It's 5:32am on Sunday morning. This is about the only time I've had in the past three months to write anything at all. And I'm sure I just jinxed myself--the boy will probably start crying any minute now.
I generally hate waking up (especially nowadays), but I always love mornings. "Especially nowadays" because the 5 month old gets up 2 to 7 times a night. He's a total pain in the ass. I love him to death, but he's a pain in the ass. It's Easter morning...I think. At least we're celebrating today. Celebrating with a 12lb brisket that just went on the smoker. That's action I don't mind waking up for. Working on putting a half-pot of coffee in my belly, and have the Grateful Dead on the box. Yes, I like the Grateful Dead. I know the words to every Ramones and Rancid song, but I still like to be mellow from time to time--especially at 5:30am on maybe-Easter morning with a cup of coffee, hickory smoke wafting in the in the breeze, and no damn kids...yet. I generally hate Dead Heads...don't mind the Grateful Dead though. Shirley and Gordy are hanging out in the backyard, keeping an eye on the fire. Shirley and Gordy are the two ducks that have been hanging around the house on occasion for the past five or six years. Don't worry Shirley and Gordy, I won't eat you. "What do you do?" is a question that I get--as I'm sure everyone gets--from someone they just met. Lately, when I'm posed that question, I have to say "I stay at home with my two little kids." It still takes some getting used to--answering the question, that is. Mainly because it's not a "job" that one gets paid for. I'm not used to that. I tend to get judged on my response, too. At least I feel I do. But man, it's the hardest, most selfless gig out there. I've had a million jobs. I've worked since I was 15...had a million jobs, but have always been employed. This is different. No days off to speak of, no clocking out, you work nights...all night, weekends, holidays. Sure, you get some help from a co-worker after business hours, but it's still difficult, redundant, mind-numbing work. And if I am, by chance, getting judged on my latest profession, it's because you've never done it. I generally hate kids, I don't mind mine, though. Usually. There's a kiddie pool filled with water in the backyard. I'm waiting for Shirley and Gordy to take a dip. If they do, I try and snap a pic for your viewing enjoyment. I get a tremendous amount of pleasure in barbecuing. It's a craft that I'm constantly trying to excel in, but don't think you can actually perfect it, because it's not a perfect craft. (Janis Joplin just came on--I don't do Janis Joplin...) Too many variables involved--at least if you're doing it the traditional, non-electronic, non-gas, outside, correct way. I think that's what attracts me to it. It's one of those arts that you can chase to perfect for a lifetime, but never get there. You can have a spectacular cook, then the next weekend completely bomb it. It's like fishing. Too many variables to be "perfect". I'd say in fishing and in barbecue that to be really, really good you're topping out at about 80% perfection. There is no 100%. Variables, man. Variables humble you and keep you from getting complacent. My mind doesn't know what to do right now without Diego or Daniel Tiger in the background, vomit and baby shit oozing from the boy, running into walls and falling on the pavement from the girl. Constant needs. No time to think about adult things. No time. But it's now, and I'll never have now again. I'm tired. They never got in the kiddie pool. Sorry. //re.
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AuthorI am Earl. Archives
May 2024
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