We're still in that slump slumping slumpiness, as delineated in yesterday's post. It has to do with old sicknesses and ailments segueing into new ailments and sicknesses with no remarkable transition points. Like when I was on a bus in Europe going from Paris to Amsterdam. At one point we stopped for a pee break for 5 minutes and then got back on and kept going. Someone asked me how I liked Belgium. "That was Belgium?" That was Belgium. And when people ask me if I've ever been to Belgium, I say yes and snicker to myself.

Now that I think about it, "I have to go to Belgium" is a great personal euphemism I may employ in the future.

We're getting used to the slumpiness, actually, except that I never really seemed to have gotten used to the previous overriding slumpiness of parenthood, so, oh bother. This seems a new sort of parenthood, with two kids. Parenthood redefined by simple quantity. People think that the addition of kids changes things. It doesn't. It changes you.

I know little, or nothing, of who my parents were before us kids came along. I suspect that, at least to some degree, my mother -who is in her seventies- still sees herself as that shimmering youth with her fine arts degree and on her way to ballet class. But then -poof!- six kids came along and eventually transformed her into the glowing matriarch she is now, with her back bent from picking up children her whole life and an innocent smile that belies the immense fortitude we all know she has for managing her incorrigible husband all those years. She's been battling cancer for nearly a decade, but you wouldn't guess it unless you asked her about the noticeable weight loss and gain that comes and goes between treatments. She just sucks up about it. It's what parents do, and she's gotten good at it after all these years.

I, by contrast, suck at it. I'm predisposed to complain. And I still see myself, in so many ways, as that long-haired, struggling artist, daydreaming about future travels (to Belgium!) and what I'm going to say in the next pitch session. But that horse died some time ago, and instead of letting it go, I'm prone to just changing sticks and beating it some more.

My kids don't see me that way.

One of the blessings of having children is that you get to remake yourself. It is the truest of graduations, and, really, the only time in your life that everyone you know will let you do it without hassle. It also happens to be the only time it actually matters. Here, suddenly, midstream in life, are some new people who look to you, depend on you, love you more than anyone ever has, and in ways you barely understand, and they don't care who you ever were. All that matters is who you are to them now, how you treat them today, and if you were an ass in some previous life, if you lied and cheated and hurt the myriad of strangers and so-called friends that passed through your space in some B.C. ("Before Children") well, it can all be dismissed now. Just don't do it again, Dad.

Unsullied forgiveness like that makes it easy to dig some trivial ditches and pour some brainless concrete and build some dopey aluminum patio covers in the sun. You do it for the money, you do it for them -and you don't mind that part about it. Just keep at it. You're allowed a few bad days.




My mom, in the middle.

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Spent the weekend learning several new functions on Photoshop. It takes a good long time to learn new Photoshop functions, then experiment with them, and then -finally- administer them to your project. But it takes an inverse amount of time to forget said functions, and, since you won't have to use the functions again for a few months, nay, a year, you will live out that Saturday afternoon all over again some day, re-learning the same several new functions on Photoshop. Additionally, this blog will be repeated.

Also spent some time in the attic, tinkering with the furnace since I'd rather not pay the few hundred dollars to have someone come out and fix it properly. I think I got it, but an hour or so later Mrs. Ditchman came downstairs to say that it smelled like something was burning in the office and that the heater was making noises again. So I went upstairs to check it out, and detected no such thing. It could be that the burning and the noises were coming from some totally new problem for this week. Stay tuned.

I will say that I heard a noise this morning, when the furnace powered off. It sounded like the wheels of a 747 touching down on some heretofore unnoticed runway in the attic, and then, reverse thrusters, brakes applied. I'm going to ignore it for now and just go to work. The whole house is in a slump. I didn't run all last week, and this week's work is a mere continuation of last week's work. Neither is Mrs. Ditchman achieving her exercise or work-related goals. And this week: Thanksgiving, with its inevitable sequel holiday, Christmas. Reverse thrusters. Brakes applied.

Things are still growing in the garden, though it seems at a diminished autumnal rate. Temps have been in the low forties every night, and I think we're on Day 160 of "no detectable moisture", so the garden is experiencing a certain weary malaise. I think it all just wants to be pulled and composted, recycled for some future, more productive Spring. I know the feeling.

Even the tortoises are experiencing some seasonal languor, as they move unhurriedly about the pen, wondering whether hibernation arrives on its own, or if they should just settle in somewhere and will it to be so. One tortoise actually escaped yesterday. Dug his way out of the pen and made a break for the house, by way of the lavender bushes. I caught him in the nick of time -a few more days of my neglect and he might have made it all the way to the barbecue.

Fishes? Same. If they could bang on the glass and demand an immediate 10% seawater change, well, they would. You know something's up when you go to feed them and they're all giving you the middle flipper. Oh yes, we'll take the food, petty, dry human, but one of these days the ice caps will melt and aquaria everywhere will rise up and overthrow, drowning you all. Build an ark. We will scuttle it. At least they're warm, and at proper tropical temps, (the lucky bastards.) All summer they suffer in the heat, since we lack air conditioning, and it's not until the fall that I can properly manage their water temperatures. Of course, none of that matters if a stable Ph is thrown aside, the salinity is out of wack, and the protein skimmer is on the fritz. Sorry, fish friends.

The real issue around here is the Little Digger, who has not exhibited a sustained night of sleep in, I don't know, weeks. It is a matter of some concern, since none of us are sleeping much as a result. Mrs. Ditchman is bearing the brunt of it, as she fetches the little guy over and over through the night, but only after 10 minutes or so of his half-awake, anguished, half-voiced moaning. We think it's the molars, and then some added peppery sickness. There seems to be a reaction to the recent pox shot, giving him a minor set of pox symptoms. Anyway, he looks miserable, mottled, and, alternately every hour or so, cute. (But in a be-poxed sort of way.)

And the Little Ditchman. Though she is the envy of the household since she has discovered video games and has the time to play them, she has a garbled, throaty, phlegmy cough -so we've missed church and preschool and all other appointments as a result. It's hard for the mommy to be cooped up like this, and then I run off to dig ditches or pour concrete or build aluminum, or some such thing. Suffice it to say, no one is particularly happy to see each other at the ends of these days. (Bummer!)

But we did catch Up! which is not the accomplishment it sounds but rather another near-perfect Pixar flick, (it was better than WALL-E, and this time Pixar was able to pull off a capable follow-through after that usual, unfathomably sublime, first 10 Pixar minutes.) And I did indulge in a tasty pinot over the weekend. And there has also been some diverting talk of getting a new coffee maker -we're just taking our time deciding on this simple purchase, examining different models and deliberating over this neat feature, or that one. The brewer we have is on its last legs, and is actually the backup coffee maker for our primary coffee maker, which recently expired and crossed The Great Divide between garage sale pile and garbage can. One should always have a backup coffee maker, for emergencies, but one should not use it too often, lest it break and whereby one must then buy two. Two coffee makers! I can't handle all that decision-making, what with the holidays on the doorstep.


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Dear Sean,

You made some off-handed remark yesterday about not using recycled plot points, but your blog is the same whining and complaining every day about work and kids and not having money and stuff. It's the same every day! All you do is recycle plot points! Get it together! Use some effing creativity! Try writing something of substance! You're better than that. Or, at least, you were once.

Why I check in on your blog every day is symptomatic of my habitual, addictive character defects. I'm going to a doctor, so I can quit you.

WTF,

[NAME WITHHELD]

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Dear Sean,

You are SO funny! I LOVED your video the other day with you pouring concrete! That was HILARIOUS! One question, did you tell the customer that you were making a movie at his house? I would TOTALLY hire you to build me a patio cover, except that I rent a room from my mom's trailer, and I don't think they would go for it.

And I LOVE your daily quotes, except that I don't really understand most of them. And I think lampreys are NEAT. I have never heard of those before!

*Bye*

[NAME WITHHELD]

~

Dude,

You are wrong about everything. Your ideas are thoughtless and shallow and your "facts" are clearly stripped from Wikipedia. And you drink too much. There's no way you get more than 6 hits a day. What a pretentious title. The only thing 'significant' here is that you are even able to get up and type it out every morning. What a waste of your patio-cover-building time.

And did you really run 28 miles the other day? Good for you.

[NAME WITHHELD]

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Hey Sean!

I had no idea U had a blog! It's awesome! Do U make money from it? I just read a big article on Yahoo about how all these people are making money with their blogs. U should look into it because U R so creative.

[NAME WITHHELD]

~

From: [NAME WITHHELD]
Subject: Fwd: FW: Windfall
To: [NAME WITHHELD], [NAME WITHHELD], [NAME WITHHELD], [NAME WITHHELD], [NAME WITHHELD], [NAME WITHHELD], [NAME WITHHELD], [NAME WITHHELD], [NAME WITHHELD], [NAME WITHHELD], [NAME WITHHELD], [NAME WITHHELD], [NAME WITHHELD], [NAME WITHHELD], [NAME WITHHELD], [NAME WITHHELD], [NAME WITHHELD], [NAME WITHHELD], [NAME WITHHELD], [NAME WITHHELD], Sean

Good luck to us all! Here's to Your Pocketbook! The future has a way of arriving unannounced!

(Hope she works -J)

A little Angel for you......


You have just been sent a Financial Abundance angel! Pass her to two people, and be rich in four days. Pass her to six then be rich in two days. You ARE already rich!!!

I am not joking; you will find an un-expected windfall. If you delete her, you will never know how she works….. She really does work like magic! NO Pass Backs. Pay HER forward *** Pass it on.

Windows 7: It works the way you want. Learn more.

~

Honey,

I'm emailing you from downstairs because I can't get through to you. You are going to be late for work again. I am going crazy with these sick kids. I've been up all night and they'll be driving me crazy all day and you're just sitting there blogging again. Did you get the check from the XXXXX job? We're going to be late with the mortgage if we don't get that check. Don't forget you have the kids all day tomorrow because I have appointments, and also on Monday.

The heater still doesn't work. Didn't you fix it?

Love,

[NAME WITHHELD]

~

My brother, my brother,

What's your website again? I keep forgetting. Also, I lost your phone number and home address and that shirt you gave me shrunk and now it's too small. Do you have another one that's bigger?

[NAME WITHHELD]

~

Dear Sean,

Your domain name(s) will expire in 60 days. Act now to avoid any disruption to email or website services and avoid losing your chosen name(s).

The name(s) due for renewal are:

Domain Name, Expiry Date
themostsignificantthing.com, 2010-01-17

Please send payment to [NAME WITHHELD].

We thank you for your continued business.


~

Life is like a comedy sometimes. But it's not like one of those Jim Carrey comedies. It's more like one of those offbeat comedies with a cult following, where some people find it all-out hilarious while the rest of everyone wanders around, intellectually bumping into one another, not getting it.

The kids are sick with colds, and it's been cold, and last night the heater failed to. So I spent the morning trying to fix it. This is very similar to the previously covered experience with the dryer not heating, and then, a few more months back, that attic fan failing -so I'm not going to go into it. If you want recycled plot points, try network television.

Now I'm late for work, and I'm going to run off with the nagging feeling in the back of my mind that I may have missed something in the furnace and now the house will burn down.

Thursday.


~

Okay, enough about the holes. ENOUGH! They're filled, already. I know I've been whining about work a lot lately. I admit it. (Now I know where my 3-year-old gets it.) But, man, I am sore. Seems to be my lot in life. I just can't get these jobs finished. They're dragging on like daytime soaps. (As The Concrete Trailer Turns, The Guiding Shovel, or, my favorite, General Contractor.) Enough!

At least the lampreys have migrated on. You know you've been working a lot lately when you come home and the kids' vocabulary has doubled. Also, they start asking bigger, smarter questions. Probing questions that cut to the heart of matters. Just the other day, the Little Ditchman asked "Where does money come from?" to which I had a million-and-a-half snappy, sarcastic retorts. Mommy fielded the question, though I didn't catch what she went with. I guess I would have just bit my tongue and said "work", but I have a feeling that wouldn't satisfy the toddler sensibility. A kid sees their parents go off to work and just thinks, Sheez. Won't play with me. How selfish.

Just for fun, I'm gonna go ask her right now where she thinks money comes from...

Back. She said, "When you go to work and you build them a patio, they give you money." Hmm. Impressive. Then she hastened to add, "Also, I can give you money from my piggy bank." Let it be known that today I prefer the latter.

So, she must be well-coached. I wonder what she thinks all the other parents do for money, more patios? Anyway, I can't help but wish she had described some other passionate or artistic endeavor of mine, but alas, that's life. Art is worthless. If you're getting money for making it, it's a commodity whose integrity is influenced by that burning need for cash. (That's not necessarily a bad thing, although I think the preferred term for art is "priceless".)

Gotta go out and get some money. What do you think I do? Sit around and blog all day for free?

Enough!

~

In case you're wondering, it took two full trailer loads.



(And cleaning the thing was a b!tch.)


~

I was supposed to be up with the concrete guys, but I'm running behind. And "running" is an overstatement since I ran 28 miles yesterday. So I'm lagging behind, with a bit of joint pain. The individual pains aren't too bad, it's just that it's everywhere. But I have to pour 10,000 pounds of concrete today, which involves me renting a concrete mixing trailer and then wheelbarrowing it out back a hundred times or so. (Sh!t! Last week never ended!) Anyway, I consider it all "cross-training."

The Inspector approved my massive footings. He was well-pleased. He asked me if I had dug them myself, and when I replied that I did, he just smiled and said, "Good for you." which is a statement that has always bothered me. "Good for you!" When someone says it, I just hear: "I don't really care, but it sounds like you are pleased with yourself." I deplore a world where no one can share in someone's passionate, hard work.

I'm off to pour some 38x38x38 footings. A nice, solid place for Archimedes to stand. (Buckle up, Earth!)



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