Category: family

This is a difficult topic for me, and one that I hope I won’t talk about again for a very long time. As the anniversary approaches, I’ve been thinking more and more about how to commemorate it. I’ve decided a few things:

• I won’t be watching the “specials” on the news or any other channel.

• I won’t be going to any candlelight vigils, prayer services or sing-alongs.

• I won’t be going to the Pentagon.

It’s easy to say what I won’t be doing on Wednesday. It’s not so easy to say why, or what I will do. I think I was more affected by last year than I noticed before. We were at my parents’ house for dinner last Thursday, and we ended up talking about that day, what happened when, and where we were. I started talking about watching Aaron Brown on CNN standing on the roof of the CNN building as the towers fell behind him. I couldn’t even start talking about it. I got choked up. I’m tearing up now just writing about it. I can remember every detail of that day, down to what was on the floor of the sunroom when I came home, how empty the house seemed because Jen and Max weren’t home, and how thin our walls felt. I was scared. I live and work (the path is wide, and I live very close to work) under the approach path to Dulles Airport. Every day I see planes fly over my house and work less than 500 feet above my head. Every day since the planes started flying again, I cringe a little when a plane flies low overhead.

Memorials are built long after events are over. It doesn’t feel like a year has gone by. It feels like only a couple months, and apparently, the scab I’d grown over my feelings isn’t as thick as I thought it was. In the year since, too many things have happened connected to that day that make me ill. It started with the first commercials on TV for commemorative pins, and durable vinyl car flags (easy to install and long-lasting). It kept going with my growing distrust in our administration, and the effectiveness of our government in general. It’s gotten to the point that it’s hard to keep the events separated. It’s hard to separate the enormity of the attacks from the completely different enormity of the mess-ups, the lies and shameless profiteering.

How do I memorialize something that I haven’t been able to forget? How do I memorialize something still burned so sharply into the back of my head that I remember every little detail of that day? How can I do watch anything about that day on television without being sick with wondering who’s making money off of it?

I’ve decided that since I can’t answer those questions, and I haven’t come to terms with my own feelings on it, that I’m not going to say anything on this site on Wednesday. I haven’t decided if I’m going to take the site down, or just not post, but there won’t be any new content here. At least for this year, I’m going to spend September 11th celebrating a holiday of a religion that’s not my own. Rosh HaShana is the Jewish New Year, a time of self-examination and repentance. I don’t know what I’ll find, or what I’ll repent of. I won’t tell you that you should do what I’m doing, or think what I’m thinking. You deal with it your way; you say what you want to say. For me, I’m not going to say anything more until Max is old enough to understand, and then I’ll hopefully have something to tell him.

Jen just finished Tom Clancy’s latest tome, Red Rabbit. Her review was succinct and perfect, “It was horrible. Only read it if you’re desperate, and even then, just take a nap.”

I guess I won’t be reading it then…

My adorable sister is going to play a valley girl in a one act play. I can’t wait to see it. If there’s one thing my sister isn’t (and I’m not surprised there’s only one thing, for she is so many things), it’s a valley girl. It will show her true acting talent. That, and it will make me laugh until I wet myself.

With a sister who blogs, I now don’t even have to recap my day; she’s already done it. Now, Max is going to help me by typing. We’re sitting here watching Blue’s Clues, and I decided to use the time to check my mail. Bad idea. He wants to “help me”. Here is the product of his “help”:

How do Jen and I keep our sanity? Max Day.

Max was sick yesterday when he got up from his nap. He was lethargic, had a fever, and took little 20 minute naps every hour or so until bed time. But, he was extremely cute. It was weird. We got some tylenol into him, which helped with the fever, but he was still really sleepy. So, he spent the afternoon and evening taking turns cuddling with us (which is odd for him. He’s an affectionate kid, but hasn’t been much of a cuddler for over a year). He made his little Max jokes, but they came out a lot slower. He gave us sleepy smiles, and patted our faces. He was extremely happy for being sick. It felt good to sit there on the couch with my son and his big stuffed lamb on my lap and whisper quietly to each other as he patted my face and played with my beard.

Max is apparently all better today (they didn’t wake up till 9 – I was already at work and halfway through my mail by then), and they’re headed off to the library to return books and potty-training videos. My back is mostly better, and I’m stuck here at work, half-awake and not ready to begin my work week.

We got caught! I don’t believe it. Jen and I were taking the trash out last night (it was after 10pm) and cleaning up Max’s sidewalk chalk mess. She kissed me, I kissed her and before you know it, here comes a lady from down the street with her little barrel dog. Jen yelled “Ooops!”, and I laughed uncontrollably. We gathered up the chalk and ran inside giggling like teenagers.

It was a little over five years ago that I proposed to Jen on the landing of her apartment as we looked out over an August lightening storm in Tucson. If I had to do it all over again, I’d come up with something more creative than my, “I think I need to go talk to your parents.” like and my fumbled proposal. It seems like yesterday.

It worked… Heather took my bait and ran with it. And to clarify, I only called her a fangirl because she herself said she was one earlier yesterday. I would never go so far as to call someone a fanperson unless they admitted it first, or if I were feeling extremely mean. And, despite my standing as the older brother, I am never mean to my little sister… on purpose.

The best thing about my sister keeping a blog is that I find out nice things like she has a copy of Lord of the Rings on DVD so I don’t have to go rent it!

I’m 8 pages into FlatCat, and Jon has graciously reconfirmed his willingness to illustrate it. Jon, if it makes tons of money, I’ll take you out to lunch (just kidding!! 50-50?)

I’m taking a break from putting up shelves. I am not a handy guy to have around. I’ve successfully stripped two screws that are both at varying degrees of in-ness. They are so stripped that I can’t even muscle them in with a big flathead screwdriver. Now, if this were the bottom screw of the bracket, big deal. But, they’re the two top screws of a bracket, and now I’m kind of… well, screwed.

I hate handyman projects. I suck at them. They make me get angry and sweat. The make me swear, something I’m trying not to do. They make my blood pressure go up, also something I’m supposed to avoid.

Now the shelves are in a state of disarray. How do I get the stripped screws in all the way? If I can’t get them in, how do I get them out? They’re 2.5″ long, and 3/4’s of the way into the stud. I’m smart enough to know that’s not a good place to be if you’re a stripped screw.

So, I’m in here, not working on the shelves, trying to come up with a good explanation for myself. “Sweetie, you know, I saw a wonderful set of prefab shelves at Costco this morning. I think those would work much better than… this.” I can follow Swedish directions. Swedish is a lot like Tcl, lots of arrows and numbers and labeled parts.