Housing issues – no, we aren’t moving, nor is there problems finically there. It’s just the constant struggle to find the ways to make time to make the improvements and repairs that are needed. And then there’s the whole insurance thing. Due to some weirdness of the insurance companies, we have two policies on the property – one for each dwelling. They used to be on the same carrier – but the Carrier decided that since we had 2 claims in 7 years (small ones, too) – that they only want part of our business, and that they’d cancel the fire insurance on the back house. WTF? They still have full insurance on the main house, and liability on the back house, but I have to deal with a different carrier for fire. I don’t get it.

I guess maybe I was wrong about the whole point of having insurance.

The same curses I lob at those fine folk are also being thrown at the medical industry. Bunch of cheats, liars and thieves.

I’ve come to the conclusion that while I have a plethora of skills, they are mostly not salable. I have a ton of useful knowledge, a decent set of brains, and a good set of hands. What I lack is the ability to sell myself in a beneficial manner. Worse yet, I lack the desire to do so. I like to show what I can do, I like to do what I can do. Getting someone to buy it? Not so much.

Psycho Momia and I have been suffering a bit on the intimacy scale as well. This has it’s roots in several places. One is the time factor. Generally speaking, We just ain’t on the same schedule. I think we’ve had one day off together in the last six weeks – and that was smallest ones birthday. Another root stems from the aforementioned situation with the red tape. PArtially from the fact that dealing with these people (and I use that term loosely) makes me loathe humanity in general, and partially from knowing I screwed the pooch so badly. Kind of tramples the self worth, ya know? And then there’s the purely physical aspect. Suddenly, I am hyper aware of the fact that I’ve gotten more than a bit bulgy about the midsection. Don’t like it, but like the idea of going to the gym far less. I may start riding a bike soon – if I can find the time to do so. I need to start exercising – and I don’t want to. I’ve never been the kind of person who wants to do it just for the sake of it.

On top of all that, I am about to turn 40. Which is leading to all sorts of introspection. I’m pretty good at not comparing myself to others, and only holding myself up to my own light. But, my light is fucking harsh. And I have in part become a grumpy curmudgeon. And I don’t much like that, so I’m changing it. I ain’t about to become all sweetness and light, but I will be more tolerant and upbeat, dammit!

One part of the 40 thing is I wanted a big ass party. I figured that I deserved it, because on the whole, I’ve done alright with the hand I was dealt to start. So I get myself all excited about the idea, and start telling folks about it. I sent out a massive email, contacted folks on the various social networks, etc. Psycho Momia and I start talking about it, and then we got hit with a couple of eye opening, bowel loosening accounts due. As responses began to come in, I was running about a 65% “sorry, can’t make it” rate – including folks who had confirmed previously. Which didn’t help. At All. So I canceled it. Screw it, I thought. I’ll just sulk. I don’t need to have a party with lots of people.

The amazing thing? And the thing which will end this on a good note? The sheer number of folks who responded to the cancelation emails with concern. Thank you folks (you know who you are) for caring. And I’ll be better, doc as soon as I am able!
(can anyone guess what song that line comes from?)

Much time since then has been spent in quiet repose, thinking and dreaming.

Snippets of life:

Smallest child, crawling about the kitchen whilst chasing Jane the cat –
“Jane has a hole in her!”

While at a playdate (who in the seven names of hell came up with that term, anyway? Last bloody thing I want to think about is my daughter having a date….)
Oldest (wearing a neon green fedora): “Juliana and I are getting married!” Well, at least it’s legal in this state!

In case you didn’t notice, the google ads are gone. According to them, I did something wrong. They, however, do not actually tell you what it was that you did. Kinda like the US Government….
Anybody have any suggestions on alternate revenue producers? I don’t need much – just enough to pay for this hobby. And, no, I won’t do pay per post. Seems a perversion to me.

On happier things – while we always say we aren’t going to “do” the Vday thing, we usually get something small for each other. Being as I was miserably sick for most of the week, I came up empty handed. However, Psycho Momia got me a sweet card, and a joyous piece of chocolate. I can’t wait to sink my teeth into it.

A Red Fire Flaming Chocolate Heart from Vosges Chocolates. I’ve had their excellent Bacon Bar, to much joy.

Sadly I must wait to enjoy it…

Kids have been kids, saying cute things, and not so cute things – Like when Oldest came out of school one day and asked me what “Grande Puta” means.

Another joy of having a young one in school is that we’ve all been varying degrees of sick for nearly a month now. No fun.

Hey – Gaming with baby, I know you’ve had a bitch of a year – but it will get better.

Xmas/Yule was okay. Kids were happy, Grammy was here, and it was quiet. I had xmas eve off for the first time in almost 10 years and it was weird. I made a roast chicken and we feasted.

New years eve followed the same pattern – I was off, made dinner, etc. What happened after the kids went to bed? I ain’t telling, but you could guess.

Psycho Momia has the idea that how you spend NYE is how you’ll spend the year. As good of a theory as any, as it invokes sympathetic magick. We’ll see how well it works.

Any dads interested in doing a weekly or biweekly roundtable podcast? I’ll handle the tech end – all you’ll need to do is set up Skype.

I hope to get back to regular posting now.

I am in the midst of writing a long post on sex and parenting and tech and feminism, but it’s taking me a long time. If my train of though gets derailed – forget it.

What do you all want to hear from me? Give me a clue what you wanna hear, or know.

Things a father never wants to hear his daughter say to him, from the mouth of smallest child, this time:
“Dada, get me off NOW!” (meaning of course, that she needs me to put her down.)