I’m a divorced father living alone in a 2 bedroom apartment.  My lovely daughters stay with me every other weekend and I very much look forward to their arrival.  We play games, share stories, watch movies and even go out for meals and bookstore shopping.  I look forward to these times I get to share with my girls.

But when I’m alone I get to work.  I must motivate myself to wake up each morning at a decent hour in order to make some coffee, eat a little breaky, check email, then get to writing.  It’s not always easy.

I’ve always been a procrastinator.  In high school and college I wrote term papers and final dissertations usually the day or night before they were due.  Not a good practice in the professional writing world.  Each writing project I acquire gets assigned a due date on my calendar so I know what must be done by what day.

The problem with that system is that if I have a day or two between project due dates I get complacent and believe it is a day off where I can watch a DVD or read a book.  Why?  Because typing all day all by myself is boring.  Sure, I love the research I do for writing projects.  But staying home while all my friends are at their day jobs puts me in a place where I must entertain myself.  And frankly, I can be a pretty boring person.

So freelance writing isn’t all fun and games.  It requires a heap of self motivation and the ability to keep oneself solitarily occupied.  I’m still learning.  I’ve worked in a business office for over 13 years so the last six months at home have been an interesting challenge.  But is it worth it to be home sometimes 24 hours a day?  You bet!  I wouldn’t change a thing.  It can only get better with experience.

Cosby’s genius style is creating comedy from actual real life. I have laughed again and again at his real-life situation with “little Jeffrey”…until I recently met Ryan.

I was on my way home from Dallas, Texas and after a 3-hour layover in Salt Lake City I was very anxious and prepared to board the little airplane that would zip me back to Portland. As I quietly sat in Terminal C working my New York Times Crossword and waited for my boarding time a mother, who I will forthwith call “the Marshmallow” because her body type resembled that of the Michelin tire guy, and her two young chunky mini-marshmallows blazed a trail of chaos down the terminal. The two young boys zig-zagged from one gate to another, running into passengers and literally bouncing off the walls. The Marshmallow barked commands at them that would make an army drill sergeant cringe.

Distractions are common in airports so I waited for the little brood to move their hubbub on down the terminal and was immediately distraught when they plopped down right beside me. Oh boy, I thought. This is going to be a fun plane ride.

I didn’t know the half of it.

For the next hour at Gate 07 in Terminal C the modest crowd of trapped air travelers were subject to listen to the crazy parenting style of The Marshmallow and her bizarre brood of chunky children.

“Mamma, why aren’t we getting on the plane?” asked the oldest.

“Because the plane is still in the air,” said the Marshmallow as she chomped on a King Size Snickers.

“Well how are we going to get on the plane if it’s still in the air?”

“It won’t be in the air for very long. Now shut up and have a snack.” She turned to her younger son. “Ryan,” she barked to her little 4 yr old as he nearly knocked over a hobbling grandma, “what did I tell you about bumping into people? Watch where you’re going!” Never said ‘sorry’ to the poor lady. I suspect that if she had tumbled to the ground due to her spastic son she still would have be oblivious to the poor lady’s screams of “help! I’ve fallen and I can’t get up!”

This family format continued until the plane taxied in to Gate 07 and I double and triple checked that I had my iPod & earbuds super-handy. I knew I was going to need the earplugs to filter out the barking of The Marshmallow and Ryan’s constant questioning. I boarded with the last group onto the plane. I drug my carry on bag through the narrow aisle looking for seat 13E. I found it. Then I spotted who was sitting right behind me…

…RYAN!

Ugh! I felt what little energy I had left from the day deflate out of me like a truck tire blowout on the sizzling Texas interstate. I stored my bag in the overhead compartment and casually took my seat against the window. The kicking started immediately.

“Ryan, what did I tell you about kicking the seat!?” The Marshmallow’s discipline techniques were unequaled. He stopped – for about 5 seconds.

Bump – Bump – Bump

“RYAN!” barked The Marshmallow so that everyone on the plane certainly knew at that moment that little Ryan was acting his age again. “Stop kicking the seat or I’m going to cut your feet off!!”

Oh, I wanted to turn around and say with a smile, “can I do it?” But I refrained. The seat kicking continued, without a single apology to me until the throughout our short delay and takeoff. I was absolutely gleeful when the nice-looking flight attendant gave us the go-ahead to turn on our electronics. Not only was I going to tune out with my trusty iPod, but I heard The Marshmallow offer her mini-chunks a choice of DVD movies to watch on a little viewer. Whew! I hoped that would keep them occupied.

Thankfully, it did. I sat the rest of the trip jamming with Meat Loaf and enjoying my complementary sip of beverage and a peanut. As soon as we reached Portland International I grabbed my bag and snuck out of the plane as fast as I could before the Marshmallow clan debarked.

Home at last, I vowed, like I do after every plane trip, to never to fly coach again. Thanks to Ryan and The Marshmallow it’s first class only for me from now on!

One of the nice things about freelance work is that I can take it with me wherever I go. This weekend I made a trip to Dallas, TX to visit some family, watch a Texas Ranger ball game, and most importantly, visit the new mecca: the new Dallas Cowboys Stadium!

But even though I’m on a short holiday, my work goes with me. I have deadlines to meet and continuing work that needs attention for upcoming deadlines. So you can see on the left that even though I spent a fabulous night with dad and cousins indulging in Italian food and multi-bottles of vino, I had to get to work the next morning. My dad’s RV became my portable coffeeshop, and let me tell you, the coffee was flowing. There might have been an occasional Monster energy drink or three during that burst of production.

Not only am I enjoying seeing family and cousins I haven’t seen in 20 or more years, I’m also melting under the hot, HOT Texas sun. The temperature so far has been an average of 102 degrees every day. So my RV coffeeshop is also my refuge from the burning sun. Thank the coffee gods that the air conditioning works. And I pray that the Texas Ranger ball game tonight will be tolerable. I’m sure a few brewskis will help keep the internal temperature down.

I return home to the nice, cool, and moderate climate of Portland tomorrow. I have also found that working in airports with Wi-Fi while waiting for planes, and tip-typing away on the plane during its flight is a good way to keep up with work. I am thankful that I have a slim lightweight laptop that acts as my best friend on the road. It keeps me company. Shows me photos of my girls when I miss them terribly. Lets me know what’s going on in the world while I am isolated in the Texas flatlands. And it entertains me by playing DVDs. This is definitely the best employee I’ve ever had!

Well, as is typical with the great Pacific Northwest it is cloudy and threatening to rain.  Even if I attempted a cookout on the grill and successfully avoided the rain, my 1st grader is a self-emposed vegetarian and wouldn’t eat my nummy smoked Kielbasa anyway.

In addition, I have two deadlines to meet this coming week so I must put the fingers to the keyboard in order to complete a couple of freelance projects.  While my kids are with me this weekend it does challenge me to find time and space to get the work done.  The young-uns do demand a lot of my attention but they also like to be entertained by the collection of DVD’s by the TV.  So while uncle Disney plays his feature films I sit at my comfy recliner with my laptop and type away, slowly edging closer to the finish of my projects.

So what are YOU doing on your holiday?

Except, my li’l girls are afraid of big booms.

So we have a supermarketbagful of easy to ignite sparklers, poppers and funny growing snakes that “look like poo!”  Yes, gone are the bygone days when I was young and me & my buds would set off bottle rockets (using actual bottles as launch pads!) over the Yellowstone River, and drop Cherry Bombs off the bridge and watch them explode just before they hit the water.  Small town Montana had nothing else to do in the summer, so when it came to fireworks we heartily entertained ourselves with the legal over-the-counter explosives!

Such dorks we were!  We even took our Roman Candles and aimed them at each other (from a reasonable safe distance of about five feet apart),  and played “dodge the flaming white ball.”  With A-HA and Mister Mister blaring from the powerful 2-inch speakers in our cool cars (mine was a ’79 Honda CVC – cherry red!) we jammed through the night at the beach by the river and drank be…er, rather consumed Kool-Aid and soda.  Yeah, that’s it.  I believe I went nearly deaf one holiday after we created a daisy chain of Black Cat firecrackers about that wound around trees and along the river rocks along the beach, trying to set some kind of record for “longest domino firecracker” ever.  Although we successfully did not destroy any property or lose any body appendages, we laughed the next day when we always heard the stories of some dorks that destroyed tons of piled hay bales, or caught the neighbor’s tree on fire.

Now, I’m a city dweller, a “slicker” if you will.  I’m turning crotchety in my old age and frown and make “ha-rumphing” noises when the punks outside light those noisy firecrackers.  My girls – 6 and 3 – like the fireworks, but only from afar.  Nothing that BOOMS, CRACKS, WHISTLES, or otherwise EXPLODES are ever set off in their presence.  Sparklers & snakes.  Why?  Because they sparkle and look like poo.  And THAT’S what Independence Day is all about!

Reason #5

My desk is a mess!  If I were only a little less lazy I could spend five minutes and organize my computer desk.  Everything is stacked in piles including mail, pens & pencils, sticky notes, post-it flags, CD’s, photos, and a microphone.  I could clean it up, but why when I have a perfectly clean coffee shop to use as my office?

Reason #4

They make better coffee than I do.  I’m a cheapskate on coffee.  I purchase the generic brand coffee from the local grocer.  The ‘shop makes it much better and they make a little leafy design in my lattes.  Plus, the poppyseed scones are to-die-for!

Reason #3

Saves gas.  I don’t have to drive to work.  I can walk about a block to my favorite coffee shop.  Sometimes I’ll choose to drive a short distance to partake and sample other coffee shops.

Reason #2

Fewer distractions.  When at home I’ve got other things I could do than work on the computer:

• Look at all those books on the shelf that need to be read!
• Oh, I’m behind on my laundry!
• Doggone it, the dishes are piled up again.
• Cool!  I could watch a Batman movie marathon today!

Reason #1

The barista chicks are HOT!

No, parents dread the thought of an adventure at Chuck’s.

But…

Once the decision to embark has been made, a parent undergoes a change as we pass through the doors. Especially the fathers. We revert to little kids. The lights! The sounds! The games!! I noticed tonight dads who played air hockey with the enthusiasm of a dog chasing a stick. A beer-bellied 30-something with a long blonde mullet shot Skee Ball and collected tickets in a bucket which I’m sure he would redeem for a nice Nerf frisbee or something. Another dad was dropping tokens by the dollar in a Galaga game with the same intensity and frequency as dollars dropped at the local go-go girls wiggle tavern.

So regardless of the moans and groans when prodded by our kids, “Daddy! Let’s go to Chuck E. Cheese’s!” we secretly enjoy the experience and look forward to when we can go be a kid, too!

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got some Galaga alien ass to kick….

But despite all the underhanded training and playtime activity to become an architect, rocket scientist, or redneck race car driver, I became a creative artist. And as a parent with a deep appreciation for all types of creative arts I am obliged to plop my daughters down at the table armed with a gigantic boxful of crayons, colored pencils, markers, and a ream of paper, and say, “get to work, draw me something.”

I have also discovered that this route to keeping children entertained is a whole heck of a lot cheaper than spending hard-earned dollars on overpriced toys that get opened and played with once or twice then stuffed in the closet for eternity – or at least until the next yard sale. But, whereas simple toys can be put away, thrown away, or just accidentally swallowed, there’s a ton of creative output from the drawing table. And every little page of scribble is a masterpiece in the eyes of my girls.

“Put this on the fridge, Daddy!”

“Hang this one in the hallway!”

“Do we have enough for an art gallery showing on First Thursday yet?”

As dutifully as my daughters spent their creative energies drawing their masterpieces, I dutifully display their art upon as many surfaces as are available. That usually means the front of my fridge looks like a telephone pole in a bohemian part of town; stacked with layer upon layer of fliers and posters and silly art.

But I wouldn’t change it for the Mona Lisa.

Happy Fathers Day

(WAIT! — did he say snow? In June!?!)

Yes, I said snow.

Record cold temps in Portland and low snow levels have extended the skiing season in to the summer. WTF!?! I split from Montana 13 years ago to get away from cold, freezing temps and snow. Now I’m smack in the middle of winter in JUNE! So all you freaks in the northeast having a heatwave, just bite me!

And you know who else can bite me? The geniuses proclaiming the “Global Warming” effect. Yup, that’s right…bite me with those cold, chattering teeth!

Ok, ok, you might be figuring that I’m a little grumpy right now due to the weather. That may be so, but my grumpiness is offset by the joy of rehearsing Les Miserable. After six days of rehearsal we’re nearly finished blocking the show. We open in 17 days so you can bet we’ll be getting bi’dness done here this week. Our Jean Valjean is a veteran of the Les Mis stage, having previously toured the show. He sounds awesome! I’ll disclose more about him later. Maybe tomorrow I’ll show y’all my new 19th Century French student revolutionary sideburns.

Last night after a meal of two forkfulls of Mac & Cheese she proceeded to ransack my kitchen in search of snack booty.

“I’m hungry”

“Then eat your dinner”

“But I’m full”

“???!!!??”

Even after six and a half years of parenting I’m still trying to plug in to kid logic. They obviously understand that to get out of eating any more of the ca-ca that is set before them all they have to do is feign fullness. But their strategy to get up from their dinner and go straight for the kitchen pantry, well, I’m on to that scheme like Pooh Bear to hunny trees.

But I take the cue and run with the ball and say, “I’d be happy to get you a popsicle – as soon as you finish your meal.”

“But I don’t want any more.”

“Then obviously you don’t want any popsicles.”

“Then can I have potato chips?”

“No.”

“Popcorn”

“No.”

“Cheez-its?”

“Uh uh.”

So off she goes to play and dance, forgetting that she’s hungry. But near bed time she can’t stand the hunger any longer and eats her cold cheesy noodles. And after reading stories and hugs and kisses, and getting her cups of water and milk for her bedside, she walks into the living room 10 minutes later…

“Can I have a popsicle now?”