In my quest for a title, I typed the world "fault" into the search bar of my iTunes, and only three songs came up, the first of which became the title of the post you see before you. I'd like to say it sums up the remainder of this post, but that would be a stretch. Still, I like it. Because really, any one who is loved by another is loved in spite of their faults, yeah?
I've figured a little something out about myself. I'm not a sports guy by any means, but I'm familiar with a superstition apparently common among baseball pitchers wherein if it looks like they may have a no-hitter in their immediate future, they won't talk about it, and they don't want their teammates to talk about it to them, a communal silence held intact by fear of The Mighty Jinx. As if giving breath to the looming possibility of something great is to ensure its certain demise. In some cases, I'm sure it's just an issue of maintaining focus and concentration, but come on; we all know sports are as riddled with superstitions as a back-porch conversation between old southerners.
As much as I hate to admit it, I think I carry something akin to this sort of jinx-based superstition deep within me. I am afraid to talk very much about a good thing that looks like it might happen, for fear that it won't. But it's not so much that I'm afraid of jinxing it. It's more that I dread the idea of getting my hopes up, of exciting others with my news, only to have to come back later with a disappointing update. And to dig a bit deeper than that, it's not the sharing of bad news that makes me cringe, but rather the thought of how that bad news reflects back upon me.
I absolutely do not believe that the only reason bad things happen to people is because they somehow deserve it. Sure, sometimes people bring shit on themselves, but when you start saying things like, oh I don't know, that an entire city was leveled by a hurricane because the people who live there were BAD, well then you're an idiot. And you're stupid. A stupid idiot. Oh, and mean. A mean stupid idiot bad person. Who will be punished! Oh wait, uh...
But all that aside, it seems that somewhere along the way, probably very early on, I internalized the idea that bad things happen to people solely as a result, be it direct or indirect, of their own moral wrongdoings. I don't believe it consciously, but below the surface, there it is, a completely unfounded unfair untrue wrong hateful judgmental proven-wrong-a-billion-times-over idea. Perhaps it was some of the hellfire and brimstone brand of religion that I was exposed to as a boy, the kind that sees sin and damnation in even the most beautiful that life has to offer. Plus I grew up in a family that routinely discussed a variety of superstitions, most of which seemed to call out strange events as the results of even stranger, seemingly unlinked actions. Like for example, if both of your shoes were untied, it meant that you'd either been telling lies or peeing in the road.
Whatever the cause, it seems that I have become a person who is hesitant to discuss good things that might happen, things that might go my way for fear that, if they don't, that if the scales tip the other way, then it will become apparent to all that I must have failed somehow. Whatever bad news I have will be a great big giant banner proclaiming to the world that I must have done something wrong to place myself in a position out of favor with the cosmos.
Which is just fucking stupid.
So in a challenge to these foolish little superstitions of mine, and in an attempt to pry them loose from that which makes up myself, I'm going to talk about the good news that just might happen for us. It's actually a pretty certain thing at this point, but the final bits of paperwork haven't been signed yet. I'm referring, of course, to the house we're buying. The link is to my wife's blog where she posted about this a few days ago. Even though the news has been out there for a little while, and many of you who know us in the flesh are already aware of this, I still get this giddy risk-taking feeling by putting this out there. Which is okay with me. But yes, we're buying a house, one that we've fallen absolutely in love with, one which meets all of our requirements, and falls well within our budget.
Like I said, it's a pretty certain thing at this point. But more importantly, it feels good to challenge this notion of mine that when things don't go my way, it's some indicator that I'm a failure and now everybody knows so cue the pointing and laughing. If you must point and laugh, do so because my fly is open, which of course is a sure sign that I've either been stealing fruit out of the farmer's orchard or playing with matches.
Thursday, April 10, 2008
Thursday, April 03, 2008
Bow-chicka-choo-choo
So I left this little story in the comments of a post over at Terrible Mother's blog where she asked people to recount their embarrassing kid stories, but seeing as how the ratio of teary-eyed giggles per retelling of this story doesn't seem to be decreasing at a very accelerated rate for either Ashley or myself, I figured that perhaps it would enjoy a place in its very own post.
Ya see, Mr. Henry has this Thomas the Tank Engine video - yes, this story involves Thomas the Tank Engine, but stay with me on this one, I promise you a payoff - wherein one of the stories revolves around a friend of Thomas's, a green train named Percy. Foolish little train that he is, Percy loses control and crashes into a chocolate factory. It's a great big mess with chocolate kersplosions and everything, and at the end of it, poor Percy is completely covered in chocolate. Cute, right?
But then you take into account the fact that little Henry's pronunciation isn't always completely accurate, and you can completely understand why when two of my aunt's, Henry's great aunts, were at our house visiting, Henry asked them if they wanted to watch chocolate pussy. And why he then went on to ask me if I liked chocolate pussy.
It wasn't the first time Henry had brought up the subject of chocolate pussy. At Easter, he told everybody at his uncle's house about chocolate pussy. He likes to ask me if I'd like to watch chocolate pussy with him. He tells his mom to go get the chocolate pussy. I know it'll get old at some point, but Ash and I are 6th grade boys when it comes to this kind of thing, so that point's still way off on the other side of the horizon.
As for my aunts, I registered only the slightest of reactions with either of them, but I can tell you that I forced my laughter down and launched immediately into explanatory mode, even going so far as to jump up and grab the tape off of the shelf. "Look! It was totally innocent!"
Maturity: we needs it.
Ya see, Mr. Henry has this Thomas the Tank Engine video - yes, this story involves Thomas the Tank Engine, but stay with me on this one, I promise you a payoff - wherein one of the stories revolves around a friend of Thomas's, a green train named Percy. Foolish little train that he is, Percy loses control and crashes into a chocolate factory. It's a great big mess with chocolate kersplosions and everything, and at the end of it, poor Percy is completely covered in chocolate. Cute, right?
But then you take into account the fact that little Henry's pronunciation isn't always completely accurate, and you can completely understand why when two of my aunt's, Henry's great aunts, were at our house visiting, Henry asked them if they wanted to watch chocolate pussy. And why he then went on to ask me if I liked chocolate pussy.
It wasn't the first time Henry had brought up the subject of chocolate pussy. At Easter, he told everybody at his uncle's house about chocolate pussy. He likes to ask me if I'd like to watch chocolate pussy with him. He tells his mom to go get the chocolate pussy. I know it'll get old at some point, but Ash and I are 6th grade boys when it comes to this kind of thing, so that point's still way off on the other side of the horizon.
As for my aunts, I registered only the slightest of reactions with either of them, but I can tell you that I forced my laughter down and launched immediately into explanatory mode, even going so far as to jump up and grab the tape off of the shelf. "Look! It was totally innocent!"
Maturity: we needs it.
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
Little shots of happy
1. That Crappy McShitass stated of mind that I was dealing with a while back seems to have lifted over the last few weeks. I can't point to any one thing in particularly that sent that wicked little storm cloud on its way, but such is the way with these things sometimes. The way out is usually through.
2. Professor Simon's teaching lessons on cause and effect. Observe:
That's right, tickle the fuzzhead (cause), you get a smile (effect).
3. Those of you who keep up with my wife's blog, or who know us in the flesh know that a while back, we were worried that Henry might have lead poisoning. Fucking lead poisoning! What year is this again? Long story short, the kid was showing all the signs, none of which had been apparent prior to us moving into this house we're in, which was built in 1946, lead paint's American heyday. Well, I'm pleased to announce that the results are in and my little boy is just fine. There may be lead in the walls, perhaps a bit in the soil, and maybe even some in my pencil, but none of it seems to have gotten into Henry's bloodstream. Beyond that, both his appetite and his energy level seem to have returned with a vengeance. Of course, now I have all this useless information that I culled from the Texas Property Code just rolling around in my head, looking to be put to use.
4. People keep asking me about how school is going, and I'm starting to feel a bit like a broken record telling them that I took this semester off because of the new baby. I know I'm going back in the fall, but that seems so very far away. Not just timewise, but also because, faithwise, I'm in an odd place. But that's fodder for another post. Still, there's some exceedingly good news on the school front. This little jolt of joy is one that I've been sitting on for a while because I just knew that if I made any sort of announcement about it, it would somehow fall through. I didn't dare say anything before it was absolutely 100% certain, so certain was I of my power to enjinxanate the situation. But we've hit the 100% mark now, so I can tell you. See, my employer has this cool little benefit called tuition assistance where they'll reimburse you the cost of your tuition for any higher learnings you may wish to pursue. There are some strings attached, but they're quite reasonable strings, not like those slightly psychotic strings that like to play mind games. Except the thing is, when I started at the seminary, the company didn't want to approve my request for reasons I never could quite get to the bottom of. Fine. I went ahead with my plans and got through two semesters. Then one morning, I happened to be having a friendly conversation with our company HR guy, and the subject of school comes up. Being the HR guy, he asks if I'm taking advantage of the tuition benefits, to which I respond with my sob story. "Let me see what I can do" he says. Barely an hour later, I get a call back from the benefits department saying they've approved my request. I got all my paperwork in and the check came through.
I suppose I ought to take it as some kind of sign.
2. Professor Simon's teaching lessons on cause and effect. Observe:
That's right, tickle the fuzzhead (cause), you get a smile (effect).3. Those of you who keep up with my wife's blog, or who know us in the flesh know that a while back, we were worried that Henry might have lead poisoning. Fucking lead poisoning! What year is this again? Long story short, the kid was showing all the signs, none of which had been apparent prior to us moving into this house we're in, which was built in 1946, lead paint's American heyday. Well, I'm pleased to announce that the results are in and my little boy is just fine. There may be lead in the walls, perhaps a bit in the soil, and maybe even some in my pencil, but none of it seems to have gotten into Henry's bloodstream. Beyond that, both his appetite and his energy level seem to have returned with a vengeance. Of course, now I have all this useless information that I culled from the Texas Property Code just rolling around in my head, looking to be put to use.
4. People keep asking me about how school is going, and I'm starting to feel a bit like a broken record telling them that I took this semester off because of the new baby. I know I'm going back in the fall, but that seems so very far away. Not just timewise, but also because, faithwise, I'm in an odd place. But that's fodder for another post. Still, there's some exceedingly good news on the school front. This little jolt of joy is one that I've been sitting on for a while because I just knew that if I made any sort of announcement about it, it would somehow fall through. I didn't dare say anything before it was absolutely 100% certain, so certain was I of my power to enjinxanate the situation. But we've hit the 100% mark now, so I can tell you. See, my employer has this cool little benefit called tuition assistance where they'll reimburse you the cost of your tuition for any higher learnings you may wish to pursue. There are some strings attached, but they're quite reasonable strings, not like those slightly psychotic strings that like to play mind games. Except the thing is, when I started at the seminary, the company didn't want to approve my request for reasons I never could quite get to the bottom of. Fine. I went ahead with my plans and got through two semesters. Then one morning, I happened to be having a friendly conversation with our company HR guy, and the subject of school comes up. Being the HR guy, he asks if I'm taking advantage of the tuition benefits, to which I respond with my sob story. "Let me see what I can do" he says. Barely an hour later, I get a call back from the benefits department saying they've approved my request. I got all my paperwork in and the check came through.
I suppose I ought to take it as some kind of sign.
Monday, March 24, 2008
The kids like to party
Between kid's birthday parties featuring egg hunts, egg hunts coupled with feasts, feasts accompanied by bottles of wine, visits from one grandmother while taking care of the other grandmother's dog, it was one of those weekends that managed to be extremely full and yet somehow still low stress. Whenever weekends are full, I tend to complain about not having any downtime, whereas when weekends are completely unscheduled, I complain that we never do anything. I'm just impossible to please.
Saturday morning found us at the party for the second birthday for Henry's friend Stella. It's a lot of fun having friends whose kids are around the same age as our own. Indeed, watching toddlers interact is one of the true joys of being alive.
Seeing as how it was bunny weekend and all, there was an egg hunt.
And as the party wound down, the goodbyes got a bit emotional.
And that was just Saturday morning. That afternoon, the boyos got a visit from Grandma and Great Aunt Holmes.
Can you tell my mom is in total baby heaven here? Yep, she is.
Sunday found us at not one, but two feasts, the first of which featured only the children brought by us. This meant that all those pesky eggs had to be handled by Henry and Henry alone.
The second feast featured the same crowd of parents and children that had been at the previous day's birthday party, except that since it was evening instead of morning, and Easter instead of Stella's birthday, we were free to pop open the wine.
Saturday morning found us at the party for the second birthday for Henry's friend Stella. It's a lot of fun having friends whose kids are around the same age as our own. Indeed, watching toddlers interact is one of the true joys of being alive.
Seeing as how it was bunny weekend and all, there was an egg hunt.
And as the party wound down, the goodbyes got a bit emotional.And that was just Saturday morning. That afternoon, the boyos got a visit from Grandma and Great Aunt Holmes.Can you tell my mom is in total baby heaven here? Yep, she is.Sunday found us at not one, but two feasts, the first of which featured only the children brought by us. This meant that all those pesky eggs had to be handled by Henry and Henry alone.
The second feast featured the same crowd of parents and children that had been at the previous day's birthday party, except that since it was evening instead of morning, and Easter instead of Stella's birthday, we were free to pop open the wine.
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
Change is always bad all the time always
Looking at my archives today, I noticed that I've been blogging under The Holmes moniker for three years as of last Friday. Of course, I've been doing all sorts of other stuff as The Holmes for much longer, but most of that required little if any effort. But this blogging thing, this whole maintaining the will power to not shut down a free webpage and occasionally write stuff on it, now that takes work.
So after three years, I figure it's time to perhaps make some changes to the old layout. Gone are the black background and the title written in Olde English font. When I was younger, I thought it would be awesome to put "Holmes" in Olde English across the back window of my 94 Ford Taurus, but then I grew up a little and decided maybe that wasn't such a rockin' idea after all. So instead I tacked it to the top of my blog.
I can't say I'm super-pleased with the new layout, but it's a step. I'm glad to be rid of a lot of the widget bling. Some of it may return in time, though some I can say with certainty is gone for good. I made sure to get the blogroll back in there ASAP since I know how testy some of y'all can get. The new header may need some more work, but the picture comes from some graffiti that sprang up one day on a building near our old place. I, of course, was a suspect. As usual.
So after three years, I figure it's time to perhaps make some changes to the old layout. Gone are the black background and the title written in Olde English font. When I was younger, I thought it would be awesome to put "Holmes" in Olde English across the back window of my 94 Ford Taurus, but then I grew up a little and decided maybe that wasn't such a rockin' idea after all. So instead I tacked it to the top of my blog.
I can't say I'm super-pleased with the new layout, but it's a step. I'm glad to be rid of a lot of the widget bling. Some of it may return in time, though some I can say with certainty is gone for good. I made sure to get the blogroll back in there ASAP since I know how testy some of y'all can get. The new header may need some more work, but the picture comes from some graffiti that sprang up one day on a building near our old place. I, of course, was a suspect. As usual.
Holmes Header # 1
March 14th 2005 - March 18th 2008
March 14th 2005 - March 18th 2008
Thursday, March 13, 2008
A new one for my collection
So tonight we were watching "Heroes" and, well, not to give anything away if you haven't watched it, but this one particular episode made me realize that if I were ever cast into a situation where I was unable to tell what day it was for an extended period of time, it would totally freak my shit out. If you were stuck with me in this situation, you'd probably end up trying to kill me just so you wouldn't have to keep listening to me try to work my way backwards to the last day that I was certain of. I'd probably become downright unbearable, mumbling shit like "yeah, so that means today is definitely Wednesday, August 13th...unless, wait, my last birthday was on a Tuesday, so that means..." See what I mean? And of course, I'd curse myself relentlessly for not having the foresight to keep better track of time in the first place.
I guess I can add that to my collection of irrational fears. Good thing too, all the old ones were getting stale.
I guess I can add that to my collection of irrational fears. Good thing too, all the old ones were getting stale.
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