June 12: To Run or Not to Run

That is the question.  It's a beautiful day in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan.  We haven't had too many beautiful days so far this summer.  The question is whether or not I'm going to go for a run again tonight.

I've run every day since Sunday.  No really long distances.  A couple of miles at the most.  However, I'm tired today.  Really tired.  I'm still recuperating from dance recital weekend, I think.  Plus, I stayed up way too late last night watching America's Got Talent.  I am totally  beat.  So lacing on my running shoes when I get home is not sounding very appealing.

Perhaps I'll take the night off.  I'll be a potato, sit on the couch, and channel surf.  OK, that's not really my style.  Maybe I'll be a yam, climb into bed, and read a book.  Nope, that's not doing it for me either.  Perhaps I'll simply force myself to run, give my son his bath, put him to bed, and then collapse from exhaustion on the floor.

Ding, ding, ding!  We have a winner.

Throw in a hot shower and making a quiche, and that describes Saint Marty's night.

I know how he feels...

December 6: Nature of the Beast, Another Final, Another Potluck

Last night, I was driving my daughter home from dance.  We were having a great time.  I had Christmas music on the radio.  We stopped at Wal-Mart, and I bought her a bag of her favorite, white chocolate Lindt truffles for her birthday.  She was in the back seat, playing with her iPod.  Then I made the mistake.

"Do you have any homework to get done tonight, sweety?" I said.

From behind me, I heard a groan followed by sounds of possession.  Then silence.

I waited for my daughter to answer.  After a few moments, I said, "Did you hear me, honey?"

I heard a bark from the back seat.  "Yes, yes, yes, yes, YES!" my daughter said.  "I have homework to do!"

"Do you have a lot?" I said, thinking I was still in the happy, father-daughter mode.

"Yes, yes, yes, yes, YES!" she said again.

"What's wrong, honey?" I said.

"I HATE homework," she said.  "Can you please stop talking?!"

And that was it.  For the rest of the evening, she was a completely different animal.  She became an almost teenage girl with almost teenage hormones surging.  It was a battle.  I know that's the nature of the beast, especially at the age my daughter is.  It just caught me off guard.  I went from being the best daddy in the world to a grunting Tim Allen character (minus the cars and tools and guns).

Today, I have another final to create.  Mythology this time.  I already did some work on it, so I'm hoping it won't take me quite as long as my Good Books final took me to put together.  I just want to be done with teaching right now.  I'm tired and still a little under the weather.  If God wants to bless me today, He will let me finish this Mythology final in about an hour's time.

I also have another potluck today.  This time, it's the Christmas potluck for the entire medical office in which I work.  I made another quiche, less the broccoli.  Some people don't like little trees with their cheese and chicken.

It's going to be another long day.  However, I don't feel quite so pressed for time as I did all day yesterday.  I'm not sure why.

Saint Marty needs to find an exorcist for his almost teenage daughter.

Get me some holy water!

December 5: Quality of Mercy, Daughter's Birthday, Christmas Potluck

Today is my daughter's eleventh birthday.  At exactly 7:29 this morning, she will have been a part of my life for one decade plus one year.  That's really difficult for me to believe.  The best thing I can say about my little girl is that she really is a good person.  There is not a mean bone in her body.  When she is confronted by meanness, she really has a difficult time.  She just wants to be friends with everyone, and, for the most part, she succeeds.

Happy birthday, baby

I don't know if I had anything to do with creating this wonderful, beautiful, funny, goofy, caring creature.  She humbles me.  When I'm in a terrible mood, she'll go into the kitchen and bring me a cup of water, a banana, or an oatmeal cream pie.  Last night, I was watching her dance to her new Wii game, Just Dance 3.  She was amazing, graceful, gorgeous.  Forgive a daddy for gushing, but my kid is truly a blessing in my life.

This morning, I received an e-mail from a person who has gotten herself into a very difficult circumstance.  She was asking me for a letter of reference.  By saying "difficult circumstance," I am not even approaching the level of shit this person has gotten herself into.  I thought long and hard about whether I should write the letter.  I believe "Marcy" deserves to be punished pretty severely for what she has done.  However, I also believe in the quality of mercy.  I wrote the letter and sent it to her.

The letter I wrote did not excuse Marcy's actions.  In fact, I said she needs to be held accountable for what she has done.  (I'm sorry for being so evasive, but I really can't discuss details.)  However, I asked for some kind of compassion.  I wrote a letter I would want somebody to write for my daughter.  If my daughter got into this kind of difficulty, I would want somebody to acknowledge her goodness.  That's what I tried to do for Marcy.

My coworker and I are having a little Christmas potluck this morning.  My coworker is leaving for her new job at the end of the week.  My life is going to become much more complicated come next Monday.  Anyway, she and I always exchange Christmas and birthday presents.  So this will be our annual Christmas party.  I made and chicken, cheese, and broccoli quiche for the occasion.  I also have her Christmas present.

I'm really going to miss my coworker.  She's a good person and caring friend.  While I like to say we'll stay in touch, I know it won't happen.  We'll exchange cards at Christmas.  Maybe we'll run into each other at Wal-Mart every once in a while.  For the most part, however, this will be the end of our close friendship.  That makes me quite sad.  As most of my disciples know, I don't do well with change.  This one really cuts close to the bone.

So, as you can tell, it's a morning of very mixed emotions.  Joy and compassion and sadness.

Saint Marty's just a mess.

December 2: Last Night, Today, Tomorrow and Beyond

My son last night, bring on the holy water

Last night's rehearsal/organizational meeting at church went pretty much the way I expected it to go with my tired, three-year-old son in tow.  It's not my son's fault.  It was pushing 9 p.m., and he'd been at school and daycare for quite a few hours.  All he really wanted when I brought him to church was a bottle of milk, Santa Claus Is Coming to Town on the TV, and then his crib.  Can't really blame him for the fact that he was running through the church like Damien Thorn from The Omen after about an hour and a half of being there.

Today, I have to go shopping for groceries, my daughter's birthday party on Sunday, and a couple of potlucks next week.  I also have to e-mail the final two writing assignments to my Good Books and Mythology students, create the program for next week's Christmas Sunday School program, and come up with a design for my daughter's birthday cake.  That's just the first part of today.  This evening, I have to clean my house and take my daughter to her dance class.

Then, tomorrow, I have to help set up for the Benefit Christmas Concert, which happens in the evening.  I have to drive my daughter to her dance class in the afternoon, pick up the birthday cake for her party, and somehow squeeze in going to 4:30 Mass before I head out for the concert at 7 p.m.  Not fun, folks.

I haven't even gone near Sunday, which is going to be a joy of children's choir rehearsal, worship, and birthday party set-up, hosting, and clean-up.  Then, I have to go home, make a quiche for the potluck on Monday and cupcakes for my daughter to take to school for her birthday.

If Saint Marty isn't ready for the psych floor by Sunday evening, he might actually survive the holidays.