Saul Good and Co.

Word

You know that feeling when you're working on a writing thing and it's going well and you're more excited about it than you have been about a writing thing in a long time? That's me in my head right now. It's a fairly ideal place to be, chasing that euphoria. Something I've definitely been missing. We'll see how long I can go with this project before the bloom is off the rose, but that intoxication that comes from being immersed in something is too good not to just revel in for as long as it lasts.

This weekend I get to go to Maine, which is also exactly the kind of thing that floats my boat. I was only up there two months ago, but the opportunity arose, and my grandmother can't travel like she used to, so away we go.

I've got a rotating stable of things that are pissing me off, too, so I think I can schedule in a good old fashioned rant next week.

All Porkchops and Applesauce

DING DONG my work event is over. Did you even know I had a work event? I think I pulled off a pretty neat trick of stifling my lead-up bitching this year. Anyway, it was a success, even fun in parts. And now it's over so I can get back to my regular schedule of doing whatever it is I do in non-event time. I will say that I am spent, y'all, and I feel so lucky that I only put in hours like I did yesterday once a year, because seeing HR for half an hour total is not for me. Who would not miss this face?

There was a weekend that happened, too, and it was pretty knock-out, as they go. I got to hold and squeeze and cuddle and smell and gawk at my new nephew-person, and that is an elusive and wondrous activity. HR made a new fwend at the playground which turned into a rare impromptu playdate, my parents came in for a couple of nights and my dad and I got to form a trivia team and win it all because we are awesome. So I think it's safe to say things are swell, overall. Let's keep up that swell MFing momentum.

Jam ON It

In honor of it being throwback Thursday and all, and in the spirit of me being straight out at work planning our huge annual event (over Monday, thank jebus), I'm wasting a perfectly good entry on a one-purpose update.

PEOPLE: I have chosen this year's summer jam. Usually I give the honor to something current, but nothing on the radio  is lighting my fire and this song, The Talking Heads' "This Must Be The Place (Naive Melody)," is deceptively breezy and puts everything in the clearest and most beautiful perspective. In other words, perfect for summer. And every other time. It might be my favorite song in the world that isn't "Africa."

 

Back to your (now-clearly-much-improved) lives.

Summer Bloggin'

I have to record this day as the day when I'm excited about summer, because if the thermometer tops 90 this afternoon like it's supposed to, I'll already be over it by tomorrow. I'm aware it's not even technically summer yet, but that matters not to an old humbug like myself. If I can't be at a beach or pool, summer is useless to me, so bring on sweater weather and to heck with the rest of you heat-loving jerks.

That said, the things for which to be excited:

-Driving with the windows down and Violent Femmes blaring (check that off the list today)

-Christening my sister and brother-in-law's new deck

-Camping (like, just shy of a month from today, what is this madness?)

-Dean Ween Band at the Beachcomber. It's happening. Who is with me?

-Uptick in the pedicure-and-ice-cream budget to make up for the decrease in the heating bill

-Spontaneous adventures

-Designated Song of the Summer and Cocktail of the Summer (I have yet to make this decree, I'm way behind. Stay tuned to receive your orders about what to like.)

-Everything smelling of coconut

-Catching up on shows I missed during the regular season (I'm thinking Fargo and Orphan Black, but I'm open to suggestion)

-The long overdue YA reading blitz.

That's a good start. Maybe if I periodically refer to this list I can retain my appreciation for the season beyond one day.

Or, I can hunker in the a/c and watch musicals. Seems like an equally good use of time.

Papa's Turn

I love my dad. Big friggin deal, most people love their dads. But if you haven't met him (if you have met him, you already know), it's imperative to understand that URV-REE-BODY loves my dad. He's got a bigger fanclub than Bieber and Miley combined, and that is barely an exaggeration. So to get to be in the inner circle of his love is everything. Not that he's stingy with his affections, not by any means. But to be one of his family is to occupy a special spot the right hand of The Man. He doesn't think this way about himself, mind you. But it's something rooted in the marrow of my lucky bones.

I am approaching the age when a lot of people don't have a dad anymore. And I do not take this fact for granted. I try not to think about the alternative, and I'm mostly successful. But I'm aware of it. Dad lost his own father in his early teens, and it's a credit to my grandmother, my aunts, and my late grandfather for being such an indelible presence in his relatively short life that my father was able to take on the role with such natural ease when the time came. Simply put, you may think that you have the best dad in the world. And you are just, frankly, mistaken.

I won't go on with a laundry list of PP's attributes, or write a Marcia Brady contest-winning essay detailing why this is so. I just want to pay tribute to the man because, you know, Father's Day approaches. And I never want to think that I didn't do it when I had the chance.

Dad, you're not going anywhere anytime soon. But I want to tell you that the ways in which I am like you are some of the best things about me, and they are hardly any of my doing. I may not have inherited your outgoingness, or your larger-than-life persona, but my easygoing side is all you. My inability to not sing a song lyric when someone's words remind me of one is all you. My stubborn, defend-the-thing-I-love-at-all-costs side that can be so infuriating comes from you. It can be frustrating in the moment, but carries with it this important underlying truth: if I love you as much as I love a place, so much that I will bury myself under a mountain of faulty logic to convince you that it is magical when it's flat-out unlovable to the casual observer, I will go to bat for you twice as hard. Thrice. Infinite times. I grew up with that rock-solid assurance. And I want to do the same for my own little family.

I didn't need a popular song to teach me one of the most important lessons I learned from you and it is this: Dance. Always dance.

Happy Father's Day, Dad. Thank you for coming to all my field hockey games even though it made you want to stick a fork in your eye. I've been so lucky to be your daughter, and making you a grandfather was one of the greatest joys of my life.

 

From Sybil to Saul and Back Again

Something moved me to revisit the archives of this blog, and I don't mean the current version of this blog, but Avengingsybil's origins, circa 2004. Some people who read this know what it was all about, other people probably not. I wonder about the ratio among the tens of current readers. If you didn't know, here's the intro to what grew out of a grad school project and blossomed into a personal crusade and eventually wilted via my own neglect. In my heart of hearts I still believe in the mission. And I'm not done with it yet, not done with Young Adult literature by a long shot. In light of the slew of recent articles engaging in "YA encompasses real craft" vs. "It's all dumb and for girls, therefore extra dumb and you should be ashamed of reading it" discourse, I feel like it's timely to come back to my roots. Not that I've read anything recent, as I have lamented again and again. I just want to go on record as being on the side of good literature, and I choose to mine from YA because I believe there is still so much misconception and condescension directed toward it.

Look people, I'm still passionate! I'm still angry! I'm maybe not still relevant, but when has that ever stopped me? I've just been quiet. And it feels kind of groovy to have that sense of righteous purpose re-ignited. I don't mean to rest on my early-millennial laurels and the work already done when there's so much more to do. Also, I'm not giving up this blog in its current whatever-ness. My unformed plan is to unite the two, use the space for not just updates about my family and TV viewing, but some literary dish as well. So expect that, if you are into that. I'll give you plenty of warning  a la my dance show recaps so you can avert your eyes.

Here we go, here we go again.

 

 

Down Wit OPB

This weekend stood out for numerous reasons, but number one with a bullet was the birth of our newest nephew. He and Mom are doing great, and though I won't meet him for another week at least, I already know that he is perfect and I can't wait to squish him. Baby squishing is my business, and business just got good.

(Me + babies)

There was also an extended family dinner, a Saturday wander in the beautiful weather and a long overdue afternoon-into-evening of catching up with a very dear friend while our boys burned through their energy in tandem. As always, there's no excuse for getting together as little as we do and the fun visit--from which I reluctantly decamped because my boy wanted to go to sleep in his own bed, kids and their dang needs--served as a great reminder.

I'm aware that this is the boringest blog when nothing is grinding my gears. But it's OK because it means I'm feeling pretty great and there's that matter of the new little life in our world, which is headline news for me. In conclusion, babies.

Pomp

June, 2011:

HR has been sleeping through the night consistently for quite some time now, which is the best thing in the world. Almost the best thing. He wakes every morning around 5 and we've developed a routine of getting him a bottle right away and bringing him into bed with us. After he's had his morning milk, we all usually go back to sleep, for up to 2 1/2 more hours. That bit of extra sleep all together is the best thing. It's become one of my favorite parts of the day. And there is nothing like a babbling little chap with wild bedhair poking you awake and rewarding you with a huge, six-toothed smile. I know this can't go on forever, but I'm loving it while it does.

It feels like HR's dependence on his bottle will go on forever and I'm inclined to get frustrated about it, but I know that will come to an end when he's ready. In the meantime we just keep offering him the sippy cup. As with the sleep thing it will probably come down to a standoff, and there will be tears, but I'm not going to rush him just now. And that's that.

June, 2014:

 

 

 

In case you were wondering, we successfully got him off the bottle without a major production, he eventually got more teeth, and though his sleep has progressed and regressed a million times since 2011, the bedhair never changed. And damn if that wasn't the fastest three years in recorded history. The things you think will last forever....

101-er

I realized, after the fact, that yesterday's entry was my 100th in this particular blog incarnation. That came up fast, especially considering I haven't been so diligent at the updating and whatnot. And it seems like such an insignificant milestone, because I've had 100th entries before. And 500th entries. And 8-year markers. Hi, I'm Saul Good and I am a serial online journal-er. I can't help myself. I'll be doing this until the medium is dead and move on to the next one. I have a lot to say that I guess I'm just not saying elsewhere. And where else can I make a pointless list? Exactly. Anywhere. But this is the place that someone else might read it and be reminded of the best things, because obviously I only tell you about the best things.

101 of the Best Things for 101 Entries (Not Overly Thought Out, Barely Annotated and Presented in No Order Whatsoever)

1 - new haircuts

2- lilacs

3- yoga

4- Stanley Tucci

5- pedicures

6- sopping up red sauce with crusty bread

7- babies

8- online pals

9- dancing

10- Patti Smith

11- Judy Blume

12- snuggle buggle ruggle time with my kid

13- camping

14- Red Sox baseball

15- beer

16- Thanksgiving

17- Mindy Kaling

18- packing for vacation

19- discovering a new band

20- sibling time

21- Netflix

22- "after a day at the beach" smell

23- sex. I mean, come on, we're all grown-ups here

24- New Edition

25- pub crawls

26- Portland

27- Portsmouth

28- Portlandia

29- Happy Endings, RIP

30- falling asleep when you're really bone-tired

31- fall

32- Ted Levine

33- Auntie Mame

34- more books than can ever be read in a lifetime (sounds like a challenge)

35- rose ice cream

36- Community, RIP

37- looking at old pictures

38- sand dollars

39- sangria when the thermometer hits 70

40- Hair

41- girlfriends time

42- alone time

43- E.B. White

44- my Pup

45- Tales of the City

46- family hugs

47- Trader Joe's

48- living in a walking city

49- Gene Kelly

50- coffee with cream

51- Mel Brooks

52- Everybody Knows This is Nowhere

53- Paris

54- Bob's Burgers

55- Cards Against Humanity

56- friend vacations

57- avocadoes

58- Rock Band

59- campfires

60- champagne - pop-POP!

61- One Night in Bangkok

62- popcorn for dinner

63- mixtapes

64- laughing to the point of tears

65- Jesus Christ Superstar

66- matzoh ball soup

67- seeing someone after so, so long

68- Jaws

69- breakdancing

70- the unselfconsciousness of little kids

71- french fries

72- BRINGIN' ON THE HEARTBREAAAAAAAAK

73- Modcloth

74- binge-watching

75-  binge-reading

76- strawberry pop tarts

77- Maurice Sendak

78- wedding weekends

79- libraries

80- towels fresh from the dryer

81- playing dj at home

82- spiral, lined notebooks

83- those hot pink roses that grow by the ocean

84- Q-Tip

85- Hedwig and the Angry Inch

86- pancakes

87- being pregnant. I'm not, for the record. I just really loved it when I was.

88-

 

89- A Charlie Brown Christmas

90- So You Think You Can Dance

91- cheese

92- seeing my favorite band live, even the bazillionth time

93- my growing-up friends

94- my grown-up friends

95- my little family, bien sur

96- my big, extended family

97- other people's birthdays

98- reading with HR

99- marriage equality

100- pub trivia

101- that I could easily name 101 more.

Jump in any time if you want to add something I obviously forgot.

June Magic

I am wrung out from celebrating my own personal non-college-related reunion. It all went so fast, as always. And I already miss my guys. Here's to not letting another year or five go by before doing it again. It was worth all the recovery I'm still needing.

HR has one day of school left after today, and so has decided to observe this milestone in the form of reverting to first-week levels of separation anxiety. Just when I thought we could go a week without child related heartbreak, there have been tears at drop-off the last two times. Bodes well for full-day pre-k next year. I know he'll champion up, but that vulnerability kills and kills and kills me some more.

One of these days I will stop plastering this space with so many pics of my boy. Maybe.

Apart from that, there's something in the air. I'm feeling alive as all get-out. I'm a supernova. Let's dance.