well, at least my internet is back.


so, it didn't take 'til thursday.

yesterday evening, after the dude put his uniform on for batting practice and everything, the braves sent mark teixeira west to play for the angels. in return, my braves received a young, light-hitting first baseman whose current claim to fame is that he's really difficult to strike out. awesome. go braves. the only thing that will make this one-sided deadline deal feel better is if manny ramirez is shipped out of boston to florida for some "young, major league-ready talent" and the red sox' season is destroyed too. sorry, andy. my misery needs company.

i am pissed about this for a number of reasons. let me count the ways.

1) i am pissed at teixeira. any logical braves fan knew that we were going to lose him at the end of this season. if his agent was anyone other than scott boras, maybe not. but boras was and is going to bleed some team out of 20-25 million dollars a year for a really good player, mind you, but not a "difference maker". braves gm, frank wren, came on the telecast last night and told the tv guys that teixeira boras turned down an offer in the spring that would have made tex one of the highest paid players in the game and locked him up for six years, plenty of time for the braves to say good-bye to the current aging pitching staff and retool behind chipper, mccann and yunel and compete for the division again by the end of the contract. he didn't give out exact numbers, but, what, mark? 17 (or so) million isn't good enough for you??? you and your georgia tech education can't figure out how to stretch 100 million dollars out so the next five generations of your family don't have to work? please. don't talk about wanting to stay in atlanta and then bolt for more cash that will hamstring your team in 2009 like it would have hamstrung the braves.

2) i am pissed at chipper jones for being old but still freaking good enough to raise everyone's expectations of a braves team with him in the line-up. watching at least parts of 85 percent of the braves' games this year, there was no less tangible but no more telling example of how the team lining up against the braves on any given night valued their chances. it had to have been the same way that i valued the braves chances on any given night. when chipper was in the order, you felt like the braves could and should win the game. when he wasn't? well, omar infante is no chipper jones.

3) i am pissed at myself. hindsight being what it is, a paper rotation of smoltz, hudson, glavine, hampton and jurrjens was never going to work. it just wasn't. the percentages were stacked too high against them. they couldn't help they are old. but i couldn't help remembering the best season each of them has ever had and then telling myself that they could recreate said best seasons, all of them individually, for the braves in 2008. with an offense that was explosive last year and coming back intact, i couldn't help but drool at the thought of "what was to come". then again neither could jayson stark of espn and ken rosenthal of foxsports, and they know a helluva lot more about baseball than kevin o'kelley of HACAM. or, do they?

4) i am pissed that the season is, effectively, over with 60 games left to play. what do i do now? the team has given up, so why shouldn't i? i mean, i'll watch some games, but all the meaning has been drained from them. it's like a 60 game exhibition season has been tacked on to the end of a bad dream. it's like the length of time between the end of one season of lost and the beginning of the next. it's like...forever! so, here is my plea, braves front office. don't sell us, the fans, on 2009 and then play the next two months out like you give a damn about this season. bring jordan schafer and his supply of hgh up now and put him in centerfield. keep charlie morton in the rotation to let him take his licks. bring up the other kid from the minors that pitched the no-hitter. shoot mike hampton and put him out of his misery. bench chipper now. let him travel to seattle and begin his new "off-season" conditioning program with another mid-30's superpower, ichiro, and learn how to run hard without ripping something in his legs. say "good night, and good luck" to kotsay and will ohman and every other guy that won't be considered for the 40 man spring training roster next year. if it's time to build for next year, fucking do it. don't do it half-way.

5) i am pissed that i don't know what team to root for now. the last couple years, after the braves have fallen out of it, i've picked a team to throw my support behind, but i can't find that team currently. the red sox and freaking "i only pitch (poorly) on espn dice-k" are starting to really annoy me. as mentioned above, the only way this tide of emotion can turn is if manny leaves and red sox nation embraces the "underdog" role again. i love rooting for the "underdog". kiker's joy would bring me pain, so i can't fully pledge my support to the feel-good cubs. i hate the angels now. the al central is boring. the yankees blow. the nl west is dreadful. who does that leave? right. the mets or the phillies or the marlins. teams that i have actively hated for a hundred games this year as a braves fan. can i root for them now? i don't know that i can. but if the marlins get manny, i will try.

and so, that's how i feel about my favorite baseball team ditching their second-best player for a bag of crap. i am happy that my internet works again (thanks joseph and random indian, i.t. guy that sent us the network card).

here's hoping mark teixeira slips on one of the rally monkey's banana peels, throws his back out and misses the postseason. that, or he pulls an a-rod once he gets into the playoffs and strikes out every time a runner is in scoring position.

it's not your words that make me hate you. it's how you spell them.


i wish i could tell you that i felt like my wnba post was so mind-blowingly thought-provoking that it fully deserved it's top billing on the site for going on a week now. unfortunately, that is not quite the case. since last wednesday evening, we've been without access to the internet at the house, and it is killing me. we have a new network card on the way that is not going to fix the problem. after that, god help you, "faceless charter tech.-support guy that my wife or brother-in-law will talk to". it's not going to be pretty.

me? i'll be standing on the sidelines with a washcloth in hand waiting to clean up to the mess, and hoping that my dear, sweet internet will be accessible to our dear, sweet home sooner rather than later.

when the problem is finally fixed, my first entry after "the break" will say good-bye to good 'ole mark teixeira, my braves first baseman that will be traded by thursday's end.

ok. so, the world is probably going to end before 2012.


there is already a good deal of scuttlebutt peaking out from basements of the internet (and other media) about the idea that we are dreadfully close to the end of the world. i'll let you do your own wikipedia search if you are interested, but most of the foundation is built from the fact that the ancient mayans calculated december 21, 2012 to be the end date of their calendar, this date suggesting to them that there would be a significant change in world order (whatever that means). you could terrorize yourself and spend hours reading what folks are saying and predicting about the year and date in question, but i don't really have that kind of time. for all intents and purposes, everything that i read suggests that i am not going to be able to stop that which is going to happen, so i won't spend too much time worrying about it. the fact of the matter is, if i truly believe that we are not promised tomorrow for any number of reasons, then i should not live my life in fear of what could happen, even if i know the "when".

that's what i thought until last night...

when this happened.

a wnba fight? what. the. crap? i don't know why i am so intrigued by the idea of this girl-fight of epic proportions, but i truly am. for all the wrong reasons, i am sure. it's not that i didn't know that girls could fight, or could fight each other, or get bowled over by an enormous man. i am sure i could find hundreds of youtube clips that would prove that not only do those things happen all the time, but people get off on watching it. last night's fight had so many layers to it, though, that i am having a hard time wrapping my head around it this morning.

i think the thing that sticks out to me is the way the girl from detroit bows up to candace parker after she's thrown to the ground like she is ready for a steel-cage match. is this really what she wants? or, is it just posturing? standing at pose for a calendar that she can put up in her children's bedroom that proves just how tough mommy can be when some young phenom questions her worth. was the reaction to rush over and stand over someone getting up off the ground an instinctual chip that society had planted into her subconscious? had she seen too many rap videos? too much mma? too much jerry springer? make no mistake. many things happened during the melee that a lot of grown-ass, adult people are not going to be proud of, but the catalyst for everything escalating into world war three was ms. pierson standing over the top of ms. parker like she was back in grade-school playing king of the mountain. had she just backed off, waited just half a second for her cooler-headed teammates to come grab her, that would have been that. sure, they would have yelled bad things back and forth. but a grown man would not have ended up shoving a woman to the ground. a high-caliber female athlete would not have left in a wheelchair after hurting herself restraining her own teammates(!!!), and another night would have passed without me having to waste extra brain-space on the wnba.

but it happened. and penalties will be paid because of it. but i wonder how much attention will be paid to the "why". i wonder if these athletes will worry that they have now fallen into a stereotype more suited and accepted among their male counterparts or if they will just bang their chest and be proud.

come four years from now, i don't know if i'll put together my own list of "why the world is coming to an end". i am fairly sure i'll be hiding under a rock or working on pre-tan, 2012. if i do, though, the wnba brawl of 2008 will make the cut. i am sure of that. something...no, a lot of things were wrong with the pictures from last night.

i doubt we'll do anything about them.

"o, holy night" and canker sores
(maybe this is what hell is like)


"you are listening to 96.5. birmingham's only station that brings you christmas in july."

wait.

this is a selling point? let's put aside that i am usually in a bad mood anyway when i close the store on a saturday night, mainly because both my eyes are already pointed toward my sunday off. let's forget for a second that it was two billion degrees in said store because two of my a/c units were down. and let's pretend that one of the first things that caught my attention as i turned the corner to aisle 6 (the bird aisle, ironically enough) wasn't a big, steaming pile of pit bull crap. but let's focus on what truly ended up killing me over the course of saturday evening. magic 96 was blasting from it's airwaves christmas music. in july. and i couldn't think of one good reason for them to do it. now granted, this is not a new concept. magic 96 does this every year. and every year, it sneaks up on me like a thief in the night carrying a hot steak knife with my eardrums playing the role of butter. so, i decided that i would chart the madness. it would be my own little psp drinking game. my drink of choice? mello-yello. every time bloody josh groban or any other poor bastard poured their heart out singing their "creative" and "unique" version of "o, holy night", i would drink. 3:45. our night in shining armor shows himself to the masses. josh the magnificent unleashes what i've been told was track number one on jesus' christmas 2007 mixtape. 6:33. someone less handsome raises their voice to the alpha and omega's glory with their own version. 7:25 (less than an hour later!!!). someone else. bottle is empty. i am drunk with envy that i, too, have not been asked to contribute my own mello-yello-ed colored version of this mighty beast of a song. i can't take it. i change the channel. god cries.

on top of this, the soundtrack of my night spun by dj memphistopheles, i have found in my mouth a wound that feels like it must be the size of a grapefruit. the true image in my mirror begs differently. it lies and shows a spot no larger than one on hannah's fingernails, but each time i turn away from the prevaricator on the wall, the entire left side of my face begins to pulse. the grapefruit inside my mouth dares me to eat, drink or even try to be merry. he will not let this be. i took joseph's advice. i tried to drown the evil in steak last night. and though the steak was, indeed, a formidable opponent and won a strategically planned battle, it seems the canker sore is winning the war.

the easy next joke would be an attempt to riff on how truly disgusting just the words "canker sore" are. and let's be honest. it sounds pretty effing bad. i do not want to trivialize this enemy's worth, though. nor do i want to anger it further. i have never known truer evidence that we live in a fallen world than i did saturday night when the forces of "christmas in july" and the canker sore converged against me. this afternoon, i pray for mercy. a savior even. someone that may take my burden from me. for i am not strong enough to carry this weight on my own.

where are you...

batman?

no, really. everyone (minus you, joseph and christina and marie and the rest of the "lost") did see batman this weekend, right? that movie kicked my canker sore's ass!!!

to be or not to be
(part one)
((daniel plainview))


inspired in some way by my most recent movie-watching experience, a new series emerges from the depths of HACAM. i am looking for ways to entertain myself, more than anything else, when i sit down to ramble for "all the world" to see. having an ever-evolving website that mainly consists of my own musings is a little tough. to be fair, some things (and possibly guests) are in the works that may spruce up the place sooner rather than later. keep an eye out for that. if hannah and caroline actually sit down and pay attention to this, my most intentional gift to them, some years down the road, maybe they'll be proud to see that i tried to keep things interesting. having said that, i now present to you the first in what could (or could not be) a new line of schtick. i'll be taking a brief look at fictional and non-fictional characters and deciding by the end of a few, short-sighted paragraphs whether i would choose "to be" them or "not to be". in the immortal words of reel big fish, "hope you hate it!"

today's subject? daniel plainview. thanks to joseph, i freely (in every sense of the word) took in every beautiful minute of there will be blood over the weekend. i won't bore you with a review, but i will say that it was awesome. in short, it was awesome because, like few movies, it was an experience. when you decide to spend two and a half hours with anything, you'd like it to leave you with something to remember it by. among the things i immediately remember from the movie...daniel plainview (the scariest motherscratcher i think i have seen on film since keyser soze), eli sunday, and the kick-butt score by radiohead's jonny greenwood (i loathe radiohead, but i am now a fan of greenwood.). it was a good movie.

the first words that daniel plainview speak in the movie announce himself and his intentions to the viewer and the town in front of him. "ladies and gentlemen, i am an oilman." and from that lie, the table is set. for the viewer has already seen a history established that contradicts this announcement. in the movie's first scene, plainview is a silver man. or maybe he is a money man or a power man, if those two things can even be separated. he is definitely a motivated man. that cannot be discounted. and that motivation, that determination, will eventually lead him into madness.

once plainview has found his way, though, nothing will stop him. throughout the course of the movie, we observe, with anticipated terror, the carnage his single-minded determination towards something leaves in it's wake. as a result of this "focus", we see him use his adopted son as a tool of sympathy and morality and birthright. we see the son indirectly handicapped because of it. and then we see the son properly disowned for finally choosing his own direction instead of his father's. we see a young, and also determined, pastor figuratively then literally beaten down because his own powers of manipulation were not nearly as strong as those that plainview possessed. we see "friends" and "family" used, abused and killed, leaving us with the impression that they were never more than a means to some end that i am not certain daniel plainview, even, was ever aware of. he was driven, for sure. but driven by what? we are never given a glimpse that anything could hold this man's happiness for more than a fleeting moment. he was never satisfied. he was never fulfilled. the grass was always greener on the next lease of land he could steal away from some unsuspecting and innocent family that was living on top of (or to the side of) black gold.

(the movie and) the character of daniel plainview is so intensely terrifying and fascinating because we all, at least, know someone that has been gripped by this type of blinders-on, "i am marching forward, come hell or high water" approach to life. the motivating factors could be different for anyone. it could be family. it could be drugs. it could be career. it could be jesus christ. whatever it is, though, it is no less unnerving. for a healthy person is a balanced person. someone that understands that there is a greater purpose for their life than whatever carrot is currently dangling in front of them. i've read articles praising the type of drive that daniel plainview exhibits in there will be blood. i've read some opinions that suggest we need more of that "if you're not winning, you are losing" mentality. i tend to disagree. and maybe i am just a hippie. or lazy. or growing too idealistic in my "old" age. i do believe in priorities. i believe some things should be more important than others. but i do not believe my priorities and my "some things" should come at the expense of the people i have to step on to reach them. if i ever display that type of mentality going forward, i hope that one of my own friends will be there to slap me with some perspective.

i appreciate paul thomas anderson for the world he created in his movie. and i appreciate the entertainment value of watching daniel day lewis create the character of daniel plainview for "all the world" to see.

to the question at hand...

to be or not to be daniel plainview?

i choose "not to be."

why you shouldn't go to sunday school with evander holyfied


this made me smile too much not to pass along to you, folks that i think might get a kick out of it. please don't take the jokes or the butts of the jokes as me passing judgement whatsoever. lord knows that i have more than my share of faults. and lord knows how flaky i still feel, to this day, about the idea that god tapped me (or is tapping me, dependant on whom you ask) on the shoulder and invited me to be anyone's spiritual mentor.

considering how often athletes these days play the "god" card, it's still an interesting question. where does one draw the line between the sincere, the cliche', and the "ok. there is no way that god is letting this dude into heaven. did you hear he was selling cocaine to cops???".

so, without further ado, i share with you, courtesy of holytaco.com via deadspin, the best third grade athlete theology that our ticket-purchasing (enabling) money can buy.

http://www.holytaco.com/2008/07/08/8-most-hypocritical-christian-athletes/

sunburn and suck-tastic tennis
(the art of the pre-tan)


i guess we've all been there, right? most of us like the beach. if not the actual swimming in the ocean part, we like the idea of the beach. it's a getaway. for (x) number of days, it's that literal and figurative place away from here that you go to to forget about work, school, xbox live or whatever else may be stressing you out or keeping you up at night. personally, i love the beach. everything about it. especially the swimming in the ocean part. especially when the waves are "big" and the current is just strong enough that there is a hint of danger in going out too far. those are some of my favorite memories from the beach, even dating back to when i was a kid. if we headed out for the day and my mom was super-cautious about letting me go out into the water, i knew it was going to be a good day. diving into waves and letting the momentum of the water pull me back to my feet again and again and again. goodness. is there any better feeling than that? in less than a month, i'll be trekking down to orange beach (thanks to sarah's dad) with the girls to meet up with much of the crump clan for a few days. i can't wait for the idea of the beach. and i can't wait for the actual beach, itself.

there is one thought and only one thought that haunts me as i look forward to this particular trip, though. that thought? the first-day sunburn. and any of of you that grow as pasty white over the non-summer months as i do know exactly what i am talking about. that first day when everything in you is screaming to get outside and spend hours on top of hours either on the sand or in the ocean or by the pool and the excitement level is way too high for you to worry about sunscreen. not necessarily the first application. when your whole party is in the room preparing for that first jaunt outside, it's hard to escape the moms in the room yelling at you to apply the spf whatever. you don't really want to, but you have to. there will be too many moms in the room or in your head to not apply that first time. what usually burns you (pun intended)...what usually burns me is my neglecting second, third or fourth applications. more sunscreen? no, thank you. i am in the water. i cannot be burned while i am in the water, right? what's that you say? i can be burned in the water? i do not believe you. i am going to stay in the water with my good friends, the waves. see you tonight, when i am out of the water and not in danger of being blistered to the point of not enjoying the rest of the vacation. and so it goes. that first evening, when everyone is completely wiped out after physically overextending themselves on the first day because the call of the beach was too alluring, you feel something. that something is your skin rebelling against all of the sun that it was not protected against. your skin moves slowly, but very surely into self-preservation mode. tightening and turning red to alert you that you have screwed up. tightening and turning red to remind you, much too late, that the second, third and fourth applications of spf whatever are just as important as the first. days two, three, four, etc. at the beach will be fun. don't get me wrong. they just won't be as comfortable. your skin's innocence being ripped away due to your (my) being stubborn is the reason. and you'll be left to wonder "what if?". what if i got out of the water for just five minutes and reapplied my sunscreen? would days two, three, four, etc. have been every bit as glorious as that first day? the pain that you (i) will manage through 'til you (i) head home suggests the answer to that "what if" to be, "yes."

and so, it comes to this. obviously, i am aware of my beach shortcomings. i am aware, sure, that there are steps that i should follow upon exiting the hotel room to maximize my beach experience. but all of the above being said, there remains a problem. you see, i. am. an idiot. for today, on july 9th, i praise the worth of sunscreen here. less than one month from now, on my first day at the beach, i will forget these lessons. so, i am taking another approach.

for the first time ever, i am working on a pre-tan. that's right. i am making efforts to go from pasty to not-quite-as-pasty before i get to the beach. it's called damage control, people!!! last week, i went shirtless (sorry, neighbors) cutting the grass. i stayed shirtless while the baby girl and the baby, baby girl played in the baby pool. sunday, after church, i went to bradford park to play shirtless (on my part) tennis with an old friend. and let me just say, wow! after having not played tennis (and no, beandon, tennis is not just "big ping-pong".) in years, the tennis on display sunday afternoon equaled in degree of crap what the nadal/federer wimbledon final equaled in degree of awesome. but the tennis wasn't really the point. the fellowship was. and of course, the pre-tan was too. the after-effects of the afternoon of tennis include a little pre-sunburn, but not too bad i don't think. not so bad that it affects my want to continue my master plan. have some sort of tan upon arriving at the beach. like i used to when i was a kid. and leave the beach looking like a native-american indian. like i used to when i was a kid. when i look back at old pictures, it's amazing to me how dark and tanned i always was. then again, i never wore a shirt. i wonder when that stopped. everyone looks better with a tan, right? i wonder when i stopped never wearing a shirt. oh, yeah. probably about the time i discovered shame. "everyone knows the only thing we should be ashamed of is our bodies." you are so right, kenneth from 30 rock. i digress.

i will move forward with the master plan. the pre-tan will work. it will absolutely work. and my beach experience will be all the better for it.

to the pre-tan!!!

man, i hope we sing god bless america at church on sunday
(that, or maybe a hymn about jesus)


it just hit me that this coming sunday, the first of the month would probably be part communion, part god bless the usa. that's too bad. moving on.

last year, on the 4th of july, i took a look at where i was standing with regard to my new year's resolutions. in the spirit of tradition and the personal inventory that i spoke of last sunday, i'll do it again today. let's rewind and review...

1) start getting right with god - well, hmm. i don't know if i've made much progress with this. i am still half-way involved with church. i attend worship, reluctantly, every sunday i am not working. when our sunday school gathers on those sundays, i'll say some words. i can definitely lay claim to re-entering the worlds of children's musicals and vacation bible school. those are very much pros. the cons? i still have a pretty negative taste in my mouth about my church. not about god, necessarily, just about his place within our walls. that shouldn't really affect how i feel about my own personal relationship, but it does. so...i still have work to do with this one. but i feel like i am headed in the right, pun intended, direction.

2) don't give up on huffman (the community, not necessarily my church) - done. i hesitated. i truly did. five days after i wrote the resolution post, i had an ak-47 pressed against my face. very scary stuff. my assistant manager walked away. and i wanted to follow him. as time was put between the fourth and last (knocking on wood) robbery, i get the feeling that i wanted to follow him to make sure he was ok. not really to follow him away from that place where we didn't feel safe for a time. whether it's healthy or not, i don't feel scared when i go to work. that's a good thing. huffman has it quirks, but it's my huffman, you know? i feel good about this one moving on through the end of the year.

3) don't get fat - so far, so good. i went on one of my patented "let's throw up everything inside of me twice" diets the night of hannah's church musical. as long as that happens once again in the next six months, i am gold.

4) drive fast and safe to the emergency room when it's time - this one was in reference to the inevitability of this being the year hannah would break her first bone. it's been unnecessary so far (knocking on wood again).

5) eat more ribs - wow. what an absolute failure this has been so far. my goal was for one meat-a-thon per month. that has not happened. not even close. i would have to go twice a month for the rest of the year. i can go ahead and chalk this one up as a loss unless a dreamland opens up on chalkville mountain in the next two months.

6) don't throw up - failed. see number three.

7) go to the iron bowl - still too early to call. i don't have tickets in hand. but if alabama opens up their season 4-7, i could fall into some.

8) don't start smoking - this was to be my gimme to raise morale in times of trial. i haven't had to play that card yet, but it's good to know i already have one vote to cancel out the whole ribs fiasco.

9) make christmas less "busy" - i can assure you that this is going to be a stone-cold lock. i think hannah is old enough to understand that her party can be held on a day not christmas. i think it will make her 5th birthday feel that much more special anyway.

10) see brian again - done. already. i didn't even have to take a trip to sunny florida. although, i wish that we could. maybe soon, though, if he doesn't kill himself on his new motorcycle. here i am, bragging on him with every other breath and what does he go and do? buys a freaking crotch-rocket. just because you've lived enough life to have a mid-life crisis does not erase the fact that you are only 27, dude! please don't kill yourself. what? do i sound like my mom?

11) close this chapter as it relates to my father - i was never as close to that closure that i was looking for back in january as i was this past wednesday. and then? andy's dad had to go and have a heart attack. thanks, mr. rickles! obviously, i am a douchebag and i am only kidding, but were it not for the perspective and reflection that andy's dad's worst day lent me, i might have closed the book around lunchtime. still tracking this one, but something will happen well before the end of the year.

5 "yea's", 2 "nays", and 4 still up in the air.

i do feel good that the first six months of the year haven't totally flown by. dates and things sneak up on me, but i don't feel like i am losing time, which i tell myself is because i am not so wishing for my next big thing to do that i am missing out on what's right in front of me.

here's hoping that continues the rest of the year.

and remember, when you are singing that ole' standard, "the us kicks everyone else's ass" (it's a favorite in our house), in church on sunday...

god bless(es) everyone.

father's day
(part blue comb '78)
((dude...get over it.))


i was this close.

i didn't know it yet, but i was two hours away.

i was two hours away from being given my one, last reason to give up the ghost of recapturing a dying relationship.

i was two hours away when chris perry called and left me a message that this had happened. at the time the message was left, andy, chris' wife renae and the rest of their family were unsure whether their day would end with their father winning his fight for his life or not. happily, i can report that things with mr. rickles have taken a turn for the better and it looks like he, soon, will be beginning down what, i am sure, will be a long road to recovery. praise god for that.

oh, perspective. you are a fickle bitch.

it's no secret to those of you that read me that andy is a good buddy of mine. our schedules and commitments get in the way of us kicking it too often. but, he's one of the few guys in my life that, if i saw him getting roughed up on the side of the road, i would jump out of my moving car and hustle to the fracas (if my bones didn't break from jumping out of a moving car) in order to throw a punch or three on his behalf (that, or get punched in the face right alongside him.). he knows my side of my and my father's story as well as anyone. so, i don't think he'll mind too terribly much if i take his traumatic situation and, selfishly, spin it so that i can find a life lesson in the midst of one of his worst days ever. at least, i hope not.

i think about...no, i dwell on the idea...no. ok, i obsess about not having my dad all the time. seldom, though, do i let it cross my mind the thought of not having him, you know? i am sure andy, renae and the rest of their family can attest to how crappy a feeling that actually must be. and even today, even being close, now, to someone that's been through that crappy feeling (or worse yet, suffered the real thing and not just a close call), surely only someone that's actually been there and done that can know the depths, the true ramifications, of what someone's life being taking out of yours (permanently) can do to a person.

i'll be honest. i am uncomfortable with this thought as it relates to my own life. the way that i process my memories of my father in the present are a lot like my playing a round of golf. i suck at golf. i hit a ton of shitty, even laughably bad shots. but those aren't the ones that keep me coming back for more. it's those four to five shots over the course of eighteen holes that i hit like i was worthy of a pga tour card (ok. maybe not that good.) that make me want to play again. and it's the good times and the good conversations and the smiles that look a lot like mine that won't let me forget what a relationship with my dad could be like, even if it's never the relationship that i wish for when i am asleep.

andy and renae (and the rest of your family), i am so happy that your dad is doing better, and i am sorry for your having to go through yesterday.

i am going to call my dad again soon.

pray for me (and my patience), please.