Mike said I could do a survey. About anything.
So, if you could relive one Christmas memory, what would it be?
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Happy Golden Days of Yore
Sharolyn
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esoteric toddler
June
Nate, our three-year-old, said this to Brian at dinner tonight:
“Dad, what is time?”
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Run Zane, run!
June
Sir Ken Robinson’s talk entitled “Do schools kill creativity?” may be old news to many, but I just discovered it today via this place. I think I love this man. Or, at least his message.
I’m almost always angsty in regard to my children’s schooling. I think, wonder, question, ponder, imagine and pray (sometimes in that order and sometimes in the reverse order) about it nine days out of 10. I’d guess that this intense preoccupation is deeply rooted in my own schooling experiences, but maybe not. Whatever the case, I think about it a lot. I desperately want my children to have a positive schooling experience. That sounds so generic and vague but it (“positive”) truly is what I mean—in the biggest, best sense of the word. Of course I want them to learn stuff, but I’m passionate (again with the overused and thusly generic sounding word) about them learning about themselves as created, creative beings and learning how to think and learning to love learning and acquiring and nurturing internal resources that will both allow and spur them on to be the best versions of themselves possible. Oh my, I feel a preachy, esoteric fight song coming on.
Presently, our six-year-old son attends first grade at a local private Christian school. It’s been fine. A bit costly and fine. It’s not perfect and I don’t expect to find a perfect school. Duh. We’re trying to “take it one year at a time” as many parents say and we are glad that in this day and age (and state) there are so many great schooling options.
This darling, beloved, love-him-so-much-I-can-hardly-stand-it son of mine talks almost all the time. If he’s thinking it, he’s saying it. I think it would drive even Jesus himself bats. We’re trying to help him with this way in which he relates to life and processes information as we don’t want the poor child to drive everyone around him bats. It occurred to me this evening, as I listened to Sir Ken’s speech, that perhaps I should be helping dear son learn how to be an amazing orator, speaking with authority since he so loves to do it. He also loves to run. He can run quite fast and for a suprisingly long time. We recently made a path around the back half of our property (1.4 acres) for him to run. He enjoys it, but still likes to go to a park or track where he can just run sraight and fast and flat out for, like I said, a fairly shocking length of time. It’s like he just comes alive when he gets to runrunrunrunrun. So what is second grade at the Christian School he attends known for? Sittin’ down and shuttin’ up. Hmmm.
So, what say you about elementary education?
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Weekly Goat Report: 1 Goat!
michael
Well, kids, it’s time for the weekly Goat report here on Addison Road. We finally got our first sale through Operation Christmas Goat. That makes a total of $0.80 raised so far, which Gretchen and I will round up to $75, or one goat.
One goat down, 99 to go. That sounds like a parable.
update: if you’re on facebook, you can join the group. Invite your friends, help promote this thing!
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the good, the bad and The 405
June
The Good
Brian and I have spent the last week away from home and it’s been good. Home is good too, but I’m first in line for any chance to have a break from the norm. There has been mostly good on this trip, with very little bad and most of that badness has had to do with The 405. Some of the goodest of the good was the goodness of this beautiful, highly taxed state we call home. I’m certain my husband’s salt and pepper hair would still be a youthful all-over brown if we lived in a state where a house mortgage was a three digit number and property taxes didn’t make grown men cry, but then we’d have really, really high medical bills what with all the anti-depressants and therapy I would need to get through every winter. So, financially, it’s probably a wash. But back to the California goodness…. As we sat in a charming Morro bay restaurant this last week, munching incredibly fresh and tasty fish tacos while gazing out at the sea, being uninterruppted by the dearly loved and pesky small folk we call our own and watching sailboats drift by, I said to Brian: “Could you ever live in the midwest again?” (Ok, I said it more like “Could you EEEEEEEEEVER live in….”) He nearly cut me off with his impassioned “NO!” and then made that little scoffing sound in his throat. Brian is not a man prone to being impassioned about much. Technology (yes, all of it), a really great egg-salad sandwich, and cars that look pretty and go much faster than any husband and father of two ever need propel himself anywhere are usually the limit of B’s impassionedness. So, being that I’m not a fan of my own SAD, this response of his brought me great comfort. As we glanced up at the bar tv between bites of fishy taco, we marveled at how very happy the snow-covered football fans in some large midwestern stadium seemed to be. Sitting where we were, it struck us as a bit ludicrous that being covered in snow, whilst hooting it up about one’s favorite football player sludging around hundreds of feet below at a stadium packed with other chilly, pale, casserole-lovin’ midwesterners could elicit the kind of happiness that the people on the screen were showing. But apparently, it can. I’m sure that whole snowy football, bleak landscape and no spring until May or June thing just totally rocks. Rock on midwesterners! Whoo-hoo! So yeah, California, even with it’s high prices and even higher taxes is to me, very very good. The mountains, sunshine, beaches, forests, lakes, sunshine, sunshine and sunshine outweigh the cost in my book. California good.From Morro Bay we went on to Santa Barbara (State street: bad. Rural Santa Barbara and the wineries and the ocean: good.) From Santa Barbara we went on to L.A.
The Bad
Here’s the thing: we liked L.A. when we lived there. We liked it a lot in fact. Previously, we had lived in indiana, Virginia and Tennessee and between the two of us, we also have spent time living in Washington, New York, Michigan and Minnesota. When we lived in L.A., we always said that out of all the places we’d lived, we liked L.A. the best. We meant it. Having now lived in northern CA for three years, we experience the predictable culture shock whenever we come back. Perhaps L.A. isn’t “bad,” per se, (though parts of it are…um, why exactly were we so ok with living in the valley?!?!?) but seriously, why is everyone so sad and angry here? When did the L.A. politeness level become something akin to that in NYC? I discovered the key to a happier L.A. consumer/retail experience last night though: just go to a really extra nice restaurant with your girlfriends and whenever the server comes near, order yet another item off the menu. Just keep ordering. For hours. Then leave a really big tip. Everyone gets really nice when you do this. Then go home for another year because it will take you that long to financially recoup. (Somebody get an oxygen tank for Brian…he just grabbed his wallet and then passed out when he read this. Oh, and look at that, his hair just went ALL gray! He looks so cute like that! Kinda distinguished and everything.)The 405
What’s worse than “bad?” Are you thinking of those words right now? Yeah, it’s that. -
Gettin' Hitched
Zack
Yup. It’s true. Mawwage. Rawk!
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No, It's BECAUSE I'm a capitalist
michael
A portion of a conversation I had with a socialist friend, early in the morning, when they probably weren’t thinking clearly:
Socialist Friend: … which is why I think the writer’s strike is returning power to the people, which is great. Although I’m sure you probably hate the union and think this is totally evil.
Pigheaded Capitalist Me: No, actually, I think this is a good strike.
SF: what? wait, you’re a conservative, free market fanboy. How can you be in favor of the strike?
PCM: It’s because I’m a raging free market fanboy. There is no right more basic to the freedom of the market than the right to withhold goods and services. Refusing to work for less than a certain wage is a capitalist move, not a socialist one.
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My psyche hates me before a show
June
You have no talent worse yet you have no skill worse yet people secretly know this but no one is telling you even the people who have purchased your work and can’t stop gushing on about it are really just a part of a well hidden secret plan called ‘let’s just be nice to June but not tell her she sucks as an artist (cuz’ didn’t she have some weird, big head injury awhile back or something like that?)’ and no one except your husband and your mother-in-law are going to come to this show and no one is going to ‘get it’ and certainly no one is going to buy anything and if they do it means you’re not really an artist anyway which you well know and if you really loved your kids you wouldn’t have played Go Fish with them only twice today and Bingo only once and made homemade pizza for them but you would’ve instead not painted at all today and how many times in the last week do you think your husband has internally rolled hie eyes and somewhere deep, deep, deep down wished he’d married one of those nice midwestern girls who love to cook and are babymakers and who think sports are fun to watch and buy regular milk instead of organic and are you forgetting that all these paintings are stupid and infantile and look like your preschooler made them and people are just going to smile and tell you how great they all are and how great you are and how great the desserts are and how great the setting is and how great it is that you do this because what the frikkity do you expect people to say when you’re standing right there and they are looking at your sorry excuse for a piece of art and thinking ‘what the frikkity is she thinking…I could so do this’ because they are they really are they really no kidding seriously are a part of that secert ‘be nice to June even though she sucks’ plan.
Saturday, November 3rd, 7:00pm in Auburn, CA: my next show.
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Come on baby...
Matty
Hey Roadies…
So, here’s the scoop:
My beautiful wife of 8.4 years and I have spoken a couple of times on “Date Nights” for local groups. The basic gist is the importance of romancing your significant other, as well as creative ways to do so, long after the proverbial “honeymoon” is over.
I’ll post again next week, and tell a bit more of what Rona and I actually talk about, but I was hoping you guys can give us a hand for our next speaking engagement. With complete understanding of the can of worms I’m about to open (given the high average intelligence and the low average maturity of the Addison crew), I pose the following question:
How do you continue to light the fire in your significant other?
Sincerely,
Matty
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On 30
Zack
Well, it happened. October 14th came and went. And with it, out went my 20’s. For the past few days I’ve been fielding questions like, “How does it feel to be old?” and “So, what is 30 like?” and “Are you depressed?” And I answered:
“It feels sort of the same.” “It’s just like 29.” “Yes, I am depressed.” and “Please go away.”
I’m not sure why I’m feeling like this. It doesn’t have anything to do really with health or age or social interaction. For me, the pressure is this:
It’s time to get your shit together.
Pay your cell phone bill on time. Stop living paycheck-to-paycheck. Get serious about marriage. Stop just keeping your business alive and grow it. Make sure your health insurance is the best coverage you can afford. Think about selling the motorcycle. Stop pretending that certain people you’ve called friends are actually friends. Have a plan. Quit smoking. Don’t eat fried food like a crackhead smokes rock. Have faith in yourself. Don’t just expect things to happen in your favor; make them happen. For God’s sake, just get your shit together, dude.
You’re all older and presumably wiser than I. Any advice would help.
