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The Comfort of Home

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Until this evening, I spent New Year’s Day in internet silence; and except for a run in the park, I stayed inside. I love inside. I love home. I love my stuff. So in honor of all those warm and materialistic feelings, here is a flashback to January 15, 2018: It’s happening now. Now! The Container Store came through with a design. The parts have been delivered, and installation will be complete in an hour or so. I’m stoked, but my energy is useless. I’m sitting on the couch just staying out of the way until I can jump into my favorite pastime: organizing. We came to New York with suitcases and had the luxury of living in a furnished apartment with all the essentials. For everything else, we were creative. I would vacuum the entire apartment with a dust buster. Instead of a ladle, we used a measuring cup, and who needs square baking sheets when your pizza can just hang off the edge of a rectangle baking sheet? I had forgotten ever having …

I love my problems!

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I have latched on to a new theory, borrowed from an idea in the book ‘The Subtle Art of Not Giving a F***’. Catchy, right? It is this: Life is a series of problems.  Wait, it gets better.  We spin our wheels working to graduate from one hierarchy of problems to the next. As soon as we conquer one set of problems, another begins. Hopefully, our new problems aren’t as bad as the old ones, but they’re still our own. So we fixate on them just the same.  Think about the approach to food by different economic classes. At the lowest level, people worry if they they will eat. Take a step up and the poor worry about quantity. Will there be enough?  The middle class is fixated on quality. Is it good? It’s the friend who invites you over for dinner, but you can’t get a word in around the self-deprecating critiques of the meal. Too much salt. Not enough salt. (I don’t cook so I literally can’t think of ANY OTHER spice that could make or break a meal….pepper?) Meanwhile, it never occurs to …

The Fathers Who Are More

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In my haste to find the perfect Father’s Day card at the last minute this morning, I went to CVS and read every card still in the stands. Struck by the quips and cartoons, I found that the messages on most covers relegated Dads to stereotypes and a basal list of responsibilities. If taken as true, what I was left to believe about Dads from my morning at CVS was this… Dads mow grass. Dads fire up the grill. Dads like power tools and muscle cars. Dads love dogs. Dads are really happy when they have control of the TV remote. Dads are even happier if they can drink beer and have control of the remote. Dads are happiest though, if you let them nap and do nothing. Dads really like to nap. Sure, there are the sentimental cards with less satire and more cursive, but in my humble opinion, most are full of fluff and void of sincerity. No card seemed worthy, because what I believe about a Father’s significance is so much more. …