Another check in on our Jake Jones story: a revision, from “Chapter Three,” as currently constructed.
Here’s just a small piece:
Jake would jump at a game of stickball. His short, strong swing played well in the street; it was easy to see he was built more for baseball. But he didn’t own a pair of cleats. Not that fit him, if he did; and more likely, at their move, his last pair would’ve been tossed rather than packed.
What he had, was his ball. Jake and his basketball. He never tossed it in a bag, didn’t stuff it in a backpack, or zip it away, and never thought of it merely as “equipment.”
Wow, I did not see that second half coming at the end of the first half.
Wow.
No, at the end of the first half I thought my prediction yesterday was starting to look pret-ty good. The point total was high, but I knew that yesterday. Said as much.
Nonetheless, at 21-3 Falcons, I knew — or, should say, thought, but I really felt like I knew (and this part was right) — that the New England Patriots would score some points to make a run and give the championship game at least a little juice. So I thought the Pats would score, pushing the Atlanta Falcons to keep scoring even a bit more, maybe two more touchdowns and a field goal and the game would get to, say 38-22. Two more field goals and it’d be 41 for Atlanta.
February 4, 2017 / Billy / Comments Off on #115: Super Bowl prediction from one who hasn’t watched a lick of either NFL team …
Howdy,
I tell you it was tempting to write some sort of Super Bowl post tonight and include an outcome prediction between the established New England Patriots (established and hated by many for being established — and cheating, I suppose there’s that, too …) and the upstart Atlanta Falcons.
(But I really thought I’d write something else — even had the title typed in and a start in the body of the post. The first paragraphs were to be only an introduction for departure. But, then, I just rolled with it! Called an audible, you might say. Omaha! Omaha!)
Then I realized, I don’t believe I’ve actually seen either team play this year. I haven’t watched much of any football this season. Listen on the radio a bit when interested, like an old habit, or even just a trace of one.
For awhile, up to today, I wasn’t even sure I knew if I knew who I wanted to win. (“Oh, how could he even think about going for the Patriots?!” “Oh, how could he go against the Patriots?!”)
The Patriots are tricky to me for a different reason. I used to know a player on the team. Grow up with him and his brothers in a small town. Know the family a little bit. So, for a while, I sort of took one the Patriots as “another,” “favorite” team. Or at least certainly a team I was interesting in seeing if they were on, a team I was interested in — because they had a player — a person — I knew and rooted for.
So, I’m back with Day Three of THREE of stay-at-home dad with three kids while Sarah is out of town traveling to and attending a conference for work, and I … think … I survived!
Last night, I texted Sarah this: “Wowser, and I am beat. Goodnight.” (Plus a little kissy face emoticon, but you don’t need to see that.)
Well, on Day 3 of 3, Jasper hasn’t made it to school all week with a temperature and a cough, and … etc.
Titus has also been on the same antibiotics as Jasper since Monday, plus the addition of four-a-day eye drops for possible pinkeye, which, thankfully, really hasn’t developed. AND I really must tell you, in admiration to Titus, that he has handled the eye drops with great strength and patience, even eagerness. A stud. I wasn’t so sure how that was going to go with the guy who’s just turned three.
That’s turned into being kind of the easy stuff.
Riah has been the concern today.
And as I write this paragraph I sit in the pediatrics waiting room to have Riah seen, since he keeps filling his diaper and spitting up concerning amounts while not eating as much as usual. Praying he’s okay, the little guy.
He’s been as sweet and smiley as possible, keeping his great attitude, but struggled with energy this morning.
I want to say, that these three days of posts are not to whine, at least I’m not trying to be whiny — I was up for supporting Sarah’s trip and being here with the boys, though I knew they’d push me — but I want to convey that the purpose isn’t to whine so much as give major props to single parents.
Today, though, has been a race — with worry and a hope for health. And, don’t worry, I think we’re on the right track with Riah, and the bigger boys are doing alright as well.
But today …
Rather than run down the racing around, I’ll tell you this, give you a time o’clock.
3:10 P.M.
3:10: Ah, breakfast. Just about my first bites of food— other than a few swipes of snack stuff about 2:30 as I … raced around, after being at two different Kaiser Permanente.
It was oatmeal. Oatmeal, I made at 8:45 this morning and served the boys just as the speed picked up.
Oatmeal, with no milk, and in a cup, with a plastic spoon, eaten on the road …
Not a whine. Just insanity.
As I said yesterday — and should have said on Day 1 of 3 — much respect to single parents out there who are parenting. It’s hard. It’s been quite a week. Even with much appreciated help from fantastic grandparents on both sides. (THANK YOU!)
Now it’s just straightening the house back up and waiting for Sarah’s flight from L.A. to land in the Bay and going to pick her up in Modesto late tonight. I’m ready to see her, and the kids are pumped to have Mama back!
Maybe I should leave ya’ll with one picture, just for fun.
Riah got me. Strip it off. Toss on a new shirt, add some extra deodorant, and keep going … “It’s the Dad Life!”
Maybe it is. Maybe I just can’t help myself. The writer in me.
But I truly believe I’m not embellishing this just for the story, though I admit it seems awfully convenient (only in timing! Not as a circumstance.)
So, I’m back with Day Two of THREE of stay-at-home dad with three kids while Sarah is out of town traveling to and attending a conference for work, and I’m still surviving.
Last night — cover your ears faint of heart — Riah pooped in his sleep with a GUSH loud enough to wake me.
Then it was like having been roused by an alarm and fitfully avoiding and awaiting the snooze to blast again; I knew I needed to wake more, enough to get out of bed, and change his diaper.
So, Day One of THREE of stay-at-home dad with three kids while Sarah is out of town traveling to and attending a conference for work, and I’m surviving. 😉
“Surviving” with a lot of help today, as Sarah’s parent were so kind as to take the boys this afternoon and get them dinner and fed. Now it’s PJs and hopefully bed.
January 29, 2017 / Billy / Comments Off on #109: Great family weekend, with Grammabel
Howdy,
We hit the road and took to the hills this weekend, spending Friday, Saturday, and Sunday in Mariposa with my Grandmother.
Grandma West, or, as she is called by our boys and now must everyone else in the family, Grammabel.
Grammabel takes in her first name, Isabel. Grandma Isabel. But we never called Grandma that. And as a great-grandmother, Grandma and Isabel was combined for Grammabel.
I always hesitate a beat, and wonder, writing down Grammabel, because of the spelling. There have been a few renditions, and I’m not sure if anyone quite knows how we’re supposed to spelling it.
If you are ever traveling on your way between Mariposa and Oakhurst, enjoying the California scenery of climbs and pines on Highway 49 — maybe to or from Yosemite National Park — you have got to stop at the Mariposa Coffee Company and pick up some roasted beans.
(If you don’t figure to be passing by 2045 Hwy. 49 South, Mariposa, CA 95338 any time soon, you can also get it online, of course. Flavors listed below.)
Even if you’re not much of a coffee drinker: but especially if you are — you’ll love the wafting, or a should say permeating, aroma of coffee hanging around the place. It’s strong and wonderful from the onsite roasting and creative variations of flavor.
I started the last paragraph with the idea that you should stop by even if NOT a coffee drinker for two reasons. One, if you are, it’s an obvious stop and your car will probably veer off the highway and into the Mariposa Coffee Company’s lot on its own anyway; I know ours does. And, two, the coffee — roasted by owner Gerry Caputo, a friend of mine (which isn’t why I’ll call his coffee the best. That’ll be because it is the best) — is the best coffee around!
