June 15: Doctor's Appointment, Father's Day, Classic Saint Marty

It's almost time for bed.  Midnight in Paris is almost over.  I can hear my wife in the kitchen, getting ready to go to sleep.  It's been a very nice Father's Day.  Tomorrow, I throw myself back into real life for another week.  It's funny.  I spend the majority of my time at a job that monopolizes my life.  Yet, I only really feel alive on the weekend, away from that job.  I'm actually looking forward to going to my doctor's appointment tomorrow afternoon because I get to leave work early (and be lectured about my weight by a physician with almost no personal skills, but that's another subject).

I know I'm not unusual in these feelings.  I have many friends, however, who are doing exactly what they want to do with their lives.  Their work isn't work.  It's joy.  Being in their company makes me anxious.  Jealous.  Unhappy.

But I don't want to go down that road this evening.  I want to enjoy these last few moments of the weekend.  Quiet, restful moments.

Today's Classic Saint Marty comes from Father's Day two years ago.

June 17, 2012:  Father's Day, Eggs and Hot Dogs, McDonald's

Today, I'm going to let my daughter and son write my post for me.  What follows below are letters they wrote to me today in honor of Father's Day.  For the record, I do love eating scrambled eggs and hot dogs, and I do not work at McDonald's.

Saint Marty wishes all the fathers out there a happy Father's Day.

From my daughter (11 years old):

My daddy is 36 years old.

His hair is brown and his eyes are brown.  My dad likes to wear a beret.  He loves to eat eggs and hot dogs.  He is smart because he knows how to be nice and care for everyone.  My daddy works hard at running and keeping us happy.  Daddy always tells me that he loves me, even when he's SUPER mad at me.  It makes my daddy happy when he sits down with the family, and he'll read to us.  If he could go on a trip, he could go to the tundra lodge with us.  I really love it when daddy laughs.  If I could give my daddy anything, It would be more love.  My favorite thing about daddy is that he is my loving, caring, smart, awesome daddy.

From my son (3 years old) with help from Mommy:

My Daddy is 3 and 4 years old.

His hair is brown and pink and his eyes are blue and purple and red.

He loves to eat strawberries, bananas, and Sissy's ice cream.  He is smart because he knows me and the crayons. 

My Daddy works hard at McDonald's.  (Sissy suggested that answer.)

It makes my daddy happy when he's with Mommy.

If he could go on a trip, he would go to the food store and get me 2 big trucks and a big, HUGE dump truck and I want a big, blue beep-beep.

If I cold give my daddy anything, it would be I don't know--I want to get Daddy a big truck for his birthday.

My favorite thing about my Daddy is I like to poop on him.  I like to give him a big, fat kiss.

Confessions of Saint Marty

April 2: Trying to Remain Positive

I'm a lucky guy.

I have a partner in the medical office who is the best coworker a person could hope for.  She's supportive, hard-working, positive, and funny.  She also has three small children, one of whom is only six months old.

I've known for a while that one of her goals for a long time has been quitting her job.  She wants to be a stay-at-home mom.  I don't blame her.  Her husband makes good money.  If I could stay home with my daughter and son full-time, I would.  It would be a great gig.

Today, she made her plans a little clearer.  She's going to sell her current house, which is gorgeous, and buy a house and parcel of land next to her parents' home.  It will drop her mortgage payment enough to allow her to stop working.  And, at that point, I will want to open a vein.

Yes, I'm selfish.  Yes, I'm jealous.  You see, I've wanted to sell my house and get a new house for, oh, about five years or so.  My coworker, in the time I've known her, has accomplished this feat twice.  If I owned her current abode, I would never want to leave my house.  Ever.  That's the jealousy. 

The selfish is not wanting to lose her as a coworker.  She makes my life so much easier and happier.  If I end up a solo act in the business office again, it's going to suck in the suckiest suck way possible.

One of my other coworkers asked me at lunch, "What are you going to do when she leaves?"

It was a question I wasn't prepared to answer.  It was a question that I thought was a little mean.  It was a question that simply took the wind out of my sails.

Saint Marty is trying to remain positive.

Jealousy is an ugly thing

January 18: Norman Dubie, "You"

I'm tired, but I want to give you a poem on this P.O.E.T.S. Day.

This poem is by Norman Dubie, who is absolutely brilliant.  He's the kind of poet that makes me want to give up poetry because I will never approach his level of skill and music and truth.

Yes, Saint Marty is jealous.  Surprise, surprise.

You

The sunlight passes through the window into the room
Where you are sewing a button to your blouse:  outside
Water in the fountain rises
Toward a cloud.  This plume of water is lighter
Now, for white shares of itself are falling back
Toward the ground.
This water does succeed, like us,
In nearing a perfect exhaustion,
Which is its origin.  The water

Succeeds in leaving the ground but
It fails at its desire to reach a cloud.  It pauses,
Falling back into its blue trough; of course,
Another climb is inevitable, and this loud, falling
Water is a figure for love, not loss, and

Still heavy with its desire to be the cloud.

Plus, he looks like Walt Whitman...