So, the day started with Alaya waking us up before 8:00. Like it was a fucking weekday. Sadly, I just wanted to sleep a little longer, but that dream was lost. There was really no reason for any of us to get up so early. Teegan’s graduation wasn’t until two.

Eventually, everyone got dressed and ready. Teegan was picked up by a friend and whisked away to the ceremony. What a big day for him. High school graduation. The weight of that will likely settle upon him after the fact.

Yvette took off early to meet her mother and try to snag some good seating while I waited for my mother to come get me around one-thirty. We arrived to find that parking was fucking hell. I mean, rude-ass people trying to drive around us to get a spot. It was utter chaos.

When we finally made it inside, I was shocked by just how good the seats Yvette found were. Front row seats. The best seating in the house. Dead center and almost right on top of Teegan. It’s a little shocking to this introvert who doesn’t like attention. I don’t like being in front. It was funny when he saw us because he was looking up and around, not expecting us to basically be in his face. I could tell he was very happy.

The ceremony was great, if not a little long. The valedictorian speech left a lot to be desired, but the kid had heart. About halfway through, when Teegan was called to walk the stage, he looked good. Someone with an untrained eye who didn’t know better wouldn’t have noticed he was wearing a knee brace. He did a great job concealing the limp.

I couldn’t help but think about my own high school graduation. We were outside in the elements. I remember sitting in the stands at San Angelo Stadium—the wind threatening to blow my cap off and the summer sun blaring down on me—sweating my ass off under that gown. The ceremony was long, and I didn’t know a single person seated next to me. Twenty-six years later, I am seated in the stands, in a controlled environment with AC, watching my son’s long graduation ceremony with the love of my life seated next to me.

When it was over, it was already five by the time we got home. Teegan was off to a graduation party, Lola was doing God knows what, and the baby was over at the in-laws’, so it was just Yvette and me for dinner.

A nice quiet evening. Or so we assumed. A storm was brewing.

Yvette went to grab Alaya, and while she was gone, the rain came down in sheets. The wind was howling. I sat on Teegan’s tailgate and enjoyed it.

That was until Lola called her mom needing to be picked up from a party twenty minutes outside of town—in the middle of a fucking thunderstorm. I swear. We loaded up—Yvette, Alaya, and I. Yvette was clearly frustrated, and I made matters worse by pointing out how stupid it was. Eventually, I said that Alaya and I were staying home because the girl didn’t need to be out in that weather.

So that night, Alaya and I watched The Secret Life of Pets. Not the first time I had seen it, but possibly the first time I had actually watched it. I mean, it’s on all the time, but always in the background. It was a rather enjoyable film with good laughs and a great amount of heart. Alaya was the perfect date for the evening. She never once cried and eventually shut her eyes and drifted away to dreamland.

Not at all how I wanted to spend my Saturday night, but nevertheless, a good end cap to a great damn day.

Sunday was a gender reveal party. I had no idea I would be going to that, so I wasn’t really prepared for that kind of excitement. Oh well, I was along for the ride. To my pleasant surprise, they had picked up party trays from Olive Garden. Spaghetti and meatballs, lasagna, chicken Alfredo, and house salads. Of course—breadsticks out the wazoo.

I had secretly been craving some Olive Garden, although I still haven’t actually eaten at the one in town. It was probably twenty years ago when I last ate at an Olive Garden in Austin. I was there for a concert, and that’s where we ended up the following day—hungover—before driving back home. Funny that I specifically remember that adventure.

Let me come back from memory lane…

 At the party, I helped myself to the fantastic food. I did a good job of avoiding the carbs and still managed to fill my belly. A scratch had been itched, although I’d still like to actually eat inside the restaurant someday, if for no other reason than to say I had. I mean, it’s been open for probably twenty years. What has been keeping me away? The answer, of course, is that I can find better local Italian food elsewhere. So why would I go? It’s not like I can partake in endless breadsticks now, can I?

Everyone was asked to pick what they thought the baby would be. Well, since I was the guy who ordered the colored powder fire extinguishers, it didn’t seem fair for me to pick. I was one of two people who knew the baby would be a boy. Instead of picking, I asked AI—ChatGPT—what it thought the gender would be. A girl. Dead wrong, you fool. Oh well.

When the big reveal finally happened and the blue powder went flying, you could visibly tell that the soon-to-be mother was a tad disappointed. She wanted a girl. Oh well, it is what it is. I’m sure once the initial shock dissipates, she’ll learn to accept fate. What else can one do?

After the reveal, Yvette dropped me off at the house while she took off to her parents’. I was able to get some quiet reading in. Rare moments of silence in a house with a baby and three other people. I took advantage of it. Sadly, I was halfway through the graphic novel Providence. I wasn’t wanting it to end. I was enjoying it too damn much.

That night we all had dinner. Teegan and I decided to watch The Ministry of Ungentlemanly Warfare. A great flick that we had both seen on different occasions. A Guy Ritchie film—which are always good fun. Set during WWII, the movie dramatizes the true story of Operation Postmaster, a daring 1942 covert mission by British operatives to disrupt Nazi U-boat operations. Churchill recruits a rogue team of commandos with orders to abandon traditional rules of engagement, meaning they use unconventional and entirely “ungentlemanly” fighting techniques. The true story is pretty terrifying, but Ritchie and his cast—which includes Henry Cavill—make a hilarious film out of it that rightly gives credit to the real-life soldiers and the key role they played in eventually winning the war. Great film.

After the film, we all hit the hay.

Memorial Day! I slept the fuck in. Actually, I woke up way too early and asked myself what the hell I was doing awake. I went back to the bedroom and snoozed for another hour and a half. Why the heck not? I sure didn’t have anything to do that day.

When I finally emerged from the room, I made some chicken and waffles. Even though the recipe I used was keto-friendly, it still sent my blood sugar through the roof. Was it worth it? You’re damn straight it was worth it. I must occasionally treat myself. One must enjoy oneself from time to time. Indulge.

I had been wanting to see this movie playing in theaters called Obsession, but damn if all the seats weren’t taken. So I started browsing Amazon Prime. I had a watch list full of films that I hadn’t yet had time for. I picked one called Good Luck, Have Fun, Don’t Die. Teegan and I laughed our asses off. The film’s formula is pretty basic and has been done many times before. A hero—in this case Sam Rockwell—time travels from the future in order to set things right and save the world. The thing that made this one so different was the dark comedy angle. People do, in fact, die. The sci-fi ideas in the film were brilliant. The AI scenarios in the film are fucking great. Terrifying, but great.

That night it was just Yvette and me. I didn’t know that was going to be the case. I had fifty chicken wings, twelve jalapeño poppers, coleslaw, and French fries. I was cooking for a feast, but little did I know it would just be the two of us. Kids can be fickle. Oh well, it happens. Leftovers.

Yvette and I watched one really weird quasi-romance set during a global pandemic, Perfect Sense. The movie came out ten years before our very own COVID pandemic. Hit the nail on the head. Not really worth talking about. Kind of a blah movie, but I guess it worked for what it was.

That was pretty much our long Memorial Day weekend summary. Lots of excitement and not enough time.

Tuesday—our Monday—arrived, and I was a little groggy. I believe it was the fine craft beer that I picked up from a local brewery. These days, I usually stick to tried-and-true Miller Lite. That craft beer I just can’t handle like I once could. Is that a sign of my age? Craft beer was all I used to drink. Bummer.

We had the potential for rain that afternoon, and boy were we not disappointed. It rained like a monsoon, and it just kept coming. Lightning and thunder—the works. I think the few people I saw on campus were all very pleased by this development. I know our dear friend Mr. Gator was thrilled.

After work we celebrated my mother-in-law’s birthday. Like I mentioned, the day was rainy and rather cool, so they made caldo. What a treat that is. Really, during a normal May in Texas, one doesn’t crave soup, but when it is cloudy, rainy, and in the sixties, a damn good soup hits the spot.

I was tasked with getting the cake. Never send a diabetic to buy a cake. It’s ingrained in my head that less is better, so I grabbed a small cake without even thinking about how many people might be eating it. I knew I wasn’t. When Yvette saw the cake, she gave me some shit and even went out to get cookies. I mean, really—don’t send a diabetic to get sweets. Ever.

The little birthday celebration was fine and dandy, and the caldo was fantastic as always. Always good company. We didn’t get home until closer to nine.

Wednesday. Son of a biscuit eater. My fucking golf cart decided to break down at the end of the day—about thirty minutes before quitting time. Of course, everyone in the garage who could tow me back to my office had decided to jump ship an hour before they should have. Bruce came and picked me up and decided to say screw it—we could leave it overnight. It’s not exactly a quality golf cart, so I really don’t think anyone would steal it. Typical.

That has only happened to me once before, and that time I was actually trying to run the battery down. At least I was able to get it off the street and into the greenhouse parking lot under some shade.

That night Yvette and I took Teegan out for his graduation dinner. Better late than never. We went to the Wharf, a seafood steakhouse. Teegan had only been there once before, and we wanted to treat him to a nice meal. I really enjoyed it. I love being part of the family, and moments like these are a big reason why. Buying my son a graduation dinner. Hopefully a memory he will always carry.

Thursday Staff Senate had a social. A brunch social. I guess it was kind of a big deal for us. It was the first time since I had been on the senate that we had any sort of real gathering where all staff were invited.

I really didn’t sign up to work it because I never know when I’ll be free, but I had my shirt on and was there for about thirty minutes chatting away all the same. I guess that counts as support. We had burritos, yogurt parfaits, and coffee. Two hundred burritos total, but we still had to limit how many people were taking. Some of my fellow facilities guys were taking more than one. Damn them. Always making me look bad. If I had to hear “your people” one more time…

Anyways, I think the event was a success. We had no leftover food when it was all said and done. The timing was perfect—right after Memorial Day, with faculty and students not quite back on campus yet. The lingering staff probably needed something just for them. We are considering doing it again if possible.

Friday was my father’s birthday. He would have been seventy-six years old had he still been with us. I really have trouble believing that he has been gone for nearly nine years now. It doesn’t seem that long ago that I was sitting next to him, holding his hand while he slowly passed. Damn Alzheimer’s disease. I wish he and my mother could have had a long life together and enjoyed a nice retirement. Good God, I miss my father.

After work my mom wanted to go out to eat. We went back to the Wharf. It was a place my mother and father often went for date nights. Yvette, Teegan, and I had no problem going there twice in one week.

We had the same waiter, which was funny right off the bat. What we didn’t have was the same food. Haha. We switched the shit up. My mom already knew what she was going to get before she arrived. We really didn’t have a clue. I ended up with the beer-battered shrimp. I’ve had it before but never ordered it. People always give me one because it comes with eight. Well, my blood sugar was high after the meal. We had a damn good time.

After dinner, I listened to some Ryan Adams. The song was Carolina Rain. I remember my dad calling me from Alpine to let me know how much he liked that album, particularly this song. It reminds me of Alpine, nights of Scotch, and conversations with my dad.

Listening to the album, it’s been a while. I would be remiss if I didn’t say I don’t listen to it as often as I should because it reminds me so much of that conversation we had that night back in 2005.

It was an emotional Friday for me and the twenty-ninth of May always be.

Happy Friday.

Chimichurri steak and shrimp.

Chicken chow mein.

Spicy chicken and waffles.

Mango habanero wings, stuffed peppers, spicy fries and coleslaw.

Yvette’s meatloaf, mashed potatoes and Italian green beans.

The weekend started with me feeling lazy. You know, sometimes you just don’t have the drive to do the chores that need to be done. What I should have done was get up and knock out the yard work. It was overcast and cooler, but I just wanted to stay in bed. When I finally crept out of bed and into the kitchen, I cooked up some sausage and egg tacos. I’d been on a sausage taco kick. It’s just a damn good combination, no matter the delivery method.

After the nice meal, I curled up on the couch and read my book — or rather, a graphic novel on my iPad: Providence. It was written by Alan Moore, author of Watchmen and V for Vendetta. His works are always pretty R-rated and not exactly for the faint of heart. That said, I was really enjoying this one, and I was glad I decided to read it. It’s really experimental: half of each chapter plays out as a comic, while the other half is written as a journal entry. It’s heavily based on various works by H. P. Lovecraft, so of course I enjoyed it. All the Easter eggs scattered throughout really appealed to me.

After finishing a chapter, Yvette and I had some errands to run. We still needed a few more things for Teegan’s graduation party the following day. We needed to knock that shit out — just a few more decorations. You can never have too many, right? Though, is that really true? I think you probably can.

Yvette went to order the food: Cane’s chicken tenders. A lot of them. (As we later found out, you can definitely have too many.) I was in charge of adding a little variety to the spread: Hawaiian sliders. I had called my second mother for the recipe, and she provided it. The recipe is pretty basic aside from the secret sauce: Hawaiian rolls, ham, and cheese. The sauce is what gives it that WOW moment when you bite in. (I’m sorry, folks, but I’m not going to share that recipe with you.) Damn good. It had been many years since I’d had them. I assembled the sliders and placed them in my mother’s fridge to be baked the following Sunday. My part was done.

Once I got home, it was back to cooking in the kitchen, this time for the family. I decided on chicken verde enchiladas. We had some rotisserie chicken that I shredded and rolled into corn tortillas with cheese. I smothered them in a healthy amount of verde sauce and baked them. The end result was consumed rapidly by the entire family.

The evening was upon us, and with a full belly and a couple of beers, sleep found me with open arms.

Sunday morning, Yvette got up early to start decorating for Teegan’s graduation party. It was once again cloudy and relatively cool, so I decided it was about damn time I did the yard work. I couldn’t put it off for another week. We would become the blight of the neighborhood. It had to be done, no matter how badly I wasn’t looking forward to it.

I put my headphones on, found some jams, and welcomed the mindset to mow. The jams certainly helped. I really have no idea how I used to mow the yard without them. My God, that must have been awful. Why the hell did it take me until this year to do yard work with music? WTF was wrong with me?

Idiot.

After about an hour and a half, I was done. Damn the yard.

I needed to go bake the Hawaiian sliders, so I quickly got cleaned up and dressed for the party. Someone needed to get ice, so I accepted that duty as well. On my way to my mother’s house, I drove right past the ice machine and had to turn around. I was already failing at one of my jobs. I set the oven and put the sliders in before letting it fully preheat. It was crunch time, and I couldn’t wait forever.

I set my alarm, and while I waited, I read more of my book. I was in another place and time, far, far away from reality, when suddenly I was pulled back to earth by the chimes of my phone. Twenty minutes had already passed.

I checked the sliders and decided they needed a little more time. Rather than go back to my story, I gathered up every utensil I thought we might need. Enough time had passed, and the sliders were done. The smell hit me immediately. My God, it took an extreme measure of self-control not to eat one on the spot.

On the way to the party, something magical happened to me. Something that has never happened before. I made it across town without hitting a single red light. That’s twenty green lights. It honestly felt surreal. I was stunned — disbelief at what had happened to me. Boy, what a feeling. It made me even more excited about the graduation party.

It turned out we had plenty of food: my sliders, four pizzas, and 200 chicken strips from Cane’s. Not to mention all the various desserts. (Can you have too many of anything? What do you all think?) Hell, we even had a fucking fondue set. How retro is that?

Everyone seemed a little timid with the food at first. We really encouraged them to pig out, but I guess they didn’t want to make themselves sick. The location was really great for activities. It had two pool tables, a ping-pong table, and a large poker table. I think the kids spent a little time doing just about everything.

I mean, we know they had a good time. My gosh, they didn’t want to leave. We couldn’t really tell them they needed to wrap things up, could we? I guess when you’re young, you just don’t pick up on all the hints. At first, we started cleaning up, and an hour later we started putting the chairs and tables away. Before long, it was just Yvette and me there with the kids. She could tell I was getting a bit anxious. I don’t stay in one place comfortably for very long.

Seeing they weren’t leaving anytime soon, I decided to go across the street and grab myself a beer, a shot of Jameson, and a side salad. It was rather relaxing after the party and gave me a much-needed moment to wind down. I ran into a fellow I used to see at the bars all the time before I married my first wife. We chatted a little, mostly just pleasantries. Charles was always a very weird dude — socially awkward, but a nice guy.

I walked back across the street to see the kids still going at it, playing a game of poker. I needed to get back to my mom’s to clean up and grab some of my stuff, so I helped Yvette with the trash and told her to try to get them out by nine because the restaurant across the street would be closing. Once they closed, nothing else would be open on the street. Downtown on an empty night can get a little frightening.

What a day. The party was obviously a hit if they didn’t want to leave after seven hours. I couldn’t believe they all stayed that long. I think everything turned out great. Maybe we outdid ourselves a little. We had so many leftover chicken tenders — well over fifty of them. So back to my question: can you ever have too many? I would consider that too many, but tell me if I’m wrong.

The work week started off humid and gross. I was in a fine Monday mood, but I could have done without the thick, sticky air. It felt like Houston outside, and I hate Houston. We had a Staff Senate meeting that afternoon. It was the usual bullshit and should have been over early, but some blabbermouth had to get his two cents in at the last minute. This guy is truly full of hot air, and lucky for all of us on the senate, his term is almost up.

Tuesday was my friend Elicia’s final day after twenty-seven years. One of the best people I’ve met on campus. It was bittersweet. For one, I was very happy for her to get the hell out, but I was also very sad for the campus, for very selfish reasons. She was the backbone of a department, and without her wealth of knowledge, I truly feared we were all in for a total shit show. It was inevitable. No ifs, ands, or buts about it. Elicia was my go-to if I had a question. I had collaborated with her in various ways for the entirety of my time at the university.

The retirement party was something I had to attend. I hate those things. I just feel awkward and out of place. I stood there like a bump on a log before finally working up the courage to give her a hug and say goodbye. I’m comfortable as hell around Elicia — just not around everyone else in the room. Maybe it was the time at which I arrived, but there were not a lot of people there whom I particularly liked being around.

God, she will be missed. When I first started working on campus nearly fifteen years ago, she was always so patient with me. I know she had to think I was a moron at times. I’m sure I was. Over the years, we got to know each other, and for a period of time she actually worked in my office as the property manager. She was a great person to have around, always able to lift one’s spirits. Of course, she was offered a better position and left us for the opposite end of campus, but that wasn’t the end of our working relationship. Before her office became the lifeless, humorless void that it is now, I would spend a great deal of time talking with Elicia. We had many great conversations over the years.

Unfortunately, she had a lot of bullshit to deal with under new leadership, and the workload became suffocating. I suppose all good things come to an end. I really wonder how many people know how much she did for the university. I don’t think she ever received all the recognition she deserved, and that is just sad. She will be missed, and some people don’t even know it yet.

Aside from Monday, the rest of the week was very unseasonable. We had cooler-than-average temperatures, cloudy skies, and scattered thunderstorms. Each evening there was thunder and lightning. We even had a few pretty scary hail reports around our area, thankfully missing us. It is that time of year for storms. Six years ago was when tennis ball-sized hail came raining down from the sky. Oh, what a year that was. Not only did we have the COVID pandemic, but most of our roofs were also destroyed by hailstones. I was happy with the weather — just please, no more hail. We’d already had enough of that for one lifetime.

That’s about it for the week. happy Friday!!!

Jalapeño.

Verde chicken cheese enchiladas.

Birria ramen.

Philly cheesesteak.

Chicago style hotdogs.

Yvette’s chicken and dumplings.

Steak à la Mexicana.

Saturday morning, I slept in. It might have had something to do with the drinks I’d had at the bar with my brother, or just the accumulation of one really long fucking week. Either way, I slept in, and it was great. I don’t ever go out at night, and my age was definitely showing that morning.

When I finally crawled my lazy, under-the-weather ass out of bed, I found Lola cooking bacon and chorizo potato breakfast tacos. What a real treat. I was craving chicken and waffles, but that could wait. Who the fuck passes up greasy bacon and chorizo when they have a mighty hangover? Only a damn fool, that’s who.

To make things move a little faster, I decided to help by firing up the grill and cooking the tortillas. I can throw twelve on the Blackstone and have them cooked perfectly in the same amount of time it would take her to cook two. Thank God the weather was tolerable for my condition. It was actually rather beautiful — perfect weather for a nice cup of coffee on the patio with the dogs.

I decided the tacos needed one extra ingredient: eggs. I scrambled some up and assembled myself a few bacon and egg tacos. The chorizo seemed a little too greasy for my taste. I didn’t want an upset stomach on top of the head fog I was already feeling.

It was nice having a family breakfast..

Afterward, I fiddled around the house, digging through old shit in my little office. I discovered a lot of things I wasn’t even aware I had — lots of old artifacts, old treasures, and silly things I’d held onto. I also threw a lot of shit out. Before I knew it, the morning had passed, and it was afternoon.

I was feeling better, so I ran some errands, namely getting some Mother’s Day cards and groceries for the night’s feast. My brother and I were making chicken Parmesan with broccolini and garlic bread. We were cooking for my mom for Mother’s Day. She had been craving this meal. The last time my brother made it was after my mom had knee surgery, and she was apparently too loopy on pain meds to recall what it tasted like.

My brother and I were shooting for dinner at seven. What a joke that ended up being. We thought we were prepared, but boy howdy, were we ever wrong. A lot of issues arose, primarily from my brother. He claimed to know the recipe, but when he looked it up, he realized there were extra steps he’d forgotten about. We also ran into some issues keeping the oil at a consistent temperature. We are both amateurs when it comes to frying food.

It was apparent my mother, Yvette, and Teegan were more than ready for a meal. The anticipation must have been killing them. When 8:30 finally arrived, so did the meal. Everyone frantically ate more than they probably should have. A very late, heavy meal. The bloat. I felt like a fucking hippo.

It was time for a few after-hours drinks. We visited and had a good time, at least until the food began to settle and lull us into a state of exhaustion. I sure enjoy my time in the kitchen with my brother and miss his visits.

When the evening finally concluded, I made a stop by Noah’s to check on their dogs. They had made an impromptu trip to the ranch. The dogs were extremely happy to go outside. By the time I made it home, I was ready to hit the hay. It had been a great evening, but it had also been a very long day.

Mother’s Day!! This was the day that Yvette was able to sleep in a bit. I decided I should treat my mother to breakfast for Mother’s Day. I called her and she and my brother placed an order for burritos from this little joint called The Corner Stop that has been serving us for over twenty years. Hell, since I was in high school at least. They make the best damn flour tortillas.

My mom was very happy with the burrito breakfast. Who doesn’t love a damn good burrito? There was an Indiana Jones marathon on, and we began talking about the newest one that came out three years prior, The Dial of Destiny. It became alarmingly apparent that my mother had never watched the movie. The last one she saw was The Crystal Skull, which would be an awful way to end the franchise. That one leaves a bad taste in my mouth, and I would rather forget it even happened. Thank God they made one more movie to try and cleanse the palate.

I had seen Dial of Destiny once, and I will be honest — I was drunk. Watching it with a clear head was quite an enjoyable experience. There was so much I had forgotten. They used some de-aging to make Harrison Ford look like he did in the earlier films. I am not generally for that, but the technology has come a long way, and it didn’t really look all that bad. It helped tie this to the original three films.

The film was a vast improvement over The Crystal Skull. It actually felt like nostalgia pulling at me. I grew up watching the Indiana Jones movies, so seeing an old Harrison Ford out-thinking and kicking some major ass tickled me with joy. The story was also very good, and the ending, while not as grounded as the originals, was still much better than that last dreadful effort. The less said about that film, the better.

In summary, Dial of Destiny is a great addition and final farewell to a decades-long adventure with Indiana Jones. Growing up with Indiana Jones since I was a little boy in the eighties, he is essentially a part of me. As kids we used to pretend we were Indiana Jones and put ourselves through our own adventures. I had some of that childish joy rise to the surface while watching Dial of Destiny. Like Indiana, I am also getting old. It was nice to tag along with him for one final adventure.

After that, I went over to my in-laws for a true feast. They had a spread of chicken thighs and legs, pork and beef ribs, venison sausage, potato salad, and beans. Like I said — a true fucking feast. I wasn’t even all that hungry after the morning burrito, but I indulged anyway. We stuck around and visited for a while.

While chatting away, their Alexa device notified us that we were under a thunderstorm watch with high winds and large hail starting at four and stretching into the evening hours. I had a good deal of errands I needed to run, so I urged Yvette to say goodbye so I could knock them out before the potential storm arrived. It took a little longer to leave than I would have liked, and when we finally did, we could see the distant storm. She said it didn’t look bad, but I knew otherwise. It was still far off, and they can look misleading to the untrained eye.

I started running errands, making four different stops to gather everything I needed for the Mother’s Day dinner I was cooking for Yvette and Lola. As I was running around town, each time I left one of my destinations, the storm was closer and looking more and more menacing. Such an ominous vide. I knew this might be a nasty bitch. Yvette put the kids’ cars under cover just in case it actually did hail, which ended up being a good thing.

The storm began to hit just as I was getting home. At first light rain, then heavy rain. I began to feel comfortable that no hail would occur, and after saying as much to Yvette, we started hearing the clicking of hail against the vents on the roof. Shit. Foot in mouth. I pulled my car as far into the garage as I could. Lola really needs to go through all her shit that’s taking up half of the garage. I keep bringing this up, but it falls on deaf ears.

The storm was rather amazing. The wind was fucking crazy. It was really bad in other areas, but all we had was marble-sized hail. I don’t need another new roof. As exciting as a good storm is, now that I’m a homeowner I would really rather it didn’t get extreme.

As the storm passed, I began my hibachi. The temperature was perfect for a night in front of a hot grill. It really was. The rain and thunder continued at short intervals, and I was in my own little paradise. Mother’s Day dinner was a hit, and I couldn’t have been happier cooking it for these amazing mothers.

Graduation week. A frightening time. Monday was a pretty damn fine day, if I must say so myself, and I rarely say that on a Monday. The weather was top notch — grounds for celebration in May — and I was in a good mood doing what I love to do at work: out and about around town. I spent very little time in the office, thank the Lord, and the day sped by. I found myself visiting with vendors. Sometimes I talk too much. One thing I really like to make happen is spending the university’s money locally. I think that’s good for our image and good for the local economy. Whenever I have an option, I’ll use a place in town.

After work, Teegan had yet another awards ceremony. Pretty impressive, really. I sure as hell didn’t attend any awards ceremonies when I was in high school. This event was being held downtown at a much nicer venue than the high school campus. Thank God — I hate that auditorium.

The ceremony was a little over an hour, and it didn’t even feel that long. The master of ceremonies was quick and had a good sense of humor, making me laugh a few times. That’s a rare thing at these kinds of events. I’m usually bored to tears and just waiting to see whomever I came to see have their small part. When Teegan accepted his award, he walked onto the stage with confidence. I was so proud of him and his many accomplishments. The young man has a bright future.

Tuesday, I had it in my mind that it was actually Wednesday. I don’t have a clue why that was, but it just was. I had two people bring me back to reality that it was actually only Tuesday, and each time I felt a sharp ping in my chest at the realization I wasn’t yet at mid-week. What a real bummer it was. I’m sure everyone can relate to that kind of horse shit.

Honestly, I can’t say much about the day. I spent about as much time shopping for eyeglasses as I did actually working. Sad fact. Some days are just like that. After work, I ran and picked up my prescriptions and visited my mother before she left for Houston. She will probably come back with some sort of illness. I surely fucking hope not, but nine times out of ten, she does.

Wednesday was just more of the same. Blah. We had a very pointless meeting — most of which are — and that was pretty much it for the damn day. I had hardly any real work to do. Slow days this time of year before graduation are just weird. It worried me that maybe Thursday and Friday were going to be crazy as hell. All the last-minute graduation preparation. Lord, I prayed not.

That last statement was a jinx on myself. Thursday was indeed a crazy busy day. I was running back and forth all over the damn town. People were so needy, but at least I was busy. I figured that would be the case. I think my coworkers thought I was out fucking around, but they really had no idea how many tickets I had — how many credit card swipes I made. I had trouble staying ahead, which was a blessing considering how freaking slow Tuesday and Wednesday were.

I felt that after the morning, I owed myself a nice lunch, so Yvette and I went and had some brisket street tacos. A place called The Pitt serves them as a Thursday-only special, and boy are they a real treat. We’ve only ever needed to split the meal, and we’re both always left satisfied. They sure didn’t disappoint.

After lunch, it was once again a busy-bee afternoon. I was screwed. The two people I hate buying for with a passion were waiting for me to make a run with them. I don’t like doing that because they take forever and talk about the most far-out bullshit. Not to mention all the MAGA garbage that one of them spews. I swear if Trump told him that inserting Tylenol up his asshole would cure a headache, he would comply without question.

My misadventure with Beavis and Butt-Head started out as it always did: them not knowing what the fuck they really needed. I mean, they knew what they needed, but they were being extremely picky about it. I suppose it’s a lost art to find the perfect piece of lumber. For Christ’s sake, it was going on a trailer bed — why did it have to look perfect? Overall, I wasted almost two hours of my life with the two eejits.

After work, we had plans to meet up at a bar for a birthday, but things change. I’m still finding out how quickly that happens with kids. All new to me. Teegan hurt his knee at the senior picnic and had to go to the ER. Luckily, it wasn’t terrible — just a strained meniscus. Still, he was in pain and can’t walk correctly. Poor kid.

Friday went by very quickly. It was surprisingly nice and gloomy, and we even had a little bit of rain—sort of like how the week began. I will certainly take as many of these cooler days as I can get because, before long, summer will rear its head like a beast from hell.

This was the end of the Spring 2026 semester. Graduation weekend. It’s just crazy. I have seen so many students come and go over the years. It’s hard to believe that another school year is behind us. I mean, where does the time go? It really doesn’t seem all that long ago that the fall semester began. It’s a little frightening. Life is too damn short. I’m just about forty-five—halfway to ninety. Jesus Christ, when I put it that way. Can things just slow down a little bit? If only.

So yes, another class of students is on their way to whatever the future may hold for them. I hope they cherish the moments they had on campus. It’s a time unlike any other in one’s life. College is one of the final steps before adulthood. Once you graduate, you officially join the real world. You say goodbye to the last years of your youth.

Every year, graduation brings a certain sadness to me. I suppose that comes from the fact that I graduated a long time ago. Perhaps it’s also the realization that another year has vanished in the blink of an eye. I feel a bit sad for the graduates because they do not yet understand how much they’ll miss this chapter of their lives. But more than anything else, I am truly happy for them as they walk the stage. They have accomplished something great, and they have a future ahead of them full of possibilities. Cheers and congratulations to another graduating class. Time keeps moving, whether we like it or not.

Happy Friday!!

Jalapeño.

Chicken Parmesan served over spaghetti noodles with Italian broccolini and garlic bread.

Hibachi night. Steak, chicken and shrimp with veggies and fried rice.

Chicken Mole rice bowl.

Chicken fajita tacos.

Burger salad.

Queso sticky rice with fajita fixings.

Ahi tuna tacos w/ black beans and chipotle sweet potato salad.

Saturday, I woke up to Yvette calling me because I had low blood sugar. Her phone was alerting her while I was ignoring my own. Dumbass, I know. I was tired.

After treating myself with some sugar, I really wanted to relax and possibly go back to sleep. I had a THC tonic my brother had given me months ago that I had been waiting to drink when I was alone and had nothing to do. Why not now, I thought. I popped it open and could immediately smell the marijuana. It tasted exactly like it smelled. I drank the damn thing and settled down. It didn’t take long before it kicked in HARD. I fucking crashed right out. The next thing I knew, two hours of my life had passed without me realizing it. I woke up on the couch in my office with The Weather Channel on. Good Lord. Was this my new sleep aid? Not really. But damn, that stuff worked better than Ambien.

I got up and cleaned the house, picked up bottled water, and did some basic chores before the family made it home. I wanted them to come back to a stocked and clean house. I was still floating around in the clouds, so the chores were actually sort of nice. That tonic left me in a very good mood. I definitely don’t have a tolerance for that kind of thing anymore. Haha.

I decided I wanted a greasy burger, so I went to City Limits. It’s always a good burger, and it didn’t disappoint. It was a very late lunch — around three-thirty. While I sat there, I looked around at the other patrons sitting alone, having a drink and a late lunch. I couldn’t help but think about how I was once like them. How this was normal for me — to be at this bar, alone on a Saturday afternoon, usually drinking. That was my life during and after my divorce. I realized in that moment how fucking lonely my life must have been before Yvette entered it.

I went home for a little while and read more of my graphic novel, Providence. I had hours to kill before Yvette and the kids made it back into town. It was near seven o’clock when they finally made it to Dallas, leaving them with four more hours of driving. Crazy how big the state of Texas is.

By the time they arrived, all of us were exhausted. I was happy they were home. It was late, so Alaya stayed with her grandparents. I think that was for the best. We talked a little about how fucked up the situation was, but mostly everyone just wanted some rest. We saved the catching up for the next day.

On Sunday, everyone kind of slept in. Yvette and I left to go get Alaya. She was happy to see us, though maybe a little resentful that we had been away from her for so long.

Monday was surprisingly busy. During lunch, I sat outside the university center all alone. Yvette had to take Teegan to the dentist. While eating my tacos, a fox came strolling by. It was a cute little fellow. The only animals I had intended on observing were the students, so the fox was a pleasant surprise. I love the campus fox family. I’m pretty sure everyone is fairly accustomed to them. A reminder that nature is all around us.

It’s pretty amazing how much wildlife we have on campus. I’ve seen foxes, deer, wild pigs, skunks, opossums, raccoons, and even a treed bobcat. We have an abundance of tree squirrels and ground squirrels. WAY too many fucking feral cats. Dogs are walked hourly along the many sidewalks that act as arteries through the grounds. I’ve seen so many different bird species that I couldn’t count them on two hands. As an amateur birdwatcher, it’s paradise. I saw a Scissor-tailed Flycatcher, American Robin, Couch’s Kingbird, Common Grackle, Northern Cardinal, Mockingbird, Common Starling, House Sparrow and White-wing Dove all in one day.   The campus has a pretty diverse biome, to say the least.

That evening, Yvette’s parents had dinner with us. My pulled pork must have hit the spot because they both had seconds. We mostly talked about all the bullshit the kids were being subjected to and how crazy those people were. I was really tired and rather checked out from most of the conversation. I don’t feel it’s my place to really get involved, considering how I feel about their father. I do think they have the legal upper hand, but now that the grandparents have also filed a claim, we have to wait for the in-chambers conference between the lawyers and the judge on Thursday to see what the next move is. It’s a huge fucking mess regardless of the outcome. Probate law is a mess.

Tuesday, I had my first real eye doctor’s visit in six years. I had blown it off, but in recent years I’ve steadily noticed a decline in my vision. One of the many bummers that come with aging. I was only nearsighted my entire life, but now I’m needing readers. That’s just an annoyance. The real reason for my visit was that, with my current lenses, people were beginning to become blurry. It’s often embarrassing when I can’t recognize someone from across an aisle at the grocery store. I feel like they probably think I’m ignoring them. It’s equally embarrassing when I say hi to someone across the aisle, only to realize upon getting closer that the person isn’t who I thought they were. This has happened multiple times and finally prompted the visit to the eye care specialist.

Trying a new optometrist, I didn’t know what I had in store for me. I had been using the same office my entire life, but the wait time for appointments exceeded a year, which is fucking ridiculous. Besides, I really think the guy I had been using was stretched too thin to give much attention to someone he only sees once every few years.

I walked into the office and filled out the new patient paperwork. My biggest concern was whether they were going to dilate my eyes. I can’t stand that. My mother and I both have long-lasting side effects from those drops. When I was called back, to my grateful surprise, they used a machine that was much more forgiving. When I finally met with the optometrist, I immediately had good feelings about the visit. We decided to try bifocal lenses, which he let me sample for a day before making a final decision.

As it turned out, they were not the lenses for me. Yes, it was fucking great being able to see things up close, but that came at the cost of seeing things at a distance. I called Wednesday to let them know I would not be going with those lenses. After meeting with the optometrist again, I was given another sample pair to try. I wore them throughout the day and was amazed at how sharp everything looked. I was seeing so much more detail. I called and told them to order the lenses. To say I was a satisfied customer would be an understatement.

That evening, Yvette, Teegan, and I attended the Central High School Top 10% banquet. When I arrived, I immediately wished I had known what kind of event it was. My jeans and polo shirt felt underdressed. They had a live orchestra playing, for Christ’s sake.

Like sheep, we found our assigned seats and waited through the introductions for the dinner bell to sound. Herded through the corral, we served ourselves food and returned to our seats. The two main entrées were tasty, but the green beans were damn near raw and inedible. I was satisfied nonetheless. Unfortunately, for the sake of time, they began announcing the students to come onto the stage one at a time, so the meal felt rushed.

When Teegan was finally announced, I was busy taking pictures when the biggest surprise I’ve had in a long damn time occurred. I was announced as his father. Teegan said I am his father. A moment that shocked me and warmed my heart in a way I didn’t know was possible. Yvette didn’t even know. She whispered, “Don’t cry.” I knew my eyes were watering, and I fought back the tears. I was overcome with emotion. I was fucking honored. Jesus, I love this young adult named Teegan. My son.

After the awards, Yvette and I went over to her grandparents’ house for his ninety-eighth birthday party. Incredible. We made it a quick visit because the party was already winding down. Yvette got her cake in, and we headed home. It was a rather amazing and eventful hump day — one I will cherish for the rest of my life. I feel so much love for my family, and I am forever grateful to have them in my life.

Friday was about as slow as a workday can get. I literally sat on my ass for hours before finally looking for something to do. Out on campus, I took the scenic routes whenever possible. I made sure to talk to people for much longer than the conversations needed, just so I didn’t have to go back to the office.

Half of my office took the afternoon off, so after lunch it was like a silent movie. Other bored individuals stopped by to talk with the few of us remaining. It felt like no one was actually working anywhere on campus. Everyone just wanted to get off for the day. It wasn’t just me feeling the slow ticking of the clock. I heard the same thing from just about everyone everywhere I went.

Once that dreadful time finally passed, I ran a few errands and met up with my brother. He was in town for Mother’s Day. We had a few beers and then met up for dinner at a place called Cork & Pig Tavern.

Cork & Pig was a good time. Yvette heard some more stories she hadn’t heard before. They made me seem like a degenerate. Maybe I was. Times have changed. My brother and mother are always a lot of fun.

Afterward, I met up with my brother and our friend for a couple of drinks while they watched some bullshit basketball — the Spurs. I hate professional basketball, but the time together was worth it.

The weather this week was a real trip — not just figuratively, but legitimately. The first half of the week brought temperatures in the mid-nineties. The latter half had highs in the sixties. We even had a hump day thunderstorm. It was literally all over the place. One day kids were walking around in barely anything at all, and the next they were bundled up in winter gear again. I’ll admit, I had no time to reacclimate to the cooler weather. The days felt genuinely chilly. That’s West Texas for you, though even these cooler days were unusual for May.

I will say this: it was a damn fine week.

Jalapeño.

Pesto ravioli with Italian sausage.

Pepperoni pizza w/ grilled buffalo wings.

Breakfast sweet potato w/ berries, Greek yogurt and granola. Happy Friday!!

The weekend was riddled with birthday parties for babies. Saturday, we celebrated little Niles’ first birthday. It was a hard time because of the grief in the air. We all wanted it to be a special moment, and we all tried our hardest, but it wasn’t easy. Conversation always seemed to drift back to the dark side.

The same could be said for Sunday’s birthday—this time for baby Olivia, who turned three. The setup for this party was rather fantastic. They had balloon animals and a piñata. My God, the dessert spread. I would have been in a diabetic coma had I been able to partake. Damn shame.

Last week, the awful news came to us on Earth Day that the kids’ father had passed away. It was an unexpected blow for everyone. Needless to say, a gray cloud of grief was hanging over the household.

Yvette and the kids made travel arrangements. They had a long trip to Georgia ahead of them, and because of the cost of flights, it was decided that driving would be the most economical option. A pain in the ass, but not a pain in the pocket. A real bummer either way.

I didn’t want Yvette to go, but I understood why the kids wanted her along for the ride. They had some very adult decisions to make—decisions no one, at any age, should have to face. They also had a potential legal battle ahead of them involving probate lawyers, which is a real nightmare.

It’s cruel what they are having to endure at the hands of their grandparents. They’re making things so much worse than they should be—trying to have the kids sign away property so they can manage it, even though it rightfully belongs to the legal heirs. I hate it for them. Grandparents are supposed to be among the most caring people in your life, and these haven’t once asked the kids how they’re feeling. In fact, they’ve sent some pretty awful text messages. No tact. I just can’t wrap my mind around their behavior in this moment. It’s heartless and cruel—the two people who should be showing compassion and care. It turns out what the kids saw before was only a mask, and now those masks have been removed.

I feel so bad for them. Losing a father is hard for anyone, but their circumstances are different. He was finally letting them back into his life after ten years of barely being there. I know only part of the pain they’re feeling. A part of you leaves the world when you lose a parent. It hurts so much—almost unbearable.

I just want to be there for them in whatever way I can. It breaks my damn heart. They no longer have a father.

That Tuesday afternoon, they hit the road, and Alaya stayed with Yvette’s parents. It was at least a seventeen-hour drive, taking turns behind the wheel. I was left alone in the house—the longest stretch I’ve spent alone since getting married. I planned on eating primarily out of the freezer and staying away from the grocery store. I know I can make that work because I’ve done it before.

That night, I watched a new film on Netflix called Apex, starring Charlize Theron and Taron Egerton. Charlize and I go way back, so naturally I was invested in the film. It’s a beautifully shot survival horror set in Australia. The plot is essentially that of the classic short story “The Most Dangerous Game.” Theron goes on a pilgrimage of sorts and encounters a seemingly charming fellow, played by Egerton, who suggests an out-of-the-way place to set up camp. As any horror fan will know, this was a trick. The movie quickly becomes a hunt.

What I’d really compare it to is Prey or even Predator, but human versus human rather than human versus alien. There’s lots of incredible action and lush scenery to draw you right in. Theron is amazingly convincing. After watching, I learned that she did the majority of her own stunts. Egerton does a fantastic job as the unhinged villain. All in all, it’s a great film with a lean runtime. I needed the distraction.

So the family arrived Wednesday morning around ten o’clock. What should have been a relatively straightforward ordeal only became more sour. I felt boiling anger and profound sadness for the kids. I felt sick for Yvette, and I was so glad she went along with them. Turns out, she was able to help keep them sane.

I just can’t understand any of it. Is it greed? Is it spite? I am beginning to think it’s just evil—plain and simple. They are getting screwed by their father from beyond the grave and actively screwed by the grandparents. It’s a total mess of a situation—one that might unfortunately become expensive.

I was so pissed off by one of the exchanges the grandparents had with the kids that I had to get up and walk out of the office. I wanted to scream. I took deep breaths and walked around the building a couple of times just to get my head back on straight. I feel helpless right now being a thousand miles away from them. Not that I could do anything if I were there. It just sucks.

After work, I decided to cool off and relieve some stress by mowing my yard and my mother’s yard. It was supposed to rain again, and they both needed it. What a mess of a damn day.

Sure enough, the rain arrived. Thursday, I pleasantly woke up to the low, rolling sound of thunder. I could hear it bellowing even while I was taking my morning shower. Something about hearing thunder while in the shower just comforts me. I knew it would be a better day in that very moment.

The kids had their father’s funeral, and it went as well as one can expect. At least no drama occurred—thank the heavens for that. I’d been bracing for the worst, worrying about how it might all unfold. Yvette went too, to be there for the kids and maybe find a little closure of her own.

I don’t know how it must feel to lose an ex-spouse, but I’m sure there are conflicting emotions. No matter how or why things ended, she once loved him. She built a life with him. And together, they brought three incredible kids into this world. My heart aches for them. All I can do is be there for them in whatever capacity I can once they get back.

After work, I thought about going to the Faculty/Staff awards ceremony, but I decided to pass. I already knew who was going to win from being on the committee, and I didn’t want to go alone. Instead, I decided to roll out to Sam’s, but I had a stop to make before I got there.

Down the street from me lived a friend named Salvador. He was a local business owner whose family ran a restaurant I used to frequent almost weekly. A couple of weeks ago, I noticed a moving van at his house. When Yvette and I got back from Dallas, the place looked empty. I figured I’d stop by his restaurant for a quick drink and see what was going on.

I walked in through the back door straight to the bar, like I’ve been doing for the past five years, and ordered a beer and a shot of tequila from a young bartender I didn’t recognize. Whenever Salvador was working, he’d usually pour me a shot without me even asking. When I asked about his whereabouts, I was hit with the news that he had moved to Lubbock. It felt like a punch to the gut.

Salvador was one of the main reasons I loved going to that place. The food is great, the atmosphere is great—but he was the cherry on top. “How are you, my friend?” followed by “Tequila?”—I guess I took that for granted. It was painfully obvious on Thursday just how much it meant. The guy knew my mom. I went in so often he even gave me one of the restaurant’s work shirts. It won’t feel the same without him.

I don’t know why it hit me as hard as it did, but it did. There’s this nagging feeling I might never see him again. I wish I’d had the chance to say goodbye. To take one last tequila shot with him.

Friday, the rain just kept coming down, so I mostly stayed indoors. Yvette and the kids finally received some good news from the attorney they hired. They signed paperwork that went straight to the court, granting them legal rights to the house. That meant they could bring in a locksmith and have the locks changed. The court also ordered that all vehicles and anything taken from the house be returned.

I was relieved—finally something was going in their favor after the hellacious week they had endured. Thank fucking God.

That night, the house was quiet—too quiet. I drifted between the kitchen and the back room, eventually settling in to watch a show I’d been putting off. The dogs seemed confused by everyone being gone. It’s strange to think that, for three years, this used to be normal. I’m glad it’s no longer the case. I miss Yvette and the kids and look forward to them returning.

Happy Friday!!

Jalapeño

Chicken and veggies. Something that I hadn’t made in years. Asparagus, mushrooms, onion, jalapeño, spinach and tomatoes. Season with lemon pepper and garlic salt served over sticky rice and blanked it cheese.

Chicken with a sauce and salad.

Shrimp po boy.

Shoyu hot dogs.

Spicy soy ginger chicken over rice.

Gorgonzola gnocchi with chicken, broccoli and sun dried tomatoes.

Penne pasta with meatballs.

Saturday, I was planning on getting up early to mow the lawn before hitting the road to Dallas—but the gods had other plans. Early morning storms decided to gift our area with… more storms. It was raining before the sun had even peeked over the horizon. Guess I wasn’t mowing the lawn.

It woke us up with a fright—hail had been spotted in the area. Oh damn, do we need to find cover for Teegan’s truck? I voted no because the radar showed the worst of it sliding just north of us. No need to scurry for shelter every time a storm rolls through.

I let the dogs out so they could do their business before the heavy rain hit. My God, the temperature had drastically dropped from the day before. It was fucking cold for mid-April—like, in the forties. Yikes.

That forced me to reevaluate my travel bag. I had planned on shorts and T-shirts. The shorts were definitely not an option. Most of the time would be spent in the car, but those brief moments outside? Chilly. Jeans it was, with a hoodie just in case.

Teegan had a dance show at noon, so while Yvette went to watch that, I made sure all the laundry was done and the vehicles were gassed up. I also ran out and grabbed snacks for the road and the hotel—you have to have some grub in the room. With how long the show lasted, I managed to get everything knocked out. The gods were now shining upon me.

The road to Dallas is pretty straightforward. Since it was still raining a bit, I took the wheel. It really wasn’t that bad—the overcast skies made for a cool, easy-on-the-eyes drive… aside from the wild traffic and insane drivers, of course. Still, I rather enjoyed it.

We got to Dallas just before 8 but still had about four hours to burn before heading to the airport. I decompressed with an ice-cold beer and a hot shower. God, I needed that after the drive.

We decided to grab dinner at a place we found a little over a year ago—Maple Landing. Once again, it was a real treat. The Brussels sprouts? Holy fuck—the best I’ve ever had. Truly a gift from the gods.

Their flight arrived just before midnight, and it was so damn good to have baby Alaya back in Texas with us. She wanted me to hold her—and she calls me “Pa Pa” now!!! My heart was full.

Back at the hotel, she wanted to play for a bit before bed. Who can blame her after a travel day like that? I even managed to get her to eat some ham and cheese I’d brought along. We probably didn’t get to bed until closer to 2 a.m.

The room faced east, so the morning sun came blasting through the curtains with unholy force, robbing us of any chance to sleep in. Since we were up, we might as well hit that complimentary breakfast. It wasn’t bad, actually—cheese omelets and sausage. At least my poor diabetic ass could work with that. Zero carbs, baby.

Before hitting the road, there was a mandatory stop at Trader Joe’s. We grabbed some goodies that we have absolutely no room for in our refrigerator. Oh well—future us will figure it out. The food will be excellent when the time comes.

The drive back wasn’t bad. Yvette had the wheel under control, and the rest of us dozed off. I knew it was coming. As a passenger, staying awake is a losing battle—especially on that little sleep. It’s not great sleep, but it passes the time. One stop later, we were home.

And what better way to celebrate getting home than immediately mowing the lawn? It was cool, cloudy, and had to be done. More rain was in the forecast, and if I didn’t get a handle on it, my yard was about to become the neighborhood eyesore. Twenty minutes after getting home, I was out there mowing. The fucker put up one hell of a fight—it did not want to be cut—but by the gods, I prevailed.

That evening, we all kind of fended for ourselves. I dug into one of my Trader Joe’s purchases. It felt like the right move after a long, busy weekend—just be lazy and don’t cook. And just like that, the weekend was over in a flash.

At the start of any work week, I always wonder whether I should jump in headfirst or feet first.

Monday rolled in cold, rainy, and gloomy. I dressed more like it was winter than spring. The morning was actually pretty great, though. I threw on some rainy-day music and drove around paying campus invoices.

For lunch, Yvette and I hit Taco Bueno, and afterward we had our Staff Senate meeting. A real waste of time, if I’m being honest. It’s nice getting a direct address from the president about what’s going on around campus—but beyond that, it doesn’t have much going for it.

Wednesday was our morning meeting—which I didn’t know a damn thing about until I got to work and realized that’s where everyone was. Communication is piss-poor in my office. Actually, on campus in general. At the meeting, I learned about working in the heat. It was the same presentation I’ve seen every year for the last ten or so years. A complete waste of a morning.

It was Earth Day, so the university had a little event going on—jazz music, fruit salads, giveaways, and more. I grabbed a shirt, a tote bag, and a succulent. Pretty damn cool that they’ve started celebrating Earth Day every year. The campus needs more of these kinds of get-togethers. Just good old-fashioned fun.

I’ve always called it “Riley Dog Day” since my old dog Riley passed away on Earth Day. The day will always mean something more than just a celebration of the Earth. And after this year’s Earth Day, it carries even more meaning—for me, and for others close to me.

I can’t even muster the words to write about the rest of the week because it hits too hard and is too personal. Life can change in the blink of an eye. You wake up expecting an ordinary day—just another routine—but it turns into one of the worst days of your life. It’s unsettling how fast it happens, how unexpected it is. One moment everything is normal, and the next, the breath is knocked out of you.

Living in the moment is something we often fall short of, thanks to all the curveballs thrown at us throughout the day. We get busy with our lives and all the small things that come with them, and we don’t take the time to appreciate what’s right in front of us. We move too fast through this life. Sometimes we need to hit the brakes and take a single moment in.  Everything can be taken for granted—often, that’s just how we live. But in a single second, everything you thought you knew can change. The most unexpected things can shift your entire world.  Live and love at every chance you get.

Jalapeño

Mandarin Orange Chicken. A Trader Joe’s meal.

Tapatio’s. Lola made dinner.

Buffalo chicken pasta.

Philly cheesesteak bowl.

Steak fajitas.

Ground beef stroganoff

Oh, Saturday. Never what I want. I slept in because the weather was perfect for it—gloomy and quiet. When I finally woke up, I made the family some hot dogs. Delicious, with a side of slaw and deviled eggs.

I thought about mowing but decided against it. I needed to do more trimming and leaf work out back. I’ll be damned if I wasn’t working away when I heard a clap of thunder. I said aloud, “Fuck.”

Looking at the radar, I didn’t have much time. This unexpected early storm had me at a disadvantage. I rushed to get my leaves bagged, but the rain began to fall. I wasn’t going to let that deter me. I got soaked, but I got the job done.

After a good cleanup, I went out to find the most recent sheep in town. It was a nice, relaxing drive.

Yvette and I had a movie and dinner date—a little romance. You, Me & Tuscany. The movie was basically the ’90s film While You Were Sleeping, which I liked back in the day. I couldn’t disagree with a rehash of that.

After the movie, the weather once again looked ominous. Was it going to fucking rain again? The evening wasn’t over, so we rolled on.

We went to The Wharf, a favorite we hadn’t been to in almost two years due to some bullshit they pulled. I must say, the food was great, as always. The place hadn’t changed.

The weather did turn. It rained like cats and dogs. That night, we got about two and a half inches of rain. It was crazy. We put on a movie and just enjoyed our rainy date night.

The weekend flew by. Sunday, I did some minor yard work—mainly trimming the front hedges. This is something I have to do at least once a year. It just has to be done, or they look like shit. It’s no easy task either. It requires getting on a ladder and using hedge trimmers—a fairly scary tool. I’ve seen what they can do to someone who’s careless. Ouch. At least it’s only an annual task.

The rest of the day I spent just running around town. Found another sheep I wasn’t expecting. At a biker bar, of all places. Dangerous place, I’ve heard. Weird place for a sheep.

On Monday, I decided I needed a mental health day. I stayed home and slept in until about 10:30. I tried to register for a class, but it was full. I’ll wait till I’m back at work. Oh well.

I watched some short films and made a nice little batch of chorizo and potatoes. I just chilled that morning, had my coffee on the porch with the dogs. It was relaxing.

Eventually, I left the house and went to Hobby Lobby. Yvette said they had an Easter sale—75% off. When I arrived, it was 90% off. They were basically giving the shit away. She had her eye on some bunnies in pots and a table runner. Alas, the bunnies were already gone, but I snagged the table runner. I also found some cute little bunnies I had no reason not to buy at that price.

All in all, I walked out of the store with about forty dollars’ worth of stuff for just over four bucks. Win.

After that adventure, I went on the search for another sheep. This one was a little troublesome—it was inside a business that’s only open during regular hours and closed on weekends. I’d been having trouble accessing it, but since I was off work, I had my chance. I’m sure I looked like a real weirdo walking into a business just to take a picture of a fucking sheep decorating their atrium, but I didn’t care. One more off the list.

Overall, between Saturday and Monday, I captured three new sheep. It’s crazy—I’ve been doing this for over a year now and have a total of one hundred fifteen. I’m running out of sheep.

After my successful sheep hunt, I decided to bring Yvette some lunch. She had a hair appointment, so she couldn’t leave the office. I picked her up a really good-looking chicken salad sandwich and brought it to her. We visited for a bit before another employee came in and talked both our ears off. At least I could escape—which I did. Poor Yvette had to sit there and listen to all the drama.

I ran more errands, and when I finally got home, I decided to take Hazel for a walk—away from campus this time. We went to the Arroyo Trails. It was a nice afternoon, with a cool breeze and distant thunderstorms shading us from the sun. It’s a place we used to walk all the time when she was a puppy. It was a real treat going down memory lane with her.

That night, Noah, Nadia, and baby Nile came over for dinner. I made hibachi. I had everything prepped, so it came together quickly. It was a lot of fun and the perfect way to cap off a great Monday away from work. I need more mental health days in my life.

Tuesday rolled around, and I had some catching up to do—but I had other priorities: registering for fall classes. I jumped right in. I emailed the professor and explained my situation as an employee, asking if she might open a spot for me. I also spoke with my friend Jody, who assured me it wouldn’t be a problem.

I went about my day catching up. It was a beautiful day on campus, and I enjoyed chatting with people. I was glad the guys didn’t touch much of my workload—it gave me the freedom to get the hell out of the office.

Wednesday arrived, and the first thing I did was check my email. Score—she said it wouldn’t be a problem to fit me into the class. I was beyond excited. I had just registered for my first class since 2010.

Next step: starting the paperwork again for the employee tuition exemption. Unfortunately, it got bounced back—again. This time, it was “too soon.” I needed to wait until closer to the semester. I thought that was some real BS, so I contacted HR and got more of the same. I swear, that’s all they’re good for.

That evening, Teegan had his Up and Coming Scholars ceremony. It was a big deal for him. Unfortunately for us, it was a two-hour event—they called every single student. My God, there were a lot of them. If anything, it was a preview of what I’ll get in a couple of months with graduation. I need to prepare myself somehow.

I was very proud of Teegan. I love that boy, and I’m going to miss him so damn much when he leaves for college.

Thursday was the day of the vampires—I had lab work. I was in and out, but they were definitely hungry for my blood.

After that, I started working on my scholarship applications. If I can get a little money to cover tuition, I’ll take it. What does it hurt to try? Honestly, it was kind of fun. I had some essays to write, and not having written one in over fifteen years was exciting. It’s a different style of writing—far different from this blog, which has occupied me for the past eight years.

Friday was a quiet day at work, so I enjoyed it. I had a doctor’s appointment, so I left early. The dreaded biannual visit. Yikes.

I actually arrived early—I’m usually a little late. To my surprise, he had other patients, so I had to wait. Very unusual. Oh well. It was the only thing I had left to do that day.

The visit went well. Results: good. Lots of jokes and laughter. I do enjoy my PCP, and when he eventually retires, I’ll have a problem. He’s known my medical history for 16 years—that’s over a quarter of my lifetime.

Afterward, I went to see Yvette, but she was busy. Then I stopped by to see my friend Art and had a drink—he was jolly. Next, I ran to HEB; it was busy as well. I visited my mom while she was getting ready, then finally headed home.

It was good to be home with my family. I cooked, and we were merry.

Happy Friday!!!

Jalapeño

Mango habanero chicken thigh over sticky rice. This meal hurt me with the heat.

Steak and shrimp hibachi.

Chicken tikka masala.

BBQ pulled pork tacos.

Grinder pasta salad.

Japanese steak with a sweet soy reduction.

I slept in on Saturday. Hell, the house was fucking empty — why wouldn’t I? It was gloomy and quiet. I might have had a little bit of a hangover. It happens.

It was a busy day. I did a hell of a lot of laundry. I cleaned the floors. I did yard work. Tried to kill whatever demonic odor was living in the kids’ bathroom. I ran to Sam’s. I fucking did a lot before I had some fun.

When I finished, I met my cousins, aunt, and mother at the river — the Bosque. They had all sorts of vendors. It was a nice day, just a little windy. The girls really wanted to go fishing, but we had no fishing poles or anyone who could really help. At least they were able to see someone catch a bass.  Close enough, right?

Yvette and Teegan made record time getting into town. I do mean that. I dared not ask how fast she was driving. I was just glad they were back home. I was happy to have a little life back in the house. I’m not used to that kind of quiet anymore, and honestly, I don’t think I like it.

That night, my aunt and cousin wanted to go to Fuentes downtown. It had been over twenty years since I’d stepped foot in that establishment. I was in high school the last time I went. I got sick. That was years and years ago and left a lasting memory. But damn, the place had changed. It was much fancier than it used to be, and the food was a hell of a lot better. I remember it being just your standard Tex-Mex. Not so much anymore. The cousins enjoyed it. The evening was full of drinks, laughter, and good times. I was so happy Yvette was finally able to meet my cousin and her two daughters.

Happy Easter Sunday!!

I got up and made everyone a little breakfast before Yvette and I went over to my mom’s to visit my cousins. It was a nice morning. Lillian was all over the place doing cartwheels — one-handed, no less. Oh, to be young. I’d probably break something if I even attempted a cartwheel again at my age. We chatted for a couple of hours about various bullshit and just enjoyed each other’s company. It was a good reunion.

We went our separate ways around one. They were having lunch with my aunt at The Club, and we were having lunch at Yvette’s parents’ house with the rest of the family. Roger and Emma went all out with brisket, ribs, sausage, potato salad, and beans. We even had a little egg hunt for baby Niles. He is such a cutie.

They also had some dirt cake, which is something magical. Just look it up for yourself. Google it. You will understand. Anyway, I decided to treat myself to that glorious dessert. I might like it, but boy howdy, it did not fucking like me. My blood sugar elevated to just shy of four hundred. Yikes. We stayed at her parents’ house for about four hours, and the entire time I was suffering — headache, lethargy, the works. I hate that about high blood sugar. It will efficiently kill a good time.

Easter was different this year. I guess because Chris wasn’t around. This was the first year he wasn’t with us for the holiday, and it was felt by me and, I’m sure, by my mother. It also felt a little empty without Alaya. Last year, we had her with us searching for eggs. Oh well, we made the most of it in their absence and still had a pretty good day. Sad that it had to end.

The work week kicked off quickly. We were short-handed at work, so I stayed very busy. I like that. It was my office week, so being able to get out of jail was a gift. It was also much cooler than it had been, which is typical and very much preferable. I spent a good chunk of my week working on an expense report. I had sixty-three fucking credit card entries. Oof.

Yvette had the week from hell. Work was relentless, and her grandfather was hospitalized again — all of this coming off a hard week before. One battle after another, the hits keep coming. She is a strong woman, but everyone reaches a limit at some point. I love her with all my heart and will always be there to support her in any way I can. It’s a shame the little girl isn’t around to make us both smile when we need it.

The highlight of the week has been the Artemis II mission. So damn exciting. That lunar flyby was just unreal. So many amazing things about this mission. So many things about this mission feel bigger than words. The crew has now gone farther from Earth than any human in history. Let that sink in for a second.

And yeah, it’s been emotional. Watching the liftoff last week with little Alaya. Sitting there knowing something massive was happening right in front of us. Then the silence on the dark side of the moon.  And finally, splashdown. Watching that with Yvette and Teegan.

Safe. Home. Complete arc.

What a fucking rush!!

The first woman to reach the moon. The first Black man in deep space. So many firsts packed into one mission it almost feels unreal.  But it’s not.  And we are watching it happen. 

Technology has allowed us to be there for most of the mission—to see the crew live on the screen in front of us, to feel like you’re up there with them. It’s been an incredible journey to watch from home, unlike anything before it in that regard. Live streaming from the moon—I mean, that’s some real science fiction shit right there, and we’re living it.

We are living in a moment that history will remember as a light in the darkness, especially with so much negativity and horror happening down here on Earth. We need more light, not more darkness. It’s been really amazing to be a part of, even if it’s just from my computer at home or at work. This has been something big. Something bigger than all the bullshit.  This kind of thing should help unite us as humans. It should make us realize that all we have is each other—that we’re all in this together, floating in this vast void of space. 

It should.

But it probably won’t.

Happy Friday!!!

Jalapeño

Cheese ravioli with meat sauce and broccolini.

Caribbean jerk pork with red rice and broccoli.

NY strip steak w/ baked potato, sautéed mushrooms and grilled asparagus.

Chicken stir-fry with mushrooms, bell peppers, onion and broccoli served over sticky rice and garnished with red jalapeños and green onion.

Yvette made us chicken parmesan.

Chicken fajitas.

I took a week off the damn blog. I was busy with Staff Senate committees, getting re-accepted to college, advising for the fall, and just general bullshit. Plus, I really just wasn’t feeling it after a week without Owen. There was nothing to write.

Saturday was a cold day in March. Really, the last weekend of March. The temperature was in the 40s. I got up, made some breakfast, and played with Alaya for a little while. Her mama surprised us by actually coming home on a weekend. I was totally expecting not to see her until Monday morning, which has become the norm.

Alaya went off to hunt for eggs with her other grandmother, so I got myself ready for the No Kings Rally. It was the third one I’ve attended, and I wouldn’t dare miss it. It’s good to see like-minded people. It gives me a little hope and encouragement. Not everyone has drunk the Trump Kool-Aid.

This third one was much more organized, and you could immediately tell that some money had come from somewhere to pull it off. They had a real PA system. A stage. Actual speakers. They had an entire food setup serving tacos. Lots of tables featured sponsors. It was a really professional setup with a very friendly vibe going on. I was extremely happy to see this, and it’s good to know that people who might not have otherwise attended have sadly been pushed so far by Trump that the numbers are rising for these get-togethers.

After the rally, I went to a special needs softball game for a little while. I will say, it was one of the most heartwarming events I’ve attended in a while. These kids were so cute, and they were having so much fun. My heart melted. Two back-to-back events that gave me faith in humanity on a Saturday.

That was followed by a rather sad get-together. Yvette and I went to see how her grandmother and grandfather were doing. You see, the Thursday evening before, Yvette unexpectedly lost an aunt. She was special needs and somehow choked to death at the center. It was her grandparents’ oldest living child.

I can’t imagine what it must be like to outlive your child. They are both in their nineties, and somehow, they’ve had to endure that. As strong as they are, they couldn’t hide their grief. Picking out her outfit for the funeral viewing wasn’t easy. Hell, they had just bought Aunt Susan a new mattress for her bed. That’s how out of nowhere death can be. You just never know.

Of course, Yvette is also feeling the loss. Aunt Susan was always sweet. That’s one thing about people with special needs that I’ve noticed over the years—they are generally in good spirits, without much worry in the world. Unlike the rest of us, who are always burdened by it.

Aunt Susan’s presence will be missed when I visit Yvette’s grandparents.

Sunday was Yvette’s birthday. I really needed to take care of the yard work, so I told Yvette to stay in bed. I had a surprise waiting for her. After mowing the yard for an hour, I took a break at 11. BIGA was opening, and they carry her favorite croissant: Nutella banana. It truly is heavenly. She was very surprised when I brought it to her—breakfast in bed. She assumed I was still outside doing yard work.

I was happy that she was able to relax. Just stay in bed and watch your shows. When it’s your birthday, you shouldn’t be expected to do a damn thing.

I went back out to the yard to do my favorite fucking thing: bag leaves. It wasn’t the ideal day for such a thing due to the damn wind blowing like a beast, but I had to do it. The leaves were getting out of hand. I had fucking leaves everywhere.

While I was out there working on my eighth bag, a truck pulled up. A tall, hippie-looking guy got out and began approaching me.

“Who the hell is this, and what the hell does he want?”

Well, it turned out he was interested in my bags of leaves. I said, sure. Take them all. Please. And come back—there will be more. Apparently, he had goats. What a damn deal for me, though.

Five hours later, I was done with yard work. I was tired. I was filthy. I showered. Yvette and I tag-teamed the grocery store for some supplies. I was going to cook shrimp tacos. It seemed like a good birthday meal. You see, there were only going to be three of us that night. Yvette didn’t want to go out for money reasons and because she was feeling a little under the weather.

After dropping her off, I ran to Sam’s for gas and the shrimp. I was angry filling up my vehicle. Damn gas prices are fucking outrageous. I was getting madder and madder as the dollar amount continued to increase. Our damn Dear Leader and his fucking war in Iran.

Our dryer has been out, so I had been doing laundry at my mom’s off and on all weekend. I made one final trip to switch out loads when I found out that Yvette’s family was over at the house with a cake, and everyone was wondering about dinner. We didn’t have enough. I went home, and we all had a little cake and visited. It was nice seeing them. Unfortunately, the mood was dampened by the absence of Lola and Alaya. When a mother’s child doesn’t even tell her “Happy Birthday,” feelings are indeed hurt.

The week began greatly for me. I had a lot of energy and, for whatever reason, felt like the week was going to kick off strong. I was super busy at work, and the time did fly.

I got onto my student portal to finalize the registration process and finish filling out the employee tuition exemption paperwork. I ran into a few roadblocks.

For one, I had a couple of registration holds. One was for my transcripts. This was bogus because they clearly have them on file—I was accepted to the university twenty years ago. I also graduated from the university. I had to make a few calls, but I was able to get that worked out.

The next roadblock came when my exemption letter was canceled. What the fuck? I called HR to inquire. Apparently, you cannot turn in that paperwork until you are registered for classes. Nowhere in any of the documents I’ve read does it say this. A little clearer communication would be nice. I’ll have to fill out that paperwork all over again. Oh well.

We had a Staff Senate meeting on Monday afternoon that was rather eye-opening. Not really. We didn’t discuss much at all. Just the usual bullshit.

Tuesday, I had committee meetings. Two, to be exact. Oh, the joy. At least my part will be done when this is over. Not trying to make it sound like I dislike this—it’s the second year I’ve volunteered. Actually, I was asked to help last year because someone backed out. It’s kind of exciting, and the extra work keeps me busy.

The meetings themselves were virtual, and I did indeed participate. I do not have a mic or a camera, but I utilized the chat option. I voiced my opinion on a couple of issues I noticed, but for the most part, I was happy with the final decisions that were made. I do think some serious revisions are needed in the selection process.

After the final meeting, I realized that I had a lot of free time that would now need to be occupied.

After work, we took Alaya to the ASU soccer fields for the second annual Easter Egg Hunt. This year, it seemed like there were a lot more kids. Yvette informed me that she had actually heard it advertised on the radio. They separate the kids by age—five and over on one side, and anyone younger on the other. Some parents seem not to care about this, though. It isn’t really fair, but who is going to do anything about it?

At the 6 o’clock mark, the kids were unleashed. Lola ran around with Alaya trying to gather up eggs. In about three minutes, the egg hunt was over. It wasn’t for lack of eggs—it was because there were so many damn people involved. It was a rather amazing sight, seeing the horde of children attacking the Easter eggs. Fairness aside, Alaya had herself a blast, and it was certainly worth attending.

Wednesday was busy busy. I was all over the damn town. Yvette was busy with her own BS, Cyber Security Expo. This year it seemed to be a real freaking mess. I help where I could when I could.

After work she had a viewing to attend for Aunt Susan. I don’t do those. Knowing that she was spent and her stress level was through the roof I decided to take over the dinner duties. That night I grilled.

Late that night a storm rolled through. To remain on the safe side, we sought shelter for the kids vehicles. No hail came out of it but we were able to sleep worry free.

Thursday was quasi-Friday. It was our last day of a short week. Most it went by without incident. Yvette had the Expo, with was messy as hell this year. New leadership. In spite of that, it went okay.

Good Friday. Funeral day. First thing on the agenda was going out to my mom’s to plant flowers for her. I made some coffee and picked up a breakfast burrito from Whataburger on the way. I needed some grub if I was going to be digging holes. Apparently, they now have a verde sauce that is really yummy.

I dug up the dead plants and replaced them with new ones. They look damn good, if I do say so myself. I also dug up some of my mom’s Mexican petunias to transplant to my yard. Yay.

It was a gloomy funeral day. Funerals… they are pain. People don’t know what to say to each other. The pain is everywhere. I love my wife, and I know she hurts, but she doesn’t show it—fear mechanisms, I suppose. I hate that her aunt passed.

After the graveside, my family packed up and left for Dallas. I was sad in this empty house. We had planned on hanging out with my cousin all weekend. Life.

My aunt, cousin, and her daughter made it to town. That evening, I went to visit and hang out at my mom’s. We were going to go out for food and drinks, but we ended up just ordering pizza as carryout.

Damn, it was good seeing her and finally meeting the girls. They cracked me up—the whole evening did. It was exactly what I needed after the day.

I  came home to a very quiet house. I don’t really like it. I had to put on some music just to fill the space. I already miss my people.

I miss my Oh-e Bear every day. Every time I get ice from the machine, I think of him. For seven years, the moment he heard that sound, he came running, nails clicking on the floor, eyes bright, waiting for his little piece of ice like it was the best treat in the world. It was such a small thing, but it was ours—one of those quiet, everyday rituals you don’t realize will matter so much until it’s gone.

Now the ice drops, and the house stays still. No running, no eager face waiting for me. Just the sound echoing a little too loudly in an empty kitchen. How will I ever not expect him to be there?

And Hazel… my poor Hazel. She looks around like she’s searching for him, like she knows something is missing but can’t understand where he went. She lingers a little longer, waits a little more, like she’s hoping he’ll come back around the corner ready to play. The house feels different without him—quieter, heavier.

Happy fucking Friday!!

Jalapeño.

I had this meal in San Antonio. Burger patty with soy sauce over cilantro lime rice topped with a sweet spicy Thai chili sauce and served with broccolini.

Egg roll stir fry.

Yvette found this one online. Grilled cheese tortellini, sausage, mushrooms, broccoli and bell peppers cooked in Italian dressing and topped with parmesan cheese.

Chili verde chicken.

Beef Bulgolgi with radish kimchi.

Chicken pozole verde.

Chicken cheese enchiladas.

Shrimp tacos.

Philly cheesesteak rice bowl.

Chipotle chicken bowl.

Yvette’s lasagna.

My little boy Owen. My Oh-e Bear. By far the sweetest dog I have ever had.

He is in doggie heaven now.

I’ve only ever lost one dog before—Riley. He was my best friend. His death was sudden, and I didn’t have to make any hard decisions. That wasn’t the case with my sweet Owen. My little shadow.

He got sick again. He was throwing up and not eating. Unfortunately, I knew what this likely meant, and I wasn’t wrong. He had eaten something and, once again, had an obstruction in his bowels that he was unable to pass on his own. Without the help of surgery, he wasn’t going to make it. His fifth surgery since May 2020.

Sunday night he was miserable. It was almost as if he had given up. He just stared off into space. I went out to my mother’s and retrieved some dog pain medication to administer to him. I had pretty much accepted that it was possibly his time to go to heaven.

Monday morning, he had some pep back in him. The pain medication seemed to have worked. He did his little dance and raced down the hall to go outside. I was not expecting this. Like I said, I had concluded that come Monday morning I would take him into the vet and likely have him put to sleep. This sudden reversal left me feeling lost. I was not going to bring my boy to be “put down” if he was still showing a will to live. He still wouldn’t eat, though, and it had been three days since he had kept anything down.

I wasn’t really worried about him getting into anything, so I let him have free rein of the house that morning when I went to work.

I was conflicted that morning. My plans changed. I was going to see how he felt at lunch, and if he wasn’t well, I would take him to the vet that afternoon. It was a long-ass morning, and I was sick to my stomach with anxiety. When I went home for lunch, he greeted me at the door and did his little dance—the dance I will always remember. I was feeling a little optimistic. Maybe he would get through this. I decided to see how he was that evening. Just maybe he would eat. I gave him some more pain medication and went back to work.

God, it was a long fucking Monday.

That evening he still would not eat. I tried rice, pumpkin, and wet food—everything I could think of—with no luck. I knew at that moment that I had to take him to the vet again, if for no other reason than to rule out other causes for the lack of appetite. That night, while everyone else was in bed, I lay down with him and pet him and told him how good a boy he was. I cried with him, my tears dampening his coat. It would be the last time I got to lie down with him.

Tuesday morning, I made an appointment for him for that afternoon. I gave him love and some more pain meds and left for work. I let him once again have free rein over the house. If this was to be his last day, I figured it was only fair.

When I got off work to take him to the vet, the sweet boy got excited when I brought the leash out. He started wagging his tail like nothing was wrong. I loaded him up in the vehicle and rolled the windows down. He stuck his head out, raised his nose to the air, closed his eyes, and smiled, all the while wagging his tail. It would be his last ride, and it was glorious. It was what he loved. That is the image I will carry of him forever in my mind: a dog without a worry in the world, just on a drive with his father on a beautiful afternoon.

He did indeed have a blockage, and he had lost more weight. He was down to 46 pounds. That’s incredible. I wanted to fight for him. Seeing him enjoy the ride gave me no choice. Unfortunately, he was beyond help. When they began the surgery, I was optimistic, but what they found was inoperable.

My heart broke.

I broke.

Saying goodbye to him was one of the hardest things that I have had to do. He was supposed to outlive our other dogs and be the one that gave me strength when Hazel eventually passes away. He was only seven years old, and it shouldn’t have been his time yet. God, I cried. I am still crying. My house feels so empty.

The grief is very real. He was my little shadow who followed me wherever I went. He was there to comfort me when I was down and not feeling well. All he wanted was love.

I didn’t want him at first. My ex-wife insisted upon getting another dog once we moved into a bigger house, and Owen was what she found—this little bitty black lab. I was immediately in love with him, even when I gave her shit about him being her dog whenever he got into my shit. He was always renowned for getting into shit. I don’t even know how many of my sandals and flip-flops that dog chewed up. He might have been her dog, but he became my dog. I fought hard to keep Owen in my life and not separate him from Hazel.

I know he wasn’t the perfect dog. God bless, he angered me plenty by getting into shit. I have no idea how many times I had a mess to clean up after him. The worst was the baby formula all over the kitchen. That was like glue on the floor and took me over thirty minutes to clean. Then there were the numerous items he destroyed that belonged to my family, one being my wife’s purse. At one point, I worried Yvette might leave me because of him.

We had to learn not to leave anything out that he might be able to get into. He would find a way. That boy could stretch himself onto the counter, and he knew how to open the cabinets if they were not properly closed. The bottomless pit. His lack of control. Eventually, for our own peace of mind and his safety, I kept him closed up in my office during the times we were not home. He just couldn’t help himself, though. I know this.

Getting into shit would end up being the death of him.

For all his faults, I loved him deeply. He was just a puppy at heart. He never grew up. He was just a gifted, goofy dog. He had the most innocent eyes—eyes that exuded love.

Sweet Oh-e wouldn’t let me out of his sight if he could help it. After I hit my head, that dog was there for me every step that I took. It was the weirdest thing. I was forced to take a month off work to recover, and that dog was always by my side. He knew I needed him. That is one of the reasons I could not give up on him without trying. He was there for me in some of my worst moments.

He had a howl that was unlike any sound I have ever heard a lab make. I know labs. It was like a hound dog. I’m sure some neighbors probably thought at first that that was what I must have had. When they saw it was a black lab, I’m sure they were as taken aback as I was that first time. It wasn’t a bark in the normal sense. It was literally a damn howl. He never actually barked. I can’t say I ever once heard him bark at a human—only at squirrels.

My sweet boy loved to chase the damn squirrels, racing them down the fence line with such speed and jumping up after them. Most of the squirrels learned to stay out of the yard. Two found out the hard way. Squirrels were pretty much what he reserved that howl for.

When excited—which didn’t take much—he would dance around in circles. It was one of the cutest things to witness. When he first started doing it as a puppy, I thought for sure he would grow out of it, but he never did. On his last day, he still danced around in his little circle.

My God, he was terrified of everything. You bring a balloon into the house, and he would make sure to be on the opposite side of the property. He was especially fearful of that monstrous vacuum cleaner, always wary of its usage around the house. One would have thought he had been abused by it, but no. It was just Owen being his cowardly self.

On that note, Owen never met a person he didn’t like. He was a trusting boy. He also never met another dog or cat he didn’t like. I remember how my dearly departed cat Samson would groom Owen. God, he loved to be licked by that cat. He also had his friends—my mother’s dogs. I wish he had been able to see them more often.

I can’t talk about Owen without mentioning his gas. He could clear a room with it. It was the worst. This is not a surprise, considering he ate just about anything you placed in front of him. It was atrocious. The definition of a dog fart: silent but deadly. I’ll save you all from talking about his stools. My God, they were massive.

Owen loved car rides with his head out the window. He just looked so at peace. It didn’t matter where we might be going; he was happy to go anywhere. I was happy I was able to bring him on one last ride. It was the last thing I was able to give him.

One of the funniest things about him was the stare, which felt like judgment—like he was gazing into your soul. I have so many pictures of that stare. I’d be on the couch watching a movie, and he would just sit and stare at me. I told him that it was rude to stare, but he never seemed to learn. I could make a collage out of all the pictures I have of him staring at me.

Owen is gone now.

God, the things I will miss about my boy, and the things I wish I could have given him more of. I know I gave him a good life and a good home.

I feel a great emptiness inside me. He was a part of our house. He was a part of my heart. I will always miss him, and it pains me very much to even write this blog. I’ve had to stop numerous times because of the tears streaming down my face. My sweet Oh-e Bear.

The remaining week was hard. At times I found myself just lost in space. I stared at nothing. My mind was beyond the material world. I had no focus. I would randomly have to leave the room because tears would start welling up. I drove around crying and screaming. I figured it best to go to work; at least it would act as a distraction from the pain.

My mornings were so off. I never realized how important he was in getting me out of bed. As soon as my alarm went off, he was up and moving around. There was no way of ignoring him. I always believed he was a little autistic, so routine was very important to him. I don’t think he exactly needed to go outside in the morning to pee or poop; it was just what he knew. Routine. He was a morning dog—the only critter in the house happy and excited to be awake. That made a major difference in my day, as I have now found out. I needed that urgency in the mornings.

I could also tell a difference in the other dogs in the house. Hazel and Rosco seemed sad as well. Hazel only knew three years of her life without her brother. What must she think? I came home, took Owen with me, and he never returned. How sad that is to think about. Does she know? I hate just thinking about it. I watched her the next morning while feeding them. For seven years she had tried to get into his food while he was eating, and out of habit she tried again, only to find Owen wasn’t there, and neither was his bowl.

How does a dog grieve? Do they? I think so. Hazel has been extra needy, and I have been willing to give her all the attention that she requires. I even gave her a spa day. My poor girl. How will she take not having Owen in her life? It worries me with her age. She has Rosco, but they are not close like she and Owen were.

I suppose we grieve together. Right now, I need her as much as she needs me. It’s just so new, this loss.

Jalapeño

Grilled steak and shrimp with cilantro lime rice and refried black beans.

Bangers and mash with some peas. a traditional Irish meal for St. Patty’s Day.

King Ranch Chicken. I needed some comfort food for Owen.

Carne al Pastor

Lasagna rolls. HEB ready meal.