Championable | Love, parenting, politics.

I came home last night with the idea that I’d be breaking down about 3 dozen cardboard boxes, taking out an unearthly amount of trash, and then getting to the main task:  cutting Flor carpet tiles and laying them down in the basement.

Instead, I came home to find that Maggie had done the garbage duties, and I took my 11-year-old to see Iron Man.

Rock ON.

This movie had a tremendously talented cast.  I was SO psyched to see Robert Downey, Jr. on screen in a such big, big way. He was the perfect actor for this role, and he did a fantastic job.  And, holy shit… Gwyneth Paltrow and Jeff Bridges backing up Robert Downey?  That ROCKS.

It was a really good movie, probably the best “superhero” film I’ve seen.

I’ll start the carpet tonight.

Love to all.  Even you, the woman in the full-body doily.

If I was gay, I hope to God I’d be out. Like, super out. Like, married-in-Massachusetts-with-three-adopted-kids out.

For me, super out = living like everyone else, as moment-to-moment unaware that some people define my life as abnormal as can be.

The New York Times Magazine had a big article on the life of gay couples in Massachusetts. I didn’t get to read the whole thing - life in the suburban fast lane, you know - but the upshot was that married life for gay couples is pretty much the same as life for other couples.

To which I say: duh.

This is why this issues bugs me so much. As my 11-year-old says: “love is love.”

But this isn’t the point of this post at all.

The point of this post is that I’m no longer certain I care about the whole pseudoanonymity thing.  Anyone who wants to figure out who I am can have a pretty easy time of it, and it’s not like I’m hiding anything here. And it’s getting harder and harder to separate these worlds, with the number of Face

So… what of it?  Do you folks have any opinions on blog anonymity?  Is it worth it?  Possible?  Stupid?

Love to all. Even you, the umbrella-as-rocket salesman.

I’m writing this post, and I’m publishing it when my train is about to pull in. Come hell or high water, this fucker is going online.

First: I just want to say for the record that it’s the married women that are dangerous. But when it comes to HOW dangerous, I’m going to say “not very.” Lust is a big, bad motherfucker, but you really have to engage it in order for it to be threatening in any way. This is different than being a wee bit flirty. Now, if I was to play “force field” with someone, well, THAT would lead to some serious danger.

Second: PostFix kicked the shit out of me tonight. What email server rejects INCOMING email with a “relaying denied” error? What the FUCK?

Third: My business, after getting on its feet, is about to go through some serious changes. For once, it’s not really my fault. My beloved recruiter is going through a variety of personal issues, and she’s decided to move to… move to… Buffalo.

Now, everyone I know who has BEEN to Buffalo keeps saying, “What the FUCK?” I don’t get it either. Somehow, the fact that it’s 2.5 hours from her family in Toronto is one of the deciding factors.

My recruiter rocks. She’s a great person, fabulous at her job, smart, driven, etc. So, well, we’re going to try acting like we live in 2008, and let her telecommute. Broadband + VOIP = full-time job placement from home. She’s something of a writer/recluse (in a good way), so this appeals to her a lot. It worries me, but she says it’s ideal.

We’re giving it 60 days.

Personally, I think she’s doing things way too quickly and without enough forethought, but it’s not my place to say at this point… I know this because I asked if she wanted my personal or professional opinion… and she said “professional only.” Things were too intense, she said, for her to get any more opinions.

I’m afraid her family isn’t doing right by her, but I respect her request.

Fourth: Nobody really stands up to Maggie’s Dad. God bless the man, but he just doesn’t listen to ANYONE. Don’t get me wrong… he’s a decent guy and I love him, but he just doesn’t take other people into account on an emotional level. In fact, Maggie was reduced to tears at one point simply because he ignores her. I lost it with him once, when he refused not to cut up my youngest’s dinner WHILE I WAS TELLING HIM NOT TO, causing my youngest to cry, causing my Father-in-Law to say “I can’t keep up with your rules,” which, in turn, cause me to say: “NO. There were no rules. You just didn’t LISTEN.”

I said this three times, until I was sure he heard me.

Fifth: I feel like every time I call home, people are too busy to talk to me.

Sixth: I feel like I’m being ignored, when it comes to certain parental decisions about supervising the kids. I vaguely understand this, but I strongly, strongly disagree.

Seventh: My to-do list didn’t get shorter from beginning of the day to the end.

Eighth: My train is about to arrive.

Love to all. Even you, the lady who is clearly redirecting her embarrassment about a financial situation into self-righteousness about a company policy violation.

Curving through a 12-foot bowl.

Real skaters know how to fall.

Love to all. Even you, the early morning golfer who nearly hit our window.

Welcome to Florida. It’s sunny, 80 degrees, and I’m on vacation.

I had no idea how much I needed to chill until I arrived last night. It’s like my whole body just started to just… melt. Until I got a note from my recruiter saying that my salesperson left the office in tears after getting a letter about some medical results. (Note: this turned out to probably be nothing bad.) That set me back a few, but I made some calls and found out all was likely to be just fine. Resume the deconstruction.

I’ve made it my mission to not drive any of the activity planning. I’ll drive TO the activities, but other than that, I’m just going to facilitate. Because everyone has things they want to do.  Now.  RIGHT. NOW.

This morning, I did a quick 4.66 mile/7.5 minute run, took my two youngest to the pool, got back, helped with lunch, and took my oldest to the skate park in Jupiter.  That’s where I am now.  Later, Maggie and I are going to the driving range.  Tomorrow, I have a tee time with my Father-in-Law.

Right now, my oldest is giving skating tips to a couple of other kids.  I love the fact that he’s really into the all-for-one skater culture.  He’s a really good egg.

Love to all. Even you, the spitting kid who really ISN’T into the all-for-one skater culture.

Sometimes the consecutive, random snippets of disparate NYC cell phone conversations can seem really profound.

Do you mind a little bloggus-catch-u-uppus?  Ready?  Go.

To those of you speedy enough to see my post-unpost of my Lyme Disease freakout, it’s no longer certain that I have Lyme disease, and I feel like a complete idiot for completely misinterpreting the situation.

Um.  Okay.  So, like, I had a huge band-aid on the first day (and only the first day) that I got that tick bite, and three days later the very very edges of where the band-aid were  were red, and I forgot that I had even HAD the band-aid on, so between the infected tick bit and .  For those of you who didn’t see it… um… LOOK!  A UNICORN!

Anyway.

I spent from 5 to 10pm last night laying down “Flor” carpet, which is pretty easy except for the 45 tiles I had to measure and trim.  That part sucked.  But I took my time and did it right. I thought I’d get the whole office done tonight, but I only got halfway there.  Properly, it’s the public-facing half of the office.   Today, I finished the rest.  Measured twice, cut once, all the way to the finish line. It looks really good.

I’ve cut the Vyvanse down from 70mg to 50mg.  Seems like a better fit.  Less dickhead, with all of the positives.  Maggie approves so far, after nixing the 70mg.  Also, this is the first time my EMPLOYEES nixed a medicine based on dickheadishness.  I’m happy that they trust me enough to tell me.  I’m also happy that one of my employees (the one who told me), also told someone I was the best boss she ever had.  THAT makes me happy, for sure.  Then again, acting on immediate feedback from employees about things is apparently not super-common, based on limited sampling.

On a personal note, I’ve been struggling a bit with the limitations of my ability to effect change in my personal life.  This is a post in itself, and definitely for another time. The summary would be “Nobody gives you a biscuit for doing a little bit better.  Get used to it or get out.”

I’m leaving tomorrow for Florida.  Six business days “off.”  I can’t tell you how lucky I am that I have a team in place that I can trust.  I’m still in insane Pre-Vacation mode… it can’t be avoided.

I’m hoping to relax a little bit, regain my center, test some database features I’ve been dying to try out, and catch up on my blog reading.  Sometimes I fall behind, and it’s difficult to do anything but start anew.

Talk to you from West Palm Beach.

Love to all.  Even you, the fucktard who’s been giving my son shit at baseball.

Maggie and my oldest have been in Vermont since Friday, and are coming back tomorrow. I’m home with my two youngest. I haven’t had any time to post, and barely any time to read my fave blogs.

Single parents, how the hell you do it day after day after day? You’re AMAZING.

Love to all. Even you, the Mom in the pew who wouldn’t let her kid talk before Mass.

With my brand new, cheaper-because-it’s-not-the-current-model Canon Digital Rebel XT, I discover THIS:

Just what the hell has been going on in my daughter’s dollhouse?

Love to all. Even you, the battling ladies of baggery.

I got up yesterday, ran five miles, did a round of light weights.  As with all of my recent runs, I took it pretty easy.

Five hours later, I did it again, only faster.

I’ve had by brother and sister-in-law’s IM in my buddy list for years.  Last week, it turned on.  I didn’t know if it was my sister-in-law or by brother, so, knowing the psychology of my family, I shot over a quick note saying “Hi [brother!]  it’s me… just wanted to say hi and find out if you got my voicemail! Love to all!”  If I had written my SIL’s name, everyone would have assumed I was trying to pull something.  Weird, but true.

Ten minutes later, the IM went offline.

Thing is, I have no idea what kind of insane lies my father has told about me, but since nobody has bothered to ask me about it for the last five years, I guess it doesn’t really matter.

Five years since they’ve seen my kids, and I’ve had enough.

Maggie asks why I’m surprised. How long did my father “banish” his brother?  20 years? How long did he “banish” his mother?  12 years?  What kind of evil crazy shit did he tell me about my relatives?  Any my mother… “To disagree with your father is a betrayal.”

Why would I expect my father to rebalance his faulty psychology after only five years?  It takes a long time to both justify psychotic behavior AND figure out a way to not blame it the personal-you-formerly-thought-was-evil.

The question, is:  why do I want them back?

For the last five years, I’ve tried to think of different ways to approach my parents.  I’ve even tried to make truthful amends, apologizing for my role in things without taking the blame for things I didn’t do (which, by the way, was what my mother ASKED me to do - take the blame for everything - before we stopped speaking).   I’ve offered to fly out there with my son for a visit.  Offered to simply accept my role in things and move on.

I’ve done everything I’m supposed to do.

I was considering flying to Los Angeles for my fifth sober anniversary, calling my parents and saying “Hey, I’m here.  This is the only time I’m going to be here.  Let’s chat.”

But I’m not sure I’m going to to this anymore.

I’m starting to get angry. And it’s justifiable and grownup kind of anger, which, according to the basic text of Alcoholics Anonymous, is the most dangerous kind of all.

Give a mustard-seed-sized amount of justifiable anger to a Borderline like my father, and he’ll build lie after lie after lie upon it.

Give a mustard-seed-sized amount of justifiable anger to an Alcoholic like me, and it grows into resentment, which is the “number one offender,” and the best way to start down the road towards a drink.

And this, my friends, is why I’m going to see a therapist.

Love to all.  Even you, the lady who seemed offended by the pregnant passenger.

Maggie’s been sick for two days.  I stayed home from work yesterday to take care of Maggie and drop off/pick up kids… which was kind of a drag because we planned our first field trip at the office, to plan out furnishings for our new Universal Headquarters / Fortress of Good / Central Karma Station.

And, you know, if your gonna have a Fortress of Good, you have to be able to sit down.  Right?

Anyway.  My daughter is, at this very second, sitting down to a fabulous extravaganza of  cutene, having been invited to have lunch at the American Girl restaurant in midtown. This is my favorite restaurant in all of NYC. I am not kidding.  And eight girls with American Girl dolls waiting to board the Metro North train to Manhattan = cutest. thing. ever.

For now, there’s dishes to do, laundry to fold, and HDMI cables to replace.  Off I go.

Love to all. Even you, Simon Lazowsky.