October 2013 - Page 3 of 3

Understanding The Popularity Of Your Most Popular Posts

Every now and then I like to see what the various plugins and stat counters recognize as the most popular posts here. I find it kind of interesting and there is some utility to understanding which post(s) generates the most traction and attraction.

In theory you can use that data to produce more content around the popular stuff and grow your readership. Most of the time I find that my favorite posts are rarely on these lists.

Writing popular material is both science and art so it is not surprising to see that things I love aren’t always given the same praise by others.

And here my friends are what “science” currently show as the Top 15. Â Some of them are pretty good, but there are others where I just smile and think “ok, not what I would have picked, but…”

The real question I ask myself is whether I want to tailor more content around some of the topics here.

I’ll Drive All Night

The camera on my phone doesn’t do justice to this sunset because it is twice as pretty in person as what you see here. Been thinking about all the similarities between home and Texas.

Feels kind of weird to write that because Texas is home, but it is not where I am from or the place that formed me. It is not where the majority of my memories reside but it is the source and repository for some of the very best. Texas will always be where I stepped out of the past, moved into the present and caught glimpses of the future.

We’re back in a transitional phase, or maybe we didn’t really leave it. Back in a bittersweet place because the time has come to make a few more changes, time has come where I have to tweak things again and mix them up.

Bittersweet because of timing and yet I can’t help but smile because of the foundation that was laid here.

There Is A Season

Some might read that and think of my quoting The Byrds and some might hear the voice of Kohellet but who you hear is your choice.

“What has been is what will be, and what has been done is what will be done, and there is nothing new under the sun.”

As for me, well I hear and see many things:

Â I am Koheleth; I was king over Israel in Jerusalem. ×Ö²× Ö´×™ ×§Ö¹×”Ö¶×œÖ¶×ª ×”Ö¸×™Ö´×™×ªÖ´×™ ×žÖ¶×œÖ¶×šÖ° ×¢Ö·×œ ×™Ö´×©×‚Ö°×¨Ö¸×Öµ×œ ×‘Ö¼Ö´×™×¨×•Ö¼×©×Ö¸×œÖ¸

There is a much deeper connection tied into that last quote that is not really based for me on religious thought, but something internal. Call it that feeling of wanderlust and the knowledge that I have been on a long journey, rested and am preparing to set sail again.

When I think back to how I had expected to make my home in Jerusalem and how things changed I see a correlation between that moment and this one.

The time of the season has arrived and now I have to prepare myself for the bitter sweet moment I mentioned. It feels a little bit like this to me.

Yeah, there is a little boy who lives inside me, dude still wants to be a superhero. Although given the choice I might pick Wolverine over the others.

The Clock Is Ticking

I can hear the sound of the clock ticking and that is part of what is making me feel wired and unsettled. Too much time to charge myÂ adversariesÂ and too little to just relax.

So I am doing my best to be present in the moment and enjoy them. Doing my best to turn off the noise in my head that tells me to push harder, to somehow stop time by force of will.

Being present makes much more sense and opens me up to the possibilities and opportunities. Being present is what I teach my kids to do so how can I do any less.

But the best part of this feeling is knowing that the transition is hard because so many good things have been a part of this. If it had been bad it would be a much easier change and though easy is “good” I’ll take this side because it means that I have experienced something good, worthwhile and magical.

Night has fallen and there is magic under the moonlight.

5000 Reasons Not To Do Laundry

Many of the men within this great blogosphere have come across posts in which theÂ mom bloggersÂ have provided long lists of things they wish their husbands would do and a comment that if they only did three of them they would gladly reciprocate with a night of lust and longing in the the bedroom.

Now I don’t know about you but I roll my eyes every time I read a post in which some wife badmouths her husband and talks about how overworked she is and how he is not going to get to do the horizontal mambo with her unless he helps.

Sometimes I want to leave a comment like, “lady, I have seen your picture and I can tell you exactly why he is not helping. He is using the laundry as an excuse not to do the bumping uglies woppity boppity with you.

And then I remember how Mama Steiner taught me never to be mean to anyone because it is not nice and they might be mean back to me. Of course Mama Steiner remembers how as a little boy I used to introduce myself to other kids and then hit them. You know that first strike sets the tone, but we won’t talk about that right now.

No, let’s go back to the title of this post and discuss 5000 reasons not to do laundry, also known as 50 pairs of underwear.

Keeping Fruit Of The Loom In Business

Yeah I am that guy, the one who buys clean underwear so he doesn’t have to wash it. The guy who once asked a girlfriend if she would do his laundry and then got laughed at. “I am your friend who is a girl and I don’t do my boyfriend’s laundry so why would I do yours?”

I don’t remember my exact response but I think it went something like, “because if you slept with me you wouldn’t have to close your eyes and pretend I am the pool guy.”

And that is how I earned the dreaded female look of death and a comment about how I really should learn not to think out loud. I of course responded with ‘I guess that means a blow job is out of the question” to which I received an attempted boot to the head.

I would like to tell you Â that we are still friends but when she tried to boot me in the head I stepped to the side and she slipped and fell on her butt and then smacked her head. Needless to say she was less than pleased with this and I still haven’t figured out if anger is the reason why her phone number hasn’t worked in 17 years or if perhaps it is just poor dialing on my part.

Yale Students Are Wearing Crap

I can’t speak for you but I best most of you are happy not to students at Yale now who are searching for the poopetrator of some crappy crimes.

Would it be wrong for me to laugh at this or suggest that someone might need to use the product in the video below.

Â What You Need To Know

What you really need to know is that most of this post is fiction and that I so desperately wanted to avoid doing laundry I wrote this post to avoid hitting the Tide room of solitude.

But alas the time has come for to me to go gather the fabric and walk down to the Trinity River so that I can worsh the dirt off of my clothes.

I don’t need 500 reasons not to do laundry, one is usually enough. Bleah.

Of Dads and Daughters

I still see the dancing girl in my mind and remember how once upon a time she was this little, tiny person who had dark eyes and long black ringlets of hair.

She would reach out with her arms and ask me to dance with her and I would turn on The Godfather Waltz and take her around the room. Little tiny girl wrapped up in my arms, sometimes she’d put her head on my shoulder and fall asleep and I would refuse to put her in her crib because the sound of her breathing was mesmerizing.

It seemed like we danced like that forever and then came a day when she decided she had enough, she didn’t like the music and she didn’t want to dance ‘cuz she wasn’t a baby any more. It made me sad but I didn’t fight it because there were always other things to do and we did.

Daddy/Daughter Day

I remember coaching her soccer team and trying not to tear my hair out because trying to teach five-year-old girls to play soccer was a bit like herding cats.

Daddy/daughter day sticks out in my mind. She gave me strict instructions for what to do and how to help her make our meal. She was determined to win the prize

We didn’t win and I didn’t care because I had too much fun watching her put together the feast above, too much fun following her orders and teasing her about Â being bossy.

That father/daughter connection has always been strong and I have tried to make sure she understands how important she is to me. She is a clown and an instigator and in so many ways is very similar to me. Sometimes she tries to tell me how different we are because I am a boy and she is a girl, but I know better.

When she tells me one day she is going to find a boy and “make him mine” I give her a stern look and laugh silently to myself. Who does she think she is kidding?

Is she really going to try use my trick on me.

Going Back To Cali

The music on iTunes has changed and moved from The Beatles to L.L. Cool J. He is singing about Going Back To Cali and I am torn because I’ll be heading out that way soon and the thought of seeing the kids makes me smile but the song makes me feel a bit sad.

Sad because she is closer to listening to moreÂ matureÂ music than she is to Barney, The Wiggles and all of the otherÂ babyÂ music she tells me never to talk about.

I tell her to slow down and stop running towards getting old because it will find her soon enough but she doesn’t want to hear it. She tells me she wants to race me because she is certain she is faster and I tell her she better get a healthy head start because I am not losing.

And I am not going to, not yet.

My daughter has wheels. She can run. I have seen her chase down and pass the girls on the soccer field but those little legs aren’t quite long enough yet to beat me.

But I see the future coming. Her older brother can’t beat me in a sprint yet but I can’t run like he can. Run day at school is one of his favorite days of the week.

I am not ready to let them beat me. Not ready to see this 9 year-old going on 30 girl of mine say goodbye to being a kid. I have got some time left, not letting her run wild and wear/listen to the inappropriate but the future is heading our way at full speed.

Little Bird, Little Chavala
I dont understand whats happening today
Everything is all a blur
Gentle and kind and affectionate
The sweet little bird you were
Chavala, Chavala

Little Bird, Little Chavala
You were always such a pretty little thing
Everybody’s favorite child
Gentle and kind and affectionate
The sweet little bird you were
Chavala, Chavala
Chava Ballet Sequence- Fiddler On The Roof

She Bit Me And I Screamed

I can’t say that I screamed because of the pain because it didn’t hurt as much as it surprised and angered me. Those teeth found a soft and sensitive spot and it caught me off guard, but what really bothered me the most is that I made her cry.

Hadn’t been my intention but I must have scared her and she started crying so I wrapped her up in my arms and started rocking her back and forth.

It happened in the days before she understood our secret handshake but I like to think she knew about my promise to always protect and take care of her. Those tears made me feel like I had broken my word and that was a big part of what killed me.

Five Songs

Levon- Elton John
Someone Saved My Life Tonight- Elton John
Get Lucky (feat. Pharrell Williams)-Â Daft Punk
La storia de un soldato (The Story of a Soldier)-The Good, The Bad and the Ugly (Original Motion Picture Soundtrack)
Brothers In Arms- Dire Straits

A short time ago I checked in with my Facebook feed and discovered an old friend died yesterday. Haven’t talked to him in a number of years and I can’t say we were ever good friends but there was a time when I used to see him and his wife on a regular basis.

It was long before I was married or became a father and I don’t think I realized until tonight how he had influenced me. I am guessing he was around sixty-something or so, old enough to have grown children and grandchildren but still younger than my parents.

Young enough for me to realize that when I knew him he probably was around the age I am now.

And though it was subtle influence upon me it was enough for me to be grateful and to be sad he is gone. It makes me think about what should happen when we die and what I want for me.

This. This feeling of loss is what I want people to feel and though you may not believe this, it is not because of my ego. It is not because I want people to weep, wail and shout because of sadness.

I want them to feel badly because I made a difference in lives and that not having me around provides a hole.

Maybe It is Ego

Maybe it is ego but I can promise you some of it is tied into my children and my desire for them to see the importance of giving back. I want them to understand you do for family and you do for others.

I want them to understand a healthy and educated society is better for both selfish and moral reasons. I want them to see a rising tide helps all ships and that there is nothing wrong with helping others.

And I want them to be educated so if they live through hard times they know enough to figure out how to cope, adapt, adjust and overcome.

When I die I want it said of me that I did those things and I hope in the process I helped change some lives, helped improve them. Don’t want or need a plaque, award or medal for that, just the knowledge that I did it.

Speaking of Plaques

Sometimes I look around at schools and organizations I have been a part of and laugh because I am sitting in the Steiner Hall. I laugh because it has always seemed to me to be a silly gimmick to convince a donor to write a really big check so they could get their name on a building.

I laugh because I have a long standing dream to mock some of this by making plaques for everything. You are sitting on the Steiner toilet seat, using the Steiner spoon, resting under the Steiner tree and enjoying the benefits of Steiner largesse.

Maybe this is why I am not usually the person making telephone calls asking for donations. Insouciant and unfiltered I am not necessarily the guy who people want doing hand holding with the important donors, unless they have a thicker skin.

I Wiped Away Her Tears

I remember wiping away her tears and softly promising to do my best not to make her cry again. I remember staring into her dark eyes and telling her I was sorry for scaring her and explaining that it hurt when she bit daddy.

She might have been around 2.5 or so, I just don’t remember. What I know for certain is there has never been a time where I looked into those eyes and didn’t feel grateful for her presence or worried about how tightly she’d wrap me around her finger.

Daughters are special.

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