Regular Life

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I once pulled up to a red light, looked at the vehicle beside me, and said, “Hey, that minivan’s kind of cool looking.”

Friend in the backseat: Dude, what did you just say?

I blame this on an old Hot Wheels car from my (as) distant (as it can be) past. It was a white vehicle, emblazoned with the image of Iron Man. As timely as all this may seem with that movie’s impending release (with Robert Downey, Jr. in the lead role), it’s a coincidence.

Recently I opened up one of my two cases of Hot Wheels cars and let Ben pick three. The Iron Man vehicle was one of them. Before you take a look, remember, this toy was designed and first sold in 1981.

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Texas State Flower the bluebonnet and friends (click to enlarge and sharpen)

We all got up and had a boring breakfast of cold cereal bars and milk. I longed for a jacket. Ben and I hit the trail while Shannon quietly zipped herself up in the tent for a few more winks.

I knew based on the map that the lake was somewhere directly out the back of our camp site. Following a hint of a trail, I casually brushed aside a few low cedar branches before remembering that they would slap Ben right in the face. The occasional break in the trees made way for glades of wildflowers no bigger than a dime. I tried to get a few closeups while Ben played with rolly pollies.

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Shannon and Ben peek out from their test run in the tent. (click for bigness)

We took Ben on his first camping trip last weekend. We found out that Texas Parks and Wildlife officials are serious when they say killing is prohibited inside their parks. I’m just glad that instead of having to leave, we were able to move down a few spots.

(more pics plus sound clips inside — headphones are best)

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I sat there in the minivan wondering what the policeman would say when he came back from his cruiser. I replayed the event in my head.

After a hearty and heart-stopping meal with my family, Ben and I got on the road to see his mommy and her side. Yes, the denotations “his side” and “her side” lose importance over the years, as I consider hers mine and vice versa, but I use it here for clarity.

I tooled along at about 60 mph in a 55 mph zone (that’s 96.5 km/hr and 88.5 km/hr, respectively, for the metric people) to a small town where my late grandfather used to preach at a very small church. Knowing the town was coming up, I slowed to a respectable rate and made my way around the town’s sharp curve at about 35 mph (go get the wonderful, free, and easy Converber if you really need the conversion). I glanced over at the small church where for decades my grandfather humbly delivered the Bible’s lessons to the people. Though not my home church as a child, I attended Vacation Bible School there many times.

To prove it, I still have a wooden plaque bearing my name in uncooked macaroni. Who knew Elmer’s Glue had such staying power?

A hundred yards shy of leaving the city limits, I noticed flashing blue lights in my rear view mirror. “Oh, no,” I said. Oh, #$%@^% $%@$% Q$^%!!, I thought.

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I overheard a dad talking to his son on the phone. I couldn’t hear the son’s end of the conversation, but I can imagine. Here’s what I heard…

The dad: Well, it isn’t going to get easier. I took 18 hours, sometimes 21 hours each semester, and I made it through.

Pause.

The dad: No, I didn’t work.

The tone of the conversation softened a bit at that point.

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It isn’t an elected position; it is an appointment. My memories of this no doubt will be fonder than the first time I received an appointment (more on that later). In turn, I would like to appoint five of my own (also coming up).

On Friday I was awarded the title of Thinking Blogger, by fellow blogger and regular reader Blitz Krieg. First attracted to his blog for its sheer ballsiness, I dropped in only occasionally for a while, and then it eventually became a part of my regular reading. That’s how I am with most blogs I now frequent, by the way.

What made me stay were not his bitter rants (though they can be entertaining and informative), but the voice of a regular dad telling about, you guessed it, regular life. I could read Kevin Smith’s blog, and I have, but I don’t find myself going back to celebrity blogs very often if at all. It’s the folks doing things I can relate to, and then recounting those adventures intelligently, that keep me coming back.

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I snapped 26 pics of Ben while he sat on a rock and talked. He moved his head the whole time, and this was my favorite shot. (click to make it bigger and better)

Although I try not to be “that guy” who only writes about his kid(s), it’s a simple fact that I’m a modern father and my son is a large part of my life. I could never imagine a career that would fulfill as much as the job of father, nor one that is as difficult. Doing it well is important to me. What exactly that entails, and how much room it leaves for selfish pursuits, is debatable.

The beauty for me is that I love getting outdoors and going to parks. This is right up most kids’ alley, and my son is no exception. Put in cliché terminology, it’s a recipe for success.

Last weekend was no exception.

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I realized while trying to shape this into a coherent post why I started writing.

Since my childhood friends and I first split into separate social circles, I prided myself on never succumbing to peer pressure. Until seventh grade, the kids who later became the jocks and cheerleaders regularly hung out at my house, and vice versa. Throughout high school, I was friends with everybody during class time, but after the final bell rang, we were freaks, geeks, and jocks, just like anywhere else in the world.

It wasn’t a matter of money. I did what most kids my age did, which in our town consisted of one roller rink and one video arcade/billiard hall. I never had conflicts with those who became the popular kids, and I don’t recall ever holding anything against them. I just didn’t like to do the things they did.

Except kiss members of the opposite sex.

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Click to enlarge and sharpen. (am I allowed to say that much?).