I don’t know anything about Nathaniel Rateliff & The Night Sweats, but imagine my surprise when I heard the song (video below) on a local alternative radio station. I wouldn’t think this song belongs on an Alt Rock station, but I’m O.K. with any station that wants to play a song this great.

Enjoy.

Hey. Sometimes my blog can just bring a smile to your face because I share something cool.

Most times I would write a full blog entry describing what I took from this video, but I’m at a loss for words. Trust me, however, the football game and MSU’s improbably victory is only a metaphor and completely minimized in the face of the real message here.

Hopefully my Dad doesn’t see this (because he might think I’m making fun of him), but if he does, hopefully he knows that this is such a perfect encapsulation (is “encapsulation” a word?) of his spirit and part of why we all love him, I had to blog about it to make it a permanent memory. Back in March, he and his lady-friend (“lady-friend” is what seniors, a widow and widower in this case, call their girlfriends and boyfriends because, really, people in their 60s and 70s should have a better way to describe someone they’re dating and/or living with than “girlfriend” or “boyfriend”. And I’m glad they didn’t go with “she’s my crush”) went to Florida and my Dad is apt to check-in while traveling (ie “we’re safe in Atlanta” or “we’re hitting the road tomorrow at 6am with plans to drive straight through”). Dad likes when we kids (my brother, sister, myself and our spouses) “check-in”, and he gives us the same courtesy.

There’s a whole back story, too. On the eve of their trip, there was some weather coming. “Snow down south.” And he and Sally had been watching the weather. When I talked with my Dad the day before to say “have a good trip” he told me they were getting on the road at 4:00 a.m. Well, as it turns out, and what this email doesn’t tell you is he and Sally barely slept that night (worried about the weather) and at 2:00 a.m., both not able to sleep, they hit the road. AND THANK GOODNESS THEY DID (a little sarcasm there) because the weather was as bad (or worse) than anticipated and the email I’ve cut & pasted below, along with my Dad’s monitoring of the trucker chatter on his CB radio, confirmed the early-early (too-early) start to the trip was the best thing they could’ve done (a little sarcasm there, too).

Oh, yes. The CB radio is really the best part of this. For my entire life, my Dad travels with a CB radio and monitors the truckers because their chatter and conversations are better than any smartphone app, or map, or news and weather report on the radio. He knows where cops are and speed traps are. He knows where back-ups are (he and my mother have re-routed us off and onto highways many times in our travels based on hot-tips from truckers). Truckers can tell my Dad the exact weather at any exact moment and he loves when the truckers are talking about some reckless driver or somebody broken down on the side of the road and he can pick a new lane and avoid any slowdowns or trouble.

And I’m not “making fun” of him. I love it. Right after my wife and I got married, he bought us a CB Radio and I never used it. But damn it, now, I wish I hadn’t sold it at a garage sale. I think I’d actually use it. For good and for nostalgia and entertainment purposes.

Here’s the email.

Well, we got to Perry Georgia about 5:45 checked in and went to our favorite restaurant The Swanson.  It’s a great little restaurant in a small old house and has some great southern cooking and hospitality.  Not expensive and comfortable portions.  We have yet to have anything we didn’t like.  I had grilled pork chops and collard green soup.  Not bad.

We drove thru some rain and mild fog, but listening to the truckers it was hitting louisville with an inch of ice and following with 6 to 12 inches of snow.  We managed to scoot south and be just ahead of it

 

Love, Dad and Sally

I blog because I like to write. I’ve had blogs of all shapes and sizes for, oh, about 10 years. Yup. Believe it. My first blog was on Blogger and called “Donniego” which was “Donnie” and “Ego” combined because I thought blogging was nothing more than stroking ones own ego and I ironically acknowledge that. But, everyone thought it was “Donniego” and pronounced Don-E-aygo, like it was Spanish, and nobody really got it.

So I changed the blog and moved from Blogger to BlogSpot and started “Don’s Ego” …much easier. Except in the URL line it looked like http://www.donsego.com and, once again, everyone thought it was some sorta Mexican or Spanish slang or something. I got hateful comments and lots of comments in Spanish.

Fail.

Then I started, with some friends, spunkybean and wrote about TV shows and such. It was fun. And I started Kaleidoscopic Raygun, which was really going to be my million-dollar idea because I thought, with a name that vague yet specific, it was brilliant. Well if “kaleidoscopic” means “rarely posts” …well …nailed it!

I wrote about everything. I didn’t care. And I wrote motivational blog entries for a motivational speaker. And I wrote for a real estate guru. And I wrote a book about Coachella. And another book about working out and eating lean. And wrote for an OBGYN office, a heating and cooling company, and a home builder. And for a site that pays people to help other people populate their blog.

Basically, if you gave me a topic, I’d research and write about it.

Then I stopped. Stopped writing and couldn’t think of anything to write. And I thought my writing sucked (which is the #1 rule writers are supposed to follow …your work doesn’t suck). And I’d start. And then stop. For two years. Nothing.

But I must’ve eaten a good sandwich or finally got my meds balanced because, suddenly, I can’t stop writing. It feels great. It’s creating. It’s making me creative. I feel alive. I get my thoughts outta my head and onto the Interweb and I don’t care if its good, or bad, or anyone reads it.

Hell. I had a horrible two weeks at work and many would be like, F’ this crap. Instead, I’m like, “well …bring …it …on!” What doesn’t kill me (like a gun toting madman, or tornado, or cancer, or some other unspeakable tragedy) only makes me stronger. Time to put up or shut up. And, hey, even if it looks like I have a few bad months ahead of me …it’s not going to last forever. And you know how I know that to be true? Because …I just wrote it.

If you like this blog and me writing about myself, keep checking back. Maybe some of me will sound like you and my writing will connect. Maybe not and you’ll laugh at me. But …please read. Comment. Hang out. Try my salsa.

Thanks for reading.

*** Warning *** *** Cheese and sentiment to follow ***

Mostly I blog about myself. Or I blog about things that interest me (coffee, things I buy, coffee techniques, cool stuff I find and rave about, etc). And this isn’t really any different, but it’s a little different.

Today’s my wife’s birthday. I’ve been lucky to celebrate 23 of those birthdays with her. Meaning, we’ve been together a long time, and what an amazing time it’s been!

Let me start with …HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!

I blog about my Bogs and my Bedphones, sure, but if you took those things away from me, I’d survive. Yes. I’d have wet feet on my morning walk when it rains or snows. And I’d have some trouble falling back to sleep when I wake at 2:00 a.m. But if you took away Kathy (that’s my wife’s name) from me, I wouldn’t be able to walk at all and I’d probably never sleep. I’d be a ship without a rudder. A car without a steering wheel. An empty vessel.

Kathy keeps it all together. I have three great kids, which I wouldn’t have without her, and they’re pretty good kids and Kathy deserves 70% of the credit for that. She keeps the house running. She makes sure dentist and doctor appointments happen, that everyone gets signed up for everything they need to do, be it school, dance, sports, or whatever. She does the grocery shopping so we don’t eat Jimmy John’s every night. She makes sure the kids have shoes and clothes and clean clothes (sometimes folded and put away), and packs lunches and makes dinner and plans play-dates and sleepovers and all the kids’s birthday parties and, really, all our parties.

Just a quick aside on parties . . . I always have ideas like this, “hey, let’s have people over. I’ll cook ribs.” Cooking ribs is not “having a party” …it’s cooking ribs. Period. Apparently there needs to be plates, drinks, cups, side dishes, emails and texts sent to organize and then, based on head count, decide on the right amount of food and apparently, this costs money . . . so when I dream up the idea of having people over, all I’m really doing is giving Kathy another big planning project.

Kathy handles all our finances, too. Oh, and she recently added a full-time job to the mix.

She’s everything to all of us and when it’s her birthday (or birthday week) she usually asks, “don’t spend alotta money. I don’t really need anything.” Smart. Balanced. Unlike me and my obnoxious “I Love Don Week” annual spectacle.

This essay on all that Kathy does for the family could ramble on. I’m missing things, I’m sure. Like that everything she bakes is incredible (and it’s why I can’t ever lose these last 10 pounds) and she’s an amazing daughter to her parents and I hope like crazy my own daughters are watching so that when I’m old and grey, they bring the grand kids around and cook me food. I’d like to also think my dad enjoys calling Kathy his daughter-in-law . . .except when they might play a board game together. But …ahem …this isn’t that kinda blog entry.

Everything I’ve said so far is great. But as I opened with, this is my blog and my blog is about me. Let’s talk about how my wife is a blessing to me. I’ve said it many times to many people, Kathy is responsible for me. My parents did the work and heavy-lifting for the first 19 years of my life, and then came Kathy. Loves me unconditionally, I know, because I give her plenty of conditions where some might say I am “un-lovable.” She makes me want to be my best. She listens and lives with my crazy ideas, plans and schemes and sometimes, smartly, squashes them, and sometimes fixes them and makes them work. She holds me to a higher standard for myself than I would if left to my own devices. She’s beautiful. In fact, she’s far more beautiful today than she was 23 years ago when I met her. She makes me a better person every single day (and I’m not sure I return the favor). She believes in me when I don’t believe in myself. She cooks me food and baked goods (I mentioned that, right?). She makes me want to learn to play the guitar and take voice lessons so I can write and sing her a song. She’s the lady I’d like to take to dinner, tomorrow. She’s the love of my life and I hope she can sense how much I love her every night when she’s reading on her iPad in bed and I’m listening to a Podcast and flipping through a magazine and we’re not talking and I drift off to sleep. Romantic, right? Was talking with good-friend M.B. yesterday and hilariously (or not so hilariously), he kinda said the same thing about he and his wife – life is good, life is busy, and life is full of many blessings, but maybe at times our spouses are taken for granted a bit.

I have this blog entry. I tell you how great my wife is and that you should wish her a happy birthday. And yet, we live together, and maybe I don’t say it enough . . . or show it enough. I bought her a folding bag-chair, a new water bottle, flowers, and a jewelry holder. And tomorrow we’ll go out for a nice dinner. But what I’m going to really give her is more love – because she deserves it. On my birthday, or Christmas, and all other days, she’s the best gift I’ve ever received. Time for me to be the best gift she’s ever received.

And there you have it …the Kathy Birthday Manifesto. I could write a book about this amazing lady. I’ll end with this – happy birthday and I love you*.

* “you” referred to Kathy, but, OK …if you’re reading this, I thank you and love you, too.