Thursday, February 27, 2014
Review of The Loon (the audio story) by Michaelbrent Collings
Tuesday, February 5, 2013
being sick
sucks.
I was tempted to leave it at that. Since it's so true.
Last Wednesday afternoon I started feeling yucky. I can tell, its just that run down feeling. When you get up from a chair you moan a bit more than you normally do. Changing directions while heading somewhere in that sonambulatory walk causes you great grief and pain, and moaning. It started Wednesday. By Thursday morning, I knew it was full on, and I refused to goto work or wake up. I took it easy that day, and sat on the couch. Resting. Medicating. Resting. By Friday, IT had moved. IT is the malevolent name I call the unseen force working its way through my body, making slight alterations to it, all for the negative. IT started in my throat. IT remained there for a while, but got bored and branched out to other areas, touching it with its tentacles of hate, rendering that newly touched object functioning at 60% capacity. One by one IT makes its way across my body, inside and out, wreaking havoc. By Saturday IT had logged a full frontal attack on my sinuses, yet without the normal quantity of Mucus. Odd. IT had found a way to generate all the pain and discomfort of a sinus attack without any of the mucus to make me feel like I was waging war on IT by dispelling the foul liquid. IT finally relented by Sunday, allowing me the false sense of accomplishment by my forcibly removing as much of the foul substance as I could stand. Until my nose felt like it had lost a battle with several pipe cleaners. Thus Monday found me wondering around the land with a container of water in hand, in a fetal attempt to keep my throat wet, and a roll of toilet paper. Having given in to IT completely, I didn’t care if I wandered the inhabited world with a roll of toilet paper. When asked why, within minutes I was able to demonstrate the need and use of the tool that was always by my side. Yet, today, Tuesday, I awake without the telltale signs that I am still being inhabited by IT. IT seems to have vacated. All that is left of IT now is the bits and parts of my body that are still following ITs last instructions. They will do so for the rest of this day, and hopefully forget those foreign orders soon, returning to normal capacity and operating instructions. I hope. Because being sick sucks. And being sick for more than 1 day continues to suck.
Monday, January 28, 2013
helping friends
We started around 10am and figured we'd give a few hours of help to this family before being done. However, in the end, we spent over 6 hours with them, and this comprised many trips back and forth, moving many boxes and items, along with removal of enormous snow drifts both in front of and behind the new rental home. Much energy was expended by all Belt Family members. Much sweat was created. Happy memories of helping, working and being together with our immediate family and those Richins we have adopted into our family as more than mere friends. A Saturday well spent.
Thursday, January 24, 2013
Chili Cook Off
Last year I entered a white chicken chili into the contest, and took 3rd place. Woohoo.
This year, i will put a little more time into the preparation of the meal, and cross my fingers. I have also submitted this description to the judges to describe my chili.
I hope that above all, it tastes ok, and someone enjoys it. At best, I win something for the effort. At worst, its simply enjoyed.
Saturday, December 22, 2012
Seeing Him...
Seeing Him
In spite of the cold, it always makes me feel so young. It only happens once a year. Each year I yearn to experience it as if it were the first time that I remember from so many years ago. I yearn to believe and continue to believe. Although an entire year has been added to my age each time it happens, I quickly regress to the era before I was the one being called Dad. Back in time I would travel, to when I was eager to venture into the frigid night, to stand with rapt attention peering into the darkened sky, searching for the sign. The feelings welling up inside of me always cause me to reverse in age, if only for a brief stint. The excitement I experience, waiting to catch a glimpse of my oldest friend. I believe that he has always been there, though we only rarely commune. He is up there now, I know it. I’ve always known it. I believe it. High overhead; out of sight; never too far from my thoughts. For some, he has ceased to be. Luckily, this has not yet happened to me. As far back as I can recall I would brave the weather, entering into the cold night, to go through the annual ritual of seeing him again. Just on this one night and ever so briefly. In my mind’s eye I can make out every detail of him, along with his trusty steeds. Regardless of my age, or maybe because of it, the details seem always be clearer than they should be. When I was the child, the details were just bits and pieces of the whole vision. As I aged, the details would alter as my experiences were developed. What I never realized as that child from long ago was that all this vision started with a single color. The color red. No matter what was in the sky, at the suggestion of that blinking red light sailing overhead, the vision begins. Real or not, the rest of the dream wasn’t actually there at all. Yet it seemed then as clearly as it seems today to be so real. The rest of the details simply became real as it filled itself in; as I believed. Now I perform the role of the Dad, the ritual continuing, granting my children the opportunity to have their one on one encounter with him. To call him their friend as I have. The mere suggestion of that glowing red orb is all it takes to begin to paint the entire picture, and once again meet my old friend. I look forward to meeting him again and again and relish the chance to introduce him to each of my children with every passing year. On marches time, on continues the ritual, each year waxing and waning, and the belief gets stronger as the seasonal reunion approaches. I believe.