Steph's Mambo Memories

Matt always tells me I should post on the blog. If you're a regular reader you are aware of Matt's awesome gift of words. I'm not saying I'm a BAD writer but seriously. It's important to know when to step aside and let the master do his work.

That being said, I really do feel the need to just put down a few of my own memories and thoughts about our Mambo. PLEASE make sure you scroll down, though, and read Matt's post below this one.

As is the case with just about every person and dog that we are close to, we had an extensive list of nicknames for Mambo. (By the way, when we got Mambo, back in March of 2001 when we had been married for 9 mos. and Salsa was only as old, Matt lobbied to call him "Gumbo" to keep the naming dogs after food theme alive. I was so worried people would call him "Dumbo" that I refused. If you read Matt's post below, you'll see that that was maybe a bit prophetic.) Anyway, at various times you might have heard us calling him: Mambo Jambo, Jambo, Havvy (his breed was Havanese), Harry the Hav or Harry T. Hav, Harrison Fur (that was Matt's creation and pretty clever), Mambito, Bito Frito and probably about 10 more that I can't think of right now.

He was such a sweet boy. Really. As Matt says, not the brightest, but so sweet. He loved belly scratches and rubs and loved to be scratched under the chin and on his neck. Also, on his back under where his beautiful tail curled under.

When I was pregnant with Mari and so so miserable those last 2 months, I couldn't lay down in bed any more so I had to sleep on the recliner in the couch in the family room. Mambo always came down with me and kept me company. When our various kids were babies and I would be up in the middle of the night nursing them, he would often join me. Again, never too close, not really cuddling, but always there with me.

When I was working around the house, he would usually follow me from room to room. Salsa always wants to be right with me, touching me. Not so with Mambo. He was not cuddly. If I got him and put him on my lap to pet or scratch him, he'd sit patiently but then run away as soon as I stopped. Again, though, Mambo would always want to be in the same room.

On nights when I would would come home late for various reasons, he would be waiting on the living room couch for me. I loved that. Although he was not overly affectionate he would usually greet us with much tail wagging and sometimes, when he was really excited, one or two little soft licks (unlike Salsa), usually on my ankle.

His fur was the softest fur ever. Really. He had the best fur. One of the reasons I always delayed getting him groomed was because I just loved his long, soft fur.

But, as Matt indicates below, the past few months for sure, and honestly, the past year and a half before that, his body was giving out. Poor guy. He seemed pretty miserable in the end. But I truly feel that he had a good life with us. He came to us at 5 months old and we had the privilege of being able to take both dogs on lots and lots of trips with us. Mambo probably would've preferred to have not left home, but I know he liked being with us.

Oh and contrary to what Matt posted below, I DO remember Mambo playing with a few toys a few times. When he was MUCH younger, we had a little plastic soccer ball dog toy and he did bat it around occasionally. And I remember him trying to play with Salsa once or twice, but neither one of them had great social skills with other dogs so that never really worked out well.

Anyway, I loved him dearly and he is already very, very missed. But he is in a better place now. Matt and I were saying Mambo's Heaven is one where there are no faces and lots and lots of cheese, especially string cheese.

Steph

Mambo Specter, 2000-2011

Today was a sad day for our family. For the first time ever today, our family became smaller. Mambo, our much-loved Havanese, made his way across the Rainbow Bridge and left his frail body. There, I am sure that he is meeting Tiery 1, Tiery 2, Kelpie, Lazer, Bingo, Maggie, Molly, and countless other family pets who have gone on before. He will be missed. Our oldest children cried uncontrollably today, and even Robby seemed to have a glimmer of understanding as he petted Mambo for the last time. This is our children's first real encounter with death.

As well as such a tragic event can go, this went well. Mambo could no longer walk, he was clearly unhappy, and the vet's diagnosis of a progressive neurological problem which would not improve made the decision easy. The family had a chance to say goodbye, and Mambo made his final journey peacefully. We will miss him. I write the following in Mambo's memory - let it not be said that I romanticize his life.

Mambo was dumb. He was perhaps the dumbest dog I have ever seen. Even at age 10, before his body gave out, he still got to the top of the steps and genuinely could not remember how they worked. Every. Damn. Day. He knew his name but could not after all these years remember what it meant when we called it. He was the only dog in his obedience class who could not do anything resembling a trick, and when all he had to do was walk across the room when we called his name in order to pass the class, he trotted halfway, then laid down, bored. He once ran into the street to bark at a car, and ran under the moving car. It was a miracle that the tires missed him. He was truly, pathetically stupid.

But he was our dog, and we loved him.

Mambo was gross. He loved more than anything else to eat his own poop. He relished it, especially fresh and steaming on the snow. He particularly enjoyed that it often got stuck in the fur around his butt. When not snacking, he enjoyed laying on piles of dirty clothes, and especially loved rubbing his face in dirty underwear. I am not making this stuff up. I regularly caught him peeing on our living room carpet, looking at me indignantly as if to say, "What?" He was nasty, and it was appropriate that at the end, he required surgery to have his nasty, inflamed, infected anal sacs removed. I joked soon after that he would not last long after since his very essence was linked to these glands of nastiness. I turned out to be exactly right. He was gross, nasty, disgusting.

But he was our dog, and we loved him.

Mambo was boring. He never played with toys. He never played with people. He didn't like being near a person's face. He grunted and struggled if we ever had to pick him up. In all actuality, our lives will not change much now that he's gone. Even in the best of health, he only ever sat in the corner, stinking. He never played with other dogs. I truly think that if we hadn't said anything, the kids might have gone a week before they noticed he was gone. He was very much a walking pile of hair.

But he was our dog, and we loved him.

Mambo was poorly assembled. He had a nasty overbite. He had one blue eye. He came to us already having had a hernia surgery. His paws were so big and hairy he'd slip on anything not carpet. It seemed like there was always something wrong with him.

But he was our dog, and we loved him.

Goodbye, Mambo. Much like life, you were not what we expected. You taught us that plans change, and things don't work out the way we originally hope. And you also taught us that we can only learn to love those changes, and love the life you are given. Other dogs may have been more glamorous, smarter, nicer, friendlier, and less gross...but we would choose you again every time.

Because you were our dog, and we love you still.

Love,
Mommy, Daddy, Faith, Mari, Robby, Hannah, and Salsa

Thoughts on subbing

I have now subbed twice on the blind call. Not knowing anything other than a general title, as in 'the choir director' or 'the band director'. Here are my initial impressions.

First of all, for someone like me who likes things planned, organized, and well-thought out, this experience is absolute torture. I can NOT handle not knowing my schedule until it starts. It makes the entire day seem about 5 times longer than it really is. I think I am aging quite a bit doing this.

Secondly, it is shocking to me how little anyone in the actual school even knows about the music staff's schedule. I was in three buildings today, and really no one had any idea of what I was supposed to do -- all anyone could do was to open the room for me and then it was my problem. The one building where they actually seemed confident about my duties, the people turned out to be completely wrong - I had a completely different assignment than what I was told.

Thirdly, the music teachers themselves don't leave much for me to go on. I am finding myself in the role of private detective, searching through drawers and cabinets and shelves for any hint as to my job that day. Class roster, schedule, heaven forbid an actual PLAN...nothing. Now listen. I'm not exactly the king of helpful lesson plans - in my previous position, there were days when it came down to me emailing colleagues and asking them to run plans down to the room, not leaving the sub much time. BUT, those were rare instances. I can also remember awakening with what was clearly strep and a high fever, calling in sick, realizing I had no plans and no way to get them there, and driving my sick self into work early to leave plans and materials for the sub and then driving home and collapsing. I don't care if it's just instructions to show a movie, it would be nice to know what movie and where the movies are. So, on the one hand, it's a little frustrating, but on the other hand, I know it's just the way it is.

But the main thing is this.

Subbing pretty much sucks so far.

I don't know how else to put it. Now, having only done my 5-day long term position, and a couple of single days (all of them for music positions) it is perhaps not the best indicator. I still am waiting for (and terrified of) that first regular classroom call. That might change things somewhat. I have a feeling that me in a 2nd grade classroom actually working from plans and trying to accomplish something might seem a bit more rewarding than what I've done so far. Because what I've done so far is 90% babysitting. Yes, I've done some work with some beginning band kids, and they accomplished more than they would have without me. But I hardly noticed since I spent so much of my energy trying to figure out just who was showing up when. The rest of my day...they could have had any old schmo off the street and done the same as me. It's not rewarding.

I mean, Steph asked me how it went, and I said "uneventful". And we both agreed that this was all I could ask for.

That's not a good way for me to live. A good day means nothing happened? What kind of life is this?

All I can say is that it's a REAL good thing I have my one-day-a-week actual teaching job - it's keeping me fresh and reminding me that teaching IS rewarding and enjoyable and fun...when you have your own students. And even though some of those kids are really challenging and difficult...and even though the situation has lots of issues...I am starting more and more to look forward to my one day a week being a real teacher. Because there, I AM making a difference.

I hope and pray that I can continue to have my 'own' students.

Matt

A hard one to write about

Yeah, this is kind of a hard post. I have things to say but don't want to seem whiny or dramatic. I've sat down several times to try to get it typed out and it always comes out wrong.

First of all, life is fine. Still no 'regular' classroom sub calls. Part of me wants to get it over with and start having that experience, part of me is frankly scared out of my mind at the prospect. But it's sort of not up to me any more.

Secondly, Steph has started her new job. So far so good, but the schedule has not calmed down enough for her to get prepared ahead yet. So I miss her, she's constantly busy preparing for the next day's class. This will improve with time. For now, it's tough. But she's doing a great job at it so far.

But what's been hard to type up is...well...

I dunno. Life teaches you who your friends are. I remember finishing up my last year at my last job and daydreaming about landing that new job, moving out, communicating with all my colleagues about the new place, posting pictures, coming back to visit, etc. etc.

But now...

Well, now it seems that when and if I move, it will be as if I was never there. I will communicate with my family, with church friends, and the small handful of other people in the world who still consider my existence something to take note of. But I've dropped off the planet to a lot of people.

See what I mean? That sounds whiny and self-important. It's totally not that at all, that's not how I feel, and I can't find the right words to express what I'm feeling. I certainly didn't expect a continued outpouring of sympathy. The silence from the people in that part of my history is totally expected and not something I feel anger or bitterness about. LIFE. GOES. ON.

I guess at the core of it is the odd and bizarre feeling that I have a 7-year hole in my life now, and insufficient critical mass in my new life to replace it. I feel very unbalanced between past present and future. Too many things about my past I have had to shut off or shut out because they're still too painful to think about. My future is nothing but a mammoth question mark made up of millions of smaller question marks. All that I'm left with is an eternal present, and while routine carries me day to day, I'm stumbling a bit in the meaning department. I don't know yet where all this is going to fit in with my story.

My days now are spent taking care of the kids, lesson planning for my once-a-week job, attempting in vain to keep the house somewhat clean, listlessly perusing job postings on national websites, researching real estate in those locations, browsing internet forums on those locations to learn more, and studying google earth to learn the lay of the land for anyplace that sounds like a good place to move. This is the life of someone who is ready to move on to the future but is physically stuck in the present.

Thus, with the future denied me and the present providing no anchor point, I suppose I've been hoping in vain that some voices from the past would show up to help fill the void. No such luck.

So yeah, I think that's it. And maybe that's why it hurts right now, even though I expect and understand it. Living in the present is just plain lonely.

That's the best I can do to express my emotions right now. It's a difficult angle to get the words around, and I know I haven't done it justice. I hope I don't come across as full of self-pity.

Matt

Finishing up

I am currently finishing my last day of my first sub assignment. It was an absolutely terrifying and unexpected beginning, but in my eyes it has ended well. All in all, I could not have expected it to go any better. It reassures me that the choice I made to sub for a year was the right thing to do. It has felt good to be back. Admittedly, I still have to face the challenge of subbing in a regular classroom. But for now, I feel comfortable knowing I can walk into an unknown music situation and make something meaningful happen in a short amount of time with zero notice. Bring it.

I wanted to say a few words to the students who I have had the pleasure of teaching for the past week. You are a great bunch of human beings, and I am thankful for the opportunity to have worked with you. In fact, I can not think of a better group to have started me off on my unexpected subbing journey. Thank you for being patient with me and helping me through the first bizarre and surreal day, and thank you then for being easy going with all the differences between me and your regular teacher. You all remind me very much of my first group of band kids from way back in 1998. Never lose your love for music, and please take care of the friendships you have made. You are a close group, as band should be. You are a family. A weird family to be sure...but weird has never been a bad thing in my book. Continue to take care of each other. Good luck the rest of the year, and the rest of your lives. I think you'll all go far.

To their director: You have a truly special group of students. Appreciate that and appreciate them. They may annoy you and make you pull your hair out at times, but as a music educator you are lucky to have them, and as a human being you are blessed to be surrounded by people so full of life. Trust me, speaking from painful personal experience: It hurts like nothing else to have the kids you have worked with ripped away from you and to be missing that in your life. I pray that it never happens to you. Be thankful. Never forget it. Oh, and all you guys, please make sure that your football team wins its game on October 21st.

So long all, it's been real, have a great life!

Mr. Specter

I have now subbed. I am now old.

During the past month or so I have called or emailed a lot of districts locally and done a lot of legwork to get on sub lists for the current year. One of those contacts led to a possible short-term sub position for a band director in a district about a half-hour east of Cincinnati. It's a district I'm familiar with, with a good reputation, so I was eager for the opportunity.

His wife was due in late September. We got everything worked out for me to come observe on Thursday, so I could learn his schedule and figure out what the kids were used to. Well, Wednesday afternoon the district contacted me and said his wife went into labor...and could I sub tomorrow?

What followed were the two craziest, scariest, most intense days of my life. I have a lot to say about all this, but I haven't had a great deal of time to process it yet. So in condensed form:

* I can throw a general music lesson together on the fly. I had about 20 minutes to prepare with very little to go on. (I don't blame the guy, his wife just had a kid - I know I wasn't thinking about work when the kids were born.) The general music part of my day went really really well. And it was reassuring to see that my skills can be transferred to 7th grade with very little modification.

* I am rusty as a band director. Did okay with the Middle School group, but being back in a High School setting was weird to say the least. It doesn't help that most of the kids tower over me. The group I am working with is the typical group of band kids - which is to say there is nothing typical about them. Honestly, a lovable bunch of the most diverse mix of personalities you're ever likely to encounter. I'm being careful with what I say because these kids may end up actually reading this thing, so I will put it this way. They are totally a mash-up of every imaginable kind of weird you could think of...and that is positively wonderful. I love it. They totally own their weirdness and wear it on their sleeve in a way that I wish I could have when I was their age. I admire that.

* The trouble is - they are clearly a tightly knit group. They're very close, possibly the result of a 'circle the wagons' mentality that is often necessary to get through high school as a band member. Which makes me very much an outsider to them and with only a week to spend with them it's an odd position to be in. I am in charge of them, but I am not their leader, and I am not one of them. I know nothing about their histories and the stories behind their personalities, or the inside jokes, so I am missing out on the best part of them. It's weird. It is a little lonely. I think it's a lot tougher then single-day subbing will be (especially at elementary level) where I will be a novelty act. Being there for a second day the novelty was already gone. The next few days will be interesting.

* But, I am now clearly old. I can not handle the 17-hour days of a band director. I feel this morning like I've been hit by a bus. I can't handle standing out in the hot sun for hours on end. I'm a wimp, I guess. But this morning I felt old. Really old. Capital O Old.

More to say as this continues. But I have not seen my own kids since Thursday and I miss them. I want to go spend time with them.

Matt

A great comment and discussion starter.

Receieved a great comment in the middle of the night last night from a friend (pretty sure I know who). The comment was so good I wanted to include it as a post so everyone could see it easily...and so I can respond. See below:

"I used to think of my life as expositions and episodes, to borrow from fugal analysis. Expositions were the theme of my life, or what I thought of as the theme of my life, and I looked for them to be strong and loud and clear. Of course these were followed my episodes where I had no idea what was going on, but I tried to enjoy the pretty things around me as I moved to my next exposition. Lately I've been feeling like this gives too much artificial structure to the swirling chaos around me. That, when you get down to it, everything is episode and nothing is really exposition. That life is one big fantasia instead of fugue. Or for you non-music folks, life is all one big transition. Nothing is repeated, we just follow the flow and try to enjoy it as things go by. Since I've started thinking about life this way, I feel more at ease. Both with the world around me and the person I am. I'm no longer trying to make pieces of life fit into preconceived slots in my world view, and I see that the only thing I can really work on is myself. Life becomes simpler. I'm no longer trying to control things, I'm just trying to be me."

My response:

Don't let me give the impression that I am desperately looking to enforce order on my life. That's not it. As an example, one of the biggest annoyances I had during the last few months of chaos was people trying to chalk it all up to "God's plan" with a sweep of the broom and thus explain it all away, or somehow imply that the order in it was just too big to see. Both of these concepts I can agree with at times, but for various reasons, I was, and am still, not convinced that this was the case...this time. Sometimes, things happen. I don't want this to be a God post, but the short version is, we are free to make our own mess...and our society is free to make its own mess, and if we live in that society and enjoy its benefits, we are also subject to its whims and repercussions. Which means, as happened to me, you can get caught up in a swirl of events which in the end have nothing to do with you personally. Stuff happens. And there may be no 'reason' for it on the individual level. Having the desperate need to attach God to the situation indicates to me a fear of this reality of interconnectedness. I for one have no problem with it.

But back to the point - my previous post, showing the recurring moments in my life coming full circle, and the comment generated by who I think is an old friend in a different time zone. I think life has the potential to be any kind of composition. It might be for some, a beautifully structured fugue, or a Gabrieli antiphonal masterwork. For others it might be pure minimalism, perhaps grating on the ears but easily understood and therefore comforting. For some, it might be intentionally discordant and inexplicable to many, but with a rigid underlying structure...Schoenberg perhaps? And to others, it may be avant-garde. Or your example, all fantasia - just the whims of the music.

Who is in charge? The music or the composer? And are we the composer, or are we just fed the music and allowed to analyze it as a way to understand our lives better? I think it's a little of each. I think we're given raw materials, and our life composition is a combination of music with a will and force of its own, and our reactions and responses to it. And we even have a degree of freedom to alter and add to that material if we so choose. And I believe that for no specific reason, some of us get raw materials that are easily malleable and let us have great control, and others of us get a theme that pretty much dictates what else will happen. So it's not fair to say that someone with chaos in their life didn't control that music better...maybe that fantasia could have been given some more structure...but would it then be less beautiful and less what it was meant to be? A fantasia and a fugue are not the same, but both are beautiful and serve a purpose.

So, as for me...I certainly don't think my life is a fugue. And I do not go through my life trying to force pieces in place that are not there. But as I continue to work on the composition of my life, it's impossible to ignore the recurring themes. My raw material was constructed that way, and in major recapitulation points, themes return. I find it comforting to see those themes re-emerge from time to time, like an anchor point in a sometimes overlong Mahler symphony. It helps me know where I am.

And maybe I could spend a lot more time and energy trying to force my symphony into sonata form, but I have no interest in that. I'm not a detail person at that level. I'm a big picture guy. And I like to look at the overall shape, the ebb and flow, the story arc. The stuff I can see without my glasses on. Details are often ugly.

So to respond to your comment, old friend...I think we're both right in some sense. And your music may sound strange to some, but I think that you have made a conscious choice to let your music happen, combined with a theme that was destined to write itself...and I respect that. Who knows what will happen next? To any of us? Great discussion.

As the song goes, "This is me...that's who I'm trying to be". Amen.

Full circle yet again

August 1998. I sat alone in a small lodge at Woodland Altars in Adams County, OH. Tomorrow I would start bandcamp at Peebles High School, my first teaching job ever.

It was dark, lonely, and I was scared to the point of depression. What had I gotten myself into? Could I do this? What on earth was I thinking?

I ended up staying at Peebles for 4 years. They were 4 good years for me. And I like to think that, although I was definitely not a great band director by most measures, I was a very good director for that school, for those kids, in that time and place. I did okay.

The next 2 years were a transition. One year awkwardly teaching at my former high school, in a bad situation. I fully admit that I was part of the bad situation, but...it was not a good year. The following year, spent completely out of the music and teaching business, working as the church office manager while preparing for the birth of our first child. A major depressive episode followed - a true existential crisis of faith which left me shaken and battered, but stronger once I pulled through it.

And then, finally, the relief once I had given up all hope - the back door into teaching with an offer once the school year had already begun.

October 31, 2004. Halloween night...two houses ago. A 6-month old Faith on our lap as we sat in our driveway handing out candy to neighborhood kids - some of whom I had maybe taught 2 years ago. The next day I would start teaching general music, something I had never thought I would do. Again - what on earth have I gotten myself into? Can I do this?

I stayed for 7 years. Would have stayed longer...but events pushed me out. Again, I would argue that, while not the best general music teacher out there, I was great for that time, that place, those kids. And while the departure was heartbreaking, and sadly bitter, looking back I can see that I am blessed to have been removed from that situation.

A summer of hope and possibility. The ultimate irony of being offered jobs but being unable to take them. The hope turning to a grim reality of looking for a job here in Cincinnati where the pickings are slim, and someone with 12 years and a Master's is probably too expensive for anyone.

Somewhere in all that mess, one lonely interview among dozens. No response, lost in the shuffle, forgotten. One lonely interview actually leads to an offer I can take. Not enough money, not enough time...but still...it's enough. It's a job doing what I love. There are kids at the school who need a music teacher, and a principal who believes in what I can bring to that school. For now at least, our paths cross.

A new chapter begins.

It promises to be an interesting chapter for me. New characters, new locations, hopefully some new friends. A lot of unknowns. Will this be another 'transition' phase in my life? Will this be the final chapter in my teaching book...and if so, will it be one page or twenty?

I don't know.

But none of that matters right now. What matters is, tomorrow, for the first time in what seems like a lifetime...I am going to work. And it feels very good to say that.

Am I nervous? Heck yes. Am I scared? You betcha. Are there things about this position that I perhaps may be in over my head about? Oh baby, yes.

But...been there, done that. I always have come through.

Tonight I leave you with an excerpt from The Refreshments' "I Don't Wanna Know".

Wish me luck tomorrow. Here we go again.

__________________

"We've been saying we're gonna go somewhere
For a long long time
Nothing ever happens
Why's it never happen

Yeah we've been prayin' we're gonna get somewhere
For a long long time
But it never happens
Why's it never happen

I wonder where I'll be in a year
Probably be sittin' right here
But if you know the answer
Don't tell me anyone
I don't wanna know

Cause I don't wanna know"

COBRA and Kindergarten

COBRA is a joke. Seriously. Let's see, I can maintain my current insurance for...over $1000 a month. Getting that outsourced piece of info from my former employer was truly the final insult. But as Michael Stipe sings at the end of the song "Falls to Climb":

"Who cast the final stone?
Who dealt the crushing blow?
Someone has to take the fall,
Why not me? Why not me?

Had consequence chose differently,
Had fate its ugly head,
My actions make me beautiful,
And dignify the flesh,
Me...I am free...I AM FREE."


Truly I am free. Hallelujah!

But, little time these days to think of such things. Faith starts 2nd grade tomorrow. My life situation has taken me away from this part of my life. I have not been there for her and she is clearly nervous. Like her father, she finds the academics easy as pie, but her attempts at being social tend to end up more 'pie-in-the-face'. God bless her, my heart goes out to her. She's a wonderful kid (with some annoying habits) who in some ways has already done better socially than me...but at the same time, I think the social world is tougher now than it was when I was a kid. I hope and pray that she continues to have a group of friends that makes her happy, and that she doesn't overdo her affections and is willing to share her friends.

And Mari starts Kindergarten on Thursday. She says she's not nervous, but I think she is more than she lets on. Mari in a lot of ways has stalled out socially. She still has a lot of trouble controlling her emotions and reactions...wonder where she got THAT from? She's a stinking roller-coaster though...she'll also be the kindest, best friend to someone who needs it.

There is little doubt that the life situation we've been under has affected our family adversely. How could it not? Every spare moment has been spent setting things up for now. We have not been there for our kids and have had our summer robbed from us. There have been no 'good thoughts' for any of us. We know that a lot of people have had it worse, and we thank God for what we have. But it's taking an emotional toll. School coming and the return of some sort of routine will be a light in the darkness I hope...and we will all slowly pull ourselves out of this morass and gather strength for another summer of strife.

Let's do this, people.

Matt

Inching Closer and Might-have-Beens

One week from tonight I will feel a lot better about half of my life. I will have put in my first day at my new part part part time job. For anyone reading this from my current place of employment, I want you to know that I may make comments about how small a job it is in terms of time and pay, but that I fully respect the importance of the position and have every intention of taking it every bit as seriously, perhaps even more so, than my last position. As long as there are kids there who need a music teacher, I have a job to do. And I am grateful to have that job, however small it may appear to outsiders. It will be as big to me as it is to you, and as big to me as it is to them.

At the same time, I confess that I have started wasting time looking at the real estate websites in various places I interviewed across the country. It still stings a little to think that for a period of 3 months or so I had the world thrown open to me and could have been in a completely new place right now...and yet here I sit. Same old same old.

I feel quite alone these days. I have no real peer group anymore. There were a few good friends at my last position who stepped me through the dark times and I owe them more than I can ever repay. But most have drifted back to their lives and so it should be. Maybe one or two of them will stand a chance to keep a friendship beyond that, but I expect it will all fade away in time. Ships passing in the night and all that.

So I soldier on with my family and a few scattered friends, as it has always been and probably always will be with me. I like to think that given the chance to start over in a new place, I might somehow do a better job of laying down roots and developing these friendships I am missing...but probably not. I've never had the knack for it. And I fully admit that I have to a certain extent created this situation for myself. I am by nature a selfish person. Every amount of giving that I do has been something I've had to learn to do. Like others might marvel at innate musical abilities, I marvel at innate selflessness, because I sadly do not possess it. So, like an earnest but hopelessly untalented musician, toiling away in the bottom of the section in the school band, I slave away at being a good person hoping to get a few things right and not screw up the whole piece. Doing my best, people. I at least know when to stop playing if the music is too tough.

I love my life and wouldn't trade it for anyone else's. But at times it can be hard.

And by the way, it should be noted that Steph and I are developing and hoping to deepen a friendship with another family - you know who you are. We hope there can be more time spent together, and more often. I think we are both better people for being around you guys. So, don't feel like I'm overlooking you with what was said above. I consider what's going on with you guys a bright spot in the murkiness of my social life.

So anyway. Keep us in your thoughts and prayers. I have a feeling I'll have more to write about this week.

Matt