Took the last batch of tomato sauce and decided to make a meal of it. Garlic, kosher salt, olive oil, brown sugar, then out to the herb garden for marjoram and basil. To amuse myself (sometimes I do) I brought in a couple of very large catnip leaves. Now, a lot of people, given such a raw material, will smush it up and rub it on the couch, but how pedestrian is that? No no, I also have an eight year old boy at my disposal, so… I smushed up the leaves and rubbed them on his forehead. Last I … Continue reading Catnip

The hard side of parenting

I write a lot about the positives. I love amusing anecdotes. But it’s not always easy. If it was, everybody would do it. It’s harder with special needs and gifted children. Oh, so much harder. We (and by “we” I mean any of us in a parental role to a child) often come into conflict with our children. We have the dicey task of weighing what they want versus what they need or what is safe or what is moral or (just as often) what we can afford, and children don’t often listen to logic when they hear the word … Continue reading The hard side of parenting

Danny Boy, O Danny Boy…

As a Celtic musician, I am often asked to play the song Danny Boy. It is a Irish staple, one that should be found in every Irish musician’s repertoire, right? It is not in mine. I don’t like the song. I find it sickly sweet, saccharine, and, dare I say it, trite. It is also not Irish. It is a song written by an Englishman who wrote it having never been to Ireland. It is a masquerade. A conceit. I don’t like Danny Boy. When I am asked, I politely decline. When I perform on St. Patrick’s Day, I hang … Continue reading Danny Boy, O Danny Boy…

That’s a lawnmower?

Originally published on LiveJournal, 4/19/2010

Yesterday, we dropped the kids off at The Grandparents’ (thank you very much, Grandmama and Pa) and headed to Kansas for a meal and some much needed adult time with friends. We had a very good time: excellent homemade pizza and the joy of sharing in the cooking, getting to know each other all over again. I left with my emotional batteries recharged.

We also borrowed their lawn mower.

Continue reading “That’s a lawnmower?”

An Exercise in Awkward

Yesterday, I experienced firsthand the joys of voluntary male sterilization: I had a vasectomy. It’s been on the table as an option since our son was born, and I even went so far as call a urologist at one point, but never followed through. At the time, I was relieved that it got swept under Michelle’s mental rug. With her recent health issues (migraines chief among them), however, she has had to pursue treatment options that would make getting pregnant not only difficult but horrific. Insurance won’t cover a hysterectomy (rather short-sighted on their part, since it would probably end … Continue reading An Exercise in Awkward