Evolution of the Me

2012-01-24T15:49:00.001-08:00

I just started following the Queen because of this video.

Life is but a dream

2012-01-19T10:40:00.000-08:00

I have been thinking long and hard about whether or not to write this post. Since Monday, I've been struggling with something that happened in my world, and I have decided that as selfish as it might be, I have to get this out of my head, and move on with my life. This little bit of selfishness, as you may see, is but a ripple of that which started the ball rolling a long time ago.

Warning: this isn't warm and fluffy reading. In fact it's dark. If you have any hesitation whatsoever about reading into the sometimes gruesome and dark realities that rear their head in this life, please just stop now, and I promise I'll get back to the sweet joyful musings of kids and laughter soon. Until then, joyful this is not.

As most people know, I am a landlord. I have some apartment buildings that I work very hard to maintain. They are the homes of many people...the place that they come to sleep, eat, laugh, live. The life of a landlord is a 24 hour a day job. Just last night, I got a call at 3:45 in the morning to let someone in who had locked herself out of her home. The option I had was to force her to call a locksmith, pay the after hours fee, and likely spend a couple of hours dealing with it until she could finally return to bed. Well, in my experience, that amount of waiting is unnecessary...I was already awake, and I live close by. I could also bet that before spending the money and time, most people make a pretty good effort to break into the building, which is very secure, and such an attempt evolves into property damage that I have to deal with later on, so that's what I did...that's what I do: I answer the phone, and I deal with these things at all hours of the day and night.

It's a balancing act I play all the time, too, as my life still goes on. It wasn't easy to lay awake at 4am, with the kids in the other room sleeping, thinking about the fact that I had to get them up in enough time for school today. I am just lucky that Anna was at my house so I could leave and deal with the issue at all. The kids didn't have to be woken up until right before 8, as Sean wanted to see his mom before school. Still, since my kids were slow to rise, and could not be motivated to wake up as quickly as me, they lagged getting dressed, and I couldn't get them completely ready for school in time to also see their mom, so something had to suffer...in this case, judging by a text I just got, Babymama is pissed off about the fact that I didn't have the lunches made, or their teeth brushed. As sorry as I am that I couldn't do it all, I also get defensive because nobody really knows how this life really goes for me. I'm trying my best all the time, but I'm deeply entrenched in so many other people's lives, I am trying to make 3 businesses succeed, and I'm first and foremost, trying to make 2 little kids know that they are always loved, and the most important thing in the world. Oh well...you pick your battles, and the fight for my kids' joy is the number one for me always. I wish it was the same for everyone else.

A little over a week ago I was in the office, and a stranger walked in. He was trying to get into the apartment of a kid who lived here. I'll call my tenant Cal. So this stranger was very disheveled, and acting strange. He was obviously on drugs, and fairly desperate to get into Cal's apartment. He told me that Cal told him he could live there, and his stuff was in the apartment but he didn't have a key. I told him that Cal had never discussed having a roommate, and that even his presence in the building without Cal being home was a violation of the Lease. He kept begging me to open up his apartment. I told him to get off the property, and if his stuff was in fact inside, he could call Cal or call the police, but there was no way I was letting some stranger in. He left very upset and confused, but I think that the confusion was due in large part to his brain firing in a million wrong directions, triggered by the pains of addiction. I called Cal. I let him know what was going on and that if he was allowing someone to live in his apartment, it was a violation, and we had a problem. He assured me that this stranger was not his friend, but a casual acquaintance who he in no way wanted in the apartment, nor did he have any of his personal property there. We agreed that the stranger was not allowed on the property again, as much as we could control it, and I made a mental note to keep my eye on Cal.

I was already aware that Cal needed a little monitoring. I try not to rent to kids that are too young. Cal was 19, and not the typical tenant in my buildings. They are older, have hardwood floors, and sounds tend to get through the walls pretty easily. I warn everyone moving in that if they are late night types, or like to entertain, that this is not the place for them. Cal got the speech, and he reassured me that he was more of a recluse, involved in his church a lot, and wouldn't be a problem. I made an exception to my rule and for about a month there weren't any problems. He had some tattoos, a couple of piercings, but a genuinely great smile and warmth that told me he had a huge heart and was a good kid.

I tried to think about all of this on Thursday night when after a couple of calls from other tenants, I had to knock on Cal's door at 1am. The complaints were about noise and smoke, and the possibility of drug use going on in the apartment. I don't mess around with stuff like this, so I moved quick, and banged on the door ready to do whatever I needed to do. I had already called the police, anticipating something sketchy going down. They informed me that I could wait for a car, but they had no idea how long it would be. I knew that I couldn't wait, that the other tenants were worried about their own safety, and were quickly losing sleep and faith in their ability to enjoy the peace of their homes, so I told the police dispatch that I would head in myself, and call after if anything was out of my control. When a tall young man answered the door with his eyes dark and sunken into his head, smoke came billowing out around him. I told him I needed to talk to Cal, and he said he would go get him. "Are we being too loud?" he asked. "Yes, amoung other things," I replied, "Get Cal now." He went back in the apartment, murmurs followed by silence, and then he returned, "Cal's at the store, sorry." I told him that he and his friends had 2 minutes to leave the premises before I called the cops, and that Cal had 5 minutes to be back to talk to me before I called the cops on him. The kid went back in, and after some shuffling, Cal appeared at the front door, apologizing that he was in the bathroom when I showed up and didn't know what was going on. I watched as 7 young kids all left the building, each one more nervous than me. I made sure that my accessories let them know how serious I was, but nothing got confrontational that night. Cal agreed that everyone would be gone and he would be in my office at 9am on Friday to talk about the fact that he would no longer be living in the apartments.

About 9:30 the next morning I sat waiting for Cal with an eviction letter drawn up for both of us to go over. It had a blank in the spaces where we would fill in the date and time that he would be completely out of the apartment. By law, I could give him 3 days, but I knew that it would be too fast, and wanted to give him the chance to prove himself capable of handling this like an adult, and not forcing me to take him through the court system. When he didn't show, I texted him that we had an appointment, and asked him if he was going to show up or not. He texted back that he was sorry, but at work, and wouldn't be available until later that afternoon. I said OK, but then realized that I had, the day before, posted a notice on his door to inspect his apartment, since I wanted to make sure no one else was living there. So I went to his unit, and knocked on the door. I didn't hear anything, so I opened it up, and the security chain braced tight. Obviously someone was inside. I said "Cal, this is Brian here to do the inspection. If you're here, or if anyone is here, you need to come to the door now." Cal came to the door in his boxers and t-shirt. He was busted...probably waking from about an hour of sleep. When I went inside, two of the same guys from the night before were back in the apartment. I told Cal I'd be in my office, and expect him within 15 minutes. I told him the guests would have to be gone at that time as well...just like we talked about 8 hours earlier. He agreed.

When Cal walked into the office, it appeared that he finally understood what was going on. His piercings were out. He had put on a button up shirt. He looked respectable. He sat at the table, and started to apologize. I said that I wasn't very happy, and that he had to go. He broke down a little bit at the sight of a 3-day eviction notice for violations of his Lease. I told him that it was hard for me to feel a whole lot for someone who had lied to my face several times in the past couple of days. He straightened up and understood. He asked to not be evicted. He wanted to stay, and said he was willing to do anything. I told him, as I have had to tell others before him that this business was important to me. That when people don't feel safe in their home, they find another one, and in the process, I lose renters, and the ability to pay the bills, to feed my own family. I've had this conversation many times over the years, but as I get older the conversation gets softer and more direct. I don't really posture as much as I used to...trying hard to defend my rights to run the business as I need to, but making more of an effort to put someone else in my shoes...to create empathy and awareness that as adults living in an apartment complex, we have to be responsible to our neighbors too. Cal seemed to understand this, and asked what he could do to prove that he wouldn't be a problem. I said that there wasn't anything, and that I knew that there was not only underage drinking going on, smoking in the building, but also I believed there to be drug use. He said that he had nowhere to go and that he wouldn't know how to make it all happen in 3 days. I told him I understood, and that I wanted to help. I believed that he was a good kid. I asked him what was going on with the life he told me about when he moved in? What about the church he was a big part of? He said that he had dropped out of a lot of it recently, having fell in with some old friends. He claimed to know that he was making bad decisions and that he wanted to get back to it. I said that he was an adult, and that his actions and choices right now were going to dictate how the rest of his life was going to go.

"Cal, I don't want to file this eviction on you...I don't want to negatively affect your life, your credit, your ability to do anything in your future. I know you are a good person, and I want to help you, but you have to be honest with me right now. What kind of stuff are you guys doing?"

"Snorting amphetamines"

"Look, I know that there are worse things out there, and I've seen them, but what you're doing is not good, and it's obviously negatively affecting your decisions and your life."

"I know, and I'm sorry."

I knew he was. I told him that I appreciated his honesty, and because I trusted that he was being honest with me, finally, I wouldn't file the eviction. He could have the next couple of weeks to find a place, to clean up his apartment and move his stuff, and to get all of his security deposit back to help him with his transition. But he couldn't live here anymore, and for that I was sorry, but I couldn't let the rest of the tenants think that this was the kind of place where numerous violations would be tolerated. I need their trust too. I told Cal that I would have to inspect his apartment twice a day through the weekend, and see progress made on cleaning up. That I would be inspecting it each day over the next couple of weeks to see that no guests were staying there, and that he was staying on the right track. He agreed, and was pretty grateful. I caught that smile of his again, and felt good about how I was handling things, and grateful for how he was handling himself. We filled in the blank on our letter, and put in in his file.

I checked back that afternoon, then Saturday morning and afternoon. Each time he was making progress, cleaning up trash and boxes...making an effort. On Sunday morning when I showed up, he let me know he had already found a place, and was probably going to be out early. I told him that I was happy to hear it, and I was stoked at how he was communicating with me and handling the situation. I had been telling Anna about this kid for days now, and mentioning that he was obviously a little troubled, but had a good heart, and I was happy with how this was going. I mentioned that I felt like I wanted to help him out, and that he was just at that age where a little extra care would probably go a long way. When I got this text Sunday evening, I felt like things were pretty good:

"Hey Brian, I just wanted to thank you for your generosity. I was going down a bad path and you woke me up to the error of my ways. Ill be out on Wednesday."

I thought about texting him back, saying good job or atta boy or whatever, but I didn't. I just knew that I would be seeing him in person the next morning, and could give him some reinforcement at that time.

I was downtown Monday morning at a meeting with a client when my phone was vibrating in my pocket. I keep it silenced in my meetings. The problem was that it kept vibrating. Over and over. I finally excused myself, and looked at the number...I didn't recognize it. I read a text that didn't make a lot of sense, but said something about the police and Cal's apartment. I knew I had to leave and get back, so I apologized to my client, but said I would get back after I put out a fire. On the way to the office I called the number back, and it was Cal's father. He had been at the apartments with the police for the last hour, he said, and he had a disturbing text from one of Cal's friends that told him he needed to check on him. The police had since left, and he never made it into the building, but was very concerned.

I met him at the front door of the building, Cal's keys in my hand, and went to Cal's unit. I banged on it for a second, then opened it up, praying in my head that nothing bad would come of this situation. That stupid chain caught the door when I opened it up, but Cal didn't come to the door when I called in this time. I busted it open, and walked inside the apartment, turned my head into the bedroom, and there was Cal, lying on his bed. Cal had killed himself. His head was covered in plastic, an elastic band around his neck keeping it tight. There were tubes along the side of his body, and a couple of tanks lying next to him. I didn't know exactly what I was looking at, except that somewhere in that mess was a the dead body of the good kid I had seen and talked to not 24 hours before.

The cries of Cal's father broke out and I turned to see that he had followed me in for a brief second, and also caught a glimpse of his son on the bed. He fell into the hallway crying, and I followed him out to try and console him. But what the fuck do you say? Cal, it turns out, had the last word, and had left it for his dad to read on his laptop which sat open next to him on the bed.

After sitting his dad down in a comfortable spot, I dialed 911 and went back in the apartment. The police dispatched someone, and connected me to the paramedics, who began to instruct me to remove the plastic from his head and clear out his mouth. They told me to get his father to help me move Cal to the ground, which I told them wasn't going to happen. I started to move him myself when I heard the sirens from out front, and went to let them into the building to do what it is they do. As I grilled the police as to why they didn't go into the building an hour earlier, one of the paramedics, an acquaintance of mine, let me know that it didn't matter...it was obvious that he had been gone for a few hours. The next few hours involved a lot of police officers taking statements, getting the medical examiner in to take care of the situation, and some grief counseling for the father. Once it was all over I went home and sat on the couch and tried to figure out what had just happened. I'm still working on answering that question.

I've told the story to a few family members and friends over the last few days. I know in my heart that as often as I have been course and direct with other tenants in the past who have done damage to my property or my business, this time I was making an effort to handle with care. I did what I had to do, and I don't actually believe that I was acting in any way other that what I had to do in the situation. But there is still a deep, dark feeling in my gut that I can't shake. It's the part of me that knows that there is still a responsibility to the situation that I have to pay attention to. But it's not that of a landlord, it's one of a fellow human being. We all come into contact with people in our lives who are struggling every day. We never know what someone is going through, only how they treat us. I can't emphasize enough that we all owe it to each other to keep kindness and love in our hearts, and do our best to connect with people that cross our paths. We all just want to be loved. We all have something going on.

As I listened to the police talking with Cal's father that day, I realized that Cal had a rough life. He has battled with all kinds of addictions and problems since a young age. He was the product of his environment since he was very young. I only knew a tiny piece of who he was. All I can say is that the purpose of my life is greater than I can understand, and I will take every interaction I have from now on with my experiences in mind every time. And when it comes to my two beautiful, innocent children, I will always, ALWAYS let them know that they are loved and they are important...I never, ever want to give them cause to seek out that love in any way, including coping with an emptiness that Cal obviously felt.

I'm very sad today. I hope that this exercise of spilling my guts helps me move on and start doing a better job as a member of a thickly woven blanket of society in which we all count on each other every day to get by.

Today is Edgar Allen Poe's birthday. He had his share of addictions and problems, one of which was the scrutiny of his peers. And as most brilliant minds tend to be, he was less than appreciated during his lifetime, but his work lives on long after he's gone. This poem, sold for $9 when he wrote it, seems fitting for the week. Thanks, NPR, for sharing this with me this morning:

A Dream Within A Dream

Take this kiss upon the brow!
And, in parting from you now,
Thus much let me avow-
You are not wrong, who deem
That my days have been a dream;
Yet if hope has flown away
In a night, or in a day,
In a vision, or in none,
Is it therefore the less gone?
All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream.

I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore,
And I hold within my hand
Grains of the golden sand-
How few! yet how they creep
Through my fingers to the deep,
While I weep- while I weep!
O God! can I not grasp
Them with a tighter clasp?
O God! can I not save
One from the pitiless wave?
Is all that we see or seem
But a dream within a dream?

Edgar Allan Poe

One to the Four

2012-01-17T08:38:00.000-08:00

Fourteen years ago today, my sister plunged head first into a vast deep ocean that many get lost in: parenthood. She has done an amazing job...3 times in total, and it's very hard to believe that the little blond diapered entertainment machine that was doing "rollie pollie" with his hands to distract us all from the fact that he was dancing on the coffee table in my mom's house is now only 2 years from driving, 4 years from college, and 7 years from stepping foot into my bar!!

You hear that, Jeffrey...SEVEN YEARS!!

Just kidding, he's a great kid, and I am one very proud uncle today. He's a great role model and friend for my own little man, and for that I am extremely grateful.

Happy Birthday Dude...I love you.

Vomit Sweetly

2012-01-12T18:00:00.000-08:00

The last 24 hours have been a roller coaster of love, sickness, sleeplessness and joy.

I picked up the kids yesterday and we took Ireland to what will likely be the first of many dance classes to come in the future. She was absolutely giddy with excitement on the way to the studio. It was an energy that comes out every once in a while, is never lacking in the absolute cutest 5 year old I know, but often hovers just below the surface, ready to pounce at any given opportunity. It was blasting out of the water yesterday, however, like that video of the Great White jumping out of the ocean to snack on a delicious fatty treat of unlucky seal. Ireland was the shark. Dance was the seal.

We got down to the new environment, and carefully assessed the situation. She was humble and shy, but not afraid of what was to come. She joined right in among the small group of strangers, not backing down when the door behind her closed and her dad and brother were sent to the window to watch. The class did a fun warm up routine, which was accented as you can see, by some sweet hip thrusting.

The class was an hour long, and included some nice touches on ballet lingo, hip hop influence, and a promise of more to come, including forays into tap and jazz in the weeks to come. Needless to say, she is eager to go back, and wanted to use my phone to call her Bobo and tell her how much fun the class was right after we got out.

We got home and Sean dug into his homework, and I made a quick dinner for us all to enjoy. The hostess cupcakes seemed at the time to be a well thought out dessert plan. We watched a little bit of Grease for educational purposes, and then it was off to bed. We had an early morning, so I was hoping that we would all get some sleep.

Fast forward. 1 am. Darkness. A sweet whisper and touch gently wakes me up and Ireland's face is right in front of mine. As my eyes adjust, I can see that she has been crying and I ask her "What's up, babygirl?" She begins to explain that she threw up, but as she is telling me the story, she breaks down in tears, realizing that she had done her best to contain the emotional situation until this moment, but it was no more. She let it go, and fell into me with a giant hug. I figured out that she had puked in her bed, waking up to her sheets and clothes covered in the remnants of a once delicious hostess treat. As I inspected, I noticed evidence of the projectile all over the floor, the rug, the bathroom...then I realized that it had all been cleaned up, to the extent that a 5 year old can do so. It was still, however, on her clothes...which she had changed out of, and put back in her wardrobe. She was wearing new sweats and a t-shirt. The towels, hung nicely back on the rack in the bathroom, also showed signs of the task they had been put to that evening.

This frickin' little angel had woke up, puked, made it to the bathroom and finished, gone back, did her best to clean it all up nicely, and then come in and softy let me know she wasn't feeling good. I wonder how long she waited, probably not wanting to bother anyone before she finally came in?

I pulled her into the bed, and snuggled up trying to soothe her back to sleep. About an hour later, she whispered that her tummy hurt. We waited a few minutes, and then she made her way quietly to the bathroom on her own. I figured maybe she was going potty until I heard a distressed little plea, "Dad, I need you!" I rushed in and held her perfect little blond hair back as she tossed another load in the basin. The tears and familiar pain interrupted long enough to let it fly and regain composure. We finished. We rinsed. We crawled back in bed. This scenario continued 4 more times (both of us heading in together each time now, of course...I knew what was coming) until about 6:30, when she was empty and I knew it was time to get up and get going.

When I picked her back up at about noon to keep her chilled out and happy for the afternoon, she was teary and weak. We stacked up an assortment of movies, pulled out the 7-up and saltines, and got to giggling as Mike Meyers and Zac Effron entertained, and I tried to keep up with work on the laptop. The afternoon, as hard as it was, had more than it's fair share of daughter-initiated bear hugs. I can't explain how fucking amazing every one makes me feel, and what a wonderful experience every minute with her, no matter how challenging some may be, is.

I'm grabbing Sean for the Nevada game tonight, to let his sister catch some more rest, and to hang out court side watching some hoops.

I didn't get much done at work today.

It has been perfect.

Hey old friend...

2012-01-05T00:21:00.000-08:00

Fila Brazillia - Nutty Slack by danhend00

It's been a long time.

My GOD how life has changed over the years. How amazing and tragic and full of color and darkness this journey has been so far. You were there for me early on, for those first steps. You taught me to stand on my own. You laughed and made me cry with laughter. We were in those moments so very funny and free. I looked out to the fire scorched horizon and saw the same sky that you saw. When you weren't there it made me think of you and feel a bigger connection just knowing you saw the same sky. What an amazing connection...to look as far as the eye can see and find the things that are the closest. To feel that love for another from within. To love the world and myself and you, my friend, for being a part of it all.

To put perspective on memories is both beautiful and sad, and like the song, pulls on a deeper truth and awareness that some things are gone and there is no promise of what lies ahead.

Damn, sometimes a song has a way of stirring it up.

Never know when that's going to happen.

That's what makes it so cool, I guess.

Eat the bear

2011-12-27T14:39:00.000-08:00

I'm sitting with my bookkeeper, wrapping up the year end for twenty-double-ones, and killing time whilst she makes sure all of the numbers line up nicely. Happy to have her on top of it...good advice: always hire a professional, no matter what you are doing.

And since I have a few minutes and I'm thinking about the end of one year, I figured I'd post a quickie about what's to come.

Things.

All I can tell you is that shit will happen in 2012. Some of it will be great, and some of it will no doubt be difficult. I honestly have no idea what to expect, except of course, the unexpected. And I'm getting much better at dealing with just that. I have been working on the game plan for the office, for the businesses, for life in general, and with any luck my prep work will pay off in my ability to deal with whatever adversity awaits me in the coming months. I am focused on being prepared.

I have job descriptions.

I have a budget.

I have a database I am building.

I have spreadsheets.

I have spreadsheets for my spreadsheets.

I have 2 great guys working with me.

I have the air to breathe, my legs to walk on, my eyes to see, my ears to listen with (seriously, I plan on using them, ok?), and so much more that a lot of people have, so if nothing else, I am grateful for it all, and I plan on working with the tools I've been given.

And I have a feeling this is going to be one awesome year. I'm hungry for it.

Game on.

And on another note...

2011-12-22T19:10:00.000-08:00

...best google search to land on MY blog this year to date:

"www.lickmyballsgrandma.com"

That just happened. I hope you got some piece of what you were looking for, fellow astronaut of the electronic galaxy. I am flabbergasted that such a query would land anyone at my humble blog. Almost as much as I was when "In the butt, Bob" did the same thing several years ago.

Good day.

'Tis the season

2011-12-21T20:20:00.000-08:00

My kids entered a coloring contest recently. It was put on by The Plumbing Doctor here in Reno, and was a stay-between-the-lines kind of deal where they color a plumbing truck. The reward was a $100 gift card to Toys R Us. Needless to say, after finishing their work a couple of weeks ago, they asked me every time they came over if they won, and I would answer, "I don't know" for the first few days, thinking to myself "I better mail those in!" Well, I did, and sure enough, I got an email last week letting me know that Sean and Ireland BOTH won the contest, and I would be getting a gift card soon.

They were pumped, to say the least.

Tonight, on the way to Toys R Us, to redeem the reward as an early Christmas treat (they could pick out their presents, but they don't get them for another 4 days...I have to regulate a LITTLE BIT), we talked about how lucky the two of them are, and how fortunate they are to have so many good things in their lives. They agreed. When I mentioned that there are kids out there that won't even get presents this Christmas because their mommies and daddies are more worried about making sure they have food to eat and a bed to sleep in, they asked more questions. They asked how this happens, and all I could do was get them to the conclusion that we all need to look out for each other; not all of us are so fortunate.

Well, they didn't take any convincing, it turns out...they decided that they would take half of their gift card and find something for themselves, and take the other half and find a couple of nice presents for a little girl and a little boy to enjoy this Christmas. Ireland found the most awesome singing Barbie doll she could, and Sean found a cool combo pack of soccer ball, football and basketball for a little boy to have some fun with. We located the local Toys for Tot's representative, and lucky for us it wasn't too late to make a difference. They humbly presented their gifts to the man, who was almost as impressed as I was with my little stud muffins and their generosity.

It should go without saying on this blog and anywhere else that you might find me expressing myself:

I LOVE THESE KIDS SO MUCH MY HEART WANTS TO EXPLODE OUT OF MY CHEST!

I needed this tonight.

Always.

Thanks, Munchkins. You make me so proud.

Again...

2011-12-14T10:06:00.000-08:00

It comes as no shock.

America's Top 10 Booziest Cities - US News and World Report

Reno, Nevada in 1943

2011-12-08T08:32:00.000-08:00

Why is everything so gay in this video??

Classic.

The Venus Project

2011-12-05T18:52:00.000-08:00

The Venus Project

I'm beginning to believe in One.

On Love

2011-12-04T13:07:00.001-08:00

"...for you and your partner to be fully present, with complete access to the amazing abilities of your brain and body, you must know how to calm your own and your partner’s sense of safety in the moment.

The bottom line is that unless you feel emotionally safe in relation to the other, your hearts are not open to fully give and receive love."

via

Nephew

2011-11-27T23:47:00.001-08:00

Nephew
Originally uploaded by daddyisaninja.

THIS guy,,,

He's rad. I'm already interested to see what he's bringing to the party. It's going to be fun, guaranteed.

Sean and Ireland see it too.

It's exciting.

Roll

2011-11-26T14:29:00.001-08:00

Lessons

2011-11-23T10:26:00.001-08:00

A warrior of light does not rely on strength alone, he makes use of his opponent's energy too.

When he enters the fight, all he has is his enthusiasm and the moves and strikes that he learned during his training. As the fight progresses, he discovers that enthusiasm and training are not enough to win: what counts is experience.

Then he opens his heart to the Universe and asks God to give him the inspiration he needs to turn every blow from his enemy into a lesson in self-defence.

His companions say: 'He's so superstitious. He stopped fighting in order to pray; he even shows respect for his opponent's tricks.'

The warrior does not respond to these provocations. He knows that without inspiration and experience, no amount of training will help him.

ThanksgivingNov050007

2011-11-22T10:56:00.001-08:00

ThanksgivingNov050007
Originally uploaded by daddyisaninja.

It will forever be known as "that time of year" now. So many memories. Appropriate.

TheDot

2011-11-22T10:54:00.001-08:00

TheDot
Originally uploaded by daddyisaninja.

She called it a Martooni

2011-11-21T20:30:00.001-08:00

My Grandma Egan was unlike anyone else I've ever met. I'm not alone in that sentiment. Since her passing yesterday, I have already heard so many compliments cut from that same cloth. She was "one of a kind", a "Great lady", and a "True Irishwoman"...that last reference hinting only slightly at the fact that she was also the most stubborn woman I have ever met. And up until she finally decided to let the silver tones shine about a decade ago, she was a red head, too. For the record. But there wasn't a description of Dorothy that I've ever heard that would be considered an insult. She was strong...in a way that most people left behind on this earth simply aren't anymore. She had a depression-era toughness that comes from losing your parents at a young age, growing up knowing that real work was the real world, and nobody is going to give anything to you. She worked every day she could...well into her '80's, often times for money, but more and more for the good of others. She was a constant volunteer, serving tirelessly for the hospital as everything from a candy-striper to a gift-cart mall-on-wheels, to a helpful part of the information crew at the front desk.

That "job" at the hospital, along with her long and successful career in real estate sales (yes, she and her husband Ed started the "family" in the "business" long, long ago. He actually snagged her when she worked for his Mortgage company in Tustin, CA, many lifetimes before 4 children, 9 grandchildren, or 6 great-grandchildren were even a thought), dialed Dottie into the intimate and core group of the Biggest Little City's bustling populous. Everyone knew The Dot, and it's because she was not shy.

She was the opposite of shy. Google "the opposite of shy". I just did. Yahoo answers rises to the top with the word "Bold". Dictionary.com then further elaborates:

not hesitating or fearful in the face of actual or possible danger or rebuff;

courageous and daring:

Yeah, that's grandma. My dad had plenty of stories to back it up from his childhood, from his mom encouraging the nuns to "do what they gotta do" to keep her rebellious son in line, to marching right up to Bill Harrah's table in his showroom to introduce herself and her family...possibly playing the long odds that she might be able to help him find his next residential purchase? I'll never know. But she wasn't hesitant or fearful, and she was bold and proud wherever she went. She was a cheerleader for all of her grandkids, and demonstrated her love and pride loudly and with abandon at every football game, basketball game, recital, or graduation I can remember. As she reminded me on the phone, after her second martini of the night when she called to check in and see how college life was treating me: she was my biggest cheerleader.

Damn. I just lost my biggest cheerleader. It's crazy how I have never taken that for granted, but it just now really set in. I could always count on Grandma. She was always there for me. I know I'm not alone in that thought, either...she was there for everyone, always. But she was there for me in so many ways...like with a laugh. I could always make the Dot laugh out loud...even if she didn't understand where I was coming from, she appreciated the effort, and made sure the room never fell silent for me. That's probably why she taught me how to make a Martini when I was 7. Bucket glass...rocks...vodka, and just a CAP full of vermouth. I learned that a cap full could actually be measured after seeing my Grandpa's face wince a little when I handed him my first draft. But I got it. Thanks to her, I learned a lot of things at an early age. And she knew she could always count on me to get her drink right. Nothing made me happier.

Except maybe when I was really, REALLY young. The age when staying the night at your grandma's house was still kinda scary. Scary because your parents were not coming back tonight, sure...but more. Scary because the staircase that led from the foyer up to the bedrooms was bigger-than-life, and there was a giant crystal chandelier hanging from the top of it that I always wanted to jump up and touch, and just the idea gave me nightmares every time I spent the night there that always involved me waking up right before hitting the ground from jumping off the top step, which in my dream was like 50 feet high. Those dreams got easier over time, mostly because Grandma would tuck us all in and kiss us goodnight, and take her thumb and do the sign of the cross on our foreheads before she left the room. She was always praying. She taught me how powerful it is.

I've talked about her a few times on this blog, but I could never say enough about my Grandma, and what she means to me. She is such an important, inspiring woman that is single-handedly responsible for the reason I believe so proudly in equality, inner strength, and joy. She was full of joy.

I've missed a lot of the memories of Grandma, and her house, and family dinners, and everything that fades and changes as we all grow old. But I haven't had to miss her, because she has always been close by, and within 5 seconds of seeing her face, and kissing her soft, folded cheeks...unless she got those puckered lips in the way, of course...I knew my Grandma was there.

She will always be here. She is not gone from this earth completely. Her song that she hums in the kitchen, known only to her, but recognized by a few of us that have heard it as the soundtrack of our childhood, will find it's way out from my memory banks on occasion when I think about the good times that she was here to share with me. We are all so lucky to have those.

Just a quick apocalyptic post...

2011-11-18T16:49:00.001-08:00

In case you haven't already heard, there has been a fire burning around approximately 2,000 acres along the hillsides of Reno since a little after midnight. The white smoke and devastating heat sneaking down the canyons and occasionally igniting the homes that line the canyons in the neighborhood I grew up in, the streets my loved ones live in...many of them evacuated from their houses since the early hours of the morning. Fortunately no one I know has lost anything besides sleep so far, but many have lost their homes already. I watched the smoking black frame of a house on Pioneer Drive send white clouds into the air this afternoon, shocked that this was happening, and resisting the temptation to think of this as some kind of nightmare that would get worse. Fortunately, it appears to be slowed from progress, if not even reportedly 1% contained. I just saw a social media update with the word "rain" in it, and I can only hope and pray that it was true, and that the sky will open up and make it stop.

As if any of us needed a reminder: everything can change in the blink of an eye.

Mysterious ways

2011-11-16T09:07:00.001-08:00

I try not to get into too much discussion about religion or politics on this page, but every once in a while, something along the nature of spirituality or personal beliefs creeps into the fold. This morning, I had a thought that I felt I could share without stirring up too much controversy. It was about God, or god, or a higher power, or whatever your name and capitalization preferences dictate. It started when I took Bodie out to do his business in the back yard. I always grab two plastic grocery bags when I head out...one to toss the "debris" into, and the other to use as a makeshift glove to pick it up with. Well, often there are several bags all bundled together, which I dislike as if I grab too many and don't realize it before I head out, one or two gets wasted. There are plenty of extras in the house, but I just don't like to waste. Well, I started picking up the crap, and realized I had 3 bags instead of 2. I put the spare in my pocket to return to the stash, and tossed the used bags that I had filled up. As I did so, I looked into the sky, and say a cloud-shaped jet stream in the sky, stretching long and far. It ran from north to south, getting smaller at the southern end, and it occurred to me that it was like an arrow pointing me to warmer places. It occurred to me that I need to head south soon, if only for a brief escape from this reality here. I saw this as an omen that the Dude upstairs was reminding me to do so. It's just the thought that first popped in my head. As I looked back down, Bodie was going for round 2 of his business, as he will sometimes do, and although I had already tossed the used bags in the dumpster, there was one more bag in my pocket to deal with this occurrence. How fortunate...almost like someone was looking out for me. Another omen?

OK, maybe the reality of it all is that we can see and believe anything we want in the stars, the sky, the daily happenings of our lives. Maybe Jesus or the Virgin Mary will pop up in our mashed potatoes. Maybe not. But I do know that we have to be willing to find what we need in any place at any time, and if it means that my messages are going to be realized in my dog's shit, then so be it. I better be able to find some kind of positive sign in shitty places, or be prepared to wallow in them with no explanation, right?

I don't know.

This is actually seeming even more ridiculous now that it's written than when it was in my head 3 minutes ago.

Oh well. Keep your eyes open. There is a grand design. It's not always as pretty as you want it to be.

Egan Cup

2011-11-15T21:16:00.001-08:00

Do it.

https://www.facebook.com/event.php?eid=250607551664371

Who knew...

2011-11-15T09:40:00.001-08:00

...I would fall for this.

2011-11-13T19:30:00.001-08:00

Struggling with the lock he twisted it back and forth, turning the handle of the old garage, waiting for the clank of the metal bars inside to break loose and allow the creaky, broken-down wooden door to release it's tired grasp. Finally it did, and as the door rolled up, the garage yawned open, pulling cobwebs off the ground, and sending dust and the dead leaves of fall back into the cold air. There in the corner was the stack of belongings that didn't. A plastic crate of ammunition, a cardboard box of holsters, belts, and a couple of handguns. A stack of shotguns and rifle's all leaning atop the rest, cloaked in their canvas and leather cases, quiet. And to the side were a pair of hiking boots, cold, unworn, new. They were actually the right size. They had a good height to them, for when the snow stacked up and crusted from the wind, and each step would be a work of lifting out from under, and sinking down again. There was so much work in the hunt, and these boots would actually come in handy. But still, he didn't know if they were necessary.

Into the winter night he returned, thinking about the darkness and the unrest in the air. The clouded sky holding captive the full moon and her gentle message. The soft lights of the houses around illuminated dinner tables filled with conversation. The focused gaze of the armchair quarterbacks were lit brightly by flat screen temples. All of this passed slowly as he walked through the dark, cold night, struggling onward to find a warm place. A good pair of boots wasn't necessary for this short clip. They would be better kept locked up in an old dark garage. They weren't going to be needed this year.

FML

2011-11-11T09:51:00.001-08:00

I fully understand the meaning of the word bittersweet now.

If it ends in "d-a-y"...

2011-11-06T12:12:00.000-08:00

...I'm working. And I'm not complaining here, as it is a counterproductive method of getting things done. I'm just taking a second to comment on a pretty funny thought I had this morning. I knew my kids are coming over tonight, so I dove into the dishes, the floors, the laundry, and probably fired through it all in about 45 minutes, but as I did, I thought to myself, "I have to quit procrastinating and get to work!"

Something isn't right about that thought. Still sorting it out.

Happy Sunday to all. Stay tuned for some vital announcements this week regarding Movember, The Egan Cup Bowling Tournament, and more.

probablymyfavoritepictureofalltime

2011-11-02T19:26:00.001-07:00

probablymyfavoritepictureofalltime
Originally uploaded by daddyisaninja.

He's 8 today...EIGHT!!!!

I don't know where the time goes,
These faces when the wind blows,
Come in, fade out and who knows,
How long we'll have this love.

I'm a lucky dad.

Stud

2011-10-25T19:03:00.000-07:00

I've been pulling late hours, and only breaking off from the grind here and there to charge the batteries in the typical ways. This evening, I was lucky enough to decide to take pause long enough to hit Sean's karate class for a half hour, and my batteries are full again.

This kid is a fucking animal.

I walked in to a class that was based on some aerial training. The class was stacking pads on the ground and lining up to see who could go the highest, by pulling a front flip over the stack and landing on the matt behind them. Visual reference below. Well, as the line thinned out, and Sean was the last little man standing, he kept going higher and higher, only finally (barely) tipping the stack when it reached 7 pads high, and was easily 6 inches taller than him.

Then he put on a clinic based on learning how to do handless cartwheels over the pads on the ground...which he has never tried until tonight.

Dude kills me.

And he does it all with the most joyful, beautiful smile in his heart and on his face.

Love is an understatement. I am in awe.

Time Out

2011-10-24T22:46:00.000-07:00

It wasn't always so complicated. There was a time when it came naturally. It was unlearned. I've had it so many times. It's one of those things...

Where would I be without the wellspring of memories?

Who would I be without the experiences that tempered the animal inside?

Who would I have missed were it not for the grand design in all things?

Lost, and further even than I am now, down the road we all travel, to the end we all find.

I don't know who said it first, but I remember the guy that reminded me about 15 years ago; "Count your blessings. It helps." It's true. When I do, that the list can be long and full of surprises, and I often find my mindset changed from then to now.

I've been in and out of the thought process all day today. It began as the sun rose, on my way into the day I passed by a man sitting curbside waiting for the bus. It was cold out this morning, and I wasn't upset about it...turning the heater on in my car was a luxury I hadn't tapped into for months. And as I went to reach for it, and saw the man sitting on the cold concrete sidewalk, I realized that I am lucky. I have it pretty good. It may not last forever, and I think it's a good idea to pay attention to these little wonderful things I take for granted every day. Like the shelter over my head, the food in my stomach, the knowledge that the two angels in the picture above have closed their eyes and drifted into dreamland, resting to attack another day at elementary school with joy and abandon, and love for each other and the world.

I want to stay in the place I found this morning. I want to live in the gratitude that multiplies itself exponentially. I want to be rewarded for the feeling with more of itself. And these days it takes making an inventory of the little things that keep me there.

The weight of the world is something we all shoulder. As parents we take on more than our share so that the burden our children will face can come gradually, easily, calmly and with training about proper form, balance, and knowledge that it's possible.

How amazing were the people in my life that have carried a piece of my own. How strong are the shoulders that surrounded me, that have brushed up against mine. How perfect are the little ones I look down upon today, already growing and strong in love and faith.

It's a beautiful mystery, this life. I am so confused and so awestruck every day. I am so grateful for the many voices that speak out to me in passing moments, with a smile, or a reflection. This world is all a reflection of the people who we are. To look into the faces of the two most perfect little people that I have ever known is as close to God as I have ever imagined being, and the message that is communicated the most perfect form of love from any power I have ever known. To think that I may have been a vessel of that same message to those around me at any time is a validation of my own life.

I'm blessed.

Thanks to my family and my friends, for loving me, and allowing me to love you. Thanks to my children, should you ever read this blog some day when you too know what it's like to struggle and cry, and to wonder where the place is that you got away from, where you felt thankful and good. May you find some piece of comfort in the words that I have for you both: I love you more than life itself. You are the reason I am here. You are perfect. Never have I seen such loving, caring, sensitive and considerate human beings. You are already more amazing to me than anyone I've ever met, and I know that you will do whatever, and go wherever you want in this world. Stay true to your hearts, for they are absolutely in the right place, and it's a quality that you were simply born with, so it will always, always be there even when it seems like it's not, or it escapes you for a moment. You are loved by so many, yet you give so much more back to us all. You are beautiful.

You know you want it

2011-10-24T17:03:00.000-07:00

Everybody loves a moustache ride:

MOVEMBER

Click the link.

Join my team.

Fight evil.

Get some.

Dragon Form

2011-10-22T16:39:00.000-07:00

It may be a kids "black belt", but this process that Sean has gone through has been fundamentally awesome, for his confidence, his strength, his being. He has worked very hard to get this far, and continues to prove to me that he is simply the coolest dude I know.

So proud.

It's Baby Simple

2011-10-09T19:10:00.000-07:00

I decided that this phone call I got about a year ago should be shared with the world. I only wish I would have recorded the first half of the call, but how could I have known when that phone rang that I was going to be involved in such a huge opportunity!?

Enjoy.

Latest tracks by BLCC

The grapes are like a mouthpiece

2011-10-08T12:01:00.001-07:00

The grapes are like a mouthpiece
Originally uploaded by daddyisaninja.

After the game....

Ireland: Do you know that girl Sofia?

Me: Yeah, her daddy is a friend of mine.

I: She's my best best best friend on soccer.

M: That's great. She's also very aggressive on the field.

I: What does that mean?

M: It means she really wants the ball and goes and gets it.

I: I really want the ball all the time too!

M: That's good, Sis, you just have to go straight to it as fast as...

I: I call that car!

M: Ok.

I: Did you know that there's a car called 7-up?

M: What?

I: Just kidding.

I think she's really picking up on the finer points of the game.

It's a contest

2011-10-07T18:33:00.000-07:00

So I volunteered to work at the 30th annual Jesse Beck Scarecrow Contest this afternoon. It's a big carnival type of event on the playground at my kids' elementary school. Having been a Roy Gomm Gopher myself, I never really participated in the event as a child, but many of my best friends did. It's a little bit like our version: Gopher Fun Day, but with a fall theme, face painting, kids running around hopped up on sugar, and carnival games all over the place.

I worked the basketball shot booth, which was just a big board with 3 little hoops on it, and for two tickets, any kid could shoot 3 times, to win a variety of swag. My kids came over and paid me a visit while I was there.

They didn't have any fun, as you can tell from their faces and the snow cone.

Actually, none of the kids had any fun today. It was pretty much one big sad, dramatic mess. Every time a kid came up to my booth, I took his or her two tickets, gave them the 3 balls, and if they made 2 I was sure to swat away the 3rd shot so that they couldn't win a mini gumball machine, which was the coveted grand prize.

The way I see it, these kids gotta learn what it's like in the real world some time. They have to know that just when they think they are about to win, someone might come along and block their best shot, and then knock them down and steal their bag full of candy and yo-yo's. Oh yeah, I totally got hooked up today. It was actually a pretty good day for me, except for having to clean up dirt and tears off the sleeve of my favorite sweater. But I'll probably have it dry cleaned, and I don't mind spoiling myself, because one of the parents wasn't paying attention, and left her purse lying right behind the bean-bag-toss booth, and I helped myself to a little somethin' somethin'...compensation, I think, for the hour and a half I took off of work. She only had $20 in her wallet anyway, so it's not like I did any serious damage...except maybe to her evening, as I grabbed the BMW keys that were in there too, and looked around for at least 4 minutes in the parking lot for that stupid car, but gave up and tossed them in a bush, and just took my own car back to the office instead. Oh well, it would have been sweet. Your welcome for not taking your car, lady. Man, I have some bad indigestion right now from all of the candy I ate. But I felt it was my duty to teach those kids that they need to start hitting the weights and stand up for themselves with some conviction next time. It's a tough job being a parent, but I take it very, very seriously.

Trick or Treat, I love Halloween!

Oh and kids, if you're reading this: I'm just having a little fun with creative writing. I didn't do most of that stuff. This is called exaggeration, although it might actually be what my therapist calls deflection, as I did really grab one of the little mini gummy-hamburger prizes out of the prize bucket and ate it. But thinking about all of that other stuff I COULD have done, it doesn't really seem so bad now, does it?

What!? I was HUNGRY!!

Whatever.

What a DOLL

2011-10-07T18:00:00.000-07:00

My niece is now a blogger.

Wow.

Be sure to check out Molly's Blog and leave a comment. She loves comments.

It's not like Molly, her older brother Jeffrey, my 7 year old son Sean, or any other kid with the skills to find this blog wouldn't already be completely traumatized by some of the content/language/great choices I've made to date, but it really sunk in a little deeper today when I stumbled upon her blog.

Oh well. These kids gotta know.

This is life

2011-10-04T19:03:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I need to be reminded that this path does work for people.

Re-engagaed.

Thanks, Google.

I had this dream last night...

2011-10-01T12:34:00.000-07:00

...I was on a plane, sitting in the back with my Grandma Egan. We were coming back to Reno from somewhere far away, and there was supposed to be a connection in Vegas. As we flew in to Sin City, I looked out the window and could only see the very tips of the buildings because there was a thick cloud cover or fog cover over the ground. One building stood out above the rest: it was tall like the Transamerica building, but on the very top sat a large, ornate castle.. All of the sudden, instead of descending and landing, the plane started to climb steeply and bank into the ascent. I figured that the cover meant that we couldn't land in Vegas, and that there must be enough fuel to just go straight to Reno and not deal with it. I turned away from the window to talk to Grandma, and to my joyous surprise, Grandpa was sitting next to her. His arm was around her and she was snuggled up against him and smiling and they were both so very happy. It was the kind of happiness and joy that dances with an emotional bend in my earliest childhood memories. He told her "I love you" and she told him "I love you" back and they kissed and smiled and continued to sit together as the plane continued to climb.

The dream changed direction, and I was back to earth again, grounded, working, battling. But that's a whole different story, and I just thought I would share the happier moments of what I got into last night.

Growing

2011-09-27T16:47:00.001-07:00

I realize the last post may have sounded down, or pitiful, or sad...mostly because it was.

But like I said, I don't waste too much time in that head space. Thanks for the comments. Thanks also for simply reading.

Today is a new day, ripe with the pain and potential of growth. I think somebody upstairs has heard me, and I've spent the better part of the day working on two important pieces to the puzzle that is my career. One was new business, which isn't a sure thing...it never is in this game. It's high stakes, eat what you kill, and cutthroat...and that's keeping it light. But being in the mix today, having the rush of the possibility, thinking about the potential...that's really what I like about it all. No matter what comes of it, I will not leave any angle unconsidered, and I will make sure everyone I work with knows that they are dealing with a professional that takes it serious. It is. It always comes down to my family, and this is what I do to provide.

I had that conversation with another person in my field this morning...about taking care of family, and how they provide us with the will, the desire, and the fuel to step up and take the risk and do what it takes day in and day out. This person, coincidentally, was piece number two to the puzzle. This person is someone with whom I share a lot of viewpoints with about the industry we both work in, about family and the priority they have, and about character and integrity. This person is someone I want on my team, and this person wants the same. More to come soon...but the wheel is in motion, and the future is again full of change and promise.

Growth comes in many shapes and sizes, but along with it is the inevitability of change. If nothing else, I am learning how to adapt these days, and I like the way this change is going.

I want a pep talk

2011-09-26T17:28:00.000-07:00

It's strange being in an office that I was once upon a time coached in. Sitting in a space, trying to figure it out, praying that it will work or get better or change, knowing that the one who listened and actually heard, spoke when he knew it would make a difference, challenged me at every opportunity, and cared about every detail, is gone.

I wish I were on the football field, or the court, or the battlefield, or somewhere that I could count on the pressure from outside to be as loud as the pressure from within. I want to fucking scream sometimes, but all that would do is scare the shit out of my dog, and the neighbors.

I talk to the mentors I have left on occasion, and catch a glimpse of reinforcement, of validation, of awareness that I am fighting the good fight. There are still people out there that I look up to and care about impressing. In a world full of so many selfish, lazy and hurtful people, it's a rare and wonderful blessing that I have any at all, but I know I do. And I care about what they think.

But I miss the guy that could go toe to toe with me when I needed my head readjusted. I miss the only one who wouldn't back down from fear of my temper because he gave it to me. I miss the moment of clarity when he would reinforce every fucking perfect rule that he instilled and every ounce of faith that he knew how to find. I miss the man who was as much a coach as he was a boss, an ear, a father.

I won't dwell in pity any more right now. Instead, I'll get back to what I think I need to do. I'll speak from memory, from experience and from my heart when I lend one of the many voices in my head to the memory that created it and talk to myself:

Stick with it.

Nobody is ever given more than he is capable of handling.

Count your blessings.

Smile.

Be kind to those around you.

Be humble.

Thanks, dad.

Feeling the Pascal

2011-09-20T14:02:00.000-07:00

Mathematically:

P=F/A

where:

P is the pressure,

F is the normal force,

A is the area.

Thanks for helping me understand nothing, Wiki

Wow

2011-09-16T18:51:00.000-07:00

A year ago I was thinking about how stoked I was to share the Reno Air Races with Sean.

This year, I'm just grateful I wasn't there when this happened, and so sad for the families involved.

People

2011-09-12T14:38:00.001-07:00

As I write this post, I'm sitting on a conference call. Normally, it would be rude of me to be so distracted with the internetz when I am supposed to be participating in a call. This is magnified by the fact that the members of this conference call are all of the chapter leaders of CCIM for our region, which is the southwestern states. All said, I think there are about a dozen chapter leaders on this call; I represent Northern Nevada as Chapter President. We talk about how our chapters are doing, membership, education, the industry as a whole. It's a highly coordinated event, with calendar events and reminders going out about a week prior to the call. It's an important part of chapter leadership, and something everyone takes pretty seriously for the good of our organization of commercial real estate professionals. We all give chapter updates, and suggest best practices for maintaining the integrity of the CCIM brand of experts in our field.

So yeah, it would be pretty rude of me to be sitting here blogging while I'm on the call.

Except that some other chapter leader decided to check out of the meeting temporarily, and he or she put the call on hold. And he or she obviously didn't know that the hold button came with some very loud, very dramatic music that everyone in the virtual conference room is now listening to because we can't talk over it.

It's pretty hilarious, except that we all have better shit to do than reschedule this call that we've been gearing up for over the last week. (OK, in my case, for about 10 minutes prior to the call, but whatever, I gave a detailed report, as usual).

And now we are rescheduling, and now I must quit blogging and get back to work.

Funtimes.

Never a dull moment.

Self taught

2011-09-06T19:28:00.001-07:00

Pumped up Ireland

At the risk...

2011-09-05T12:13:00.000-07:00

...of losing all of these pictures to the vast, dark ether of the internetz, I feel the need to post some visual content at this time. These are the things that keep me going right now. These are the reasons I put in the hours. These are the fruit. These are my joy.

They are not all-inclusive. They are the means to the ends. They are the memories, the hope, the now and the future. They are my heart, my soul, my reason for being. There are more people, places, and things that belong on this stream of imagery.

I'm buried, tired and struggling. I'm grateful, cared for and watched over. I'm handed a new stack every day. I'm given new reasons to get down on my knees every morning. I'm often convinced that I can't make it. I've been given the tools to make that thought go away within seconds.

I'm stoked. I'm sad. I'm trying.

I'm no different than you.

Thanks for reading. Thanks for being out there to listen. Thanks for being a cheerleader. Thanks for being a reason.

I'm done rambling aimlessly. I'm getting back to work now. I'm convicted that there will be cause for celebration. Despite any changes to the way I may do it: I still like to party.

Move

2011-08-19T11:24:00.001-07:00

Sometimes the only way to get into a good head space is to move out of the one you are currently in. Actually getting up and physically moving is a great start to this process. Preferably on a longboard, with a giant, happy animal pulling you into the next.

I'm sorry

2011-08-16T19:10:00.000-07:00

Seriously, Tumblr, I didn't mean it. Your shit is actually quite tight. I'm just acting out of anger in the post below, and that anger should really be addressed at either Blogger.com, or the millions (it has to be millions, right?) of tumblr bloggers that don't utilize your awesome forum to the full extent of it's capabilities. It is, after all, the Indian not the arrow. I am, just now, beginning to discover how intricate and awesome moving my blog...yup, that's where I'm going with this...might be. Change hurts, OK...I don't mean to be so passive-aggressive, beautiful, intriguing tumblr. I'm just hurt and confused. Until next time...I'll be watching you.

Rant

2011-08-16T17:44:00.001-07:00

I think I might get a tumblr account. Looking through pages and pages of lost memories and posts is really fucking unnerving. I forgot about it for a while, and then I just came back to the blog and I see a bunch of black squares with exclamation points where pictures are supposed to be and I start to think, "What the fucking fuck!?"

Thank God for that word sometimes. For words at all. I think if I went far back enough on the blog I might find, (IF blogger has yet to implode the post) a video link of Frank Zappa talking about the power of language and words. He was right. And I'm proud to be a free-thinking, speech-spinning, American Born blogger with very little concern for what offense the reader...yes, you, my solo creepy reader...might take to the occasional F-Bomb, or S-H word, or otherwise. Pick a letter, follow it up with the word "word", and chances are that I have dropped it here on the Evolution a time or two, and that's the point of the whole thing right this very minute, is that THIS moment is the EXACT moment in time that is now and is worthy of a word that so perfectly describes my disdain for the fact that my posts have been diminished and become of less consequence or significance because the pictures have almost all just disappeared. And sorry, there's no better way to put it than that it's simply kinda F'ed up. The more I fade into the future, the more the reality sets in that they aren't going to magically re-appear, and my Doogie Howseresque diary of sorts (Fuck you, too, Austin), is but a glimmer of the blog that it once was, it could have been, it never will be. Oh well.

Truth be told, it's probably better that I learn to stand upright in my shit talking posture, leaning not against the crutch of pretty pictures, or a joke that can only be told in the wordless thousand words that are captured in a millisecond. I'll leave that work for the photogs, and the tumblr peeps, and maybe, just MAYBE I'll start one of my own...if I ever get off the box long enough to quit crying and start posting pictures of stuff I like. Like everyone else does. MOSTLY just other people's shit, to be quite honest! The more I think about it, most of the pictures I see on other people's tumblr's (is that srrsly how you spell it, btw? wtf!) are of stuff they didn't make, think of, or even photograph! Gosh, the more time I spend ranting about it the more I am beginning to think that the written word is where it's at and all you fools living in Tumbler Land...that's the way it's spelled, THAT's the way I WOULD SPELL IT...you fooooools all think you are putting something out there into the world that represents you or what you dream about or what you WILL do or WOULD do and by that attachment somehow, some WAY you are actually creating something!! (Not you, Hodges, I just realized this is beginning to get a little racey here, and you post a lot of vanity photos, sure, but mostly funny stuff, and you actually do have a little bit of talent to back it up, so pardon my aside, but I wanted to clear your name before proceeding to say) YOU ARE CREATING ABOUT AS MUCH AS A 7 YEAR OLD MAKING A COLLAGE WITH PASTE AND SCISSORS AND PEOPLE MAGAZINE!!! Seriously, I think I'll have Sean grab a bunch of my mags and a pair of scissors, and I'll see what HE COMES UP WITH and I'll call it an experiment into the tumblr thing, because that's how interesting I find it to be when I'm studying your page which studies everyone else's page studying celebrities, and models, and on occasion a picture of an ACTUAL WRITER! Well, not that you KNEW he was a writer, but he had a cool beard, and the picture must have used a cool filter like Lord Kelvin or whatever, so it looks all olde-tymey and stuff, and OMG LOOK...it's another shot of Ryan Gosling...better PUT IT ON MY TUMBLEBLOG!!!

Yeah, after further consideration, I will be sticking to this pathetic excuse for what used to be a blog full of oft-beautiful content, and do my god DAMNDEST to make it interesting from here on out. With WORDS! With content from inside my brain. Or at least, if it's truly content from within someone else's brain, I'll do my best to give credit where credit is due. So THANK YOU, fucking FRANK ZAPPA for telling it like is was and still is, and THANK YOU Ernie Hemingway for not really giving two shits, and THANKS MOM AND DAD for making me the way I am, and THANKS Uncle 'Trick for sticking to your writing guns and always giving the shout outs when I needed them, and THANKS siblings for reading the blog even though 33.3% of you really thinks I should tone it down a bunch, but mostly A THANKYA JEYSUS for inventing the Internet, computers and cocaine, 2 of which I am using right now, and I won't say which. If you have to ask yourself "Is he serious?" you have totally proved yourself to be a qualified candidate for tumblr. Again, Hodges, not you...your's is cool.

Did I thank Austin again? He was, after all, the one who showed me the Doogie Howser mirror and made my smile vanish into the ether yet again, like so many times in the past 25 years...you have a gift. Keep reading anyway...I like your shit talk. I feel like we are doing it right now...a dialogue stretched out over time, my understanding that I am not truly insane and speaking to myself supported by the occasional, brief, and mostly uninteresting anonymous comment you like to leave. And the one time a year you get drunk and call me. I know you have a kid now, but I still expect some shit talk...you owe me a phone call anyway, so I'll talk to you soon. YOU've been called out.

That's what this is, anyway...a dialogue. That's what all of the great writers did and do and will continue to do is keep pushing forward, keep inventing or re-inventing, or describing or articulating the way it was, is, might be, should be, never will be...it's one big, long conversation that spans the ages, and when done with creativity, consideration, and originality, can stand the test of all tests...to be timeless...to live on immortal. And who of us shall really be so lucky, who of us shall write that which will be great!? As I sit, stewing over lost pictures and time, I realize that it shall not in fact make me any less great. I will not fear greatness, because whether I was born with it, I achieve it, or I have it thrust upon me, it will be mine. I didn't really invent that last part, by the way, I saw it on a picture on a tumblr blog. It speaks to me. But the real point is that even if it is not greatness from within, I will do my best to edify the greatness I see around me, in my kids, my friends, my enemies and the strange passers-by...in all the world there is this greatness, and I will continue to do my best to elevate it here on the Evolution.

And I'll call it a day for now. This has been a rant.

This guy

2011-08-10T09:02:00.000-07:00

Sean is making his way towards his black belt. Last night in class, the head instructor mentioned the various levels of performance that are expected of the varying degrees of black belts in the studio. One measure of performance that is expected of each level is fitness-based, and each degree is expected to perform a certain number of push ups and sit ups, for example. As people test for their belts, they perform the necessary amount of push ups or sit ups and often times they set records for how many they can do in a row. The numbers were pretty amazing. The instructor then went on to say that the "Little Dragons", (Sean's class), were going to do a push up test to see if anyone could set a record. I knew that Sean would be in the running for this.

As the entire class proceeded to get down and do the push ups, I didn't think much about how all of these little kids didn't really do push ups. All of them did a version of a push up that would not be accepted in most adult circles...the "mini-pump", the torso-only push up, etc. Then there was Sean. I have always told him how proud I am of how hard he works, and what good form he keeps when doing his push ups. He even kicked my ass, as I recall, at Cross Fit one humbling morning earlier this year. Well, true to form, Sean, stiff as a board, and nose to the ground every single time, busted out 30 push ups in a row last night, and set the bar for the class. He won an ice cold Gatorade as his reward for being so fucking legit.

Those are, of course, my words. As are: I love this kid.

The complicated splendor that is my 5 year old daughter

2011-08-08T08:11:00.001-07:00

A Princess at 5

2011-08-01T15:25:00.000-07:00

Ireland turned 5 yesterday. I had her cracking UP while the two of us were sitting in the hot tub at the Montage, breaking away from the disco dance party held in her honor. I was telling her what a TEENY TINY little thing she was when she was born and how I held her in my arms and kissed her and hugged her and this information seemed to be appropriately hilarious to her. I don't really care what makes her laugh, I just love to see that awesomely beautiful smile of hers, and she had it on all night as she swam, open presents, ran around, and was just a perfect little 5 year old. Like she had been practicing to be 5 or something. Truth is, and most of us are aware, she is really practicing to be 16 right now. She kind of seems like she knows just about everything a 16 year old should know already.

Like she wants her ears pierced and Justin Bieber is awesome.

I'm not giving in on the earrings just yet, but she added to her collection of Bieber-a-bilia, high heels, tu-tu's, Barbie's, and friends yesterday.

Some things I know about Ireland:

She isn't scared.
She will try anything.
She adores her big brother.
She likes to play hard to get with me.

She was born to dance and knows how to shake her booty (see previous post).

I love everything about her.

Happy Birthday, Sissy. You make me very happy.

Shake that...

2011-07-28T10:41:00.000-07:00

To You

2011-07-27T13:07:00.001-07:00

Hey Pops-

I just had a thought occur to me that I wanted to share with you. I had the urge to get up and walk into your office and crack a joke and make you laugh, and catch up for a minute on real life stuff, filling in the details about the deals, the tenants, the numbers...but touching base on what's important in my life outside of this place. I got a sensation of being happy and excited to share, of seeing your face, hearing your voice, sitting down in front of you and...well,...talking.

I miss that. I think I miss it the most. It happens all of the time, but for some reason today it just didn't occur to me that you aren't here for a couple of seconds, and in that brief amount of time I experienced a fond feeling, a memory. It's something I still have, and I'm grateful for it. You gave me so many of those moments, and having the gift of the last few years working with you in the office was probably my favorite of all of the 35 years I got to share with you. The biggest blessings were hidden in the sometimes mundane, always challenging, but never dull moments that we shared day in and day out.

You would have been laughing out loud with that wide-eyed "holy shit" surprised look when I told you about the bat that hit a tenant in the face at 4 in the morning this morning. Yeah, a fucking bat. I took care of it. Get back to doing whatever you were doing wherever you are. I hope it's a problem you are solving, just like the thousands you handled so well when you were here with the rest of us. Big picture stuff. You were a big picture kind of man. And the best man I knew.

I miss you.

Homeward Bound

2011-07-26T15:20:00.001-07:00

Homeward Bound
Originally uploaded by daddyisaninja.

I'm blogging from flickr when I want a picture for the time being. And today...right now, I wanted to post this picture. Because it makes me happy. Because doing stuff like riding bikes and scooters over to my house it as much fun for them as it is for me. Or vice versa. You know what I mean...we're all on the same page.

And I wanted to look at this picture for a minute today to take me out of the chaos and challenges, and remember that the scene in this picture will likely happen again tomorrow evening, and all will be good again.

I can't wait for that.

Today

2011-07-21T11:29:00.001-07:00

I'm gonna need a bigger office to fit around this picture.
Originally uploaded by daddyisaninja.

Today was a special day for my dad and Beccy. It popped up on my reminders, making my phone ding this morning as I was getting the kids fed and dressed. Normally I love it when my calendar works the way it was supposed to:

Somebody's Birthday - Ding. Sweet, send them a text or an email, grab a card or present usually. Done.

Kids' karate lesson, swim lesson, school performance - Ding. Sweet, I have an hour to get there and take some pictures or video.

Somebody's anniversary - Ding...

Wow, this must be a really hard day for that certain somebody left behind today. Well, there's not a whole lot I can do except say "I'm thinking about you, and I love you."

That will never do the trick.

The calendar is always changing. The name of the game is adaptation. Change is the only constant. We can't always pick and choose what or when that change will take place. All we can do is roll with the punches, and say "I love you" as much as possible. Even when we aren't saying it to someone in front of us. Even when we are saying it to the picture on the wall.

WTF Blogger?

2011-07-19T15:58:00.001-07:00

Where are all of my pictures disappearing to?! This is really ruining the blogger buzz I had going on in here. What am supposed to do now? Write more original content? Sheesh.

New Digs

2011-07-14T09:26:00.000-07:00

Old Southwest.

Kind neighbors.

Bikes.

Warmth and laughter.

Life is good.

Oh, and did I mention it's within walking distance of my office, my brother's house, the river, and everything else I love? It is.

That is all for now.

Bud

2011-07-11T19:24:00.000-07:00

He bought me my first BMX...technically is was a Mongoose, with mag wheels. So badass. He always had us reach in the bottom drawer of his desk to grab a candy bar or a silver dollar. He begged us to come up and swim at his house, where there was more soda pop and snacks than any other place we knew. He treated us all like his own children. My parents called him "The definition of The Good Samaritan." He was. The older I got the more I realized that there weren't too many men in this world who would give you the shirt off their back. That was nothing to him. He taught me how to fly an airplane, and talked me through the process as I landed behind a huge jet, rocking back and forth until that wonderful touch down. He made me promise that when and if I ever got a jet, I would take him for a ride. I wish I could have done that.

Bud was a lot of things to a lot of people, and he was always, always upbeat. I could never put into words what a man like this has meant to me in my life, but I was at least lucky enough last week to tell him "Thank you."

Say hi to my dad for me, Bud. I love you.

7.12.11 Post Script:

I'm sitting in the office this morning, thinking about how brief that post was last night and how important Bud was in my life, as well as those of so many others. I think that it will take some time to really comprehend his effect. Time spent living a life made possible by him and others like him. Time at my desk, making calls on apartment buildings I want to sell, thinking about how my dad always called Bud his Mentor, and how Bud convinced him to get into the apartment business, which is what allowed my dad to make a real career and provide for a big family, helping us all through college and every other stage in life.

There are so many things to say Thank You for every day. There really isn't a time that comes when you can list it all down and set up a coffee with someone and summarize it to them, sharing with them that every single one of those moments we shared was impressed and important. Sometimes, you don't even get the chance to say the word "Thanks", and all of the sudden it's too late.

So Bud, for teaching me a little bit more about how vital gratitude is to keep in my heart every day: Thanks again.

Step

2011-07-08T13:49:00.000-07:00

Hey, Beccy-

Thank you.

You are simply amazing. Stronger than anyone I've ever met. I never had any doubts why my dad chose you, because he was always so happy since he did. But now I know that you were actually chosen for him, and he for you.

And here we both are, early into the next part of this Journey. I'm sure that it will be full of struggle and laughter and love and pain, and as always it will be perfectly designed. Just like the parts that landed me in your guest bedroom for the past couple of months. Right where I needed to be.

You are beautiful.

Keep on keepin' on

2011-07-06T10:06:00.000-07:00

Some pretty faces in here.

Things that made me happy this week

2011-07-01T13:49:00.000-07:00

It is the simple things in life that are truly the most valuable. But don't get me wrong, there is nothing simple about anything in these pictures, excepting for the simple common denominator that they all share...my love.

FIlthy good

2011-06-28T12:27:00.000-07:00

Two things are filthy in this post:

First is the "Filthy Fifty" workout at Willie's House of Pain from this morning.

Second is the fact that you can now read this blog more easily from your smart(?really?)phone, iPad, or other mobile wizardry. I'm mobi-friendly now. Evolved. Filthy.

See? filthy means more than un-clean. Learn something every day.

PS: Chelsea, I heard this morning that you might be considering CrossFit...do it. I'm calling you out. That's filthy.

Daydreamer

2011-06-27T19:22:00.001-07:00

Daydreamer
Originally uploaded by daddyisaninja.

Goodie

Shakeit

2011-06-26T14:34:00.001-07:00

Just a good capture on a great day.

F-Day

2011-06-20T14:24:00.000-07:00

I didn't go into the weekend with many expectations, only those of spending some quality time with the two most perfect children I know. That wish was granted, and I had a wonderful day with them yesterday, which included a lively brunch at the Stonehouse, and a good romp at the park on Plumas, including some fetch with Bodie and some hoops with Sean on the 10 foot rim, which was impressive...in fact, if animal control hadn't shown up to tell us that Plumas Park was now an "on leash" (*bullshit**Cough*) park now, I think Sean had a good chance of beating me at horse.

So we rounded off the afternoon with a swim/sun session at Gramellen's Montage condo...delightful. Those two are so affectionate and easy, and they seriously make me realize just how blessed I am every day.

It crept up on me when I knew that my time with them was coming to a close that there was something missing in my day yesterday. I got pretty sad, and I looked at the slide show of my dad for the first time in a couple of months, and I let it out a little bit. It's not like father's day was some huge deal between my dad and us kids, but it was one we paid attention to. There wasn't a father's day that went by when I didn't enjoy golfing, a bbq, or something special to recognize that he was the man, and the best dad I knew, and he was loved and appreciated. Sitting alone, thinking about the fact that I can't call him up, at the very least to say hi, got to me a little bit yesterday.

There was one year I wasn't quite as excited to make that call. I was back from San Diego for the summer, and I was borrowing my dad's brand new Jeep Grand Cherokee for the weekend whilst he was out of town, Atlanta I believe it was, on a trip. When, at about 4am his time, he picked up the phone to hear me explain that I had just about totalled his new car through the fence of a house up by Manogue, I don't think "Happy Father's Day" were the 3 words he was looking to hear. We got over that one, and several other little speed bumps over the years, but I always, ALWAYS talked to or hung out with him on Father's Day, and so yesterday was something new. It hurt.

But there are so many things, on top of being a very, VERY lucky father, that make me appreciate this life and this world, and even the day yesterday. Being able to call or text other fathers I know, and wish them a happy day. Receiving calls or texts, or even posts to my wall that wished me a good one too. Some of them coming from people very near and dear to me in a fatherly way.

Thanks, Mark, for the message. You are like a dad to me, too, and it means a lot to have you in my life.

Thanks, John, for spending some real quality time with me lately; you are a wise man, and a kind one, and more fun now than I ever remember. Shooting off a few rounds was just what the doctor ordered, and the talks have meant a lot to me.

Dick, you won't read this post, and I hope you got my card, but just in case I'm putting this out into the universe for you: you'll always be a father to me, too. You have always treated me with love and respect, and what I have learned about the world from just hanging around you has a value that will never be adequately measured. You are an amazing grandfather to my kids, a kind and generous man, and you speak from the heart, always. I hope we get whatever this is figured out pronto. Life is short, as you well know. I love you.

Sorry to take this post in such a personal direction, but I guess that's what the day is really all about: taking it personally. Fatherhood is not for the weak or timid. It's not for the non-committal. I am not perfect at anything, and I have a lot of work to do to even be good at a lot of what I take on, but being a dad is still the most important thing I know and I work at, and that's because I had the best one there was. Thanks, Pops. I miss you.

I can't...

2011-06-15T13:20:00.001-07:00

By the end of this, I started thinking it must not be real.

But it might be real.

Still unsure.

All the world's a stage...

2011-06-14T16:38:00.000-07:00

Life is busy...

2011-06-13T15:42:00.000-07:00

...couldn't be happier about it. The alternative sucks.

Even Bodie is pulling weight at the office.

Simple

2011-06-10T12:59:00.000-07:00

Both times that we showed up a little late to take advantage of the twilight rate they told us, "well, the carts are being put away, but if you want to walk as many as you can get in, just go ahead, I won't charge you."

Perfect.

This is seriously one of the best ways to spend a warm early summer evening. Takin' her easy for an hour or two.

SCHOOL'S OUT

2011-06-08T14:28:00.000-07:00

My Aunt Teri used to pick us up on the last day of school, and we would go up to my grandma's house and hang out and call 97.3, KWNZ, and ask Wild Bill Cody if he would play Alice Cooper's song "School's Out For Summer"...every year. Every last day of school. I don't even like Alice Cooper, but Teri's vicarious excitement for us was amazing, and she was always having so much fun with us when we were little. And there IS something to be said about the last day of school. An energy in the air with the knowledge that there is a whole summer of swimming and play ahead, and an exciting, unknown world of the next grade level up just a few short months away.

Ireland's excitement was pretty easy to spot. All she wanted to do was grab on to her big brother and squeeze him and share the love. She got a hold of him. These two got a hold of my heart in a big way.

It's not wasted

2011-06-06T14:24:00.000-07:00

I just hobbled into work today after a great weekend in San Diego with family and friends. And when I say hobbled, I'm not exaggerating...in fact, that's probably a generous description. The truth is that on the way back from paradise, I actually considered using a wheelchair at the airport, I thought about the genius of escalators for the first time in my life, and I held back tears that were neither joy nor sorrow. The reason for my new swagger was an injury I sustained while doing my best to run the Rock and Roll Marathon yesterday.

After my dad's passing, a few of us decided we were going to do something that would honor his life, and we would all run in the marathon in his honor. Initially there was a lot of big talk from everyone, including myself, about doing the full marathon. As time wore on, most of us decided that a half marathon would be just fine, or even as many miles as we could do. Not all of us were, after all, made like the "Man of Steel" who, in his very short 56 years on this planet, managed to run many races including over a dozen marathons, which he started doing after his first heart attack at age 43! If he could knock out a few hundred miles over his lifespan, surely we could suffer a few for him, too.

I had run a few races with him, from the Journal Jog here in Reno, to the bridge-to-bridge runs in SF when I lived there. He always wanted me to step up and do a marathon with him, and regrettably I never did. So this time I started training and mentally preparing myself for a long one, knowing it would hurt. I had no idea how bad. It wasn't the fatigue or mental toughness that ended up getting to me, as I had expected. Instead, it was the extremely painful snap of my left Achilles tendon around mile 8 that let me know the day was going to be a rough one. I'm still not sure what exactly I did to my Achilles, causing a grape-sized ball to appear on it after I passed Spreckles' Theater in beautiful downtown San Diego, but knowing I had a long way to go, I started compensating for it by putting an unbalanced load on my right foot as well.

According to the black tone and swelling of the top of my right foot today, whatever I did wasn't a good choice. The back of my left ankle is now much mellower, and almost looks normal, but I am walking like an old man that lost his cane at the moment, and my stats from the race are equally as unimpressive. In fact, after reaching the halfway point, knowing I wasn't going to have a good rest of the race, I slowed down a bunch, and decided I would just cut over and finish the half marathon with the majority of the group at the merging point. Unfortunately I didn't do that correctly, and added an additional 2 miles of doubling back and forth on the "half" course until I finally started the last one mile stretch to the finish...walking across the line in less than my greatest form.

All said I did about 17 miles and got a medal I didn't really want. I wanted the medal for the 26.2. But the amazing thing about the human body is it's ability to heal, and I know that I'll have another shot, another time, and I intend to get it done for him. For me.

And looking back on the weekend, I have a lot of highlights to reflect on. The weather in San Diego was so perfect; sunshine and soft winds welcomed us in and wafted in my memory as we landed in the grey, rainy conditions of our Juneuary in Reno.

Anna and I got to enjoy the Gaslamp District, a USD Alumni Retreat mixer, Ocean Beach, Mission Beach, and the lovely hospitality of the good people and great accommodations of the Sheraton Harbor Island...a surprisingly great value with a balcony overlooking the ocean and a great view of the infamous SD skyline.

I got to spend some awesome time in my old stomping grounds, and I got to enjoy the sights of one of America's greatest cities in a way I never had before.

And despite my slightly sullen outlook on the minor details of "my" race, in the big picture I am actually pretty stoked about what we did for my dad. After all, this is a family, and we all pitched in as follows:

Erin knocked out 8 miles
Beccy stepped up and did 13.1
Paddy flew through his 13.1 (and may or may not be suffering some similar injuries today)
Mo and Matt (from their "satellite" race in New Zealand) each did 13.1
Chelsea did 13.1, and in the most impressive gut-check of the weekend,
Brendan, my uncle and my dad's younger brother, sucked it up in a big way and knocked out the whole damn 26.2. A studly job for his studly brother...and he thought about him along the way, to be sure. Brendan, there is no doubt in my mind that my dad would be proud. Way to go, dude.

All told, we knocked out about 116* miles for Pat Egan, (and for my personal "motto" that I came up with somewhere along the journey over the last new months: "Cancer Can Lick My Balls"). While I don't think anyone outside of our little group had the same motto...actually, maybe nobody except for Brendan, really, I mean he made it happen...there were plenty of like-minded folks along the way. I was often, throughout the run, overwhelmed with emotion when I would pass by someone who had a picture of their father, mother, sister, brother, friend, neighbor, etc on their back.

The people they were running for had all died from cancer, I noticed. They were all pushing themselves hard to raise awareness, emotion, and spirit for the same thing. I was both impressed and humbled when I tried to get my camera out in time to take a picture of a guy running the full marathon with one leg and a prosthetic spring-like device where the other one belonged. My humility turned to near-shame when I couldn't get my camera out fast enough, and couldn't catch up to him as he disappeared into the horizon on the 163 highway. "Fuck," I thought, "I just got my ass kicked by a one-legged man in an ass-kicking contest." So true.

And that's what so many people did and continue to do every day...they kick ass. They don't make excuses. They don't get held down by adversity. Just like my dad, they don't subscribe to the philosophy "Youth is wasted on the young." It's not if you continue to enjoy what youth you have up until the day it is gone. That's exactly what my dad did, and that's why I know I'll be back to knock out the whole thing as soon as my crippled-ass allows. In the meantime, I'll enjoy some nice memories of a great weekend, and a wonderful effort by a family that misses it's strongest member every day.

*Updated...sorry, Matt.

Yo Yo Yo Ma

2011-06-02T10:59:00.001-07:00

Two dudes very in tune with their instruments.

via

Rising

2011-06-01T16:36:00.000-07:00

The top blue line is Sean. The other lines are not Sean.

So fucking proud of that kid.

What you give...

2011-05-31T14:13:00.000-07:00

Is what you get.

Duh.

Today

2011-05-26T11:13:00.001-07:00

Twenty-eight years ago today, something amazing happened.

And she just keeps getting more beautiful every day.

Thanks for letting me in to be a part of this awesome journey, Anna. Happy Birthday!!

Get the fat out of your ears!

2011-05-26T11:09:00.001-07:00

Boom.

Regard me.

Between Two Ferns with Zach Galifianakis: Will Ferrell from Will Ferrell

From now on...

2011-05-23T11:29:00.001-07:00

Wanna see something cool?

2011-05-21T22:30:00.000-07:00

This is the photomosaic screen saver on my macbook. It's frickin' amazing to just sit and watch. It works off of all the photo's in my iphoto and makes them into another picture which then is a part of the next mosaic and so on and so forth ad infinitum. It's a real facemelter. It's better in person, so next time you visit ask me and I'll show you. It's like a damned time machine. That or the acid is really kicking in.

Kidding, Mom.

Bear

2011-05-20T14:18:00.000-07:00

Getting the kids ready for school this morning, I walked in on them mid-fight. They are pretty sweet 99% of the time, so the "fight" was pretty watered down as sibling rivalries go, but it was happening, nonetheless. As I turned the corner into the room, I saw Ireland grabbing Sean by the arm (she is the more violent of the two), and Sean was saying something about how much he didn't like her. Both were upset. As they turned and looked up to see me standing there watching, they both got sad, and I did too. I gave a dramatic pause and said, "This makes me really sad to see." Tears started flowing from both of them. Not the kind of tears that say, "Dad, don't get mad, because I'm really upset and this crying is my defense mechanism to prevent you from punishing me." No, these tears were legit and came from inside them, the guilt of what they were doing actually weighing on those precious little hearts of theirs. We had a nice talk, and they listened well, and I heard my own father's voice come out of me as I watched myself almost out-of-body-like, in disbelief that the words I had heard years ago (slightly varied with my own personal spin on them) resonated in the air.

"You are each other's best friend, and you will be forever. You may not realize it right now, but you will, and you need to treat each other with love and respect all the time, no matter how hard it is."

Ain't it the truth.

So all morning I've been reflecting on a very special relationship I have had since I was not even two...with my sister Erin. I remember my dad telling me on several occasions how much she looked up to me, how nice of a girl she was, how important my relationship with her was, and how I should treat her and all women. (Jesus, I just now remembered that I told Sean about being a gentleman last night, too...he was carrying 3 bags into the house, 2 of which were Ireland's). Anyway, my little sister used to get on my nerves something awful. She tagged along everywhere, copied everything I did, and just all-around-irritated the shit out of me since I can remember. But as I got older I had the real pleasure of learning my lessons, and letting her in. By high school, she was my best friend, and she was a lot of fun. I enjoyed hanging out with her, finally, and I swear it wasn't just because she had cute friends (a point my dad was sure to include in his early speeches). No, Er Bear was, and still is one of the funniest, real chicks around. She gets it, on many levels. I never have to hold back with her, and that's what I love about her: I can be myself, and she will love me regardless, which is the same way I feel about her to this day. She is a beautiful woman now, and the proud mother of 3 of the coolest kids every to grace this world with their beautiful, positive, energetic presence...they came from someone who knows what that is all about.

Erin was always the "mom" when we grew up, not only because she wanted, like so many little girls, to grow up and be just like her mom. No, she took it to the next level, which included mothering professionally, like as a choreographer for family dinner night "shows" (lip sync performances of the highest quality, led by my cousins, sister, and oft-backed by my little brother on air guitar...poor kid didn't have a chance, getting thrown in with all of those women.) She was motherly in her babysitting duties, a profession she had on lock down at an early age. She was motherly in her care and concern for others like myself and my bandmates in high school. We would be making horrible music in the basement after school, and here would come Erin with a plate of fresh-made sandwiches. Delicious. Erin had a lot of killer qualities, and it's amazing to see them repeated in those wonderful children, my nieces and nephew.

Just like anyone in this world, Erin has good days and bad days, and even when they are bad she gets up early, takes care of her kids and her husband, and everyone else in the world along the way. She has done a superior job taking care of me, my kids, my friends, and anyone she comes into contact with. She is amazing. When I pause every day to count the blessings I have in my life, she is right there on the list every time. I am so lucky to have a sister like her, because she gets me, and she sets a great example of how to be accepting and loving, and make people smile along the way. I love her.

Er Bear, I hope you take a minute today and count up all of those blessings in your life. They are many and massive, and they are ALL a result of the love you have put into the world. What we give, we get, and you got a lot, little sister. And you deserve it all. And even though I know I deserve the same things, don't think for a second I take any of them for granted...especially you.

The Man Was Born

2011-05-17T07:31:00.000-07:00

So it' your birthday, and I just wanted to drop a little note to say something appropriate. Truth be told, it's an impossible task, but one worth striving for...we should always hope for the best and try our hardest, give it our all, and smile along the way. Those are some lessons you taught me, Uncle Mark. And while I doubt that there are any words I can put together to adequately reflect what an important man, role model, friend, confederate, oft-partner-in-crime, uncle, great-uncle, mentor, psychotherapist, bear-hunting-tour-leader, co-star in Chuck-Norris-Like wilderness action movies, and just all around fucking badass you are, I will always do my best, I will always know that I can do better, and I will TRY my best to remain humble, because at the end of the day, that's exactly what you are: you are both the best man, and the most humble at the same time. You are selfless, respectful, kind, gentle, and yet you have the heart of a lion. The lessons I have learned and those that I continue to learn from watching you, Mark, are what this life is all about for me. Thanks, man. I love you.

This is what's up

2011-05-13T11:11:00.000-07:00

I find myself saying "Thank You" a lot.

This is working.

Let it SHINE

2011-05-10T09:22:00.000-07:00

This morning was absolutely beautiful. There are so many things that are feeding my soul right now. I can't help saying that each and every one of them is a gift.

Work hard, get paid

2011-05-02T12:51:00.000-07:00

Work:

3/17: 5 miles ditch
3/18: xfit
3/19: 4 miles ditch
3/21: xfit
3/22: 2 miles trail and 30 minutes lift chest
3/24: 6 miles river and 3 miles mtb trail
3/26: 4 miles street
3/27: xfit
3/28: 6 miles ditch
4/1: 11 miles river race

Payment:

I feel better than I have in years.

I have a lot to process right now, and there's more to be said, but for right now I'll just say that I'm a clear-headed, grateful human being. Life is good.

Can I just say...

2011-04-26T11:00:00.001-07:00

...that I love the Sunshine today.

2011-04-25T16:19:00.000-07:00

I wanna do right.

The Week

2011-04-24T10:45:00.000-07:00

I've had a pretty busy week, and with the companionship with those people near and dear to me in my life, I have also had a productive one...at least on the physical fitness part. I've logged a few miles on the trails and streets of Reno, I've had Willie cause a little bit of pain with his crossfit torture, I've run my dogs so hard that they lay on their beds and sleep the way i wish I could, and I've held some of the warmest, nicest people I know close to my heart.

A year ago today I was enjoying Easter with my dad in the backyard of a house that I recently left. I'm glad to be out of that place, but I will hang on to so many of the memories there...especially that day. I still have a picture with me that was a gift that day...a genuinely thoughtful and beautiful gesture. Thank you for the memory.

Today I woke up warm and smiling, and ran along the river, thinking about the world around me and the one I don't understand. I ran with Bec all the way to Babymama's house where the first of 3 egg hunts took place for my kiddos today. They are so frickin' beautiful that some times I can't stand it. Sometimes I can't hug them long or hard enough to ever make me feel like I've done it right. I am so very thankful for them and for everyone in my life right now. I love that Sean, who is competitive when he needs to be, is still such an amazing big brother to his stylish, hilarious little sister. He made sure that she got some of the good eggs this morning. He brings me to tears with his sweetness. He wears it on his sleeve.

This week Sean was rewarded for the hard work that he puts in to everything he does. At karate, his instructor informed us that he needed to go up to the advanced (big kids) class because he needs to skip two belts and he is now a brown belt. I wasn't surprised, just infinitely proud. I've seen him in that class hitting harder, doing the only real push-ups that room ever sees, and listening with focus to the teachers. That's what he does..he listens. He listens to me when I'm "Coach Daddy" on the baseball field, and he shares the same, proud smile with me when after I tell him to step up in the box because the pitches are coming slow, he hits the biggest smash I have seen in the league all season OVER the right fielder's head...he pulled it perfectly because that day he was hitting lefty. This kid is enjoying this time. Something is going very right.

My little trendsetter, Ireland is showing me a ton of affection and cracking me up lately. Last weekend in SF, she picked out all of these new clothes herself, and when I posted this picture on Instagram, quite a few female followers only wanted to know "where did she get these shoes?"

She knows. She is a little fashionista at 4, and socially more advanced than most woman I know. At Starbucks yesterday, she noticed a friend when we walked in and asked, "Daddy, can I go over and say hi?"

"Of course, beautiful."

She walked over and snuck up behind her friend, who turned around, grabbed her by the face and shouted her name, smiling, and they hugged as if they had known each other for 30 years. Girls. They crack me up.

Life is good. I have a lot of challenges on my plate, but I wouldn't trade any part of this trip with anyone.

Happy Easter.

7 weeks

2011-04-18T09:24:00.000-07:00

Everybody moves at their own pace. I think there was a time in my life when I actually did pace myself, I was uber organized, I had a plan. Nowadays I just go. I know that having a plan and working it is the most efficient way, and I really DO have an outline, but I tend to just put my nose down and go, and hope that the limited amount of wisdom and experience I have racked up steers me clear of the obstacles that have tripped me up or knocked me down in the past. My plan is actually to get back to the plan. In the meantime, now, I'm running.

I started training a couple of months ago for this marathon I'm supposed to run in 7 weeks. I, along with several other members of my family, are going down to San Diego for the "Rock and Roll" marathon, where we will participate in some fashion in honoring and remembering my dad, who ran that and many other marathons in his youthful, jocular later years. Most of the chatter I hear is about the half marathon, which is a feat, to be sure. Beccy, for one, has a training schedule printed up that she shared with me yesterday, that lays out a schedule for 6 weeks and ramps one up for a halfie. That's great, and I've taken a look at it. It might be good for me to consider that although I intended to do the full, I injured myself a month ago and couldn't run for a few weeks, so a half is much more realistic. It might be good for me to also take into consideration that although I have quit drinking and I have been doing Crossfit, I still haven't completely broken myself of the occasional cigarette...I am certainly doing better than the pack a day I was putting down 4 months ago, but I'm just making an honest inventory of the conditions here, and as of today, I'm still lighting them up semi-regularly. That being said, I finally got back on the trail yesterday, and knocked out 5 miles, and felt pretty decent, having taken it at a slow pace. Wasn't really hacking or wheezing on the run...got a taste of it later in the day, but it wasn't horrible.

I've googled "7-week-marathon-training", and come up with a bunch of chat from professionals who are strongly against it, using such language as "stress fracture", and "just plain stupid". Those guys are pretty hard core runners, though, and what they don't know about me is that I really don't like to run. It's actually one of my least favorite activities, to be honest. So I think I'm going to just go ahead and make up my own 7 week program, and go with that. If I end up hurting myself, or I have to suck up my pride and do a half on June 5th, so be it. But as many people who know me can attest, I tend to (right or wrong), do things at my own pace. I do things my way.

And I'm doing this fucking run for a guy that always did things his own way, too, so I think my plan is just fine.

The moment...

2011-04-17T12:22:00.000-07:00

Eating at Golden Boy pizza, prior to heading down to the Warfield, Ireland leans over on her stool and wraps her arms around me and hugs me tight and says, "Dad, thanks for bringing us."

I could have cried.

Is it too late to go back to school?

2011-04-13T20:56:00.001-07:00

I'll be honest and say that this would likely end up with me breaking at least one more rib...but you know I'd give it a shot.

Tempest Freerunning Academy from The Cool Hunter on Vimeo.

Days into weeks into months...

2011-04-13T12:11:00.000-07:00

Life's moving too fast.

That's why I try to spend at least 10 minutes being on the throttle every once in a while. It helps.

HBD

2011-04-07T09:48:00.001-07:00

Stud.

Miss you.

Check yo self

2011-04-06T10:57:00.000-07:00

I have been swamped, and neglecting the Evolution as of late, as you may or may not have noticed. But this morning I saw something that was noteworthy, so I knew I would have to carve out 90 seconds today to share it here. It's pretty rare when I read or give credence to my horoscope, but this morning I just happened to make it to that section of the newspaper, and there it was, illuminating my day with sage advice:

"Check your state of mind before you walk in the door, pick up the phone or start up the computer."

Indeed. That's exactly what I needed to do this morning. Life has consisted of a lot of work lately, and it's been overwhelming, and I tend to get mentally defeated before I even begin. So this morning, thanks to being born a Sagittarius (or whatever I actually am now), and thanks to the probable randomness of the universe and this being my horoscope today, I found a perfect glimpse of wisdom that has got me started on the right foot this morning.

Well, that and a little Crossfit damage. Grrr.

Today

2011-04-04T12:28:00.000-07:00

Some pictures of the kiddos and I were included on the Today Show, during a discussion about flickr.

Visit msnbc.com for breaking news, world news, and news about the economy

She's Nasty

2011-03-27T19:00:00.000-07:00

...and just my style.

I'll be real honest here for a second...it's been a little dark lately. I haven't been the typical cherry jam in the middle of everyone's donut as of late. I have needed something, and I have NOT been able to pin my finger on exactly what that thing was that I have needed.

Then it hit me today, when after 2 months of working on her, my bike finally came to life with the growl that only a hacked up, 42-year-old smoker could muster after years of hibernation.

She came to me as a 1968 BSA Thunderbolt, chopped down and slammed, gutted and bruised, and all kinds of wore out. She's now a 1969 BSA Lightning, chopped down, and slammed, and still under repair. But she is nasty, loud, fast and dangerous, and she makes me so much happier than I was yesterday. I still need to register her, and make some serious repairs, maybe throw on a rear-view mirror, and keep remembering that there is no front brake and the rear one is on the left.

It's good to get my head focused on the more immediate things that are necessary...vital to survival, in fact. Like the brake. And the speed. And the wind. And nothing else in that particular moment.

Fuck I needed this.

Yes

2011-03-22T22:01:00.000-07:00

It's says "Fanmade" video...but it's still awesome. And I loves me some Scissor Sisters.

Enjoy

I'm looking forward...

2011-03-22T17:20:00.001-07:00

...to a lot of things in this world. Not the least of which is seeing this coy little tease tonight.

I couldn't imagine

2011-03-21T23:23:00.000-07:00

This makes me think.

LH

2011-03-18T20:01:00.001-07:00

Thanks, Z

Cheers

2011-03-17T11:58:00.000-07:00

May the road rise to meet you,
May the wind be always at your back,
May the sun shine warm upon your face,
The rains fall soft upon your fields and,
Until we meet again,
May God hold you in the palm of His hand.

The Weight

2011-03-14T18:19:00.001-07:00

There's only one thing you can do when the weight gets so heavy that it pushes down on you and tries with all of it's gravity to crush you: push back.

Or I guess you could get crushed. Yeah, that's an option I suppose. Still hasn't really sunk in as one for me yet.

I'm throwing the weight up and off of me every day.

It's getting heavier. I guess that means I'm getting stronger.

Whatever, Russ

2011-03-12T21:29:00.000-08:00

I think the last time I blogged from my phone was at least 3 years ago. I'm sure my reasoning was more important at the time than This Nonsense.

Then again, just like Charlie, there's nothing I like more than a little friendly competition.

Winning.

Never...

2011-03-11T12:42:00.000-08:00

...is the word God listens for when he wants a laugh.