Tuesday, October 9, 2012
Just a Little Maint.
A quick and dirty entry from Jim.
Linking my Google+ profile to my blog.
Let's see what happens when I click this...
OH NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!! (Mr. Bill...)
Sunday, November 13, 2011
Equilibrium
There are two spheres of my existence. One sphere is the domain of me as a person and the second is me within the domain of the world at large. Let's talk a little bit about each today.
In the limited world of Jim as husband, father, employee, occasional athlete there is equilibrium. I guess you could say I'm failing in all aspects equally. I don't believe that, but I do feel it. As husband I'm batting .500 because of a paltry two achievements. The first was two hours of folding laundry last week in order to facilitate a ladies night out for Karen and the second was a brutal attack on the downstairs powder room which finally yielded an A- Monday afternoon.
One of the areas that I really need to work on is my give-back and charitable time. Last year, I worked on a Habitat House, built a playground and did several other events supporting charities that were primarily focused on children and young students. Since my place of employment really supports this, my only goal for this year is to do more than I did last year. There's an idea to carry forward :) Simply do better than last year.
In order to meet my obligation to those that come here expressly for the kiddie updates I offer the following.
Camden is doing very well. His moments of progress come in small steps and in sudden bursts of, "Where the fuck did that come from?!" as well. Small steps are exemplified by the improvements in communication with us and with word mastery and comprehension. He continually builds bridges of cognition and perhaps the best example of this recently was his sharing with us that he wanted to watch Thomas The Tank Engine (TTTE) on TV and then subsequently heading upstairs to play with the TTTE toys. This is a HUGE deal cognitively. It is something we wouldn't even have noticed with David, but it is something we celebrate intently with Camden and these moments are worth their weight in gold.
David is knocking it out of the park from every perspective save his challenges to control his energy and occasionally his focus. Four of five days a week David reports 'green' behavior and one day he's 'yellow'. Something I didn't understand as a young parent was to pick your battles and further to recognize the spectrum of performance versus expectations. Said simply, we could choose to focus on the one day a week that he is sub-green or we could celebrate the 90% goodness and see if that inspires him to address the remaining 10%. What I know now is that the latter is what works for David. If I knew then... Here's a chuckle via the transcript between David (7) and I (43) while I was folding laundry and he was playing on the iPad. Setting: I was having trouble distinguishing the ownership of a pair of sweatpants; were they David's or Camden's?
Daddy (holding up the pants in question): Are these you or Camden?
David (crisply): Camden's
Daddy: Are you sure?
David (sternly): I'VE SEEN HIM WEAR THEM.
At least he didn't call me a dumbass.
Karen and I get closer every moment of every day. We have our challenges as individuals, as human beings and as members of Team Preis Family, but when one of us falls short, the other is quick to recognize it and pick up the slack either by helping or forgiving. I'm not going to go on and on like I usually do, but I'll end with this: If Oprah ever needs a couple to share the secrets of how to make a relationship work - where neither partner has a net worth of a billion dollars or more - we're ready for the interview at any time. And one last thing about my wife quickly. She gives. She not only takes care of our household without fail, but she finds time to volunteer AND tutor at David's school.
As for Jim one of seven billion I am encouraged and discouraged at the same time, thus the title of today's entry.
Encouraged: Rick Perry exposes himself for the forgetful, shallow, pay-for-play non-candidate that he is.
Encouraged: Ron Paul's still in it!!! VOTE YOUR CONSCIOUS PEOPLE!!!
Discouraged: Thousands of people with no coherent message driving up municipal costs, and spewing venom on the very things that provide them with the ability to protest. The occupiers are no Civil Rights marchers. They've no shared platform unless you consider, "My life sucks and it's someone else's fault" a platform.
Discouraged: Thousands of Penn State students acting like ignorant, knee-jerk-reacting imbeciles, lamenting the firing of Joe Paterno at the additional expense, insult and injury to the young victims of the crimes at the root of the issue. There is so much that can be extrapolated from this behavior.
Encouraged: I continue to work hard and hold myself accountable for my failures and for half of my successes. I help others where I can and somehow life treats me well in the end. I do find that the more I consider others, the better off I am somehow.
I hope whoever you are and wherever you are, it's a great day for you.
Cheers!
Jim
In the limited world of Jim as husband, father, employee, occasional athlete there is equilibrium. I guess you could say I'm failing in all aspects equally. I don't believe that, but I do feel it. As husband I'm batting .500 because of a paltry two achievements. The first was two hours of folding laundry last week in order to facilitate a ladies night out for Karen and the second was a brutal attack on the downstairs powder room which finally yielded an A- Monday afternoon.
One of the areas that I really need to work on is my give-back and charitable time. Last year, I worked on a Habitat House, built a playground and did several other events supporting charities that were primarily focused on children and young students. Since my place of employment really supports this, my only goal for this year is to do more than I did last year. There's an idea to carry forward :) Simply do better than last year.
In order to meet my obligation to those that come here expressly for the kiddie updates I offer the following.
Camden is doing very well. His moments of progress come in small steps and in sudden bursts of, "Where the fuck did that come from?!" as well. Small steps are exemplified by the improvements in communication with us and with word mastery and comprehension. He continually builds bridges of cognition and perhaps the best example of this recently was his sharing with us that he wanted to watch Thomas The Tank Engine (TTTE) on TV and then subsequently heading upstairs to play with the TTTE toys. This is a HUGE deal cognitively. It is something we wouldn't even have noticed with David, but it is something we celebrate intently with Camden and these moments are worth their weight in gold.
David is knocking it out of the park from every perspective save his challenges to control his energy and occasionally his focus. Four of five days a week David reports 'green' behavior and one day he's 'yellow'. Something I didn't understand as a young parent was to pick your battles and further to recognize the spectrum of performance versus expectations. Said simply, we could choose to focus on the one day a week that he is sub-green or we could celebrate the 90% goodness and see if that inspires him to address the remaining 10%. What I know now is that the latter is what works for David. If I knew then... Here's a chuckle via the transcript between David (7) and I (43) while I was folding laundry and he was playing on the iPad. Setting: I was having trouble distinguishing the ownership of a pair of sweatpants; were they David's or Camden's?
Daddy (holding up the pants in question): Are these you or Camden?
David (crisply): Camden's
Daddy: Are you sure?
David (sternly): I'VE SEEN HIM WEAR THEM.
At least he didn't call me a dumbass.
Karen and I get closer every moment of every day. We have our challenges as individuals, as human beings and as members of Team Preis Family, but when one of us falls short, the other is quick to recognize it and pick up the slack either by helping or forgiving. I'm not going to go on and on like I usually do, but I'll end with this: If Oprah ever needs a couple to share the secrets of how to make a relationship work - where neither partner has a net worth of a billion dollars or more - we're ready for the interview at any time. And one last thing about my wife quickly. She gives. She not only takes care of our household without fail, but she finds time to volunteer AND tutor at David's school.
As for Jim one of seven billion I am encouraged and discouraged at the same time, thus the title of today's entry.
Encouraged: Rick Perry exposes himself for the forgetful, shallow, pay-for-play non-candidate that he is.
Encouraged: Ron Paul's still in it!!! VOTE YOUR CONSCIOUS PEOPLE!!!
Discouraged: Thousands of people with no coherent message driving up municipal costs, and spewing venom on the very things that provide them with the ability to protest. The occupiers are no Civil Rights marchers. They've no shared platform unless you consider, "My life sucks and it's someone else's fault" a platform.
Discouraged: Thousands of Penn State students acting like ignorant, knee-jerk-reacting imbeciles, lamenting the firing of Joe Paterno at the additional expense, insult and injury to the young victims of the crimes at the root of the issue. There is so much that can be extrapolated from this behavior.
Encouraged: I continue to work hard and hold myself accountable for my failures and for half of my successes. I help others where I can and somehow life treats me well in the end. I do find that the more I consider others, the better off I am somehow.
I hope whoever you are and wherever you are, it's a great day for you.
Cheers!
Jim
Monday, February 28, 2011
This is Life
It has been a while since we've shared and to be honest, the challenges seem to outshine the blessings of late. Of course this doesn't preclude one from a biased focus on the blessings and it's that perspective that we are perhaps most thankful for.
Far and away our top story is my father's stroke back on the weekend of February 11th. This event has been a significant tremor for our family as opposed to an earthquake and in more ways than we can count the impact of the stroke has been mild. The net impacts of his stroke are - as we know them today - loss of peripheral field of view in his right eye and mild, intermittent memory and cognitive dysfunction. He spent three days in ICU at Duke and was discharged with explicit instructions to chill out. Additionally his blood pressure is requiring constant monitoring and controlling it with meds is a very active endeavor. I know this event has truly given mom and dad pause and it's not a stretch to imply that some good has come of this. Dad needed to shift into a lower gear metaphorically. That shift has happened and it is now the responsibility of those around him to make sure he adapts to this new normal and doesn't push beyond what is appropriate. The fact of the matter is this: We love him dearly and without him there would be no us and the good fortunes of love we've amassed to date. We want him around for years to come and if that means expanding our responsibility in our mom's and dad's life then we are honored and ready to do so.
David continues to shine like a quasar and is already developing an subtle attorney's bent on making his point. Case in point:
David: "How fast can a human body go?"
Dad: "I would guess perhaps 580 miles an hour until stuff started to fly off like ears and fingers."
(David walks away and I think the conversation has concluded. A few minutes later...)
David: "How fast is the speed of sound?" (he knows the answer, but it will become obvious why he asks in a moment)
Dad: "I think it's about 600 MPH; lemme look it up..." "The speed of sound at sea level is some 768MPH it turns out!"
David: "You know that guy that jumped out of the balloon from 80,000 feet? They said he went a little faster than the speed of sound."
It dawned on me that what he had just done was found a way to tell his father that in fact the human body can handle speeds well in excess of my paltry 580MPH fathoming. He never said I was wrong. He never even let on that the cross examination was in process. There was no confrontation. Apparently the limits of what a six year old can teach are deeper than I previously understood. One day I'll have a stroke and when my sons speaks, I'll listen. In the end he threw me a bone...
David: "But he had protective clothing on."
Camden is doing well and continues to be mentored and educated by our extended family down at Frankie Lemmon in Raleigh. His conversations are becoming gradually more engaging and his directions and requests are certainly more direct. We are so blessed by this little gift from God who seems to know nothing but unconditional love he is on a mission to share.
That last paragraph is what I'm supposed to type. It's puts a smile on everyone's face and allows everyone to walk away sans confrontation of the realities of having a special needs child. The truly difficult part of this journey - that we've only just started - is watching the gap between Camden and typical children Camden's age grow wider. We don't dwell on this and we don't torture ourselves with the notion of what might have been - often. For all the heartache that is a one in 800 occurrence we have our son Camden and extra chromosome notwithstanding the purity of his love can be felt when he slowly rubs my arm at night as I read him a story; the target of his hugs - with ever increasing strength - always find their mark. God blessed us with perfect imperfection; a steep hill at times. But he also endowed us the love and determination to instill in Camden the fortitude to build out his world; one whose foundation is unconditional love and persistence in effort. It's Camden's world and we're at peace with the fact that we just live in it :)
Today is a beautiful day. Cloudy and 75 - 80 for a high. I am overwhelmed at work and not at work. Living can wait. Life demands a bike ride forthwith. For one day - today - I take control and make no apologies. I've no doubt work and not at work will be there when I'm done.
This is Life. We are thankful.
Far and away our top story is my father's stroke back on the weekend of February 11th. This event has been a significant tremor for our family as opposed to an earthquake and in more ways than we can count the impact of the stroke has been mild. The net impacts of his stroke are - as we know them today - loss of peripheral field of view in his right eye and mild, intermittent memory and cognitive dysfunction. He spent three days in ICU at Duke and was discharged with explicit instructions to chill out. Additionally his blood pressure is requiring constant monitoring and controlling it with meds is a very active endeavor. I know this event has truly given mom and dad pause and it's not a stretch to imply that some good has come of this. Dad needed to shift into a lower gear metaphorically. That shift has happened and it is now the responsibility of those around him to make sure he adapts to this new normal and doesn't push beyond what is appropriate. The fact of the matter is this: We love him dearly and without him there would be no us and the good fortunes of love we've amassed to date. We want him around for years to come and if that means expanding our responsibility in our mom's and dad's life then we are honored and ready to do so.
David continues to shine like a quasar and is already developing an subtle attorney's bent on making his point. Case in point:
David: "How fast can a human body go?"
Dad: "I would guess perhaps 580 miles an hour until stuff started to fly off like ears and fingers."
(David walks away and I think the conversation has concluded. A few minutes later...)
David: "How fast is the speed of sound?" (he knows the answer, but it will become obvious why he asks in a moment)
Dad: "I think it's about 600 MPH; lemme look it up..." "The speed of sound at sea level is some 768MPH it turns out!"
David: "You know that guy that jumped out of the balloon from 80,000 feet? They said he went a little faster than the speed of sound."
It dawned on me that what he had just done was found a way to tell his father that in fact the human body can handle speeds well in excess of my paltry 580MPH fathoming. He never said I was wrong. He never even let on that the cross examination was in process. There was no confrontation. Apparently the limits of what a six year old can teach are deeper than I previously understood. One day I'll have a stroke and when my sons speaks, I'll listen. In the end he threw me a bone...
David: "But he had protective clothing on."
Camden is doing well and continues to be mentored and educated by our extended family down at Frankie Lemmon in Raleigh. His conversations are becoming gradually more engaging and his directions and requests are certainly more direct. We are so blessed by this little gift from God who seems to know nothing but unconditional love he is on a mission to share.
That last paragraph is what I'm supposed to type. It's puts a smile on everyone's face and allows everyone to walk away sans confrontation of the realities of having a special needs child. The truly difficult part of this journey - that we've only just started - is watching the gap between Camden and typical children Camden's age grow wider. We don't dwell on this and we don't torture ourselves with the notion of what might have been - often. For all the heartache that is a one in 800 occurrence we have our son Camden and extra chromosome notwithstanding the purity of his love can be felt when he slowly rubs my arm at night as I read him a story; the target of his hugs - with ever increasing strength - always find their mark. God blessed us with perfect imperfection; a steep hill at times. But he also endowed us the love and determination to instill in Camden the fortitude to build out his world; one whose foundation is unconditional love and persistence in effort. It's Camden's world and we're at peace with the fact that we just live in it :)
Today is a beautiful day. Cloudy and 75 - 80 for a high. I am overwhelmed at work and not at work. Living can wait. Life demands a bike ride forthwith. For one day - today - I take control and make no apologies. I've no doubt work and not at work will be there when I'm done.
This is Life. We are thankful.
Thursday, December 30, 2010
2010 Preis Family Album
There's a little icon in the bottom right corner that's labeled "Larger View" or "Full Screen". I suggest using that button until the option is no longer available; at that time, the book show should be as big as you can make it.
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
Friday, June 25, 2010
My New Friend Ricky
Yesterday was a good day.
On June 3rd I was in a meeting at work and I could sense that the folks in the meeting didn't feel that the meeting was being as productive as it could be. This meeting is primarily with my seniors, but I am reasonably well respected amongst my peers as well as my seniors. When we got to the requests for new business I decided to go for it. I stood up (which is very uncommon) and made an appeal for the opportunity to run the meeting for one week using a methodology I had learned long ago at IBM. I was granted the opportunity. In the interim two weeks I was able to get the other PMs together and share my vision. I was supported by two other senior peers and a half dozen PMs. We prototyped, rehearsed, critiqued and then we delivered yesterday June 24th. The PMs nailed it, my colleague who was assigned the whip role did a great job of keeping the meeting focused and on time and, all in all, it was a rousing success. I was congratulated, recognized and elated.
Days like that at work are uncommon. There are other things I'd like to take a shot at, but right now I'll enjoy this success and try and figure out the rate of change the environment can handle, bide my capital of recent success and see if I can make it two for two in the coming months.
I left work literally buzzing and took the long way home. Down 751 to New Hope Church and then over to Yates Store road. Yates Store road actually has a "store" on it. but it's the propriety of a gentleman that sells Husqvarna lawn mowers and firewood by the cord as opposed to a convenience store. For years I've taken this route and on many a day there's been a gentleman in the front lot of the rural property who would, without fail, unabashedly share a kind wave with me as I passed by. As I turned right on Yates Store, there he was. Today an anonymous wave just wasn't going to get it. I pulled into the parking lot and drove over to my friend with no name and said, "Hi. Every day I drive by here and we wave at each other and from now on when I wave I wanna know who I'm waving to. I am Jim Preis." I extended my hand to shake - a tradition that has it's origins in demonstrating that the participants are unarmed - and as he shook my hand he said with a smile, "Well Hi there! I'm Ricky. Glad to meet you." With that I told him that now when I drove by I'd know the name of the friend that I was waving to. He smiled a kind smile as I drove away.
All days should be so good.
On June 3rd I was in a meeting at work and I could sense that the folks in the meeting didn't feel that the meeting was being as productive as it could be. This meeting is primarily with my seniors, but I am reasonably well respected amongst my peers as well as my seniors. When we got to the requests for new business I decided to go for it. I stood up (which is very uncommon) and made an appeal for the opportunity to run the meeting for one week using a methodology I had learned long ago at IBM. I was granted the opportunity. In the interim two weeks I was able to get the other PMs together and share my vision. I was supported by two other senior peers and a half dozen PMs. We prototyped, rehearsed, critiqued and then we delivered yesterday June 24th. The PMs nailed it, my colleague who was assigned the whip role did a great job of keeping the meeting focused and on time and, all in all, it was a rousing success. I was congratulated, recognized and elated.
Days like that at work are uncommon. There are other things I'd like to take a shot at, but right now I'll enjoy this success and try and figure out the rate of change the environment can handle, bide my capital of recent success and see if I can make it two for two in the coming months.
I left work literally buzzing and took the long way home. Down 751 to New Hope Church and then over to Yates Store road. Yates Store road actually has a "store" on it. but it's the propriety of a gentleman that sells Husqvarna lawn mowers and firewood by the cord as opposed to a convenience store. For years I've taken this route and on many a day there's been a gentleman in the front lot of the rural property who would, without fail, unabashedly share a kind wave with me as I passed by. As I turned right on Yates Store, there he was. Today an anonymous wave just wasn't going to get it. I pulled into the parking lot and drove over to my friend with no name and said, "Hi. Every day I drive by here and we wave at each other and from now on when I wave I wanna know who I'm waving to. I am Jim Preis." I extended my hand to shake - a tradition that has it's origins in demonstrating that the participants are unarmed - and as he shook my hand he said with a smile, "Well Hi there! I'm Ricky. Glad to meet you." With that I told him that now when I drove by I'd know the name of the friend that I was waving to. He smiled a kind smile as I drove away.
All days should be so good.
Monday, June 14, 2010
Saturday, April 24, 2010
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
Sunday, March 14, 2010
On Mortality
I used to make a baseball analogy that applied to my grandfather, my father and then me. I used to be in the dugout. My dad was on-deck. My grandfather was at bat. Eventually, and now, my dad is at bat and I'm on-deck. This was one of many rationalizations I've applied to cloud the fact that one day, I will die. Here's another one I still use: If I'm lucky enough to live until 82, then I have as much time left as I've already lived and that's a long time. That works irrationally, but rationally it fails on two points. First, I have no idea when I'm gonna die. Second, from a perception point, time does indeed move forward at a greater rate as we age. Why? Because when you were 5 a year was 20% or one-fifth of your entire life span. When you're 40 a year is a mere one-fortieth of your life.
I said in my last update that I had chosen a path of reflection and planning at this juncture in my life. Some of that reflection also carries a theme of skirting death many, many times as a youth and several times as an adult. When I was a child I did childish things; these things included hard drug and alcohol abuse and very reckless driving. Lots of all three at the same time, in VERY short periods of time and at great speeds. I don't why God let me live perhaps 20 or 30 times, but I am damn sure glad he did. As an adult with hypersensitivity to my surroundings I have dodged certain-death car wrecks that someone with normal levels of situational awareness would have never seen. The irony is, from an awareness of point of view today, I am an excellent driver. I tend to focus on wheels not body panels and a green light doesn't mean go, it means look for me as a 17 year old and then proceed if he is not proximal.
Obviously my last brush with death was my cycling accident in March of '09 in which my helmet was broken into a half-a-dozen pieces quite literally. That one wasn't so bad from a taste of mortality view. Had I bought the farm, I would have died doing something I loved and I would have at a minimum left my wife and children very well off financially. I am by no means saying it would have been a positive thing. My wife's loss of her first husband is perhaps the greatest example for me that life is far from perfect. In a perfect world Joe Decker would be alive today and Karen would have had a twin sister.
I don't know what's going to happen when I die but I do know the three distinct possibilities: a) lights out and I'm the same place I was before May 19, 1968. b) I go to Heaven. c) I go to Hell. Ever heard of Pascale's Wager? In simple terms Pascale's Wager acknowledges that God (and therefore Heaven) either does or does not exist and thus the best strategy for eliminating the outcome of going to hell is to believe in God/Heaven. That way, even if you're wrong, the worst case scenario is "lights out". I don't know if hedging your bets as the basis of your faith is acceptable on God's terms, but again the worst case scenario is a more peaceful human race.
The funny thing about the exploration of my own mortality is that it always seems to yield the same self-help notion of doing the best I can with what I have. I do live my life in service to my family. I am the best husband and father I can be and that means considering me fourth. I do my best at my job and the thing that I do best is acting as an agent of change. It means going out on a limb without regard to anyone else going with me; fortune favors the daring. Admittedly I was not the best son in my formative years, but I would hope that one day my birth family will see me for who I am today and understand that now is all the time we have. That the enjoyment of these remaining moments subsumes the notion of obligation.
I said in my last update that I had chosen a path of reflection and planning at this juncture in my life. Some of that reflection also carries a theme of skirting death many, many times as a youth and several times as an adult. When I was a child I did childish things; these things included hard drug and alcohol abuse and very reckless driving. Lots of all three at the same time, in VERY short periods of time and at great speeds. I don't why God let me live perhaps 20 or 30 times, but I am damn sure glad he did. As an adult with hypersensitivity to my surroundings I have dodged certain-death car wrecks that someone with normal levels of situational awareness would have never seen. The irony is, from an awareness of point of view today, I am an excellent driver. I tend to focus on wheels not body panels and a green light doesn't mean go, it means look for me as a 17 year old and then proceed if he is not proximal.
Obviously my last brush with death was my cycling accident in March of '09 in which my helmet was broken into a half-a-dozen pieces quite literally. That one wasn't so bad from a taste of mortality view. Had I bought the farm, I would have died doing something I loved and I would have at a minimum left my wife and children very well off financially. I am by no means saying it would have been a positive thing. My wife's loss of her first husband is perhaps the greatest example for me that life is far from perfect. In a perfect world Joe Decker would be alive today and Karen would have had a twin sister.
I don't know what's going to happen when I die but I do know the three distinct possibilities: a) lights out and I'm the same place I was before May 19, 1968. b) I go to Heaven. c) I go to Hell. Ever heard of Pascale's Wager? In simple terms Pascale's Wager acknowledges that God (and therefore Heaven) either does or does not exist and thus the best strategy for eliminating the outcome of going to hell is to believe in God/Heaven. That way, even if you're wrong, the worst case scenario is "lights out". I don't know if hedging your bets as the basis of your faith is acceptable on God's terms, but again the worst case scenario is a more peaceful human race.
The funny thing about the exploration of my own mortality is that it always seems to yield the same self-help notion of doing the best I can with what I have. I do live my life in service to my family. I am the best husband and father I can be and that means considering me fourth. I do my best at my job and the thing that I do best is acting as an agent of change. It means going out on a limb without regard to anyone else going with me; fortune favors the daring. Admittedly I was not the best son in my formative years, but I would hope that one day my birth family will see me for who I am today and understand that now is all the time we have. That the enjoyment of these remaining moments subsumes the notion of obligation.
Friday, February 5, 2010
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
Everyone Eats Boogers
This evening is Sunday January 10th. I just put David down after a story, a song and prayers. I grabbed the clicker, but before I turned on the TV I listened to Karen love Camden to sleep. Putting Little C, as we call him, down is a joy because he is virtually impossible to corral during the day, so by bed time 95% of his energy has been spent and he’s calm and compliant. Camden’s routine for bed is a bubba (bottle of rice milk), several stories, a song and then a session of Love and Learning. Love and Learning are passive learning CD’s that repetitively expose Camden to the alphabet, numbers, words and sentences. We owe a great deal of Camden’s verbal progress to these CDs. If you ever get the pleasure of knowing another family or child with a challenge, we highly recommend these.
This time of the evening is always accompanied by a big exhale. One more day with the boys done. One more day of survival complete. One more day of doing the best with what we have brought to a close. I’m beginning to believe that when one approaches mid-life one chooses one of two paths: a mid-life crises or the transition to a mind set of reflection, living and planning. Given that crises will find us when they need to, I’ve selected the latter. I’ve definitely sought the meaning of life and rapidly come to the conclusion that this is a waste of time. What is not so much a waste of time is improving the quality of the life that remains. This isn’t rocket science or deep thought or metaphysics, but much more a desire to be a me that I like first and foremost and that not coincidentally others will like as well. Those that can tolerate me end up being labeled as friends and those that can’t tolerate me I’ll still cordially accept cards and gifts from.
Somehow this paragraph is completely unrelated to and at the same time intricately intertwined with the last. When I was in school I was forced to write. The responses I got were always a collection of adjectives like interesting, different, eclectic while at the same time garnering awards of C, D and F. Before I continue I should call attention to the inherent hypocrisy of a grading scale that follows A, B, C, D and F. I’ve only ever been truly able to write one way: one part insanity, two parts honesty, a dash of self-aggrandizing, a pinch of humor all in a broth of briny genuine. I do my best to make you feel as if I was either reading this to you or actually talking to you. I have gotten much unsolicited feedback regarding the stuff I post here and if I said that the feedback was encouraging that would fall short of accurately describing it. Overwhelmingly humbling with kindness would be a better description. I have a defect. OK, I have many defects, but let’s pretend for a moment that I’ve just one. In a very extroverted way I am publicly intimate with almost everyone I know. I do a very poor job of selecting people with whom I share intimate information. There are good things about this and there are less-than-optimal considerations to be examined. I polled my Facebook friends for the title of my first text and my friends did not disappoint. But like most things on Facebook, humor or sarcasm were a bulk of the payload or the suggested titles were specific to my experience with that person e.g. “Jim Preis Has a Small Penis” or “A Small Penis Jim Preis Has” or “Jim Preis? Small Penis? Yes.” Not surprisingly, I proposed, “Everyone Eats Boogers”. This title actually has insight if you can get past the inherent poor taste, pardon the pun. The human experience is just that; human. Rarely does original thought occur and even rarer is the script of individual existence. Numbers don’t lie. If you’re one in a million in China, there are 1,300 people EXACTLY like you. If we neutralize the cultural deltas and societal memes and erase all the borders, then if you’re one in a billion, then there’s six other people exactly like you on Earth. The point to all of this is that the human experience to me means that everyone else either has or is likely to experience the things I’ve experienced so far in life. Birth, education, struggle, employment, love, marriage, children, catastrophe, recovery, depression, lust, consequence, addiction, embarrassment. By embracing this notion, I can and do eliminate the fear of sharing such intimate details here. Sure, verses or writings or Facebook statuses might be awkward, but they are still in the demesne of the human experience. This notion is captured - if not camouflaged by - the title, “Everyone Eats Boogers”. I’ve often pondered the benefit of peace and I’ve referred to it as the peace dividend. I find great comfort and peace in the fact that everyone eats boogers (don’t lie to yourself) because it represents the commonalities of the human experience. The point of all this blather is that if I admit that I’ve eaten a booger and I assume you’ve eaten a booger, then what we have is two people stripped down to truth and that’s the premise - no matter how yucky - that I write from.
OK, time for status updates.
First, Karen. Keeper of Gravel Brook Court, fixer of boo-boos, petter of dog and wife of mine. Karen’s doing well these days, but the irony is all that new-found time that she discovered when both boys are in school gets filled up with the stuff that simply has to get done all the same. Not to diminish a positive by any means; there’s a significant difference between harried efforts squeezed into random moments and being able to do those same things in a controlled, if not relaxed, manner that allows for a nominal amount of consideration and planning. Karen’s also done a great job of keeping her commitment to getting in some exercise during the week. She rides the rollers for 30 - 40 minutes each night while your’s truly hacks away on this keyboard. In summary, Karen’s gotten a little control back with regard to her schedule and it’s nice to see her out of the red zone. Hell, it’s nice to see her at all, but she has an affinity for cadence and regimen and with that comes back some of the sanity inherently lost as a parent.
I’m hanging in there as well. I’ve been plagued by one illness or injury after another: strep, sore throat, whatever the kids bring home and share, strained back. Fortunately - fingers crossed - I’m looking at all of that in the rear view right now and god health in general is within reach. Even with the strained lower back I managed to get in a ride with the family yesterday and I do believe the fresh air did me good. Actually I think it did us all a world of good. It’s time for a complete disassembly of my road bike, maintenance and then reassembly. I do this about once every 18 months to two years in addition to typical maintenance. I love doing this also. I’ve said before that cycling is in so many ways analogous to living and when I’m riding the bike shares the representation of the body on life’s journey. Certain things on the bike are black and white for example; I put 115 pounds of pressure in my tires. But the rear derailleur is half art and half science. The tension of the cable that controls the shifting of the rear derailleur is not a constant. Once under tension, that cable stretches minimally, but it’s enough to require an adjustment to keep the shifting crisp. And if there’s one thing you want when some steroid infused maniac jumps at 25 MPH, it’s a clean shift into a smaller cog in the back. Not so ironically from where I sit it’s probably time for me to join Karen in her commitment to improving her fitness. I had hoped to be in good cycling shape by this time, but riding out of doors in very cold weather would have only exacerbated my cold(s); and it simply would have been stupid to do with strep. So poised for moderate greatness is how I’ll choose to view my lot. And as always, very blessed and fortunate so long as I can see and love my wife and kids each and every day.
Thing 1, David, is doing wonderfully in transitional preschool. As much as I hate to admit it, his behavior is impacted by the amount of dairy in his diet. This saddens me because dairy with its five letters covers a whole lot of dietary acerage: pizza, ice cream, milk, cheese and the list goes on and on. The trade-off is a no-brainer, but it’s just something that I wish wasn’t. David’s also become quite the social being and we had concerns about that in previous years. Yet another thousand hours spent worrying unnecessarily. Now I know why first and second children are so different. Thing 1 is unknown and assumed to be fragile and gets jacketed by emotional Kevlar. Thing 2? You’ll be fine. David’s best friend in the world is a cutie named Sarah and the two of them together is an experience to put it mildly. It’s a rollercoaster where the peaks are moments when you would have though they hadn’t seen each other in 50 years and the troughs are contemptuous moments of unimaginable depth. But they’re always sad when they part. Perhaps mommy and daddy are already losing their deed to 100% of David’s heart. He’s on his way folks.
Thing 2, Camden, is as happy as happy can be. He’s doing very well at Frankie Lemmon and the changes and improvements we’ve seen him bring home give Karen and I much hope for Camden’s future. He’s already developing an independent spirit and as I’ve mentioned before independence is a critical piece in the challenge that is Down syndrome. His vocabulary is becoming more expansive and he understands the difference between words and numbers. He can count to 10 by himself and his vocabulary is probably between 100 to 200 words. He is also assembling coherent sentences, but not as frequently as we’d like to hear them. We’ll work on that. Camden is a virus magnet and he almost always seems to have a runny nose. It is our hope that at some point he’ll have traversed the complete inventory of common childhood viruses and come out the other side more resistant. If there is a consistent moment of challenge with Little C it would be at dinner when he chooses to fling a utensil - usually adorned with some quantity of delicious food my wife has cooked up - from the table. This will also get better as Karen and I work in concert to implement the tools and techniques that we learned more about this last week at one of the learning session provided by Frankie Lemmon. At the end of the day, it’s simply impossible to look at this little man with anything but unconditional love and the greatest of expectations.
Our family is truly fortunate and blessed beyond imagination. To wit, you’re reading this and we’re so glad you are.
Take care.
This time of the evening is always accompanied by a big exhale. One more day with the boys done. One more day of survival complete. One more day of doing the best with what we have brought to a close. I’m beginning to believe that when one approaches mid-life one chooses one of two paths: a mid-life crises or the transition to a mind set of reflection, living and planning. Given that crises will find us when they need to, I’ve selected the latter. I’ve definitely sought the meaning of life and rapidly come to the conclusion that this is a waste of time. What is not so much a waste of time is improving the quality of the life that remains. This isn’t rocket science or deep thought or metaphysics, but much more a desire to be a me that I like first and foremost and that not coincidentally others will like as well. Those that can tolerate me end up being labeled as friends and those that can’t tolerate me I’ll still cordially accept cards and gifts from.
Somehow this paragraph is completely unrelated to and at the same time intricately intertwined with the last. When I was in school I was forced to write. The responses I got were always a collection of adjectives like interesting, different, eclectic while at the same time garnering awards of C, D and F. Before I continue I should call attention to the inherent hypocrisy of a grading scale that follows A, B, C, D and F. I’ve only ever been truly able to write one way: one part insanity, two parts honesty, a dash of self-aggrandizing, a pinch of humor all in a broth of briny genuine. I do my best to make you feel as if I was either reading this to you or actually talking to you. I have gotten much unsolicited feedback regarding the stuff I post here and if I said that the feedback was encouraging that would fall short of accurately describing it. Overwhelmingly humbling with kindness would be a better description. I have a defect. OK, I have many defects, but let’s pretend for a moment that I’ve just one. In a very extroverted way I am publicly intimate with almost everyone I know. I do a very poor job of selecting people with whom I share intimate information. There are good things about this and there are less-than-optimal considerations to be examined. I polled my Facebook friends for the title of my first text and my friends did not disappoint. But like most things on Facebook, humor or sarcasm were a bulk of the payload or the suggested titles were specific to my experience with that person e.g. “Jim Preis Has a Small Penis” or “A Small Penis Jim Preis Has” or “Jim Preis? Small Penis? Yes.” Not surprisingly, I proposed, “Everyone Eats Boogers”. This title actually has insight if you can get past the inherent poor taste, pardon the pun. The human experience is just that; human. Rarely does original thought occur and even rarer is the script of individual existence. Numbers don’t lie. If you’re one in a million in China, there are 1,300 people EXACTLY like you. If we neutralize the cultural deltas and societal memes and erase all the borders, then if you’re one in a billion, then there’s six other people exactly like you on Earth. The point to all of this is that the human experience to me means that everyone else either has or is likely to experience the things I’ve experienced so far in life. Birth, education, struggle, employment, love, marriage, children, catastrophe, recovery, depression, lust, consequence, addiction, embarrassment. By embracing this notion, I can and do eliminate the fear of sharing such intimate details here. Sure, verses or writings or Facebook statuses might be awkward, but they are still in the demesne of the human experience. This notion is captured - if not camouflaged by - the title, “Everyone Eats Boogers”. I’ve often pondered the benefit of peace and I’ve referred to it as the peace dividend. I find great comfort and peace in the fact that everyone eats boogers (don’t lie to yourself) because it represents the commonalities of the human experience. The point of all this blather is that if I admit that I’ve eaten a booger and I assume you’ve eaten a booger, then what we have is two people stripped down to truth and that’s the premise - no matter how yucky - that I write from.
OK, time for status updates.
First, Karen. Keeper of Gravel Brook Court, fixer of boo-boos, petter of dog and wife of mine. Karen’s doing well these days, but the irony is all that new-found time that she discovered when both boys are in school gets filled up with the stuff that simply has to get done all the same. Not to diminish a positive by any means; there’s a significant difference between harried efforts squeezed into random moments and being able to do those same things in a controlled, if not relaxed, manner that allows for a nominal amount of consideration and planning. Karen’s also done a great job of keeping her commitment to getting in some exercise during the week. She rides the rollers for 30 - 40 minutes each night while your’s truly hacks away on this keyboard. In summary, Karen’s gotten a little control back with regard to her schedule and it’s nice to see her out of the red zone. Hell, it’s nice to see her at all, but she has an affinity for cadence and regimen and with that comes back some of the sanity inherently lost as a parent.
I’m hanging in there as well. I’ve been plagued by one illness or injury after another: strep, sore throat, whatever the kids bring home and share, strained back. Fortunately - fingers crossed - I’m looking at all of that in the rear view right now and god health in general is within reach. Even with the strained lower back I managed to get in a ride with the family yesterday and I do believe the fresh air did me good. Actually I think it did us all a world of good. It’s time for a complete disassembly of my road bike, maintenance and then reassembly. I do this about once every 18 months to two years in addition to typical maintenance. I love doing this also. I’ve said before that cycling is in so many ways analogous to living and when I’m riding the bike shares the representation of the body on life’s journey. Certain things on the bike are black and white for example; I put 115 pounds of pressure in my tires. But the rear derailleur is half art and half science. The tension of the cable that controls the shifting of the rear derailleur is not a constant. Once under tension, that cable stretches minimally, but it’s enough to require an adjustment to keep the shifting crisp. And if there’s one thing you want when some steroid infused maniac jumps at 25 MPH, it’s a clean shift into a smaller cog in the back. Not so ironically from where I sit it’s probably time for me to join Karen in her commitment to improving her fitness. I had hoped to be in good cycling shape by this time, but riding out of doors in very cold weather would have only exacerbated my cold(s); and it simply would have been stupid to do with strep. So poised for moderate greatness is how I’ll choose to view my lot. And as always, very blessed and fortunate so long as I can see and love my wife and kids each and every day.
Thing 1, David, is doing wonderfully in transitional preschool. As much as I hate to admit it, his behavior is impacted by the amount of dairy in his diet. This saddens me because dairy with its five letters covers a whole lot of dietary acerage: pizza, ice cream, milk, cheese and the list goes on and on. The trade-off is a no-brainer, but it’s just something that I wish wasn’t. David’s also become quite the social being and we had concerns about that in previous years. Yet another thousand hours spent worrying unnecessarily. Now I know why first and second children are so different. Thing 1 is unknown and assumed to be fragile and gets jacketed by emotional Kevlar. Thing 2? You’ll be fine. David’s best friend in the world is a cutie named Sarah and the two of them together is an experience to put it mildly. It’s a rollercoaster where the peaks are moments when you would have though they hadn’t seen each other in 50 years and the troughs are contemptuous moments of unimaginable depth. But they’re always sad when they part. Perhaps mommy and daddy are already losing their deed to 100% of David’s heart. He’s on his way folks.
Thing 2, Camden, is as happy as happy can be. He’s doing very well at Frankie Lemmon and the changes and improvements we’ve seen him bring home give Karen and I much hope for Camden’s future. He’s already developing an independent spirit and as I’ve mentioned before independence is a critical piece in the challenge that is Down syndrome. His vocabulary is becoming more expansive and he understands the difference between words and numbers. He can count to 10 by himself and his vocabulary is probably between 100 to 200 words. He is also assembling coherent sentences, but not as frequently as we’d like to hear them. We’ll work on that. Camden is a virus magnet and he almost always seems to have a runny nose. It is our hope that at some point he’ll have traversed the complete inventory of common childhood viruses and come out the other side more resistant. If there is a consistent moment of challenge with Little C it would be at dinner when he chooses to fling a utensil - usually adorned with some quantity of delicious food my wife has cooked up - from the table. This will also get better as Karen and I work in concert to implement the tools and techniques that we learned more about this last week at one of the learning session provided by Frankie Lemmon. At the end of the day, it’s simply impossible to look at this little man with anything but unconditional love and the greatest of expectations.
Our family is truly fortunate and blessed beyond imagination. To wit, you’re reading this and we’re so glad you are.
Take care.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)