I have always set the posting bar low here at CloudEight, eking out an average of just over 2+ entries a month. So, given what has to be the modest expectations of my dedicated readers, when I start receiving e-mails from them asking what gives with the long absence, I take notice, dust-off the old keyboard, and start typing.
While I can offer any number of excuses for a lack of writing, and have not shied away from doing so in the past, my best bet this time around is simply to note that summer has, at long last, arrived here at our little outpost in the northern tundra. Given that summer in Chicago is approximately 4 weeks long, we tend to react when it does arrive like a ravenous dog that has been thrown a State-Fair sized turkey drumstick - attacking it with all the energy we can muster, ripping great gaping mouthfuls of tender meat from the bone.
For those of you who are literalists, "tender meat" = "summer fun." For those of you who are still struggling with this concept, I offer the following example: I kicked off the fourth of July weekend by going to the American Music Festival at Fitzgerald’s, where I was lucky enough to catch the Texas-blues of the Marcia Ball Band, the alt-country of Robbie Fulks, and the manic New Orleans funk of Trombone Shorty and Orleans Avenue, down a few cocktails and hang out with friends. During the course of the remainder of the three day weekend, we had a family bike ride, went out to eat, attended a town picnic/concert on Friday night, a parade, a family fun-fair, an all-day long party at my in-laws on the 4th followed by fireworks, and a Sunday brunch with friends. I also ran a 5K and we took a family trip to the pool. All this in addition to the more mundane but unavoidable tasks of child maintenance (including keeping them fed, their noses (and butts) wiped, and ensuring they don't stink so much that we aren't invited back places) and house maintenance (including grass cutting and the most recent installment of my weekly battle with the back license plate of our van, which persists in its taunting of me by hanging from one rusty bolt every time I think I have it securely reattached). Thankfully the weekend also included three family naps or I may have been dead at this point instead of merely exhausted.
From the "How Long Can I Get Away With This" file:
While we were driving to a 4th of July picnic in another of the seemingly endless bouts of pouring rain, Cooper asked from the back seat "Daddy, why is it raining?" He may have meant "why is it raining when we are supposed to be going to a fun picnic?", "what makes it rain?", or "what made you decide to raise us in the new Seattle of the Midwest?" Not in the mood for science or, frankly, for delving into the motivation behind his question, I gave it a theological and holiday spin by answering: "Because God hates America." That effectively shut him down for the rest of the ride.
While I can offer any number of excuses for a lack of writing, and have not shied away from doing so in the past, my best bet this time around is simply to note that summer has, at long last, arrived here at our little outpost in the northern tundra. Given that summer in Chicago is approximately 4 weeks long, we tend to react when it does arrive like a ravenous dog that has been thrown a State-Fair sized turkey drumstick - attacking it with all the energy we can muster, ripping great gaping mouthfuls of tender meat from the bone.
For those of you who are literalists, "tender meat" = "summer fun." For those of you who are still struggling with this concept, I offer the following example: I kicked off the fourth of July weekend by going to the American Music Festival at Fitzgerald’s, where I was lucky enough to catch the Texas-blues of the Marcia Ball Band, the alt-country of Robbie Fulks, and the manic New Orleans funk of Trombone Shorty and Orleans Avenue, down a few cocktails and hang out with friends. During the course of the remainder of the three day weekend, we had a family bike ride, went out to eat, attended a town picnic/concert on Friday night, a parade, a family fun-fair, an all-day long party at my in-laws on the 4th followed by fireworks, and a Sunday brunch with friends. I also ran a 5K and we took a family trip to the pool. All this in addition to the more mundane but unavoidable tasks of child maintenance (including keeping them fed, their noses (and butts) wiped, and ensuring they don't stink so much that we aren't invited back places) and house maintenance (including grass cutting and the most recent installment of my weekly battle with the back license plate of our van, which persists in its taunting of me by hanging from one rusty bolt every time I think I have it securely reattached). Thankfully the weekend also included three family naps or I may have been dead at this point instead of merely exhausted.
From the "How Long Can I Get Away With This" file:
While we were driving to a 4th of July picnic in another of the seemingly endless bouts of pouring rain, Cooper asked from the back seat "Daddy, why is it raining?" He may have meant "why is it raining when we are supposed to be going to a fun picnic?", "what makes it rain?", or "what made you decide to raise us in the new Seattle of the Midwest?" Not in the mood for science or, frankly, for delving into the motivation behind his question, I gave it a theological and holiday spin by answering: "Because God hates America." That effectively shut him down for the rest of the ride.
1 comment:
Welcome back Cloud Eight. Dark ending though - has me concerned.
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