Sunday, August 14, 2005
Bird flies again
Yesterday, Dr. and I hauled Bird and all her belongings back to Oklahoma State. Took all three vehicles.
Fortunately, Bird had some strappin' lad of a friend to help her carry her stuff to the fourth floor of Bennett Hall. Would've taken all day with Dr. ER's bad back and my own sore hoof.
Eh. I tooled around Stillwater some afterward. To Willie's Saloon, on the Strip, to George's Stables, on Elm Street. Bought an OSU trinket at one of the college shops.
Sad times again, for ol' ER. In some ways, it's worse this time than last year. Last year, I had my own grad school stuff to keep me occupied. And the novelty of Bird's starting college for thre first time then kept me from goin' over the edge.
This time, it really feels like goodbye, in a different kind of way, and there's nothing to keep me from going from sad to worse.
Don't have the heart to dwell on it today. Here's some of what I wrote last year. Just take away the freshness of the experience then, add a layer of lonesomeness to it, and you'll get a taste of what I'm feelin' this weekend.
Twenty years ago. Make that 21 now.
Baby Bird.
Takeoff!
Parentin' -- Erudite Redneck-style.
Between this and the row of pill bottles in the kitchen -- a new cholesterol medicine, and antibiotics for my sore hoof, and some other things -- it is official:
I have so past the crest of the hill, it ain't even funny.
Mid-life crisis dead ahead.
--ER
Fortunately, Bird had some strappin' lad of a friend to help her carry her stuff to the fourth floor of Bennett Hall. Would've taken all day with Dr. ER's bad back and my own sore hoof.
Eh. I tooled around Stillwater some afterward. To Willie's Saloon, on the Strip, to George's Stables, on Elm Street. Bought an OSU trinket at one of the college shops.
Sad times again, for ol' ER. In some ways, it's worse this time than last year. Last year, I had my own grad school stuff to keep me occupied. And the novelty of Bird's starting college for thre first time then kept me from goin' over the edge.
This time, it really feels like goodbye, in a different kind of way, and there's nothing to keep me from going from sad to worse.
Don't have the heart to dwell on it today. Here's some of what I wrote last year. Just take away the freshness of the experience then, add a layer of lonesomeness to it, and you'll get a taste of what I'm feelin' this weekend.
Twenty years ago. Make that 21 now.
Baby Bird.
Takeoff!
Parentin' -- Erudite Redneck-style.
Between this and the row of pill bottles in the kitchen -- a new cholesterol medicine, and antibiotics for my sore hoof, and some other things -- it is official:
I have so past the crest of the hill, it ain't even funny.
Mid-life crisis dead ahead.
--ER
Comments:
<< Home
I will feed my blues with food.
"Hey, Grandpa ER! What's for supper?"
Ribeye steak, seasoned with Lawrey's, garlic poweder, blakc pepepr and thyme, pan-fried, medium rare.
Sea scallops, sauteed in butter.
Spaghetti with tomato basil sauce.
Broccoli, steamed.
Bread.
Chin(s), up, indeed. (Hey, a beard hides a multitude of culinary excesses).
"Hey, Grandpa ER! What's for supper?"
Ribeye steak, seasoned with Lawrey's, garlic poweder, blakc pepepr and thyme, pan-fried, medium rare.
Sea scallops, sauteed in butter.
Spaghetti with tomato basil sauce.
Broccoli, steamed.
Bread.
Chin(s), up, indeed. (Hey, a beard hides a multitude of culinary excesses).
Whoa there, pardner. Before you go headin' off over the hill into that sunset, just remember you are only a couple of years older than me, that is, you were only a few years ahead of me at that there Oklabydamnhoma State University. So, uh, just watch out there -- you're not *that* old.
# posted by 
: 5:59 PM
: 5:59 PM
Christ, you can tell by what you wrote, you're already drunk.
Well, me too, as I have problems of my own this eve, but lemme tell you a li'l story:
last night, me'n Bitchslap were walking around the neighborhood, and we were stopped by a lady and her daughter. she asked us where the bowling alley was.
"Down there," I says, "But it closed down six months ago."
"Oh," she said, " Well, where do y' think I could take my teenage daughter here to have some fun?"
The daughter had a skateboard tucked underneath her arm, so I invited them to go check out the Burnside skatepark, one of the best in North A.
She thanked me, and then they walked off in the other direction.
I said to Bitchslap as we walked off, I'm not especially unhappy that the mother of my chitlens has it in for me so bad: if I had to find fun things that were nonetheless safe in my neighb', I wouldn't know where to begin, vis a vis my daughter.
And that night, He Had A Dream.
It was the Osterizer, i.e. my kid, and she strangely had come to live with me in a surreal version of my own situation. At first, she was five years old and gap toothed, next thing I knew, she was a teenager. As other well-meaning adults were trying to clean up the kitchen, I asked her, "Do you know where the recycling goes? If you don't know, I can show you."
She looked at me with that mixture of love and pity that they have for us. "Yeah, I know where it is," she said.
So does yers.
Well, me too, as I have problems of my own this eve, but lemme tell you a li'l story:
last night, me'n Bitchslap were walking around the neighborhood, and we were stopped by a lady and her daughter. she asked us where the bowling alley was.
"Down there," I says, "But it closed down six months ago."
"Oh," she said, " Well, where do y' think I could take my teenage daughter here to have some fun?"
The daughter had a skateboard tucked underneath her arm, so I invited them to go check out the Burnside skatepark, one of the best in North A.
She thanked me, and then they walked off in the other direction.
I said to Bitchslap as we walked off, I'm not especially unhappy that the mother of my chitlens has it in for me so bad: if I had to find fun things that were nonetheless safe in my neighb', I wouldn't know where to begin, vis a vis my daughter.
And that night, He Had A Dream.
It was the Osterizer, i.e. my kid, and she strangely had come to live with me in a surreal version of my own situation. At first, she was five years old and gap toothed, next thing I knew, she was a teenager. As other well-meaning adults were trying to clean up the kitchen, I asked her, "Do you know where the recycling goes? If you don't know, I can show you."
She looked at me with that mixture of love and pity that they have for us. "Yeah, I know where it is," she said.
So does yers.
Mmm. And far more importantly, to answer your query of a couple back, yeah, I found a blog a minute ago that is worth reading, and is also of a political nature.
That's the one what calls himself "Conspiracy Dude" over on the comments of the Cap'n of the Tug's most recent posting, right now as we sit here speaking to one another.
A centrist! Who knew?
That's the one what calls himself "Conspiracy Dude" over on the comments of the Cap'n of the Tug's most recent posting, right now as we sit here speaking to one another.
A centrist! Who knew?
Rich, thanks fer sharin' that dream. I fully realize that I'm the problem here, not the redheaded redneck chicklet. ;-)
BTW, if I'da been tanked when I wrote that, tho, I wouldn'ta been able to cut, paste, click and such well enough to put those links in there. :-)
Post a Comment
BTW, if I'da been tanked when I wrote that, tho, I wouldn'ta been able to cut, paste, click and such well enough to put those links in there. :-)
<< Home
