Erik's theater camp teachers really seem to be nuts about him. What it does for me is remind me what an amazing little guy he is. What these ladies are teaching me is that I can't see him as just a pain in my butt. If I get stuck in that mode too much, I'll regret it. When they get those small doses of him where he is really showing off for them, they really can see him at his best. I too see his best qualities through out the day, but him not listening to me telling him to put his shoes on, things like that, are peppered in there too, making me lose sight of what an amazing little dude he is.

 Sometimes he will say something or figure something out on his own, and it makes Mrs. Noisewater and myself just think we are not exposing him to enough activities and challenges. Why have we not gotten him a musical instrument and lessons by now? I guess I'm hoping that if he has a calling for something it will just find him. I read a lot of rock star biographies, and those rock stars always had some moments where they decided they needed to play. The problem is that generation all had that awakening when they saw people like Elvis and The Beatles, and I do not know what in the heck is going to be the muse for these kids. 

Baseball he is good at though. Mostly because he is one of the only kids not picking dandelions or digging in the dirt when the ball comes. That's half the battle at this age. We really only have two kids who are watching the batter when the ball is hit, react to the ball to go get it, and know where to throw it. He is one of the two Bluejays can put all that together.

Desi is the sweetest thing ever. He wants to be independent so he will say "I want to do it myself" and then he will put way too much toothpaste or ketchup on something and make a giant mess. But again, that's the pain in the butt side that I don't want to focus on. Desi is the cuddliest little guy ever. When he wakes up in the morning he will crawl into bed and cuddle. Or if we are watching a movie he will crawl right into your lap. Those are the good moments that I really like to just take in and be present for. 

I'm still off the sauce (alcohol). The summer is going by fast, but I'm making sure I'm exercising, getting things around the house done, and working on my Master's hours every day. Oh, and remembering to pick the kids up. 

Mrs. Noisewater is out with some moms in the neighborhood. I applaud her efforts in making friends. We need some more dang friends sometimes - it feels like it anyway. Going out with some random dads would be a real challenge for me right now, especially without any beers. But I'm finding my way, navigating this world without booze, and learning a lot about myself. I still haven't really put it all into words yet, but I'm not quite ready to do that. 

Thanks for listening.

Shimee Shay's Bar & Grill

I haven't had a drink almost 3 months now, and I feel pretty great. I'm more present for things going on in my life, more aware, more in the moment. I feel healthier and happier, getting more done, and enjoying my time with my family more.

So that's that.

Hey, let me tell you about someone else who was drunk. A friend of mine was in town with his son (he wasn't the drunk one, nor was his offspring), and he was bringing his young boy to his first baseball game at Wrigley Field. This friend has been living in LA for years-and-years now, but he decided he would be damned before he let his son's first game be a Dodgers game. And guess what? His son had the ultimate Wrigley experience and will likely (read hopefully) be a Cub fan for life. He got onto the field before both games and got autographs, the whole 9. 

So onto the funny drunk person story. After I parted ways with my buddy at a rooftop hotel bar overlooking the ballpark (where I drank fake beers, staying the course) an attractive 20-something attractive gal approached me. Did I say attractive twice?

"Do you know where the karaoke place is over that way," she said, motioning south down Clark Street.

"Well, Murphy's Bleachers used to have some karaoke" I suggested, not knowing if this was still true all these years having gone by since I painted the town brown in that neighborhood.

"No, that's not it."

"Oh, well, you could for sure go to Trader Todd's. That's not far at all, on Belmont and Sheffield. They do karaoke 7 days a week."

"That's not it either. It's a big name," she said, spanning her arms out like jazz hands in either direction, looking deep into my eyes like I would get it. She might have been on something besides booze, now that I think about it. "The name is like . . . Shimee shay," she said in an epic, important-sounding manner, "Like that's not it, but it's like that."

"So that's not the name at all because that's nonsense, but that's like the rhythm of the name?"

"Yeah!" She said, thinking I got her.

I didn't. "I'm sorry I don't know this gibberish bar. I wish I could be of more help."

"It's okay," was the last thing she said to me as she joined her friends walking south bound, relaying to them that the guy she talked to didn't know where the bar was. I hope they found it. I walked away not wishing at all that I was drunk like her, but looking back fondly on those drunken adventures. I don't need any more of them, but they're nice to fondly look back on in the rearview.

Wedding Knocks Kenneth Hard Off The Wagon

 I talked myself into allowing myself to skip one day of the Dry January for a wedding I was attending. I allowed myself to take in input from people, knowing full well no one was going to say, "Stick with it!" No way. Everyone was saying, "Oh you got a babysitter overnight and a hotel? Just drink, man! And they just said what I needed to hear. 15 Miller Lites and a couple edibles later and I was hungover for 2.5 days. 

So, I'm back on that damn Chuck Wagon. 30 out of 31 days of the month still wouldn't be too bad. I intentionally bought and intentionally drank my first six pack of non alcoholic beer tonight. I just wanted to feel like a man with my beer in front of the TV for a must win Bulls game. I opted for Beck's non alcoholic skunktastic crappola slop. Wow. Mrs. Noisewater said to me, "You never go with a green bottle." Dang, she's right. Heineken, Becks, and Rolling Rock are all yucky. They taste green.

Green Hell

You know what else? 45-years-old feels old. The other night we were watching that Peacemaker show on HBO and that actor from Terminator 2 was in it, the T1000. Mrs. Noisewater was like, "Wow! He looks old." I told her, "Yeah, he is old. That came out in like 1991, and I was 14. You figure he was was like 30 then. And I'm 45 now, so he's gotta be . . . God damn, I'm 45? The T1000 is old and so am I. He can't run like that anymore and I never could.

T1000 vs the T45

But, I think this not drinking thing is going to be good for my health. There are even abdominal muscles trying to poke through. They're like, "Hey, there's no IPA and greasy hangover fat in here, now's our chance to shine!" Sorry abs, your asses are going right back into hiding in February when I go right back to my horrible patterns. Or will I? I just need to assess at the end of this month.

The family is good. Desi is a wild man still. We came home the day after that wedding to a freezing home. We went into panic that something was broken, but nope. That little two-year-old impish gremlin turned off the heat switch in the basement. Erik is still hilarious. Tonight when I was tucking him in the top bunk he was in was creaking like crazy. I said, "What is that?" He goes, "That's just my weight. I'm Lord Humongous." I love when my kids say goofy stuff back to me that I don't even realize I say. Lord Humongous is the big bad guy in "Road Warriors" who may or may not have been into some homosexual S&M stuff, but I think he got the name for having bulging muscles all over the place.

Just. Walk. Away. and Just. Go. To. Sleep, Erik Noisewater.

Okay, I'm out of here. Hoping to keep up these basement posts every few nights. I need your support, Seven Readers. Let's keep each other motivated. I'm off to do the rounds on the blog roll. Let me know if there's anyone else I should be reading. I've been out of the game too long and have lost tough. Bye.

Dry Stag Party For One

 I know I've been out of the blogging game for quite some time now, but I know that writing will help me get some thoughts out and feel better. When I go down a mangy rabbit hole of self-loathing, one of my plaguing thoughts that pops up is, "and you never write on your blog anymore, a-hole." So, it's good to get back on here more often.

I'm down in the basement . . . of our new house! That's right. We saved up and bought a house in Chicago. Certain things are really nice to have, like the unfinished man cave basement I'm typing from. I got a projector so I can watch the Bulls games on the wall, and there is a mini fridge and a bathroom down here. Mostly there are exposed pipes, laundry machines, Hot Wheels and Thomas tracks . . . So, it's a man and kid cave. But after 8pm it's like a stag film man dungeon down here.

"I think that's a booby!"

We also have a garage, and a lawn, things like that. We aren't talking a big lawn or anything. The people who lived here before gave us a lot of stuff in their garage, like the plug in lawn mower I use to mow the weeds, I mean grass. Mostly weeds. But, it's just nice to have storage to put things. In the condo we were always having a battle of how to pack more stuff in there, and we even had a storage unit at the end.

COVID is getting old, huh? Jesus. Our older son, Erik, has both his vaccination shots. He's 5-years-old now. Desmond is only 2-years-old, so there are lots of things that we are scared to take him to. This can make it tricky to find things to do for the whole family, especially in the winter where you can't be outdoors as long

Erik is a really good artist. He will come home from school and go right to an art project, and we have him in an art class on Sundays. He's also really good at math. We don't really teach him much; he just picks stuff up. Desi (that's what we call Desmond) is talking a lot more, which is great because we were worried when he seemed delayed. Being able to express himself better has greatly improved his behavior, but he is still bonkers and full of energy. Beating my old ass is hilarious to him. I turned 45 the other day, by the way. Jesus, how did that happen?

Sorry it wasn't too funny this day, and I'm not the writer that I used to be. But I need to start somewhere. 

Oh, one more thing I wanted to talk about: Dry January. The first weekend was brutal for me, and I was extremely crabby tonight too. I have a weird relationship with alcohol. I feel so at ease when I have a couple, but then I really don't get a whole lot done. Then the next day I'm hungover, and then Monday I'm tired as hell. I have been walking by various forms of booze in the house and my mind plays tricks on me, just like the little devil on my shoulder in the movies. "Why are you even doing this dry January? What will it prove? You'll feel better if you just have one craft beer." So I eat a lot of junk food and cheese instead. And I knock down sparkling waters like you wouldn't believe. And I'm only 10 days into the month! I will say that I'm working out a lot more, and on Saturday I cleaned the entire house. I have been starting to think to myself if this is super hard for me to do, then maybe I should do a dry every month? I'll see how I'm doing at the end of January. The problem is that there is a wedding to attend next weekend. Those are tough to do sober. You'll be the first to know how that goes, Seven Readers. See you next time.