Friday, March 31, 2006, posted by Q6 at 11:02 AM
Darrell Clark
1970-2006
Darrell was my kids' stepfather. He loved them as if they were his own, but always respected the fact that I was their father, and for that I will always be grateful. He was good to his wife, his daughter, and my kids, and he'll be missed by a great many people.Darrell always seemed to me to be a "self-made" man. He did not follow the philosophy that each of us has a place in this world--he made his place in this world. He had many plans for himself, his family, and his business, and it is nothing short of a tragedy that his stay in this world was brief.My hope is that his wife will continue on in his tradition, and make a place for herself in this world--keeping his memory alive, but not forgetting herself. It's been hard, these last few days, watching her go back and forth from rock-solid to mildy catatonic; and while things didn't work out for her and me way back when, I truly hope things work out for her in the future.
Monday, March 20, 2006, posted by Q6 at 10:24 PM
Each of us, at some point in childhood, has pledged to right a wrong. No person has ever traversed the line between childhood and parenthood without uttering a statement that begins, "When I'm a parent . . . " It's something that is ingrained in the human psyche. That's not to say that my parents committed some horrible offense that deserved eternal punishment, it's just that each of us wants to do for our children something that we wish we had way back when. For my son, it's the peanut butter and jelly sandwich. The ratio of peanut butter to jelly had always been an issue for me, and the lack of sufficient jelly on my sandwich finally led me to that fateful day when I switched completely to turkey and cheese. Each day, as I make my son's lunch, I first apply the peanut butter, then the jelly. As I apply the mountain of Concord Grape on the other slice of bread, I think to myself, "I never had this much, but my son will ALWAYS have this much."People say that it's the little things in life that make it worthwhile. I don't care how expensive jelly gets--there will always be a lot of jelly.
, posted by Q6 at 10:22 PM
I have never, to my knowledge, eaten a microwaved baked potato. Growing up, my baked potatoes have always been baked, for roughly an hour, in an oven. These are the only baked potatoes I have ever eaten, and I have difficulty wrapping my head around the idea that someone can achieve in eight minutes what has taken, over the course of my lifetime, an hour.
That being said, my girlfriend microwaved a potato this weekend in my very own microwave, and achieved the same result with which I am accustomed. I love her dearly, but I still prefer my baked potatoes to be oven-baked. That’s all I’m saying.
Sunday, March 19, 2006, posted by Q6 at 9:19 PM
For the record, my new high bowling score is 185. Five strikes in a row to pull that off, I might add.
Friday, March 03, 2006, posted by Q6 at 6:16 PM
My hairline is something of a mystery to me. I have a solar panel in the back, and a rapidly-forming cul-de-sac in the front. I’ve told myself (and many others) that as soon as the two started to collide, I would shave my head completely. There would be none of this “ring-of-hair-around-my-head” for me. Fortunately, there is a growing number of hair-care products out there for people who shave their heads: special razors, special head lotion . . .buffing cloths . . . whatever.
When I’ve shaved my head in the past, I get one of three responses: “It’s much too hard a look for you,” as if to suggest that guys with bald heads and goatees should only wrestle professionally before launching a gubernatorial campaign; “I think you should shave your head if that’s what you want to do,” indicating that I look better with hair; and “Did you do something different?” which tells me something about the people I hang out with.
Anyway, I have shaved my head once again—for good, this time—and people genuinely don’t seem to care one way or another. Which is fine by me. I’m saving six bucks a month on shampoo.
