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.

I woke up to the most glorious sound on Saturday morning: thunder! Rain! Two things I absolutely adore, and Lord knows our town needs them.

I went back to sleep and stayed there for a while before waking up and saying goodbye to the little girl. She was going to be with her other grandparents for the weekend. It’s sad, but we do have to share. The house was so quiet. Yvette and I are the ones who usually keep her on the weekends, and it’s been almost a month since we haven’t had her — for better or worse.

I made a couple of sausage and egg breakfast tacos, and slowly we all got ready. Teegan and Yvette took off to look for some swim trunks for Teegan’s Spring Break vacation down in Mexico. Apparently, it wasn’t quite the season for swimwear yet, so they went to five different places before finally giving up and ordering online like civilized people.

I went and ran my own errands — Sam’s, HEB, and Market Street. I didn’t get much, just the things we needed.

I was in the mood to snack and wanted some kind of dip. Yvette reminded me to make some buffalo chicken dip. I used to make that for our work potlucks back when we actually had those — a thing of the distant past. Anyway, I made it, and it was just as big a hit in my household as it used to be in the office. I was impressed and vowed to make it more often. No reason not to.

I started a new graphic novel by Alan Moore titled The Courtyard. I read part one and was immediately hooked. It certainly has some H. P. Lovecraft vibes to it, which I damn near worship. How could this not be up my alley?

After putting the story down, Yvette and I cozied up on the couch to start a new show, Untamed. Primarily starring Eric Bana and Sam Neill, it follows a murder investigation at Yosemite National Park. During the investigation, secrets come to light and the past comes crashing into the present. There’s much more going on than meets the eye. We ended up burning through the first four episodes that night and finishing the series on Sunday afternoon.

I recommend the show. It’s on Netflix.

That was basically my weekend.

Then came that motherfucking time change. I hate it. Monday was a real bitch to wake up for. It was so damn dark going into work and so damn bright getting off. My whole system was out of whack. I was a sloth throughout the day. Why do they do this to us year after year? Why?! I have not heard a single person in my life give praise to the motherfucking time change.  It haunted me all week.

Tuesday was special. We were supposed to have some severe weather. They hyped it up all Monday evening and Tuesday morning: large hail, seventy-five-mile-per-hour winds, and a possible tornado. That’s some heavy bullshit for this early in the year. We haven’t even reached our bad weather season peak yet. Not by a long shot.

As a preemptive measure, the campus decided to close down early. This has never happened before. Impending doom or an overblown reaction? At the time I didn’t know, but it did feel a little ominous.

Usually when bad weather hits, it hits right around five o’clock. We’re rushing from our office to our cars while thunderclaps and lightning strike all around us, dodging hailstones as we zigzag across the lot. That’s what I’m used to dealing with — not being sent home early.

I didn’t know what to do with the rest of the day. I basically had half a day off, and the sky was clear. Well… almost. One little cloud in the sky.

So what did I do with my half day?

I prepared dinner. I baked spaghetti squash and made meatballs. I went and picked up a couple of good beers for the coming storm. I went to the pharmacy. I went to Hobby Lobby. I went grocery shopping. I even did some yard work. I was far more productive than I ever would have been at work.

When the weather finally started to turn, it got dark and cold. It looked menacing. The thunder. The lightning. What we actually received was only a little rain and some wind. Areas around us had it much worse.

Still, I was happy to have at least had an exciting evening. The impending DOOM was on hold for another time.

I will say this, though — our dinner was delightful.

Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday I was busy as a bee. I was running all around town trying to catch up on all the shit I couldn’t do because we had been sent home early on Tuesday. I was happy with this. It meant I was out of the office and burning up the clock. Work is rather enjoyable when you have a steady amount to keep you busy.

The week sure blew on by. Friday evening Yvette and I had a dinner and movie date. Dinner at Casa Jalisco. Damn fine. The film was called Reminders of Him — a movie Yvette wanted to see that looked cheesy to me at first, but after reading a review it seemed rather interesting.  The movie actually had depth and I was impressed.  I love the lead actress.  She is usually seen in a horror film so it was nice seeing some of her range. 

It was a great evening with Yvette.

That got me thinking about time.

So six years ago this week we entered the global pandemic known as COVID-19. Hard to believe it has been that long. I will certainly say a lot has happened in my life within those six years. A lot. The world changed, and so did I.

It really doesn’t feel like that much time has passed though. Honestly, I kind of miss some of what was going on. It was a scary and exciting time to be alive. All that uncertainty. I remember being sent home from work and told, “Until further notice, do not return.” What a time to be alive.

In the intervening years, some major changes took place.

The pandemic happened. I was sent home from work for months. Fear and panic spread across the globe. Wearing a mask was pretty much required everywhere. Social distancing was in effect. Death tolls were rising at an alarming rate. I remember watching the numbers climb. Eventually, a case was reported in our town. Local panic. The world as I knew it changed. I took a lot of very long walks to keep my head straight.

President Trump lost reelection. Insurrection Day followed. The Orange Man was to blame — sore loser, that guy. Then we had Sleepy Joe in office for four years. It turned out he didn’t do much, but at least he didn’t start any fucking wars.

After a long time of social isolation, my family traveled to Florida. It was a weird trip — the first without my father along for the ride. My now ex-wife was a fucking mess the whole time, and her bitch sister came along too.

Shortly after, I got a divorce. A messy divorce. It went on for too damn long, partly because I was stubborn and wanted her to be the one to do the work since she started the process. In retrospect, I should have just filed.

In the meantime, I drank. I spent a lot of time making friends at the bars. I was kind of a mess.

Eventually, that was over. I started talking to other women. There was one I was really interested in, who eventually became my wife.

During the week of Halloween 2022 I hit my head and had an intracranial hemorrhage — a brain bleed. My diabetes got the best of me. I don’t know if it was from a high or a low, but either way I was a fucking mess. I looked like a car wreck victim, according to the ER tech. I was on a ventilator and in a coma for a day or so. The ICU is not a place for me.

After I got out, I was sent home from work again — this time for a month. I couldn’t drive for four months.  During that time, I fell in love with Yvette.

I had been interested in her for a while. We had secretly been going on dates and talking on the phone at night for some time already, but seeing her there in the ICU really sealed it for me. She was there for me when I was released from the hospital. The rest is history.

That summer — only half a year after my ICU stay — I fucked my back.  I knew it immediately.  I couldn’t walk without excruciating pain. I was worried I might need a cane. I went to the doctor. My back was fucked. They set me up with six months of physical therapy. Eventually, I could take the stairs again.

That Halloween, a year removed from the ICU, I proposed.

A year later, in 2024, I married Yvette.

I now have a house that is full. I have two grandchildren.  I have love under the roof.  I had been missing so much that I didn’t even know that I needed.

Now our Dear Leader Trump is back in office. Our country is at war. People have come and gone in my life, but overall I am in a better place.  I am happy.

And somehow… it still doesn’t feel like six years have passed.

Happy Friday.

Jalapeño

Hibachi chicken and fried rice.

Cheese ravioli with a pesto Italian sausage sauce, mushrooms, sun dried tomato’s, spinach, peas and Parmesan cheese.

Spaghetti squash with meatballs and green beans.

Leftover meatball marinara over sticky rice.

Orange chicken stir fry. Noah came over and joined us.

Saturday I slept in until nine, when Yvette called to inform me they were still at the hospital and had already been awake for hours. I felt guilty and dragged my ass out of bed to get ready and head to the hospital — but not before making myself some chorizo and eggs.

The baby was sound asleep when I arrived. Alaya still had to see her pediatrician before getting discharged. It’s a slow process getting out of the damn hospital. Everyone in that room was more than ready to get the hell out. By about one o’clock, that finally became a reality.

The baby’s mother took off as soon as she had showered, so it was Yvette, Alaya, and me for the day. We had some errands to run, and that’s just what we did. It was a warm Saturday — too warm for this time of year.

That evening we went to celebrate Yvette’s parents’ 50th wedding anniversary. Can you believe it? Fifty years. What a ride that must have been. I’m well past the point in my life where it would even be possible for me to be married to someone for fifty years. Isn’t that kind of sad? Just typing it out pings my feelings a little. I mean, I suppose it could happen, but that would mean I’d have to live to ninety-five and Yvette would have to make it to ninety-eight. We’d be shrunken elderly together.

We went to El Paisano #4. Yes, we have four in town, and this one just opened. It’s a much larger location, more suitable for parties. The place was crowded on a Saturday night. They had some big groups there, and adding our table of ten must have been the tipping point to the chaos. I say that because we were there for almost two hours. The wait for the food was long enough, but then we rarely saw our server. I think we were helped by at least five different people. Our drinks were never refilled. I had to track someone down for silverware. It took an act of God to get our tickets so we could pay out. The food was top notch, but that new location doesn’t quite have it together.

They can’t all be winners.

Sunday rolled around and the weekend was coming to a close. The weekend close too fucking early, don’t you think? I made a little breakfast and then a little lunch. I cut my hair and trimmed my beard. I did laundry. I made a grocery run. Cooked. Walked Hazel. I did adult things, I suppose.

No idea where Mommy was, but Daddy came by and visited Alaya for a little while. She seemed happy by his visit. I guess Yvette and I have become partial parents these days. We might be with the baby more than Momma, ever since she met her new boyfriend. I suppose it’s been three months now? I honestly don’t know.

Sometimes it isn’t easy. It’s certainly something I wasn’t expecting — to be taking care of a little girl all the time. But she is such a great kid. I don’t mind her one bit. Do I wish I had more time with my wife? Yes. Of course. We had more time together before we were married. I love her, and I love this little girl, and later on we’ll be able to make up for the time. I hope.

For now, I cannot imagine my life without Alaya in it.

Lately she’s been into all things dog — or as she says, “woof woof.” We had to have some woof woof on the television all day long. That’s just what she wanted. No idea why. We watched Lady and the Tramp, 101 Dalmatians, The Secret Life of Pets, and Benji (2018). She was content as long as a woof woof was on the screen. I was perfectly fine with that.

That pretty much sums up the weekend. Damn, did it go fast. Kind of like the year. Sunday was the first day of March. Lord.

Very little of great importance happened on campus during the week. I guess there was still some drama over the housekeeping switch-over. It wasn’t going as smoothly as desired. Monday there wasn’t a cleaning crew on campus, which meant chaos for some of the staff and faculty. In one such incident, a student vomited all over a restroom. The office coordinator called to see what could be done. The answer was: clean it yourself. That did not go over so well.

I did see people taking out their own trash. Vacuuming areas that needed vacuuming. Cleaning toilets if needed. Some people really did step up to the plate. I mean, you simply had to. What else could one do? Things needed to remain clean and sanitary. It was a bummer that we were in a transitional phase, yes. Our area didn’t have proper cleaning for a week.

It is what it is.

It was once again unseasonably warm for this time of year. Everything started to bud out, and I’m not sure that’s a good thing. It certainly wasn’t a good thing for my allergies. I was in hell. That’s the only thing about spring that really gets me — the damn allergies. The cedar blooms and the oak. They punch me right in the face. Because we really only had one hard freeze, this season is going to be savage. Friday was when I really began to feel the effects. Damnit to hell.

By the end of the week most of the custodial crews were in operation. I say most because some areas were still lacking. Finally, an everyone email was sent explaining the situation. This might have been an entire week too late. Seriously. I think by the end of the week it was pretty apparent that we had a turnover.

That’s the week in a nutshell. Happy Friday!

Jalapeño

BBQ pulled pork tostadas.

Teriyaki pork loin, fried rice and broccoli.

Fajita seasoned chicken with Bella peppers and onion over Spanish rice and topped with queso.

Gnocchi with spicy meatballs.

Chimichurri steak and shrimp with a cilantro line rice and asparagus.

Just a burger.

Saturday was a productive day. I cleaned, did some laundry, and unclogged our bathroom sink. Damn hair and grime have a habit of clogging that small drain line. And I mean small — it isn’t the average 1” P-trap you expect to find. Real bummer for me. It’s filthy what you find when cleaning out a clogged pipe.

We also had a playdate that afternoon. My best childhood friend — really my brother from another mother — Samuel, his wife Crystal, and their baby Alex joined us. I was really afraid they would back out for some made-up reason, but when 3:00 approached, they were still down to meet us at 3:30 at the park.

It was a damn good time. The wind wanted us to cry like bitches, but we persevered. I have no idea how many times Alaya went up and down the slide, but I was happy to see her so entertained. Lord knows we needed her to burn up some of that energy because she was on full batteries that entire weekend.

It was also really good catching up with my best friend. Sadly, we don’t see as much of each other as we should. We say it’s life that keeps us apart, but in actuality, it’s just laziness. I mean, we grew up in daycare together. Roomed together in the college dorms. Experienced much of life together over the interwoven years. We should be able to pick up a phone and meet up every once in a while. I was glad that we now have babies roughly the same age — only three months apart.

Sunday was the epitome of a lazy day. I made breakfast but didn’t leave the house until after three, just making a quick run to the store. I played my video games and finished reading my book — a book that took me much longer than it should have because I kind of became a slacker about it.

That night Teegan and I finished our latest show, A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms. It’s a story set within the same world as Game of Thrones. Almost everyone knows that show, even if they’ve never actually watched an episode. I was hooked on it, so naturally I’d be interested in a side tale. What I wasn’t expecting was to be so fully absorbed back into that world.

This tale was set during a relatively peaceful time in Westeros, and the tone was much lighter — at times almost straight comedy, as opposed to the heavy drama of GoT. Teegan and I were both sad that the sixth and final episode aired Sunday night. It was a perfect season finale, and I know we’re both excited about season two a year from now. Really, they nailed it with this show. The last time a spinoff hooked me this hard was Better Call Saul.

Monday was a damn Monday.

First, our system was down. What this means is that I really couldn’t do my job. Well, I could — but I wasn’t able to do the electronic part of it, so everything was piling up on my desk for later. Fucking IT. They really need to get their shit together, and if it truly is a “vendor issue” like they claim, then hold the damn vendors accountable. There’s no reason for the entire campus to be shut out of the system on a Monday morning.

That afternoon, I had a Staff Senate meeting to attend. More bullshit. Funny thing — Yvette was called upon to join the Senate as an alternate because someone dropped out, so she was also at this gathering. We had to listen to the same shit about the potential employee daycare. I think we were all tired of hearing about it, but it kept coming up. It’s been coming up for fucking years as something “in the works” but unrealized.

Well, maybe this time. Hopefully, it will be the last.

The vice president basically squashed it. Squashed. I was hopeful. I dislike her, but at least she must have felt the same as I did on the issue. I don’t know why others didn’t understand this wasn’t going to be possible for many fucking reasons. Common sense.

That night, Teegan had a little award ceremony that we attended at Central High School. I am beyond proud of this kid. He just keeps knocking it out of the ballpark. I don’t think there’s anything he can’t do if he sets his mind to it.

The awards themselves were pretty unorganized. Like, bad. You would think they would have this kind of shit down to near perfection considering how many years they’ve been doing it. Oh well. Teegan was up for “Outstanding Leader.” He did not win, but what an honor just to be nominated.

The most interesting moment of the night came when they announced that the Sarah Bernhardt Theater would likely not be used much after that evening because they were going to demolish it and build another. Wow. I hated the place twenty-six years ago and thought at the time of my graduation that it needed to be blown the fuck up. Good riddance — but all the same, I was a little sad.

Tuesday, I had way too much free time on my hands at work, so I decided to use that time to reapply to college. Why the hell not? The application process has changed vastly in the twenty-five years since I first enrolled. ApplyTexas, which I’ve heard my children mention, seems like a straightforward pain in the ass. It took a little time, and I really think some of the information they’re asking for is a bit excessive for readmission to the college where I obtained my degree, but what can you do?

It was kind of fun. I don’t know how serious I am or how far I’ll take it, but for now I might as well take advantage of the employee tuition exemption and enroll in a few classes — if not just for fun, then to better enrich myself. It would be good for me.

Wednesday was nothing to even write about. Work was dull. I spent a good amount of time on the phone with my internet provider. In November, I spoke with them about my bill being too high and about finding service elsewhere. They worked with me… for two whole months. I received my bill, and it was right back where it had been.

I called and flat-out told them I wanted to cancel my service. Miraculously, they were able to work with me and give me a thirty-dollar credit on my recent bill, two months free, and a three-year rate at forty dollars.

I guess opening with “cancel my service” is the way to get results.

On Thursday, Yvette and I woke up to both of our phones going off, alerting us that my blood sugar was low. Lovely start to the day around 4:00 a.m.

Lucky for us, the campus was giving away free coffee and donuts at the Alumni Center. It was good coffee from a vendor called Travelin’ Tom’s Coffee Truck — not that battery acid they give out in the University Center, which I still stomach, mind you, even if it isn’t so great. The coffee was great. They were also offering donuts, but I passed.

Turns out my fucking blood glucose sensor was haywire all day long. It was reading that I was consistently low and had long gaps between said readings. Pricking my fingers told me otherwise. This meant I was unwillingly raising my sugars thinking that I was low. Bummer.

That afternoon, I had to visit the local water department. I went as prepared as I possibly could be. I had three invoices from plumbers and irrigation specialists, with pictures included. I walked in and took a number. I waited for my turn to be called. The place was silent like a tomb, void of all life and happiness. I waited.

Finally, my number was called. I was escorted to a desk and asked what I was there for. A leak adjustment for the three water leaks I’ve had over the last two months. I presented all my paperwork and the time frames with the bills that had been extraordinarily high. The lady accepted what I had and scanned it into the system. She then told me to continue paying the high bills and that in ninety days they would evaluate my data against the high bills to determine what sort of adjustments would be made to future bills — four months down the line. I felt like I was at a parole hearing. I was at their mercy.

This week has also been loaded with humor.

First, let’s talk about the campus fox population. They are everywhere. They don’t really cause any trouble, but we still have grounds guys who set live traps and relocate them periodically. That doesn’t really put a dent in the population, which is estimated to be 70+. At this point I think the foxes have seniority and possibly campus ID cards. I rather enjoy seeing them here and there. Hell, I live so close to campus I see them in my own yard. They are just part of the campus experience.

So, one campus employee has very good reason to dislike the fox population. While out on his golf cart, he decided to check the pool shed for chemicals — to see if they needed chlorine. He parked, hopped off, and left his lunch sitting proudly in the back of the cart like a buffet invitation. While his back was turned, a sneaky little fox executed what I can only assume was a perfectly calculated heist. Jumped in. Grabbed the sandwich. Gone.

When he turned around, the fox was trotting off with that sandwich firmly clamped in its jaws like it had just won Employee of the Month. No hesitation. No shame. Just confidence.  The man was devastated. His lunch was fox food. Somewhere on campus, that fox was probably telling his buddies about the idiot who catered the meal. We laughed our asses off. “How was your day, Patrick?” “Oh, you know. A fox stole my lunch. Typical Monday.”

The second thing that made me laugh. We are having a custodial switch. One crew’s last day was Thursday and another started Friday. Well, as the outgoing crew was leaving, they apparently decided it was “Take a Campus Souvenir Day.” They started loading up materials and items that very clearly did not belong to them — but rather belonged to the campus. One guy — a manager for the crew — tried to intervene and told them they could not take that material. You know. Because stealing is generally frowned upon.  His higher-ups decided to fire him on the last day.  He was fired for not stealing.  Let that marinate for a second.

In a week where a fox committed petty theft and got away clean, a man lost his job for refusing to participate in actual theft. You really can’t make this shit up.  Oh, the humor.

Just when I thought the week was over, boy, was I wrong. Alaya fell off a chair during lunch. I didn’t see it happen because I was carrying in groceries. She immediately vomited up her lunch. That’s scary. After cleaning her up, her mommy and daddy took her to the emergency room. Yvette and I returned to work.

Just after 3:30, Mommy called and said she had a small fracture of the skull. Oh my God, I was suddenly sick. I ran across campus and barged into Yvette’s office only to find she had already left. I must have looked sick to her boss. I kind of just let myself in because I was freaked out. I went back to the office, quickly left for the day, and headed to the hospital.

They were still in the ER, and I met Yvette in the waiting room of the pediatric unit. It was supposed to take thirty minutes for them to release her, but it ended up taking more like three hours. What kind of shit is that, I ask?

Her pediatrician met them in the ER and went over the results. Thank God — no concussion or brain bleed. I was so relieved. I had the awful worry that something like what happened to me would happen to her.

When she finally made it to the room, so did a detective and CPS. Good of them, but also unnecessary. Kind of bullshit. They interviewed them separately to make sure the stories aligned. Yvette had resurfaced memories of her past, and I could see the hurt in her eyes. It was bullshit because the ER filed the case as neglect. It wasn’t. She was watched, but she is fast, and things happen quickly.

Assured the case would close quickly, I left the hospital to go make dinner for Tee and me. He had already eaten. Of course. What a damn evening.

Jalapeño

Pork tenderloin marinated in fajita seasoning and lime juice served with peppers, onion, fideo and a nice salsa Verde with avocado mash..

BBQ chicken and cheese jalapeño sausage.

Leftover pork tenderloin black bean tostadas.

Steak, mushrooms, sweet potato and asparagus.

Jalapeño lime chicken bowl with some street corn.

Beef Bulgolgi

Valentine’s was celebrated in full the Friday before, but we still exchanged gifts and marked the actual day together — even if that just meant running errands across town. We’d already had such a good night that nothing was going to top it anyway.

That evening, because my brother was in town, we went over to my mother’s for dinner, drinks, and good times. Old stories resurfaced. New conversations started. We ate like we always do. Apparently, he had requested what has always been my favorite meal that my mom made when we were kids.

Somewhere before we left, something shifted in me. A little sickness crept in. At the time, I didn’t think much of it. Just a quick stomach glitch.

When we got home, Teegan and Yvette started packing for a trip to A&M. Big orientation. I wasn’t going — it was catered to one parent, and I was trying to build up my hours anyway.

Then the night happened.

I woke up with violent chills, freezing my ass off. I couldn’t get warm no matter what I did. And then it hit — my stomach. I was sick from both ends. All night. It felt like food poisoning, but I couldn’t think of anything I’d eaten that everyone else hadn’t, so I ruled that out.

Yvette found me on the couch the next morning and asked what I was doing there. I told her.

Sunday and Monday disappeared into crackers, toast, electrolytes, and regret. I left the house once — barely — just to grab drinks and supplies. Otherwise, I rotated between the bed and the couch like a defeated man.

I watched the entire first season of Pluribus. Nine hours I was more than happy to spend thinking about something other than how bad I felt.

The house was quiet. Lonely, sure — but quiet. I was almost grateful for that. It let me rest. I am an absolutely hopeless man when I’m sick. I become a big baby. I hate that about myself, but I won’t lie about it.

My diet stayed simple: crackers, toast, a little egg. I treated myself to half a chicken pot pie both nights, which felt like a victory at the time. By Monday evening, the house filled back up. I thought I was better.  I wasn’t.  Around 3 a.m., the bug came back. And again. And again.

At that point, I knew I’d have to take another day off, even though I didn’t want to. Conveniently, we had plumbers scheduled. Though “convenient” is a strong word when you have a stomach bug and the water in your house is turned off. Do you know what kind of nightmare that is? Lucky for me, campus is close. I made more than one emergency visit up there.

Now, about those plumbers.

Because the house had been so quiet, I started noticing sounds again. The water heater kicking on when it shouldn’t. A familiar, awful sound. Not again.

Then I noticed something worse. The hallway and master bedroom floor felt… squishy.  That’s never a good word.  Another leak. The damn hot water line. Again. Apparently, nothing in this house fully heals the first time — including me.

The plumbers came by, read the meter, and said it was probably just a pinhole leak. “Just” a pinhole. Even a tiny leak can wreck a house over time. We were living proof.

The master plumber found where he believed the manifold was, which unfortunately meant going through the tile wall by the toilet. It is what it is. They ran yet another line through the attic. That attic has seen more action in the last two weeks than it has in years.

Yvette and I rotated house duty. Since I sure as hell wasn’t getting rest there, I dropped off my taxes. The sooner the better. I need to pay back some of the money I borrowed to cover these plumbing bills. I also used the trip to once again utilize a campus restroom. I am so over this damn stomach bug.

Back at the house, they were wrapping up when I witnessed something almost worth the chaos. Before removing the toilet, the helper forgot to turn off the water valve. When they tested the line, water shot everywhere.  The master was not pleased.  “I need you to do your part so I can do mine.”  The helper was gone shortly after. The master apologized and said he wouldn’t be working with that guy again. I laughed silently. Even in the middle of misery, there’s always something.

For now, the problem is fixed. Two brand-spanking-new hot water lines replaced in two weeks. Two more still standing. Let’s hope they hold. If they don’t, at least give us a few years to financially recover.

After three days trapped inside, I needed out.

I found a bench swing along the river and just sat. We have a beautiful river that winds through this town — one most people take for granted. I needed fresh air. Space. Movement. I couldn’t start another damn show.

The river was steady. Calm. Indifferent to my plumbing and my stomach.  It’s the lifeline of this city. Everything here comes back to it. Even me.

I watched a lone duck for a while. Ducks aren’t usually alone, so I wondered about that. I watched people drift in and out of view. Couples. Runners. Kids. I might have even witnessed a shady little drug deal. That’s the river. It gathers everything — families, solitude, deals, peace.  The water kept moving whether I felt like shit or not.

I could’ve stayed for hours if my stomach would’ve allowed it. The sky was bright, the clouds barely there. For a moment, I almost forgot about the bug.  But the battle between mind and stomach had a clear winner. And it wasn’t me.

When I left, the duck was still alone. I suppose we both were that day on the river.

Now, about Pluribus.

Damn, that was a good show. I wish I’d watched it under better circumstances, but what can you do?  The world receives a transmission from deep space — basically a genetic code. And because we’re stupid humans, we assemble it. The result? All but twelve people on Earth become one hive mind. No individuality. No private thoughts. World peace. Perfect harmony.  The hive isn’t hostile. In fact, it wants to please you. It’ll do anything you ask. Even deliver a nuke to your front porch if that’s what you request.  So what do the twelve do?  That’s the show. And it’s done beautifully.

The performances are strong across the board, and the writing is sharp. Of course it is. Same mind behind Breaking Bad and Better Call Saul. I’d absolutely recommend it — especially if you find yourself stuck on a couch, fighting demons from both ends.

I made it back to work the next day. My last episode had been after six the evening before — over twelve hours without incident. A miracle. I felt like a goddamn new man. It’s funny how you don’t realize how good you feel until you feel good again.

The office was locked when I arrived. Big morning meeting about the leadership change. I wasn’t about to attend. I used the quiet time to organize the mess on my desk. After being cooped up for days, I was ready to move. To drive. To get out into town. I was almost ecstatic.

While out, I saw a man face down in a Whataburger parking lot, hands cuffed behind his back while four officers searched his vehicle. Before ten in the morning. I don’t know what he did. Maybe he just wanted coffee and a honey butter chicken biscuit. Sometimes the day just doesn’t go your way.

The plumbers stopped by at noon to fix a small leak they’d caused. Ten minutes. No charge. A rare win.

That night I went to my mother’s, grilled for Yvette, Teegan, and myself, and had a genuinely good time. I wasn’t tired anymore. I missed a call from an old friend and returned it. As usual, he had nothing good to say. Only bad news. I was glad to know — but not glad to know.

The three-day work week passed without disaster. I stayed busy all over town. The weather was pretty damn great for February — warm most of the week. A hell of a contrast to how it started. Let’s hope I don’t go through some bullshit like that again for a very long damn time.  I’ve had my fill.

Happy Friday! 

Jalapeño.

The sad little chicken pot pie that I ate parts of for two nights will suck to my stomach.

Cat food!! That’s what my brother and I called it. Tits really just ground beef seasoned as if they were hamburgers covered in ketchup.

Mac and cheese with chicken and broccoli.

Grilled orange chicken thigh.

Brazilian bbq pork ribeye with street corn and black bean and rice.