My Three Year Old Went to Preschool

At the start of the school year, I had the greatest pleasure that a parent can ever have: I got to watch my 3 year old start school.

We enrolled her in a preschool because it was time. We found one that focuses on the basics: helping kids learn to play together, to follow instructions, to learn in a group, to make friends; in short, to do all of the things that we do with her as a family, but to reinforce it by putting her with her peers.

She was so excited that first day, she couldn't wait to get there. We bought her a backpack, and a little sectioned lunch tray for her snacks, and she was ready! That morning, she put on her favorite little dress, asked Mommy to make her hair pretty, and ran to the car. It's a good thing she doesn't drive yet...

When I got her to the preschool, I walked her to the door. We had to go through the playground, and she just knew that this is the best part. She kept pointing to playground equipment and saying, "Daddy, I will play here, and here, and here...."

At the door, she turned to me and said, firmly, "Bye, Daddy!" and ran inside. I watched her new teacher give her a hug, and show her where to put the backpack, and then she ran to the other kids. It was great to see her bloom like that, so quickly. She felt so big to go to school.

Her enthusiasm hasn't faded, and it's really wonderful to watch. I just hope she can keep it as she gets older. I'll do my best to help her, and I'll love every minute of it.

An Evening in the Kitchen

I like to cook. I don't know if I've ever mentioned that here before, but I know I've talked about food. Food is important to me. I'll admit: I live to eat.

So last night, I decided to cook up one of my favorites: fajitas. I don't pretend that what I cook is anything genuinely Mexican (I spent a weekend in New Mexico once, and once went to a house party in Detroit's Mexicantown neighborhood, but that's as close as I've ever gotten to Mexico), but let's play Let's Pretend.

So, I bought some shoulder steak, and asked the butcher to cut it up into thin slices. I also picked up half a dozen mild Cubanelle peppers, a few red bell peppers, a couple of big Vidalia onions, three large tomatoes, two dozen soft corn tortillas, and a great big honking jar of hot salsa.

The actual cooking didn't take so long. I chopped the veggies: the peppers into strips, the onions and tomatoes into little cubes, and then sauted them all in a big frying pan. I sauted the steak strips in a separate pan, and mixed the meat and veggies when they were all done. All of this took about 45 minutes. Total. And then dinner was served.

My kids liked the meat, and poked at the veggies. They didn't like the tortillas. My wife liked everything. So I guess this meal was a success.

The key here, though, is that the actual cooking was easy to do. You see, while I like cooking, I like eating even more. You wouldn't know it to look at me, though: I eat healthy, and stay fit. Which is also fun, but that's for another post.

MP3: Can't Live Without 'Em

I work from home, as an Internet writer. Sounds glamorous, but what it really means is 8 to 9 hours a day in front of the computer, working on projects that thousands, or even millions, of people will see and never know that I wrote. It can seem a little thankless.

Fortunately, I enjoy my job. I love writing, I love the every-changing online world, I love being part of the cutting edge, even if that part is a little dull to some. And, it pays well. And, I don't have to go to an office, dress up nice, or spend my mornings primping, shaving, grooming, etc. I can go two days without shaving, work in my underwear, and never comb my hair... not that I do that, though: my wife would freak. But I do get to spend the summer days wearing shorts and a T-shirt even while I'm working.

I telelcommute, and meet with my clients (some of whom are on the other side of the world, while others are merely on the other side of the continent) via webcam. Messenger, AIM, and Gmail chat are my best buddies.

And so are my MP3s. That's what I really want to talk about. What I love most about my work is that I can choose the working conditions. And I choose to have a soundtrack.

No matter what my mood, I can find some music for it, to make my workday a little more pleasant. I can sit back and listen to the Rolling Stones, or Bob Dylan, or Billy Joel. If I want something more eclectic, I can put on the mix files my cousin sent me. When I'm a little down, I'll put in Cyndi Lauper; when I'm feeling mellow, U2; when I want to rock, Bruce Springsteen.

Life has a soundtrack, folks, and if you listen closely, you can sing along with it. And the best part is, I don't need headphones.

Happy listening!

Those Sunday Mornings

Last Sunday, I got up early (at 4:30, no less!) showered, cleaned up the late-night dishes in the kitchen, went out to the all-night grocery store down the street and picked up some staples (flour, backing powder, vegetable oil, frozen blueberries), and came home to make some coffee and start breakfast. By 7, when the kids got up, I had blueberry pancakes waiting for them.

That was a good morning. Almost as good as my breakfast date with my wife. She was pretty amazed when she got out of bed an hour after the little ones, and saw how everything was quiet, the kids were eating, and the second batch of breakfast was still warm.

She loves blueberry pancakes.

So after that morning, I got to enjoy a lazy Sunday. The kids ran around the yard, and my wife took out her sewing machine and made a skirt. I took a nap on the couch.

For lunch, we ate the leftover pancakes, cold, with blueberry jam. It was perfect. Only fresh blueberries (instead of frozen) could have improved that day.

So what do you do to fill those weekend hours, when you haven't got anything productive planned? A quiet day at home, doing things with the family, left me feeling recharged, despite getting up at such an unholy hour. Fun and relaxation come in so many different varieties; which one we actually need at a given moment can be hard to figure out.

I'm Getting all Introspective

I had a birthday a few days ago. My wife and I got a sitter, and we went out to dinner. I didn't know it, but she had phoned ahead to the restaurant (it's a place we go pretty often, they serve a good roast salmon, and even better desserts) and ordered a small cake for our table, with candles and two good bottles of lambic ale. The waiter brought it out when I tried to ask for the dessert menu. It was cute, and fun.

But my birthday got me thinking. I might be 35, but when I shave, the guy in the mirror is still 25, and I can't quite figure that one out.... sometimes I even wonder where the kids came from (yes, I do know). I had a good time at that birthday dinner, but I just started wondering when my definition of 'fun' started changing...

...Once upon a time, fun meant hopping in the car and driving really fast with a bunch of the guys, maybe passing a joint around, stopping for late-night munchies at Denny's or someplace similar, or hitting a concert at an outdoor amphitheater and drinking beers on the hill while yelling all the lyrics way off key.

...And later, fun was [text removed to keep this blog family friendly].

...And now, fun is playing with the kids in our family room, or in the park down the street, or having a quiet dinner with my wife, or going to a bookstore.

When did my life grow so sedate? And why don't I mind it so much? Sometimes, I get all misty eyed, when I think back to the "good ol' days," but were they really so good? I guess I must have been looking for something... I sure was expending a lot of energy back then. Sometimes I look at my oldest daughter, who looks just like I did at her age, and I'm certain that whatever I was looking for back then found me, instead. It's not a bad thought, just a realization that my youth is behind me.

Life is not sedate, but it's pace does change. And so do its entertainments.

Showing your Face, online

Facebook is such a lousy excuse for a life. Yet you use it, don't you? Perhaps even a lot? Well, guess what? So do I.

My new favorite Facebook-related time-waster is the Pieces of Flair application. I've always been the type of girl to affix that sarcastic pin to the lapel of her jacket or to some piece of her backpack and Pieces of Flair makes that hobby virtual. So now, instead of or along with tapering an article of clothing with expressions of self, you can do so online. This is where the fun of it is for me - that for a shy, introverted type like me, Facebook is a place of my own, in which I can express myself and my own personality (which most people simply seem to think isn't there) to the hilt if I so desire. It's almost like advertising yourself: see! I am a human being with a spirit and a sense of humor, just like you! It's just that I don't show it so easily in a large, crowded group of people.

It ain't a disease, people. I don't need medication for it. And I'm certainly not the only one. Presumably, people that you don't know or only slightly know regularly check your profile for updates; you know, because we're all voyeurs. The fun of Pieces of Flair for me is that I can put up virtual buttons for every side of myself - the place I live, my loves of singing, dancing, and reading, movies I like, sarcastic comments I would actually make, and so on and so forth. It's a no-pressure online environment in which people may get a chance to see you for who you really are.

Date Night, Redux

My wife and I had another Date Night. Well, we called it Date Night, but we actually went out for breakfast. We had pancakes.

We both believe that it's absolutely vital for a couple to do this periodically, just go out together and have a date, even though it's been years since we've actually dated. It keeps things fresh. It keeps life exciting. It reminds us of why we got married in the first place.

So the other day, we dropped the kids off with my wife's sister, and we went out for pancakes. I had chocolate chip pancakes, my wife had blueberry. We both had plenty of maple syrup. Afterwards, we wandered around our little suburban downtown, at 11am on a Sunday morning, and just held hands. Once, years ago, when we first started seeing each other, we wandered around the same neighborhood sharing a cigar.

We didn't have a cigar this time, and we've changed a lot since then. She's gained some weight, and I've gotten a little grayer, but somehow the couple we see reflected in the shop window is still 22. It's funny how that happens, isn't it?

With fun times, there isn't always a lot to say. After all, how much can you say that the day was good, and the company was better? But this was the best of mornings, and I know we'll do it again.