If you're looking for a horror novel with serious puppetry, Being John Malkovich level marionette skills, then check out the new Grady Hendrix novel How to Sell a Haunted House . . . some of the scenes get a little long winded, but the book is very scary, very funny, and very Southern gothic (and once again, set in Charleston) AND there is an amazing bonus flashback set piece chapter set in Boston back when one of the main characters dropped out of college and joined a radical puppet collective with demonic and anarchic tendencies-- brilliant stuff . . . and Pupkin is a worthy villain and the book has a satisfying (and fairly logical, considering the subject matter) resolution . . . Grady Hendrix is a national treasure.
The Required Amount at the Prescribed Rate (Handcrafted From the Finest Corinthian Leather)
Wild Times
Thus Endeth the Streak
I played pickle ball today and tennis Thursday and Friday, and I did not fall down on any of those days . . . good times.
NCAA Weirdness Has Selected New Jersey
Tennis: First Day!
Whirlwind day: reverse schedule because of testing; Cunningham had a mental breakdown because of the positioning of her horizontal oblique fetus, and the fact that she needs to buy a car, get married, do a million parent/teacher conferences, get married, plan all her classes, and grade all her stuff . . . all before the baby pops out (although if she gets chased by a fungus person, it will pop out faster than you can say "Ellie) and while I'd never wish a mental breakdown on someone, it did make me less stressed about our first tennis practice . . . things went well, I raced out of school, drove home, let the dog out, made some coffee, and made it to the courts on time-- we only had ten kids out today but that's not bad for the first day, expecting a few more; we focused on the forehand today and did two forehand games-- one where you CANNOT hit a winner-- you can only score by hitting deep topspin forehands, past the service line, until the other person screws up-- and you get TWO points if they hit the net; the other where the server only gets one serve and the returner gets THREE shots, including the return, to win the point-- so in one game you consistent heavy forehands, like Nadal, until you wear your opponent out-- in the other you try to hit forehand winners-- very fun (and I got to play and absolutely crushed it . . . although I didn't play Ian or Ethan, who will be one and two) and then I got home fro tennis and Catherine was at the chiropracter so I got right to work on dinner and made some delicious homemade meatballs (with the help of Hello Fresh) and she was very appreciative-- and now all I need is Auburn to win and I'll be in good shape.
What The Kids Are Up To . . .
Mark Leyner vs. The Internet
Back to Belleayre (But Better)
My Boss is the Best
Yesterday, I had leftover tilapia for lunch and I needed some gum before I went back to class and breathed on the students and even though my boss was on the phone when I barged into her office, she fished some gum out of her purse and gave it to me (she said she went into multi-tasking mode, like she does when dealing with her two pre-school age children).
Cold Times in Laramie
If you're looking for a grim, bloody, disturbing podcast that investigates the unreliability of memory and the possibility that all first-person accounts are distorted and tainted-- a podcast that will make you question your own memory of the life you thought you knew, then check out the newest Serial production: The Coldest Case in Laramie . . . but it's a fucking bleak story set in a bleak place and I've listened to seven of the eight episodes and I doubt there will be a satisfying resoution.
A Podcast is Worth 10,000 Words
I converted one of my podcasts to text (using Otter.ai) and then cleaned it up and made it into a blog post and it turns out that a podcast is a lot of words, a whole lots of words . . . so if you want to read a whole lot of words, here it is: "Tomorrow I Will Play Video Games, Tomorrow."
Adulting 201
Delayed Reaction Dave
So I was going up for a rebound Saturday and some kid continued to box me out, even though I was in the air, and I took a hard horizontal fall but I felt okay yesterday-- good enough to play pickle ball (but not soccer) but this morning I felt like I'd been hit by a train-- mainly on the right side of my body, where I hit the floor, but I was also having trouble turning my neck-- but after trudging through my day, I went out with Ian and hit some tennis balls and then we played a game of 21 and though we weren't playing hard, i almost beat him-- got to 19, made one free throw and then missed the next one, sending me back down to 11 . . . anyway, I'm drinking a Swamp Donkey Pale Ale right now, and hoping when I wake up tomorrow I feel a bit less sore.
Anyone Seen This Guy Lately?
Yikes
I went up for a rebound today while playing four-on-four basketball with my son and somehow got my legs swept out from under me and hit the floor hard-- and my body was horizontal-- I think I came down on my right elbow and right arm and my right hip . . . I hot so hard my glasses flew off, but-- miraculously-- I did not hit my head on the floor and after a moment to shake it off, I was able to get up and continue playing-- but I might be sore tomorrow.
Sports: The Great and the Terrible
I got one sporting birthday gift for my birthday, and one sporting slap in the face:
1) Alex and Ian played together in a volleyball tournament yesterday and they did NOT get into any kind of altercation . . . unlike the last time they played some sports together . . . so this made me very happy, the fact that they played together on the same team, cooperated, and had a good time-- wonderful stuff;
2) then, once the boys got home, we sat down to eat chicken parm and watch Rutgers basketball close out the Minnesota game-- Rutgers had a comfortable lead the entire game, and we were all sitting there-- like old times-- so our dog Lola was incredibly happy and content to have her entire pack together at last-- and then Rutgers imploded and there was much yelling, even from my wife, and Lola got scared and Rutgers blew a ten point lead in the last minute-- I'm not sure why they didn't pressure the ball at the end of the game, or why they had guys in the paint when the only way they could lose was the three-pointer, but they figured out a way to squander that lead, it was like the fever dream of Reggie Miller when he scored 8 points in 8 seconds to beat the Knicks.
Dave and The Good Doctor Celebrate Yet Another Birthday With Some Doggerel Rhymes
The day has arrived,
the day of my birth--
And while the good doctor
has passed from this place,
I'm still hanging on
still running the race,
still working the job,
still writing the posts,
still chasing the lob,
still taunting the ghosts--
I've been knocking around
for fifty-three years,
my knees are a wreck,
I can barely quaff beers--
but while I can walk,
stand and not fall,
I'll remain in the game
and play pickleball.
Various Kinds of Door Decorating
Contingency Waist Plan
If I acquire a big beer belly, I'm wearing my friend Cunningham's pregnancy jeans!