black Lab. And right now the unfortunate victim of my/ our inconsistency.
I thought that things had been going great. Raven has started behaviors that were acceptable. Responding to Kara and me when called, and even Bubba too. She has been learning to sit, and learning to stay. These are things that we (and Raven) have started by accident, rather than by design. And, I don’t foresee to many leash problems once we (I) work out a regular walking schedule for us.
But there have still been some issues that I guess I need to address; as my ears are still ringing from the twenty-minute wakeup call Kara gave me. Raven is still chewing too much, and chewing the wrong things, not the least of which is Kara’s favorite undergarments, kids toys, and some other unmentionables. There has also been the issue of Raven still using the bathroom inside the house. This happens a lot less than before, but still way too often. What I have learned is that it takes a lot more diligence and surveillance on our (my) behalf.
So today, hopefully we can trun over a new leaf for Raven before things get outta control. I’ve looked into a bunch of great websites and maybe I’ll list them later, but as a basic start her is a decent one with twelve great tips for dog training.
http://www.inch.com/~dogs/twelvetips.html also
http://www.perfectpaws.com
Til next time,
I thought that things had been going great. Raven has started behaviors that were acceptable. Responding to Kara and me when called, and even Bubba too. She has been learning to sit, and learning to stay. These are things that we (and Raven) have started by accident, rather than by design. And, I don’t foresee to many leash problems once we (I) work out a regular walking schedule for us.
But there have still been some issues that I guess I need to address; as my ears are still ringing from the twenty-minute wakeup call Kara gave me. Raven is still chewing too much, and chewing the wrong things, not the least of which is Kara’s favorite undergarments, kids toys, and some other unmentionables. There has also been the issue of Raven still using the bathroom inside the house. This happens a lot less than before, but still way too often. What I have learned is that it takes a lot more diligence and surveillance on our (my) behalf.
So today, hopefully we can trun over a new leaf for Raven before things get outta control. I’ve looked into a bunch of great websites and maybe I’ll list them later, but as a basic start her is a decent one with twelve great tips for dog training.
http://www.inch.com/~dogs/twelvetips.html also
http://www.perfectpaws.com
Til next time,
The End of an Era...
..and I can’t say that I am sad to see it go.
“TORONTO -- The Canadian Tire couple is no more. When the retailer unveiled its new spring ad campaign yesterday, the bearded handyman Ted and his wife Gloria were nowhere to be seen. The famous pitch-couple had been showing off innovative products for the hardware chain for almost a decade. Canadian Tire said the couple's "demo-mercials" were effective, but research showed they were starting to wear on consumers.”
I know it’s petty, and foolish. But “Ted” always drove me nuts…no pun intended. He always had the perfect tool for even the most obscure problems and always seemed to arrive like a super smug superhero.
And as Kara has said in the past, “is it really camping when you take a TV, a DVD player, a lamp, a laptop, an Xbox, and powertools when you’re camping in the great outdoors just because you brought an Eliminator ™?” To me the Eliminator is what is used to power your laptop to play solitaire when in the field pulling night duty in the CP when its miserable out.
I really loved the commercial about the tires when “Naïve Guy” slides through intersections on bald tires. And good old Ted looks at him and thinks, “Ha, that bastard is going to die in a fiery ball of flaming winter death, but not me- I bought these great tires from Canadian Tire”
Well, we’ll see what is on next for Ted and Gloria, maybe some speaking parts on Corner Gas or something of the like. I wonder if their severance pay will be in Canadian Tire Money?
Til next time,
8.3.06
Karma
Dear Reader,
This one is not so old, less than a year. More parental genuis.
Til next time.
Somehow I think Karma (not Kara!) is a cruel, cruel entity.
My kids love to dance. They have favourite songs, Hollaback Girl gets Phia’s booty shakin’, but anything with a half-assed dancy beat will get them up jumpin’, groovin’, stylin’, and profilin’. They particularly like to dance and act a fool when Daddy is up doing the same. It’s fun, it’s a work out, and always leads to great memories. That hopefully they’ll remember when they hit 12-13 and think Dad is an asshole.
October 2005 in general had been a below average month. But that is relative to the preceding months, I was away for the majority of it and though the tasking that I was involved in went perfect it was not without hardship, strife, and indigestion. As a result as well, Kara was home alone with the kids after just having me home for ten days. This brought out the worst in the kids; unsure as to when the stranger they knew as daddy was going to be home for good. To cap off October there were financial issues, social issues etc. etc that just added to a below average month. The crap out weighed the golden moments.
November 2005 therefore had oodles of potential. It started as well as it could if you consider the pace of work for myself, the kids had leveled off, and so had laundry requirements. Kara and I had the opportunity to spend some quality time and find our inner resolve again about money, friends, and family. The kind of inner peace only available when two people truly connect and are back on the same page.
After a week back to work to tidy up loose ends, send some troops on other taskings (that I was luckily able to avoid) I had a week home with the kids. Kara was going off to BC as part a contingent from the Military Family Resource Centre (MFRC, or FarCee to the munchkins). It started as a stressful occasion given the cost, but still a golden opportunity and chance of a lifetime for a small-town East coast girl. And it was Kara’s first real break from the kiddos, in, well- ever.
This was great opportunity for me, as Dad, as well to reconnect with my kids since I had been away a fair amount. And if you take out the fact that the kids would absolutely not sleep beyond 6:15 in the morning things were a dream.
Now as many know, this year in August Kara took up running, out of the blue. It lasted more than three or four days. In fact we are heading into month four. Unprecedented success for the self proclaimed couch potato royalty! Kara had been using events to act as training goals and motivating factors to keep her going during her “questionable motivation” times. But she also wanted a running CD, a compilation of songs and tracks that would get her ass a-boogeyin’ down the road. I had been saying “yup, I’ll get to it…” for a while. Well, being ultra husband balancing children in one hand and my nice-guyness in the other I sat down one evening and started tracking down songs from previous compilations and off the net.
Now I don’t watch a lot of TV, but one thing I like and have over a sports package on my digital cable is the music stations. I love all kinds of music and paid a little extra to get as many music videos as possible. One station is BPMTV, playing a ton of Electronica, House, Trance, Dance, and every possible variable thereof. One song really caught my attention: Traffic by DJ Tiesto. So I was a little selfish when I started searching and found as many DJ Tiesto songs I could. Despite my selfishness Kara’s CD filled quickly though for irony I stopped at 26 songs…
All this background led to the climax of our story.
It was Wednesday afternoon. Kara was about 36 hours from her return. Sophia had just woke up from her nap, Nathaniel had been watching me play online poker. While playing, Nathaniel had been grooving to DJ Tiesto in the background. Then a track I only know as Southern Sun a DJ Tiesto remix came on. It immediately caught Sophia’s interest, so I cranked up the volume turning or computer room in to a rave hall. I folded my hand of online poker and jumped up with the kids, it was an instant hit.
Nathaniel has taken to attempting “dance moves” involving jumping, spinning and occasionally punching himself in the face, and then saying “Daddy try this!” Well, dad starts trying to get the kids to try things, pretty soon the little room looks like an 80’s aerobics class, sort of Eric Pryde’s Call on Me…without the sex appeal. So we’re all doing knees lifts and lunges, and throwing our arms in the air. The jumping and air punching is reaching a frenetic pace, building with the music. Then Sophia stumbled.
I remember turning my body in the air, transfixed on not crushing Sophia and her bobbing ponytail. I never saw Nathaniel’s rising fist.
I heard a comedian describe it once as there is a bundle of nerves about as big around as a large fist connected to the testicles. And when struck, the pulse travels up the spinal cord and exploding like a tremendous Fourth of July fireworks display in the brain.
My feet never touched the ground; I used my back to break my fall.
Sophia and Nathaniel thought this was the next dance move and proceeded to jump up and land awkwardly on the floor. They found this move to be unfulfilling, and as the song ended they left the room and went to play Lego.
I lost about $500 in unplayed hands of online poker.
I hate DJ Tiesto.
But to get back to my point, this should of happened in October, that month sucked. But maybe it was karma getting back at me for downloading a whole bunch of running songs for Kara as a nice thing to do, on top of the laundry and cleaning.
Hmm, maybe it’s Kara’s fault.
Sincerely, with Ice Pack,
Scotty H.
This one is not so old, less than a year. More parental genuis.
Til next time.
Somehow I think Karma (not Kara!) is a cruel, cruel entity.
My kids love to dance. They have favourite songs, Hollaback Girl gets Phia’s booty shakin’, but anything with a half-assed dancy beat will get them up jumpin’, groovin’, stylin’, and profilin’. They particularly like to dance and act a fool when Daddy is up doing the same. It’s fun, it’s a work out, and always leads to great memories. That hopefully they’ll remember when they hit 12-13 and think Dad is an asshole.
October 2005 in general had been a below average month. But that is relative to the preceding months, I was away for the majority of it and though the tasking that I was involved in went perfect it was not without hardship, strife, and indigestion. As a result as well, Kara was home alone with the kids after just having me home for ten days. This brought out the worst in the kids; unsure as to when the stranger they knew as daddy was going to be home for good. To cap off October there were financial issues, social issues etc. etc that just added to a below average month. The crap out weighed the golden moments.
November 2005 therefore had oodles of potential. It started as well as it could if you consider the pace of work for myself, the kids had leveled off, and so had laundry requirements. Kara and I had the opportunity to spend some quality time and find our inner resolve again about money, friends, and family. The kind of inner peace only available when two people truly connect and are back on the same page.
After a week back to work to tidy up loose ends, send some troops on other taskings (that I was luckily able to avoid) I had a week home with the kids. Kara was going off to BC as part a contingent from the Military Family Resource Centre (MFRC, or FarCee to the munchkins). It started as a stressful occasion given the cost, but still a golden opportunity and chance of a lifetime for a small-town East coast girl. And it was Kara’s first real break from the kiddos, in, well- ever.
This was great opportunity for me, as Dad, as well to reconnect with my kids since I had been away a fair amount. And if you take out the fact that the kids would absolutely not sleep beyond 6:15 in the morning things were a dream.
Now as many know, this year in August Kara took up running, out of the blue. It lasted more than three or four days. In fact we are heading into month four. Unprecedented success for the self proclaimed couch potato royalty! Kara had been using events to act as training goals and motivating factors to keep her going during her “questionable motivation” times. But she also wanted a running CD, a compilation of songs and tracks that would get her ass a-boogeyin’ down the road. I had been saying “yup, I’ll get to it…” for a while. Well, being ultra husband balancing children in one hand and my nice-guyness in the other I sat down one evening and started tracking down songs from previous compilations and off the net.
Now I don’t watch a lot of TV, but one thing I like and have over a sports package on my digital cable is the music stations. I love all kinds of music and paid a little extra to get as many music videos as possible. One station is BPMTV, playing a ton of Electronica, House, Trance, Dance, and every possible variable thereof. One song really caught my attention: Traffic by DJ Tiesto. So I was a little selfish when I started searching and found as many DJ Tiesto songs I could. Despite my selfishness Kara’s CD filled quickly though for irony I stopped at 26 songs…
All this background led to the climax of our story.
It was Wednesday afternoon. Kara was about 36 hours from her return. Sophia had just woke up from her nap, Nathaniel had been watching me play online poker. While playing, Nathaniel had been grooving to DJ Tiesto in the background. Then a track I only know as Southern Sun a DJ Tiesto remix came on. It immediately caught Sophia’s interest, so I cranked up the volume turning or computer room in to a rave hall. I folded my hand of online poker and jumped up with the kids, it was an instant hit.
Nathaniel has taken to attempting “dance moves” involving jumping, spinning and occasionally punching himself in the face, and then saying “Daddy try this!” Well, dad starts trying to get the kids to try things, pretty soon the little room looks like an 80’s aerobics class, sort of Eric Pryde’s Call on Me…without the sex appeal. So we’re all doing knees lifts and lunges, and throwing our arms in the air. The jumping and air punching is reaching a frenetic pace, building with the music. Then Sophia stumbled.
I remember turning my body in the air, transfixed on not crushing Sophia and her bobbing ponytail. I never saw Nathaniel’s rising fist.
I heard a comedian describe it once as there is a bundle of nerves about as big around as a large fist connected to the testicles. And when struck, the pulse travels up the spinal cord and exploding like a tremendous Fourth of July fireworks display in the brain.
My feet never touched the ground; I used my back to break my fall.
Sophia and Nathaniel thought this was the next dance move and proceeded to jump up and land awkwardly on the floor. They found this move to be unfulfilling, and as the song ended they left the room and went to play Lego.
I lost about $500 in unplayed hands of online poker.
I hate DJ Tiesto.
But to get back to my point, this should of happened in October, that month sucked. But maybe it was karma getting back at me for downloading a whole bunch of running songs for Kara as a nice thing to do, on top of the laundry and cleaning.
Hmm, maybe it’s Kara’s fault.
Sincerely, with Ice Pack,
Scotty H.
Genetic Experiment Update
Dear Reader:
This is a piece that is close to two years old, to the best of my knowledge. and is just an insight into my parental genius...
Til next time.
PROJECT LANG: GENETIC PROGENY EXPERIMENT
UPDATE:
Thesis: Silence is Golden.
Report Originator: Lang Unit Male Parent (LUMP) 1.uh-oh (Father/Daddy/Scott)
As most know I, LUMP, recently took several months worth of parental leave. Now, even though I am a male and do possess a certain amount of the stereotypical deficiencies in the “gotta clue” department, I have developed a sixth sense towards my children and there are instances where instinct takes over and alarm bells sound.
Take for example a recent incident within the confines of the Lang Family Dwelling. Lang Unit Female Parent/Dictator (LUFPD) *I have been told to inform you that the opinions expressed with said document are not necessarily the opinion of the DICTATOR herself, and I may pay dearly for such ..........*-to continue, LUFPD was away at work on 280204, a Sunday, and LUMP, moi, was home as the sole target of the Genetic Experiments (BOY/GIRL). A fairly routine laboratory situation in recent months.
To set the stage, The Lion King, wuddya want me to do dress in drag and do the hula....? (Rhetorical I have already paid my debt to society for this and my records have been expunged) was on the television for approximately the 30th time that day. LUMP was checking the email, Genetic Experiment Girl (PHIA) was standing next to the couch ( yes a fantastic developmental achievement, for those of you not required to watch her pull the freshly laundered and folded clothes off said couch and onto the floor). Suddenly PHIA got the game face, a metaphor for her face turning purple as she pushes out a strained carrot surprise into her diaper. So in order to avoid the spreading of the biotoxic hazard LUMP quickly evaluated the situation and felt he was able to continue without outside intervention or a frantic call to the dictator. It was during this time of silence, absolute silence when two of the three inhabitants were accounted for that I realized it is quiet, too quiet.
So there we were PHIA happy and exuberant with a dry new waste catcher round her bottom and the Father Unit with his heart in his throat and an anvil in his upper colon wondering where in the name of Jesus his Genetic Experiment Boy (BUBBA) was. Thus, the mad dash was on. Up the stairs, in a flash, nope not in the bathroom remodelling with toilet paper and shampoo, (good). Not in any of the bedrooms remodelling with the dictators lipsticks or underwear drawer (good) yet not so good. BUBBA was not on the top floor of the dwelling. It is at this time that the shouting begins along with the frantic searching. So LUMP races down two flights of stairs into the basement for BUBBA has a fascination with mixing the felines cat litter with their food, the felines show adequate disgust at this transaction. (there are two feline- like inhabitants, DICTATOR has names for them, LUMP refers to them as orangey one with thigh peeling claws and the whitish brown one with the F%$# Off stare and sociopathic tendencies) But once in the basement there is nothing, except a mess so huge only the Liberals would be able to comprehend it. ( make no mistake this mess is a result of the organizational habits of the Parental Units). A quick thought flashes into my mind...I don’t think he can open the door to the outside world...
So I rush once again up the stairs, that is when an all too familiar scent assaults my nose, my pace slows as the anvil in my stomach drops further....as I reach the top of the stairs in the full grip of the panic consuming me as I know what it is I am going to find. I see one little foot sticking out of the pantry cupboard, it is a BUBBA foot. I pull the door open and there he is covered in brown. It is all over his pants, his shirt, his arms, the door, the shelf, and there is a plop of it on his forehead. And sitting between his legs is the open container of peanut butter...
AFTER ACTION REVIEW
BUBBA was counselled with a scolding, a bath, a peanut butter sandwich and a nap
PHIA was rewarded with a golden opportunity to pull the remainder of the clothes off the couch
FELINES where rewarded with a few stolen licks of peanut butter and a 2 hour stay in the basement for stolen licks of peanut butter.
LUMP was rewarded with an antacid, two rolls of paper towel, two hours refolding clothes, and a cat scratch.
Dictator was rewarded with a bloody nice relaxing day at work and a funny little parenting anecdote from husband.
This is a piece that is close to two years old, to the best of my knowledge. and is just an insight into my parental genius...
Til next time.
PROJECT LANG: GENETIC PROGENY EXPERIMENT
UPDATE:
Thesis: Silence is Golden.
Report Originator: Lang Unit Male Parent (LUMP) 1.uh-oh (Father/Daddy/Scott)
As most know I, LUMP, recently took several months worth of parental leave. Now, even though I am a male and do possess a certain amount of the stereotypical deficiencies in the “gotta clue” department, I have developed a sixth sense towards my children and there are instances where instinct takes over and alarm bells sound.
Take for example a recent incident within the confines of the Lang Family Dwelling. Lang Unit Female Parent/Dictator (LUFPD) *I have been told to inform you that the opinions expressed with said document are not necessarily the opinion of the DICTATOR herself, and I may pay dearly for such ..........*-to continue, LUFPD was away at work on 280204, a Sunday, and LUMP, moi, was home as the sole target of the Genetic Experiments (BOY/GIRL). A fairly routine laboratory situation in recent months.
To set the stage, The Lion King, wuddya want me to do dress in drag and do the hula....? (Rhetorical I have already paid my debt to society for this and my records have been expunged) was on the television for approximately the 30th time that day. LUMP was checking the email, Genetic Experiment Girl (PHIA) was standing next to the couch ( yes a fantastic developmental achievement, for those of you not required to watch her pull the freshly laundered and folded clothes off said couch and onto the floor). Suddenly PHIA got the game face, a metaphor for her face turning purple as she pushes out a strained carrot surprise into her diaper. So in order to avoid the spreading of the biotoxic hazard LUMP quickly evaluated the situation and felt he was able to continue without outside intervention or a frantic call to the dictator. It was during this time of silence, absolute silence when two of the three inhabitants were accounted for that I realized it is quiet, too quiet.
So there we were PHIA happy and exuberant with a dry new waste catcher round her bottom and the Father Unit with his heart in his throat and an anvil in his upper colon wondering where in the name of Jesus his Genetic Experiment Boy (BUBBA) was. Thus, the mad dash was on. Up the stairs, in a flash, nope not in the bathroom remodelling with toilet paper and shampoo, (good). Not in any of the bedrooms remodelling with the dictators lipsticks or underwear drawer (good) yet not so good. BUBBA was not on the top floor of the dwelling. It is at this time that the shouting begins along with the frantic searching. So LUMP races down two flights of stairs into the basement for BUBBA has a fascination with mixing the felines cat litter with their food, the felines show adequate disgust at this transaction. (there are two feline- like inhabitants, DICTATOR has names for them, LUMP refers to them as orangey one with thigh peeling claws and the whitish brown one with the F%$# Off stare and sociopathic tendencies) But once in the basement there is nothing, except a mess so huge only the Liberals would be able to comprehend it. ( make no mistake this mess is a result of the organizational habits of the Parental Units). A quick thought flashes into my mind...I don’t think he can open the door to the outside world...
So I rush once again up the stairs, that is when an all too familiar scent assaults my nose, my pace slows as the anvil in my stomach drops further....as I reach the top of the stairs in the full grip of the panic consuming me as I know what it is I am going to find. I see one little foot sticking out of the pantry cupboard, it is a BUBBA foot. I pull the door open and there he is covered in brown. It is all over his pants, his shirt, his arms, the door, the shelf, and there is a plop of it on his forehead. And sitting between his legs is the open container of peanut butter...
AFTER ACTION REVIEW
BUBBA was counselled with a scolding, a bath, a peanut butter sandwich and a nap
PHIA was rewarded with a golden opportunity to pull the remainder of the clothes off the couch
FELINES where rewarded with a few stolen licks of peanut butter and a 2 hour stay in the basement for stolen licks of peanut butter.
LUMP was rewarded with an antacid, two rolls of paper towel, two hours refolding clothes, and a cat scratch.
Dictator was rewarded with a bloody nice relaxing day at work and a funny little parenting anecdote from husband.
Welcome
Greetings,
I've been debating and humming and hawing about how, when, and what to Blog. The focus started with a running Blog. But how much can I say other than, I run, I sweat, I cry? I've also had comments that I should have a spot where I can dump my miscellaneous writings. Stuff about life in the Lang Family, stuff from work, etc.. So, I figured hey, I'll put all that stuff together under one roof.
Needless to say, the first few things that are on here have varied dates, though they'll all show up today. if I can remember, or better yet, if it matters I will let you know the when, where, and why of writing.
I will also log some of my more memorable runs too, memorable good and memorable bad.
And I am always open to constructive criticism, and praise.
Til next time,
Scotty.
I've been debating and humming and hawing about how, when, and what to Blog. The focus started with a running Blog. But how much can I say other than, I run, I sweat, I cry? I've also had comments that I should have a spot where I can dump my miscellaneous writings. Stuff about life in the Lang Family, stuff from work, etc.. So, I figured hey, I'll put all that stuff together under one roof.
Needless to say, the first few things that are on here have varied dates, though they'll all show up today. if I can remember, or better yet, if it matters I will let you know the when, where, and why of writing.
I will also log some of my more memorable runs too, memorable good and memorable bad.
And I am always open to constructive criticism, and praise.
Til next time,
Scotty.
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