Waste

I have been following a couple of different things lately, and on a thread on Facebook, I noticed something that made me think of Mother Teresa. And looking at the quotes online from here, I saw one that summed it up nicely.

“I do not hate the wealthy for living well, they have earned it. What I cannot abide is waste.”

Watching the news last night, I saw several reports on how there is literally tons of food being wasted in the fields of the Southern US. Now I personally do not have an opinion on the immigration laws, beyond to say that the rhetoric and saber shaking has clearly led to problems. But the idea that there is food shortages around the world, and food is left to rot because no one can pick it cheap/fast enough, is heartbreaking. I know I am as guilty as anyone else, my wife and I gardened for the first time, planting far more than needed in our zeal, but we did attempt to can, freeze and use or give away as much as we could.

I guess I mostly have just taken this to heart, as the fall closes and winter frosts roll in at home. When the growing season is done, you take stock of everything, and I’m disappointed in the Waste. Next year I pray we will do better.

Through the mists

Well it has officially been a long time since I have blogged. The last one was at the beginning of 2011, and I definitely regret not having made time for more of a blog.

2011 so far has been an incredible year, and while I would use a new baby and growing family as an excuse… too many parents blog on here for me to allow myself to.

Rowan has changed immensely, the changes seem to come everyday and honestly I cannot explain the wonder and love I have felt while watching her personality grow and blossom. She has become a sweet, curious young baby, almost walking and getting ready for her first birthday. Amazingly how fast it goes by.

One the fronts, been learning a lot, growing in my marriage and slowly learning to adapt to everything. There have been back steps and setbacks, won’t pretend there hasn’t but overall I have found growing into the role of Dad has been incredible.

So I am hoping to blog more, get the juices flowing and everything else… and will see how it goes this time around. Been wanting to write, find myself drawn to it again; so like a man stumbling through misty swamps, I have found myself back on a path and curious to see where it will go, and for how long.

Usury in the Lobby, Moneychangers in the backroom

I forget who said it, and I have never really bothered to look it up, but everyone knows the saying, “Your body is a temple”.

If that’s true, than my body must surely resemble the Temple of Jerusalem prior to the angry outburst Jesus had there. I mean, I have never been a druggy, or anything like that, but I’m willing to bet the lifelong love of pizza, chicken wings and pop, with the occasional Rum,  has done the same sort of decline in atmosphere, that the money changers did to the Temple.

My wife began eating the Diabetes Diet while pregnant with Rowan, and since our baby girl she has continued eating healthy and is continually making strides. Myself I have been mostly wrestling with not eating properly, exercise and everything else most new parents and restaurant employees live with. As an employee with a major chain, I am given free meals, which economically is too good to pass up, but when faced with the same constant menu, it becomes very hard to make concerted Carb good choices. Especially as I am self proclaimed Carb addict, and would probably knife people in the street to claim my share of the worlds last pizza.

Now my in-laws have begun the Four Week Body, or something like that, and while I may not agree with everything the book says, I nevertheless applaud them for their commitment, dedication and so far success with the program. As I often debate points of it, I wonder if the extended family knows how much I am pulling for them. But between the family trying this new program, and my wife beginning to examine a return to the Diabetes plan, or maybe the Carb Lovers Diet, I realized that my once blaze attitude about weight must change soon. At the tender age of 30, gone are the days of college and football when it never mattered what I ate, my body seemed determined to transform it into energy and muscle. Although I have always been a member of the PHAT CATS, or HAWGS as the Offensive Line is often known on the field.

As I get older, I am more settled into work and home routines, something I also need to work on busting out of, but the biggest change is just how I need to view health. My Uncle recently found out he was diabetic, and although I have much more height on him, I am very much his build when he was my age. And I guess I am just realizing that I need to tighten the belt a little, and push the rocks outta my path now when I’m 30, for it will be far harder to chase the Moneylenders and Scoundrels out of my Temple when I am 50.

PS—

As I have been attempting the post a week project, technically I missed the bell with this post. But as I doubt I will ever be audited, I’m keeping the project alive. With any luck, more ideas will flow, and I will be able to keep from having a post hit the wire.

To trap a Muse

Well the end of the week approaches, and as part of my commitment to attempt the Post a Week project, I have been mulling over a couple of things, but unfortunately nothing has really percolated to the top of my mind.

Which has sort of got me thinking, I have always enjoyed writing, it is something I have done since I was a little a kid, wiling away the rainy days with simple stories. As I grew older, I poured some of my creative juices into school projects and some of the juices into imagining the extras, villages and bad guys necessary to play one of my long-term hobbies D&D. As the almost constant referee and game master, I often had to steal Inns and villains from books, in order to incorporate them into the game.

As I have continued to write, especially with the blogging, I have begun to spend a lot more time and energy on developing topics or blogs. This is a process I have found is mostly unconscious, and  honestly , the majority of my blogs are stream of thought writing; with the occasional rewrite, or paragraph editing. Now I realize this is the a habit I learned very young; and as I wrote some of my posts, like Colossus or Snow or Costuming, I have had the ideas flow right out of me, almost as if they wanted to leap onto the page. But the few times I have had to work harder on writing, each time I attempt the bubble wheel, or random word lists, or the other tricks they tried teaching me in school, I realize that most of them don’t really help. And I find myself wondering if other writers out there use them, or if there are other techniques that have slowly come about since my long ago days in elementary and junior highschool. After all, I love writing, and I am slowly learning to perfect my craft, some from practice, but mostly from observing other great writers at work.

So what sort of things get the creative fire burning once more, do you mull over the embers of an idea until it fires, or is it careful planning and mapping.

2011, thar she blows

Well, I have now started 2011 as a father, and I have to admit, it has been incredible. I won’t pretend that at 3 am, there wasn’t a period of grumpiness, or agitation as my Were-baby howled to raise the dead. But as she nestles into my arms, smiling and happy, it melts my heart. 2010 was a year of change, and as our baby girl outgrows her sleepers and other clothes, growing into new toys and new avenues; I realize that 2011 and beyond will also present constant change and new horizons.

I’m amazed at how often the first’s of Rowan’s life has caught me off guard, the flood of emotions would have been difficult to describe to myself prior to being a parent.  It is incredible how the smiles, laughs, and giggles have been simply amazing. Every time my little girl begins to giggle, grasp at something, or acquires a new skill i feel as if my girl has begun to climb Everest. And as a parent, I hope this sense of approval and encouragement never goes away, my child can earn a smile and attention from me now, simply by helping to stand as I hold her, and may I never get more jaded than that.

Rowan hasn’t been the only change, Shannon and I have had our second christmas together, our first as parents and in our new home. In fact, as we took our christmas tree down today, my wife and I were laughing that it had been in our home  almost as long as we have been. The renovations led right into the birth of our baby girl, and after that the holidays descended in a storm of music, family and visitors.  So as 2011 begins, and we settle into the new year;  I am trying to find the rhythm of being a man, a husband, a father, and everything else. The last while has broadened my life immensely, and even though I am often caught feeling anxious, or unsure about the brand new tasks that are now adding to my life,  it has been an amazing change. So as we approach spring, and my mind turns to the gardening and planters and numerous other projects I won’t have time for; I find my wife and baby are simply the two largest joys in my life, and I am constantly amazed at how full they make my life feel. And I look forward to cementing our rhythms, and seeing the new year unfold with my blossoming family.

Post a week and inspiration project

WordPress has issued a challenge to all it’s bloggers, and while I have little chance at reaching the post everyday, they have a secondary challenge of a post a week. I am hoping to accomplish that, and with the extra practice push through some more blogs. It is something I enjoyed immensely, but did not always make time for.

Curse of the Werebaby

It was a quiet winter afternoon, the snowfall gusting into drifts that made the carriage rattle and lurch as its wheels broke through the ice. The town of Brenhaw lay under a blanket of white, and the Innkeeper and his wife hurried into their home, a bundle of joy wrapped in blankets. The Inn lay cool and white, as they had been away from the village, heading to the midwife seeking her aid in the long-awaited birth of their Daughter. They were soon bustling with activity, warming the hearth fires, drawing water from the well, and as their chores progressed, they often stopped to pause and watch each smile, sigh and wide-eyed moment. Rowan was incredible, her soft eyes and clear blue gaze, had captivated them the whole coach ride home, and even the long treacherous road had done little to diminish it. This was a moment they had dreamt of, the newly crafted nursery a testament to their eagerness. Long had the Innkeeper and his wife, laboured into the evening to freshen up the Inn, and make it ready for their daughter’s birth.

Over the evening, as the fireplaces gentle glow filled the common room with an amber light, that the first of the family came down to marvel at the newest addition. As each person expressed their well wishes and congratulations, the Innkeeper and his wife felt a growing pride, and a secret belief that their baby was blessed with beauty beyond the norm. It was this rosy glass, that prevented them over the next few moons, from noticing the growing omens.

One evening, when it was late at night, and even the cattle and beasts of the forest had settled in to wait out the snow, that the parents to be would encounter their babies true uniqueness. Their baby had been restless, clearly a sign of a growth spurt the woman assured her worried husband. The baby had continually grown more and more difficult to satisfy, and under the moon’s silver glow, the truth was discovered.  Stirring in her cradle, the Innkeeper awoke to his baby’s restlessness, and carried her down to the hearth, where the warm logs still burned softly to heat the home through the night. As the baby felt the warmth of the fire upon her chilled limbs, a startling transformation began.

First her eyes opened, and gone was the gentle doe eyed baby. Instead her intense glare, bored into the innkeeper and shook his spine with a ghostly chill. Long drawn out cries, turned into howls of outrage and anger, and nothing the baffled father did could calm the baby. As he attempted to walk with her, thin claws grew and clawed his skin, determined to accompany each cry with a demand for satisfaction.

Like a balm from heaven, his wife descended the stairs, her child’s anger having awoken her from slumber. Deftly she stepped in, avoiding the claws and slashes of the baby’s talons as she held the child. Upon feeling it’s mothers touch, the Werebaby again began to demand attention, but thankfully she was descended from a long line of village wise women. Smiling gently to reassure her husband, she crooned a hypnotic tune, its soft rhythm lulling the Werebaby, making it calmer and less angry. Then she brewed a mixture of milk and herbs, prepared in keeping with ancient family recipes and lore. This milk would turn out to be the Werebaby’s only weakness, and before the Innkeeper’s eyes the child once more became docile and soft eyed.

Over the next few days, the baby would once again turn upon the rise of the late night moon, and as the curse struck the child, even the noonday sun could bring upon an attack of Werebaby wrath. The villagers avoided the Inn, and soon the Innkeeper was at a loss for ways to help. But again, with gentle crooning and calm insistence, his wife’s wisdom and touch would bring the child to normal once more. Over time, the Innkeeper learned to appreciate the strength the curse gave his daughter, for with each day she grew long of limb and strong of sight and mind, but always they kept a bottle of the milk, and a weather eye for signs of the Werebaby’s return.