March 22: Really Big, Weekend, Game Night

Ford and Arthur have just been launched into outer space as a new chapter begins . . .

The Hicthhiker's Guide to the Galaxy is a wholly remarkable book.  It has been compiled and recompiled many times over many years and under many different editorships.  It contains contributions from countless numbers of travelers and researchers.  

The introduction begins like this:

"Space," it says, "is big.  Really big.  You just won't believe how vastly hugely mind-bogglingly big it is.  I mean, you may think it's a long way down the road to the chemist, but that's just peanuts to space.  Listen . . ." and so on.

(After a while the style settles down a bit and it begins to tell you things you really need to know, like the fact that the fabulously beautiful planet Bethselamin is now so worried about the cumulative erosion by ten billion visiting tourists a year that any net imbalance between the amount you eat and the amount you excrete while on the planet is surgically removed from your body weigh when you leave:  so every time you go to the lavatory there it is vitally important to get a receipt.)

It is the beginning of the weekend, and I have nothing really pressing to do.  No papers that HAVE to be graded, no poetry readings to attend, no birthday parties, no school events.  Nothing.  The weekend seems big.  Really big.  Vastly hugely mind-bogglingly big.  Of course, on Sunday night, I will probably be sitting on my couch wondering where all my time went.  Right now, however, it's a vast ocean of relaxation.  At least that's what I'm telling myself.

After a long week of work and teaching and grading and car troubles, I am ready to do . . . absolutely nothing tonight.  I will go out to dinner with my wife, daughter, and daughter's boyfriend.  Have a couple drinks.  Then I will come home and, if I'm not too tired, read a book or watch some Netflix.  This past week, a good friend and I watched the film Saving Mr. Banks.  I had never seen it before.  It was wonderful.  Maybe I'll try to talk my wife into watching it with me (or my daughter).

For the last month or so, it feels like I've been pulled in many directions.  I haven't had a whole lot of family time.  I missed one of my daughter's last chorus concerts because I had to teach.  I missed my son's last grade school carnival because I had to work.  My nights have been late, and my wife is usually asleep with my son when I get home.  I feel a little disconnected.

So, aside from wanting to watch a movie with my wife, I want to have a game night tomorrow with my whole family.  Maybe Trivial Pursuit.  Maybe the new game my wife just bought me called Bring You Own Book.  It's sort of like the game Apples to Apples.  I just have to get my kids to agree to sit down and play with me.  Granted, I'm not as cool as a video game or the latest binge-worthy television show, but I can be fun.  (If the "fun" thing doesn't work, I will resort of guilt.  I'm not proud.)

Those are my plans for the weekend.  I'm sure the coming week will hold surprises.  I'm sure I'll be pulled in a thousand different directions at once again.  Hopefully, I will find out whether I've secured employment for myself.  I have a couple prospects.  Interviewed for one job today.  But, for the next three days (I'm counting today, as well), it's deep breathing for me.  And time with my wife and family.

Saint Marty is getting back to the basics.

October 2: End of a Long Day, Ear Problem, Weekend

"Perhaps," she said wearily.  "But I feel like the end of a long day."  Clinging upside down to the ceiling, she settled down for a nap, leaving Wilbur very much worried.

Yes, Charlotte is tired at the end of the book.  She has spent most of her life trying to save Wilbur's life, and now she is feeling her age.  Slowing down.  Getting tired.  Her sunset is just around the corner, and it still breaks my heart to read this passage.


I pretty much feel like the end of a long day right now, too.  My ear is sore.  In fact, the whole right side of my face is throbbing.  I'm thinking I have some kind of sinus infection, but my nose isn't running or stuffed up.  I made a doctor's appointment for tomorrow afternoon.  By tomorrow night, I will probably be on some serious antibiotics.  At least, that's what I hope.  I want to feel like the beginning of a long day, not the end.

Saint Marty's Day is just around the corner.  I want to be better by Sunday.  I've never missed a Saint Marty's Day celebration.  The traditional tapioca pudding.  Presents.  Festive bratwurst.  The Saint Marty's Day carols.  And, most of all, the Macy's Saint Marty's Day Parade.

Right now, however, Saint Marty's head feels like a parade balloon.  Charlie Brown or Dolly Parton.

Last year's parade

September 16: Poem on the Way, Reading Weekend

I know I said I was going to work on a new poem.  I am.  I will have it posted tomorrow afternoon/evening.  I started writing it this morning, but I couldn't get anything to really work for me.  So I scrapped the couple pages I've written.  I started writing a new poem about an hour os so ago.  I like what's coming out now.

Pretty much, I'm going to be spending my weekend reading for the classes I'm teaching.  I have to finish one book, get some notes taken on another.  It should be fairly simple stuff, but it will be time-consuming.  That I know.  It's only Friday, and the next couple of days are already claimed.  Somehow, I also have to look at some poetry submissions for the literary magazine I help edit, Passages North.  I don't know when I'm going to be able to do that.  I was thinking Saturday afternoon, but my daughter has a dance class at 2 p.m.  That pretty much takes care of tomorrow.

Saint Marty's weekend begins.  So it goes.

September 2: My Uncle, Weekend, Best Friend

In a few previous posts, I've asked you to say prayers/think good thoughts for my uncle (who was dying of terminal cancer) and his family.  My uncle died yesterday morning at around 10 a.m.  Obviously, his death came as no surprise, but I've found myself reflecting about summers I spent at his house when I was an undergraduate.  For three or four weeks each summer, my sister and I would camp in his backyard and visit relatives, go shopping, watch movies, and eat ice cream.  Those times are some of my fondest memories.  My uncle was a good man, a great father, and a kind soul.  He will be greatly missed.

Remembering my uncle

I am really glad that it's Friday.  I have survived my first week of teaching without making an idiot of myself.  My other job has been a little challenging over the last few days (to the point that I'm making plans about getting a full-time gig at the university).  I've been fighting an increasing lack of motivation for work, for reading, for writing, for running.  Basically, for anything.  I am ready to relax for a few days.

My pastor friend phoned me from downstate yesterday.  He's coming for a visit tonight and tomorrow morning.  The football team of his new hometown is playing the football team of his old hometown, and he's attending the game.  His dilemma is which team to cheer for.  If he cheers for his old team, he may be ostracized when het gets back home.  If he cheers for his new team, a lot of his friends from the Upper Peninsula may unleash a little whup-ass on him.  I suggested he remain neutral, like Switzerland.  Tomorrow morning, he will be joining me and my family at McDonald's for breakfast.  I haven't seen my pastor friend, or had any kind of extended visit with him, since last May.  It will be good to see him.

Saint Marty is ready.  Bring on the weekend.