Scarred not Scared

Breathing

2006-12-12T15:34:00.000-05:00

can be so hard when there is pain.
Wrenching wracked wrecked.
Desire to damage, but making myself hurt
won't change anything.
Redemption with a past? Despite the past?
The scorch of learning, seeing clearly
but maybe too late.
The crunching pain of new uncertainty.
Smile despite the lie.
Sleep under the blanket of Depression the Medicant.
waiting..

Oh, and the blog title above?
Complete lie. Scared shitless,
a mass of wormy nerves whose
hunger never dies,
feeding on confidence and hope.
Devouring, denying, descrying.
Afraid yet walking, some talking
Less sleep and food.
waiting still…

Going, going…

2006-12-02T12:51:00.001-05:00

From my craigslist post:
1966 Imperial Crown Coupe-Gr8 4 Custom or as Classic! - $2500 (Grandview Heights)
Reply to: sale-243020313@craigslist.org
Date: 2006-12-02, 10:53AM EST

Have to let go of my dream car. This is a rare (only 2,373 made) 1966 Imperial Crown Coupe; you won't see another pass you on the highway. Made by Chrysler, this car boasts a 440cid engine (the largest version of this block, great for overboring). First sold in NJ, I bought it in PA, and it is now titled in Ohio with less than 25k miles. Sat for years on a farm and the interior shows it: split driver's seat and center bolster, dingy carpet, etc. Decent repaint by prev. owner + minor dings & scrapes. Transmission rebuilt in Summer, 2005. Starts but sounds awful: needs new bearings or a complete rebuild. Many extra parts and 1-yr-only wheel covers. NO TIRE KICKERS OR WANNABES: only interested in hearing from folks who know what a great price this is for an Incomparable car. More info here. Only asking $2500/O.B.O.

* This item has been posted by-owner.
* Location: Grandview Heights
* It's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests

Deep blackness recedes

2006-12-02T09:16:00.000-05:00

A shake of the head, droplets fall. I almost fell in, almost died almost lost it all. Suicide of the heart. The edge pulled, not beckoning more threatening. Was enveloping with nails caressing. How did I get here? Is this my beautiful death? Was that my beautiful love? Fog thick choking refusing air. Pain, doubly doubling over. A scream--was that me? Can I make sounds like that? Shuddering squeeze; no relief. Then light sparks unexpectedly. This can't be: I live? Light's golden glow giving fog shape, form, words. Words bringing me back from the edge? No, the scream. The ripping of my gut/heart/life. I did this. I almost killed it without looking, knowing. Ashes drop, flames recede, cool air lifts my eyes. This pain friend forges anew, steel steaming as it cools. A thumb on the honed edge reminds of the edge, the deep eternal failure of regret. For now, at arm's length, but waiting.

The abyss is my friend, failure my savior:

百戰百勝，非善之善也；不戰而屈人之兵，善之善者也

"One hundred victories in one hundred battles is not the most skillful. Seizing the enemy without fighting is the most skillful." --Sun Tzu

I will not fight, I will bring my enemy my self closer. Knowing is the trigger. I am lifted, scarred not scared. Fear drove the wind through me and I felt its chilling despair. Smile.

The Wilhelm Scream--I knew they did this sort of thing!!!

2006-11-29T14:40:00.002-05:00

This article in boingboing discusses the uncovery of The Wilhelm Scream. Follow the link in the article to a vid clip that illustrates the use of the scream over decades of movie making.

This does not surprise me at all. In fact, I have often figured they did the same thing with canned laugh tracks: take some recorded, hysterical and remarkable laughs from other audiences and reuse them in layers to create the impression of an audience wetting their pants.

I even know some people (Ernie, you are the one I am talking about!!) who have laughs like that. I have even witnessed the phenomenon occurring within my own theatre where a person, usually a woman, laughs so distinctly and remarkably that the audience winds up laughing harder at her than at the comic action on stage. It helps if the person with the laugh also finds things funny at times that most in the audience do not, so that his/her laugh cuts through all other distractions.

I giggle just thinking about it.

No money back, no effn guarantees

2006-11-22T09:46:00.000-05:00

Hello? Is this thing on? Can anyone hear me?

Tripping along, living and loving, making creating destroying digesting. Gettin' comfortable with some aspects, some connections, then WHAM it hits: wonder of the grey kind. Shadows, doubt, disbelief. Can it be? Do fears come true by imagining them? Do we distort our own reality if we let it germinate/gestate within us? Do we want our fears to come true so we can whimper and slink? How? Why, when the joy of succeeding with integrity is so crystalline, so soaring and bright?

There are no guarantees, not even that you will make it across the street in one piece. Are your children on the path to good and happy? Will they treat others as full humans and feel real joy? Will your smear of life bring remembrance of love and a sadness for what's missing? Have you changed lives? Have you tried?

Our futures cannot be stopped, they come to us. We welcome them, no matter the color.
We birth them then decide to keep them or try again. Divergence.

Fear twists, begging to be mocked. Yet the mind won't let it go completely--why this love affair? Why limit? Blame yourself? Your parents? Fate? That sour bologna?

Even though I can't escape fear completely, it is only allowed visitation, not cohabitation. I know I can kick it out and that the sun will touch my skin again. I am prepared, armed and resilient. I know I cannot prevent the Change in others.

But I also know that no matter what pain falls on my head, clouds break. They always have, eventually. The music brings tears, the hot sting of joyful pain.

It is to live and love life that matters. That's all there really is for any of us.

MySpace this time

2006-11-21T09:42:00.000-05:00

http://blog.myspace.com/82388181

Come on, CommArts

2006-09-05T09:35:00.000-04:00

Got my latest issue of Communication Arts yesterday (

Interactive Annual 12

). Usually, I let it sit for a week or two, then drift through it, unless its the Photography issue, then I tear into it right away. I often let the Illustration issue gain dust. The difference is that I am fairly adept at digital photomanipulation, and can even snap a decent photo once very 100 frames or so (so far my strongest ones have all been taken at the beach, and all at sunset), but I can't draw for squat. Last summer, my mom sent home with me a box of old photos, hand made cards, school papers of mine, etc. Ostensibly, she said she was cleaning out closets and couldn't bear to keep the photos taken during my first marriage. Upon inspection of the the contents of the box, however, she sent me much more than that. I guess that as we age, the issue of Keep Or Return changes with priorities and energies. My parents have TONS of stuff, much of it lovely (8 different sets of fine china, endless artwork and the like), and while its obvious that this stuff is/was meaningful to mom (afterall, she kept it for nigh on 45 years), perhaps the idea of ever going through it again seemed futile or just too overwhelming.

So, I have it now, and while I was away for a week this past spring helping mom and dad with their landscaping, my dearest Megan went through the contents, went out and bought half a dozen multi-photo picture frames and put together a really terrific retrospective of my childhood. It was so impactful, I wept at the sentiment. It also gave her more insight into the part of my life she has never had much access. Perhaps it also added some myth to her biography of me, because she went through the items without me over her shoulder offering commentary and reference, so she could imagine what she wished.

The point of all this is that amongst the photos and school papers were also a number of handdrawn cards that I had made for my parents, some which I vividly remembered making and others that seemed completely unfamiliar. And while reading through the

CommArts issue

I came across an article about the label art of Bonny Doon Vineyards. Looking at the illustrations by Chuck House and Gary Taxali gave me pause: why do I shun the illustrator that live within me? How childish, how silly, how fearful. So today I dug through our bookshelf and pulled out a spiral bound, unlined book of blank pages with a nice, heavy cardboard cover with a nubby, alligator-like cover.

Stay tuned…

It sucks being older...and passionate

2006-07-11T09:09:00.000-04:00

Investment. That is what stage actors shoot for when creating a 3D character. An emotional reality that helps the audience forget they are watching a lie, a charade,<> OH CRAP. My 6 y.o. just tripped over a picture we use to block the kitchen doorway so the bunny doesn't 'escape' the kitchen and chew up the LAN cables (again). Christian fell, and the picture glass just broke into long shards. Whew. He didn't cut his feet, I didn't yell and he didn't cry. Scene averted. Of course, the glass is a goner and I feel like crying, but so far so good. Sometimes I really wish I was less passionate than most of the men I know. Most of the men I come into regular contact with, don't laugh nearly as much as I do. And I bet most of them don't get nearly as angry as I when they get pissed and they probably don't cry from intense feelings like I do. My kids and my fiance, they are the greatest source of my intense emotions. Now, I'm not talking daily, weekly or even monthly, but definitely 'every couple of months-ly.' And I don't mind. Crying flushes the crap out of my soul. My sons have seen me cry and I think that's OK. I still garner their respect and love. Megan has seen me as well, and she doesn't seem to think less of me. But sometimes…sometimes I just wish I was more middle ground like most guys seem to be. Then I wouldn't get depressed or sad when a new project doesn't pan out, like my recent efforts to fix my Imperial. 3 weeks of abouty 3 whole days each week of my friend and I tearing it down and putting it back to gether, then finding it doesn't work any better and perhaps in some ways, worse. And my new 'career' has its ups and downs. Again, I can deal with my emotions with myself, but its the reactions of those around me that make it harder. Everyone loves me when I am up, happy and laughing. When I feel the flip, when I feel down, sad, depressed or beaten up, then my kids deal OK, but everyone else seems to want me to not to do that. Oh, then there's the times when I get angry. Naturally, no one likes that, least of all me. Megan always bears the hardest brunt, I guess because she's far closer to me than anyone else. I tell her when I feel sad/depressed/beaten, and she tries to support me in my moment. But sometimes when my frustration builds and I have a hard time expressing or thinking, she takes it to mean I feel that towards/about her. Then she gets edgier…oh hell. It doesn't matter. It doesn't matter how she talks to me when she get mad or frustrated. It doesn't matter that I bite my tongue and try to talk her out of her loops. It doesnt' matter, because as soon as I lose my cool, its my fault. I hear my anger, I hear my curses but she doesn't hear her own voice. It doesn't matter. I'm older, more experienced. I should have a more composed demeanor, calm in the face of ANY storm. Patience at all times, understanding that the tone of voice is not meant for me even though it is delivered into my face, eyes forward. It doesn't matter. There is no…CRAP…there is only my own shortcomings, faults, unevenness, harshness. The pendulum swings again, and I hold my breath. Breathless, I wait to measure the damage I do to those around me. Kids, my lover, myself. Breathe…don't wish to punch the world. Don't expect anything to 'go right.' Just breathe. Hope for the best, try your best but don't invest. Dont' self defeat or you'll be beat.

Aw, Effyou, Johnny Cochrane.

I still don't know what to do with myself.

Random Rant

2006-06-28T17:12:00.000-04:00

Soooo, I'm driving to the bank, through my quaint middle class municipality and I spy something pull out in front of me that I have seen many times: a vanity license plate with two sets of 3-letter initials. "I hate you!" I scream at my windshield. Why? Why do I hate this anonymous, SUV driving suburbanite housewife whose concept of individuality and flair is to pay an extra $35 so that the initials of the couple, in a unique and apparently not repeated before them manner, make up their license plate? How could I despise someone who's idea of originality has been repeated by like-minded folks for the past, what, 15 years or so? Is it possible this cute concept predates the Look At Me '90s? Sure, the Go-Go '80s were full of vapid egotism, but didn't the Nineteen hundred and nineties signal the crest of blatantism? How interesting it would be to poll every single vehicle in these United States that is adorned with these metal monograms and list the predominance of additional 'signals'? Bet we would find that the most popular sticker is BUSH/CHENEY 2004, followed by those insipid ribbon magnets that declare patriotism and blind support for those sent overseas whether they like it or not, along with the Ducks, et.al. Unlimited folks and the My Kid is a Big Fat Cheeser At Random School stickers. Join in, everyone, declare your affiliation and stop worrying whether you're unique or not--the bandwagon never gets too full for another sheep in sheep's clothing!!

"Peanut Butter Catholic TIme…

2006-06-27T09:03:00.001-04:00

…with a baseball bat!" So this past weekend, my fiance and I went to Pgh PA: she had been hired to sing in the Catholic wedding of an old theatre pal. SIDENOTE: My baby can sing like the dickens, especially classicly. What pipes!! So we stayed in the choir chancel behind the altar where she stood next to the organist and I played pocket Yahtzee. There was a closed circuit tv so that the theatre oops--I mean, church could be monitored during the ceremony. My baby did a great job, despite that fact that 2 new songs for which she hadn't prepared were dropped in her lap the night before during rehearsal!! Anyway, it was funny to listen to the organist accompany her in that crazy Grandma Falsetto, which was 'ok' until the organist tried to sing the low parts and completely lost it <>. But the most amazing part of the experience for me was the Ceremony Itself. Listening to the medieval take on relationships between the sexes, the words coming out of a man's mouth that were written by really, really old men long ago purporting to be words that The Higher Power would have said himself but who can't/won't because Men do such a great job of translating his will, etc.; all of this made me feel like a teenager again, attending mass against his will (not my parents, but usually catholic cousins or a close friend who's dad died or was getting married), all giggly, irreverent, disbelieving…I mean, come on, people! Even if there really is a God/Higher Power, who are Men (some Women but far and away more Men) to think that they can 'divine' his will, intentions or meanings? Doesn't that automatically anthropomorphize an Unknowable Being into the base realm of us humans? Wow, talk about Ego on the Run. Anyway, suffice it to say I giggled, I mouthed humorous asides at the Pretty Lady singing, and even got a glare from Her Royal Highness The Organist for 'sprawling' across one of the choir benches. Man, Catholics sure make some uncomfortable furniture!

Rework, rebuild, renew

2006-06-07T13:13:00.000-04:00

re:work--a new start in a new business, Melaleuca. This is a catalog based business that produces wellness products, ie. those that are better for you and your family's health, MUCH better for the environment and, if you choose to make a business of it like Megan and I are, can also provide you with financial wellness. The compensation is referral oriented, so there is no selling, no pressure, no keeping track of others. This 20 year old company has an outstanding track record and product line, along with a consistent Fortune 500 top rating and a Fortune 500 corporate managment team. Melaleuca is NOT a Multi-Level Marketing company (I have experienced two of those and it was awful). It is something I am genuinely proud to be a part of.

re:build--while building my new financial future, I am also rebuilding my corporeal self. I have been subscribed to Men's Health magazine for several years now and recently yanked the May workout poster of the that issue and have been killing myself in our living room 3 times a week. While I am in decent shape for a 45 year old, I grow tired of pinching that little tire that lives around and above my hip bones. I also have realized that my endurance sucks. So, pain is my new friend. Since using Melaleuca products, I am able to breathe again (allergy related asmtha), so I must build my body and heart back up. After all, I have a wife-to-be considerably younger than I am and I will be damned before I let someone refer to me as her Dad.

ew:new--new habits arise from the workouts (timeliness and dedication) as well as from using Melalueca products (daily vitamins, the ocassional workout or meal replacement bar) and sitting down at my home desk and working on the business. I have committed to this opportunity as my chance to build a future where I need not worry about: retirement, whether or not I can afford to take us out for a $60 dinner or a $100 concert, whether or not my cars will run or that I can afford to fix them, whether or not I can be home for my boys as much as I want (or they can stand!). There is no boss to stand over me and make sure I am taking the necessary steps to build my business. Yes, Megan asks how I did at the end of the day and my mentor Lou follows up to see if I will be able to meet my goals, but all in all, it is up to me. I like that. I like staring down the second half of my life with full control of the reins, a glint in my eye and a bulge in my shorts…

BRING IT!

I Need a Time Machine

2006-03-15T10:50:00.000-05:00

I have a very rich family history and sometimes I get consumed by it: googling names, calling mom for info etc. Here is a Summary Brief:

Both of my parents grew up in Bronxville, NY. My dad's side of my ancestral tree includes these distinctions: We came over on the Mayflower under the family name Fuller, Samuel. That means that should I pursue it, I could belong to Sons of the American Revolution, as well as the Civil War equivalent (the Union, I believe). On my mom's side, my ancestors include Sam Houston, the president of the Republic of Texas (an uncle) as well as John Leech, the illustrator of Punch and Judy among others. My mom's dad ran a commerical graphic arts studio in Manhattan from 1920 until he died in 1966. He worked on the old Lifesavers campaign in the 40's and 50's that had a choo choo train made of lifesavers candy, as well as many other commerical products. Often his firm was hired by ad agencies, so most of his work was not signed. His specialty was airbrush; he was a master of it. I have a couple of his works, one of which looks to be an airbrush study for a WWII war bond poster. His name was Herbert Carlyle Leech. His brother, Stuart Leech, was a renowned watercolorist (google The Sea Witch), and their father, Herbert Baxter Leech, was an accomplished oil painter. Now that I am running my own design firm, I find myself haunted by the past accomplishments and talents of these men, the only one I ever had contact with being my grandfather Carlyle.

Family Guy's Peanutbutter Jelly Time

2006-01-30T09:35:00.000-05:00

So, Megan and I love watching Adult Swim, and a few weeks ago, we saw a new episode in which Brian the Dog does The Dance. We thought it was hysterical and forgot about it. Now, please understand that I'm one of the those geeks who jumps to the keyboard when a reference or conversation or idea surfaces on my brow--dunh, duh duh duhn duh duuuuuuh--Super Googler. I love the culture of answers at my fingertips when ever I like. Well, I sure missed this one, cuz I just discovered that the Peanutbutter Jelly Time dance is OLD, in internet years. Like, ANCIENT! Here's the link: http://www.albinoblacksheep.com/flash/banana.php to what appears to be the original. For Seth McFarlane to have worked it into a Family Guy episode means it has to be at least 18 months old. Not because they are that behind the curve, but rather because it most likely had already come and gone from the pass-it-around-to-everyone-you-know moment in internet time. Can't believe I missed it, but then I also (thankfully!) missed the Hamster Dance.

Flickr Ticklr, Lifehacker & Junk Drawers

2006-01-30T09:18:00.000-05:00

See that THING to your right? That's a link to my Flickr page, with photos I've taken. Not many so far, but Flickr rocks. You know, for someone who most people think is a complete geek, I know very little about a lot. Like how to update my Flickr page with pics from my Razr. So, I am going to tackle that little challenge in the next couple of days. On other fronts, I just got invited to post on a newish blogish site called Lifehacker. It has multiple daily updates with posts and links of things that can help us all find more happy, peace or harmony, while saving the world from E-vil. Actually, I've considered myself a hacker since I was about 8, but I didn't discover that the label fit until about 5 years ago. See, in my family there has always been a junk drawer, ususally in the kitchen. Overcrowded with unidentifiable goodies, it has always been my Rosetta Stone when faced with something that won't work the way I want it to. I'm not talking about soldering iron-grade fixes, but more along the lines of "Crap, if I only had a little L-shaped piece of plastic with a round eye at the end…Ah!! I'll check the junk drawer." It's a mentality of goosing the world to get the results you want or need. Doesn't always work, but for me, this approach sustains a sense of wonder and inquiry that has kept me younger in appearance and attitude than my 44.5 years might otherwise support. Well, that and having a life partner who is nearly half my age, two terrific boys who inspire me to stay young and a professional life that freaks out my parents and is the envy of cubicle dwellers here in the midwest. Yeah, I'm getting ready to make my second pot of coffee this morning, big whoop--wanna fight about it?

Creesto's Parenting Secret #1-Calming-A-Kid

2006-01-25T09:58:00.000-05:00

One of things that surprises me again and again is twofold: how so many of us parents are on our own figuring out how to raise our kids, and how little trading goes on of helpful information. So this is my first posting of something I discovered and have since shared with many other parents. This has successfully been used by us, and also by every parent I have ever let in on it for the past 5 years.

How to calm a hysterical kid:
Every parent, sooner or later, finds their child screaming so hard that they turn purple and start huffing <>, screaming and crying so hard that they cannot calm down. I think most of us experience this while the kids are infants or very young, say under 5 but it should work with even older kids.

If your child gets into a major upset and seems unconsolable, PICK THEM UP AND TAKE THEM OUTSIDE. It seems to me that most of the fits occur later in the day or towards bedtime, so it is usually darker and cooler outside at that time. Somehow the cool night, the change in ambient sound, the fresh air all seem to help distract the child into returning to calm. My theory is that it helps cool their little heads down (ever notice how all the blood rushes into their faces when they scream?). The only time this seems to NOT work is when they are in severe pain (teething anyone?) or starving. I have had half a dozen different parents thank me long after sharing this tip with them.

It's also a good trick to tell your babysitter if your little ones suffer from separation anxiety. Good luck.

Dueling Households-PARTY TIME!

2006-01-25T09:21:00.000-05:00

My youngest son just celebrated his 6th birthday, and in the same fashion we have done during major holidays & birthdays for the past 3+ years, he had two parties: one at our house and one at his mom's house. For the first time since moving into our current school district (this is the middle of our second school year here), he had the same friends over at each party. His mom did the typical 'Disneyland' parent thing by taking them all to a Galaxy Cheese Mountain place to play arcade games. Beats the heck out of sitting down with excited 6 year olds and actually partying with them, huh? Hell, I'm surprised that these chains haven't figured out the concept of building a bar/adult restaurant that overlooks the games and Ball Play area so that the parents can be themselves instead of pretending that they LIKE to sit on crappy benches while their young ones scream from across the room" Mommy, Daddy LOOK AT ME!!" These D-land parents could also avoid the always embarrassing scene of their young ones determinedly tugging on their hands "COME PLAY WITH ME!!" while trying to drag them into the Human Habitrail. Ever notice all the parents staring intently into their cell phones these days when they are out with their kids, trying to look as if their have VERY IMPORANT THINGS TO DO, when they are actually playing tetris, making shopping lists or reviewing some upskirt shots they took at the mall last week.

Actually, I adore the parties we have for the boys at our house. My fiance and I always get invovled, making good food, baking cakes, decorating and trying to figure out some games to play. I think we've used the same Star Wars plastic printed table cloth for 3 birthdays now [time to retire it? Ehn, we'll see… 8¬\ ] This year's 6th Year Olds party was great: we made invitations that I hand delivered to the homes of our would-be guests. The theme this year was "Sponge Wars"--Megan made a terrific image that had Yoda next to a six-armed Sponge Bob who held a light saber in each hand (hence the suitability of the tablecloth--um, er…sorry: 'tableplastic.') We made goody bags with fruit gummies and gum in them (no toys this time) and Megan made a punch of Sprite and rainbow sherbet (tastes better than it sounds or looks). The little individual cakes were Sponge Bobs!! The little faces she made with that gel icing were very well done, hysterical and the kids all loved them.

The kids had such fun, happily screaming and laughing, jumping up and down; it was a blast. And cost us very little money. And we got to know these kids pretty well. Many of the other families in our district have more than 2 kids, so none of the parents took us up on our invitation to stay and hang out--most of them used the opportunity to chill, take another of their kids to another function or who knows [maybe get a lil' PM some, some? LOL Doubt it!] The only small blight on the weekend's events was an unanticipated one: several kids brought my son presents to BOTH parties. Crap, I didn't mean for that to happen. In our house we don't place a major emphasis on the cost or number of gifts, usually setting a preferred gift givign limit of $10. Our kids have always seemed happy with what they get no matter the simplicity or cheapness. As a matter of fact, Megan and I often joke that when our boys express interest in something prohibitively expensive [READ: ipod Nano, Xbox 360, etc.], we can always depend on my Ex's side of the 'family' to go over the top on spending. So next time I will let the guest kids' parents know that double gifts are NOT necessary. It almost seemed as if the ones that did that were a little sheepish about the whole "Two Households/Kids of Divorced Parents" phenomenon.

Our situation is kinda unique I guess: the true shared parenting arrangement of Dad's house Sun-Wed and Mom's house Wed-Sun every week seems to really work for the kids, with almost no apparent disruption or relocation stress. We never experience them wanting to stay with her when it's time to come to our house, except for a couple of times when my youngest son would get a bit clingy with his mom, usually a result of being overly tired [she does not enforce early bedtimes] or not wanting to leave a video game (she lets them play unattended for hours and hours). Once in a while they will, however, express regret about having to leave our house to return to hers, but we do NOT encourage that. Secretly, we delight in it!!However, we realize it is a funtion of our house having routines, early bedtimes, lots of adult involvement and home cooked meals, versus the free-from nature of days at Mom's House. Jesus! I think we're becoming a 1950s household! Well, as Fifties as we can be considering I gave my 9 year old son a cheap MP3 player and loaded with Greenday, The Killers, Cake, The Ramones, Jet and assorted other goodies. Ward Cleaver indeed.

2006-01-17T10:00:00.000-05:00

Welcome to the story of a midlife divorced dad, his fiancée and their two boys Ick and Cee (their names have been changed to protect them from monstrous embarrassment). I decided I just had to do this publicly because I have so few resources to pull from as I struggle to be a good dad, partner and human, and I figure there HAVE to be many others. Background: been split from my first wife since 2002, legally divorced about 15 months. We share weekly parenting with our two boys, Ick (9) and Cee (6). This means that I have them at my/our house from Sunday AM through Wednesday AM, and they're with her the rest of the week. Until two weeks ago, I worked in theatre so this schedule left me free to be onstage Wed. through Sat. night without paying for a sitter. Peanut (not her real name), my fiancée of two weeks, and I have lived together since the first year of my separation, so the boys have only known me to be with P since their mom sent me packing. And thank Shiva for that! With P, I finally know what a real 'partnership' is about. So this humble blog is about trying to be a great dad and partner to my P (P to the P, yo). I don't personally know any other dads in my position but there must be thousands out there. When I first began talking to a lawyer about the divorce, my first priority was my boys: house, money and torpedoes be damned. Naturally, the judge agreed so I go the weekly shared parenting that was my first priority, and out of my 7 year marriage I only got my own stuff, a $9k legal bill and exactly ZERO of the shared assets. But that's OK; her bill was almost $50k. So Here I Am, engaged to be remarried to an incredible woman 20 years my junior, both of us parenting the boys half of every week. This is our story so far and its going really well. P and I are deeply connected and vitally in love, and we have created a loving home to raise the healthiest boys we can manage. Our biggest challenge is spending a good bit of every Sunday afternoon overcoming the 'unique' parenting style of the other half of the week. Stay tuned.