January 4: Cold, Sister, Classic Saint Marty, New Cartoon

It is cold.  Damn cold.  Twenty-below-zero-windchill cold.  My daughter and son's Christmas vacation has already been extended by a day.  Their school cancelled just a little while ago.  My six-year-old son did a victory dance.  My daughter simply said, "Ye-esssssss."

It has been a busy day.  Played in the praise band for church in the morning.  Played the organ for a funeral at the local Episcopal Church in the afternoon.  Snowblowing after that.  Then I helped make dinner at my parents' house.  Cheese quiche.  I'm beat.  Looking forward to a quiet evening at home, reading a good book.

Quick update:  my sister is still in the hospital.  They're testing her now for meningitis.  She's still not mentally sound.  No hallucinations, but she still has moments where she's not in touch with reality.  She pulled her own IV line when nobody was looking.  She insists I visited her in the middle of the night.  This is not the sister I know.  I hope the doctors get some kind of definitive diagnosis soon.

Tonight's episode of Classic Saint Marty first aired three years ago.  Unfortunately, its subjects are still pretty current.

January 4, 2012:  WiFi, Loser

Yes, I got the WiFi working at my house.  Actually, I just got the wireless working, and I'm feeling a little smart.  I don't know why I'm feeling smart.  The WiFi is working because of a very nice guy named Mike from AT&T who spent about 40 minutes on the phone with me this evening.  I just followed Mike's instructions.  Before that, I was an angry mess.  Setting this Internet up at my house just proved two things to me:  (1) I suck at doing technical things, and (2) I need  more friends who know how to do technical things.

I just checked my e-mail to prove to myself that I could check my e-mail at home.  I shouldn't have.  There was a message from the people who sponsor the Phil Levine Poetry Contest.  I've been waiting for about three months for this e-mail.  Unfortunately, the news wasn't great.  It wasn't even good.  I didn't win.  I wasn't even a finalist.  I really thought I had a shot with this book.  I worked harder on this manuscript than I did on my MFA thesis.  It has better poems in it and holds together better.  I'm really tired of disappointment. 

Yup

My friend Wonder Twin told me this afternoon that I'm never going to be named a Blog of Note because people don't want to read whiny, jealous rants all the time.  She's probably right.

I said I was going to write another post tonight if I got the wireless up and running at home.  Here it is.  Not very uplifting, I'm sorry to say.  I shouldn't have checked my e-mail.  I should have just basked in the success of my WiFi.

Saint Marty pretty much feels like a loser tonight.


  

Confessions of Saint Marty

January 4: WiFi, Loser

Yes, I got the WiFi working at my house.  Actually, I just got the wireless working, and I'm feeling a little smart.  I don't know why I'm feeling smart.  The WiFi is working because of a very nice guy named Mike from AT&T who spent about 40 minutes on the phone with me this evening.  I just followed Mike's instructions.  Before that, I was an angry mess.  Setting this Internet up at my house just proved two things to me:  (1) I suck at doing technical things, and (2) I need  more friends who know how to do technical things.

I just checked my e-mail to prove to myself that I could check my e-mail at home.  I shouldn't have.  There was a message from the people who sponsor the Phil Levine Poetry Contest.  I've been waiting for about three months for this e-mail.  Unfortunately, the news wasn't great.  It wasn't even good.  I didn't win.  I wasn't even a finalist.  I really thought I had a shot with this book.  I worked harder on this manuscript than I did on my MFA thesis.  It has better poems in it and holds together better.  I'm really tired of disappointment. 

Yup

My friend Wonder Twin told me this afternoon that I'm never going to be named a Blog of Note because people don't want to read whiny, jealous rants all the time.  She's probably right.

I said I was going to write another post tonight if I got the wireless up and running at home.  Here it is.  Not very uplifting, I'm sorry to say.  I shouldn't have checked my e-mail.  I should have just basked in the success of my WiFi.

Saint Marty pretty much feels like a loser tonight.

January 4: WiFi, Hooking It Up, Waiting for Daughter

No WiFi for you!

I spent about an hour this afternoon, trying to get my wireless Internet hooked up.  It isn't hooked up yet.  AT&T still hasn't activated the account.  I was a little disappointed.  Now, I have to try to hook it up by myself tonight.  I had my tech-nerd sister to help me this afternoon.  I'm the Lone Ranger tonight.  As the Soup Nazi on Seinfeld said, "No WiFi for you!"

I'm currently waiting for my daughter to get done with her ballet class.  Then I have to head over to Office Max to pick up a 2012 wall calendar for our house.  Just a lot of little housekeeping stuff to take care of today.  Tomorrow morning, I'm having breakfast with a good writer friend.  I'm really looking forward to seeing him.

I will post again tonight if I get the WiFi up and running at my house.  If I don't, this will be my final communication until tomorrow.  (It sounds like I'm posting from some remote, outer space station near Alpha Centauri or something.)

Wish Saint Marty good WiFi luck.

May 12: Road Trip, New Poem, Remote Blogging

I'm going on a road trip with my family this weekend.  My daughter has a dance competition in Howell, Michigan, which, as far as I can tell, is a little way from Ann Arbor.  It's going to be around an eight hour drive with a ten-year-old girl and a two-and-a-half-year-old boy.  It's going to be a really long weekend.  My sister is coming to watch my son while we take our daughter to the dance competition.  However, my son likes to run.  He's like a charged ion.  He doesn't sit still.  This trip is going to be quite a test for him.

What I'm going to try to do for blogging is take a laptop with me.  I would bet the hotel will have WiFi access.  Therefore, the next time you hear from me, I will probably be in Howell, Michigan.  That's my plan, anyway.  If it doesn't work out, you may not hear from me until Sunday or Monday.  Keep checking the site, though.  I'm sure I'll be able to blog tomorrow.

I have a brand new poem for today.  I wrote a poem for Mother's Day this past weekend.  I guess you could call this one a Father's Day poem, even though Father's Day isn't for another month.  I'm just planning ahead, in case I get asked to read another poem at church for that occasion.

Tonight, I have to take my daughter to ballet class, go grocery shopping, and pack my clothes for the trip.  I have way too many things to try to remember.  It kind of sucks.  I like travelling, but I hate the details of travel.  I always plan and plan, and I always forget something important.  In fact, I just went downstairs to pick up a prescription that almost slipped my mind.  I will be a happy camper when I'm safely camped back at home on Sunday night.

Saint Marty on a pilgrimage to Howell, Michigan.  God help us.

Rules of Fatherhood

When I first heard my daughter's heart
Ten years ago in the doctor's office,
I had no clue how to care for a girl,
Those unwritten rules new fathers
Must learn over time.  Make your girl
Sit frog-legged in the bathtub
To allow warm water to flow
Into areas of her body where skin
Turns raw, pink or red as grapefruit,
In the privacy of diaper or panty.
When she turns three or four,
Teach her to wipe front-to-back,
Not back-to-front, to avoid kidney,
Bladder infections.  Comb her hair
As soon as she's done bathing.
Slide the teeth through and through,
To remove all tangles, then braid.
Start simple, one ponytail at the back
Of her head.  Work to French braids,
Beautiful as sweet, curled loaves
In bakeries at Christmas.  Never
Utter the name of the boy she likes
When she's five or seven or ten.
Just watch them play together.
Notice how he always insists
She climb the steps of the slide
Before him, his neck craned upward,
Cheeks flushed, as she goes higher and higher.
Invite said boy to her tenth birthday
Party, watch him squirm when you sit
Beside him and say, "What are your
Plans for the future, son?"
Even though you don't believe
In guns, buy one to hold
In your lap when she goes
On her first date.  When he arrives,
Stare at him, the way a lion stares
At a wounded water buffalo.
All these rules I've learned
Since that day the doctor waved
Her wand over my wife, pulled
From the top hat of my wife's belly
That sound:  crickets singing
On a summer night, Love me, love me, love me.

My daughter, with attitude