This morning I was a grouch. Sleep issues, followed by a steaming cup of ass-monkey brand coffee (we ran out of the good grind), zapped the jingle from my jangle and had me thinking about moving to Australia.
This afternoon was another story. I was out riding my bike, again, of course. Correction: I was out riding my spectacular new red and white, carbon, Specialized Epic 29er full-on, race rig on a ribbon of white, snowy, icy, slushy fun that is the normally mind-numbing South Platte bike path. I was loving life on this unexpectedly righteous ride and thinking: "This makes me happy. What else makes me happy?"
Of course, The Kelly, Beckett and Rhys show instantly flashed on in my mind movie. I'm a lucky man.
Then, I thought about one of my long held, simplistic, personal values: I'm pro happy people. I believe people should do what makes them happy, when possible, and as long as it doesn't unreasonably impact the happiness of others. "Are Kelly, Beckett, and Rhys happy?" I wondered,"What makes them happy? I should ask them."
So, I did. I marched in the house and still dress in my soggy, silly cycling gear, I sat the boys down at our dinner table. Not trying to take too serious a tone, they are tiny little dudes, after all, I said, "Boys, it's important to me that you are happy. Are you happy?"
I planned to type their, "What makes you happy?" responses into the good ol' laptop but the battery was dead. The Post-Its turned out just right, I think. Kelly, Rhys and I all had a laugh with Beckett's babbled answers. He was trying to say something, I assure you that, but all I could make out was, "Deed do wait. Ha do do. Yah."
Rhys didn't really get my drift, at first, but after listening intently to Kelly's loving replies he did a great job (Rhys loves to say, "I did a great job, Daddy!?). His answers where so sweat and concise and stated exactly as I recorded them.
Kelly did say, "And Pebe! (his grand mother)" at the end but Beckett, sitting on my lap with Rhys, started licking the table. Rhys took exception to this discourteous act and a minor dust up ensued at my midline. So, without noting Kelly's last happiness, I nabbed the sticky notes, told Rhys I need his help pushing buttons and dragged him into the office to help me scan away. Kelly selected the photos and Beckett edited my horrifyingly poor grammar and fixed numerous typos that littered the text. It was a team effort. It was a happy day.
My next post, titled the Common Loon, will examine Kelly's odd obsession with bird books. Stay tuned.
This afternoon was another story. I was out riding my bike, again, of course. Correction: I was out riding my spectacular new red and white, carbon, Specialized Epic 29er full-on, race rig on a ribbon of white, snowy, icy, slushy fun that is the normally mind-numbing South Platte bike path. I was loving life on this unexpectedly righteous ride and thinking: "This makes me happy. What else makes me happy?"
Of course, The Kelly, Beckett and Rhys show instantly flashed on in my mind movie. I'm a lucky man.
Then, I thought about one of my long held, simplistic, personal values: I'm pro happy people. I believe people should do what makes them happy, when possible, and as long as it doesn't unreasonably impact the happiness of others. "Are Kelly, Beckett, and Rhys happy?" I wondered,"What makes them happy? I should ask them."
So, I did. I marched in the house and still dress in my soggy, silly cycling gear, I sat the boys down at our dinner table. Not trying to take too serious a tone, they are tiny little dudes, after all, I said, "Boys, it's important to me that you are happy. Are you happy?"
I planned to type their, "What makes you happy?" responses into the good ol' laptop but the battery was dead. The Post-Its turned out just right, I think. Kelly, Rhys and I all had a laugh with Beckett's babbled answers. He was trying to say something, I assure you that, but all I could make out was, "Deed do wait. Ha do do. Yah."
Rhys didn't really get my drift, at first, but after listening intently to Kelly's loving replies he did a great job (Rhys loves to say, "I did a great job, Daddy!?). His answers where so sweat and concise and stated exactly as I recorded them.
Kelly did say, "And Pebe! (his grand mother)" at the end but Beckett, sitting on my lap with Rhys, started licking the table. Rhys took exception to this discourteous act and a minor dust up ensued at my midline. So, without noting Kelly's last happiness, I nabbed the sticky notes, told Rhys I need his help pushing buttons and dragged him into the office to help me scan away. Kelly selected the photos and Beckett edited my horrifyingly poor grammar and fixed numerous typos that littered the text. It was a team effort. It was a happy day.
My next post, titled the Common Loon, will examine Kelly's odd obsession with bird books. Stay tuned.
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