Summer Haze

Sunday, Max and I went to New Baltimore for lunch. I watched the young girls eyeing Max. He probably doesn't even notice. The kid would be dangerous if he developed his conversation skills. I get my share of looks from the geriatric crowd, but the young, cute ones get all nervous around Max's blue eyes. 

Max is working as a carpentry apprentice-- yes, another new job. Although the smoke has forced him to stay home for a few days. There will be more of that coming next week as well. It will be another night of keeping the air conditioner on and the windows closed, even though the temperatures we are having (lows in the high 50s) would usually allow me to turn off the air and open the windows for the night.

Just another glorious summer.

Smoke

 Like other areas of the country, the Canadian wildfires have gifted us with a thick haze of smoke. It's like a grey fog. The smell is everywhere. Not the pleasant smell of a fire in the fireplace. It's the smell of old chemicals that only vaguely reminds you of smoke. The smell seeps into the office, your clothes, your home.

The temperatures are dipping into the 60s at night, but you can't open the windows. My lungs are already rebelling from my vaping (I know, I have to quit). This just adds to it.

Otherwise, Max got him an apprentice job on a framing crew. If you ask me, that is the lowest of the skilled trades. He should have waited for a plumbing, electrical, or HVAC opening to come up.

Nothing says don't work outside like 100-degree weather and toxic smoke.

Difference

 Max did take me to lunch for Father's Day. It was just him and me. His fiancé did not go. The three of us did go to Finn's in New Baltimore the week before.

Max was updating me on his tangles with the neighbors at his mom's condo. Something that didn't occur when his brothers were living there. I said he should expect it; he's living in an old folks community. He swears he is not the problem. I suspect it is a little of both going on.

Currently, I'm writing a fiction story. The opening line came to me as I was waking up one morning. "There is no such thing as cane sugar," she assured me. It's about the friendship between two 8/ 9-year-old kids.

It is called The Eiffel Tower is in Cincinnati. It began as an essay piece that evolved into a 7,000-word story, but I felt there was more to it. I'm currently writing a second half that will be approximately another 5,000 words. The second half flashes forward to when they are adults. I like the story. It is my most ambitious work of fiction in a long time.

I'm not sure what I will do with it when it is done. It will be an awkward length for publishing, but creating the story is more important to me right now than where it belongs. It has been a good distraction while the memoir is out for consideration.

Rings

I don't have any updates on Violet. Saturday rolled around, but she didn't reach out, and I didn't feel like making the drive out to the club to talk to Sugar or see if Violet was there. I hope she is alright, but I don't feel like being drawn into the middle of something when she doesn't seem to have made up her own mind.

As for the ring and Max's engagement. Yes, Max got the ring. Yes, I financed it for him. By financed, I mean I bought it with the understanding he would be paying me back. There was no talking him out of it. I know, I'm as bad as his mother.

He talked about giving her the ring as part of an elaborate plan, but when it came, it didn't take long for him to just hand it over.

They want to get married in Sicily. A wedding honeymoon combination. I wouldn't mind going to Sicily, probably one of the few places in Europe I would travel to. We'll see, though. Lately, I don't feel like leaving the house.

Personally, I still think getting married is just one of those life mistakes people make, especially if they don't plan on having children.

I don't see their plans as being realistic. Young people don't seem to be burdened by an abundance of common sense. Or maybe I'm just burdened by too much these days.

The Gladiator is Back on the Road

Saturday, I decided to start the Jeep and get it ready to take to work for a few days. It had been sitting for months. The battery was dead and wouldn't take a charge. I took it to Murray's Auto Parts to see if the battery or the truck was the problem. It was the battery.

The young sales clerk was ready to sell me a new $259 battery when he mentioned a four-year warranty.

"Wait a minute, that battery is only three years old." I'd gotten it from Auto Zone.

I decided to reclaim my battery and drive the extra mile to Auto Zone. They exchanged it for free. 

Today, Max and I got gas in the truck and went to Walmart to find replacement batteries for my key fobs. Those were not free, but cheap enough.

I tired convincing Max that strapping himself with a $5600 ring payment was not a good idea.

"That's about what mom's ring cost," he said.

I refrained from making a comment on that except to say, "Not the first one. Her first one was less than a thousand."

He clearly hadn't considered wedding plans or other costs coming up in the next year. "Your going to have a lot going on in the next year. Moving out of that condo, a wedding. Don't start off in debt.

I'd rather give you $10,000 for a down payment on a house than to help you finance that ring."

After he left, I decided to switch the hinges on my new dryer so it opened to the left. The door is bigger than the old one, and it was getting in the way when I loaded clothes from the washer.

I also submitted a couple more novel queries this weekend and a few essay submissions.

Overall I'd say it has been productive.

Rings

 Max is working for a fire/water damage restoration company. He's been there for two weeks now. He says it is going well. Max thinks things are going well now that he and his girlfriend are both working again. he wants to propose to her in the next five months and get married next year.

He showed me the engagement ring he wants to buy. It costs $5600. I'm not sure if she picked it. He is buying it one line. It is the most expensive ring on the site.

He doesn't have $5600. He doesn't qualify to finance it either. Max wants me to finance it and have him pay me back. I could. I could just pay for it and have him pay me back, BUT I think this is a ridiculous idea.

Why would you want to strap yourself with a $200 payment for more than two years when you can't afford to live without your mother's support? When you haven't even considered the cost of a wedding. When you don't have a good track record with jobs.

I would rather give Max $10,000 for a down payment on a house than to help him finance a $5600 ring. She is not the person to walk around with $5600 on her finger. A person who walks around with that much money on her finger can afford to lose it.

If he wants to get married, I'm not going to talk him out of it (I think it is a bad idea). I'm not going to support being financially irresponsible, though.

Brief

 I signed up for a writer's workshop. It is run by an instructor from UCLA. It is a group composed of 8 writers and the instructor. Over the course of eight weeks, each writer submits twenty pages (twice) for the other members to evaluate.

Thursday was our first meeting. It seems pretty informal. Several of the students have been in prior workshops. My first twenty pages will be reviewed this week, along with those of another student.

Michigan went directly from winter to summer. Spring was not an option. During that instant switch-over, I started this post at least three four times. 

Max started working back at his old job on Monday, and by Wednesday, he was texting me saying it didn't work out. I wanted to scream, "Maybe the common denominator in your inability to hold down a job was him." 

Who quits a job without having another? He obviously needs the money. I don't know what to do anymore. He told me everything else is working for him right now. The last piece is the right job. I feel like a job is the bedrock for everything else to work out. 

Easter, Sort Of

I went to lunch with Max on Easter. He told me he’d just started back at his old job—the one at the company that makes custom walk-in freezers. At least for now, he’s stepping away from trying to make a full-time living painting Warhammer figurines.

He said staying at home was driving him crazy. That stood out to me, because I’ve always been the opposite. I don’t mind being home—I actually find it easier to focus, as long as I have something to work on. Hearing how things played out, it also reinforced my earlier instinct not to financially support his Warhammer venture. It just didn’t feel stable.

So after about a year of doing his own thing, he’s essentially back where he started. The main difference now is that he’s living in a condo his mom owns instead of at home. I have to admit, it’s hard for me to relate to his lack of direction at this stage. When I was younger than he is now, I couldn’t wait to move out. Once I did, I adjusted quickly—even factoring in living with my ex.

I assumed it might be similar for him, especially since he’s living with his girlfriend. Maybe that assumption was off. Maybe they weren’t as prepared for that transition as I thought.

The thing is, I don’t doubt his ability. Max is capable—he’s always been capable. It doesn’t seem like a question of whether he can do something, but whether he can stay focused on it long enough.

He told me before that he is thinking about asking his girlfriend to marry him next year. I just see that as another long-term learning experience he is not ready for.

Query

 I have started actively querying agents, which is a job in itself.  First, you have to find one who wants to read more. Second, they need to want to represent the project. It is a long journey, but one I am willing to pursue at this point. 

I signed up for a small writers workshop led by an instructor from UCLA. Eight people max. I am hoping that produces some good feedback. At this point, I like editing as much as I do writing. I learn a lot from both.

Max is dealing with BPD (borderline personality disorder). In his case, it is probably true. He suggests I, too, have BPD. On that, I disagree. While I have some of the signs, none of them prohibit me from functioning 

I think therapy is a good thing, although I am resistant to placing all your trust in it or blaming all your issues on something like BPD. At some point, you have to also take responsibility. His generation leans into this therapy culture. 

March Without the Madness

 I'm still busy, but it is in a good way. I'm on my last round of edits for my memoir. It is about time to seek direction from someone more talented and knowledgeable. I haven't decided on whom. This memoir is not a money-making project, but it never has been for me.

I often say to myself, I'd rather create a well-crafted book than a poorly written bestseller. I don't care if people hate the narrator as long as they like the way it is written. That is my focus, and I have learned a lot since my first attempt. 

I continue to check how far I have drifted from the original raw blog post. I haven't rewritten history. Which is important to me. It is easy for someone writing a memoir twenty years after the event to unwittingly bend the story. I haven't. The main characters didn't question my writing back then. They can't question them now, though I don't think anyone cares anymore.

Max is painting War Hammer figure on a production level. He is having some issues with keeping his studio dust-free and cat-free. He even asked if he could use my basement as his studio at one point, but that hasn't happened yet. I wouldn't mind.

I haven't seen Max's girlfriend since they moved back to this side of town. I have two theories for that. Either she doesn't like me, or she is pregnant, and no one wants to say. Hopefully, neither is true. But I wouldn't be surprised by either.

This week's plan is to finish my edits, condo association meeting, start my taxes, and continue work on editing Ariel's book.

Currently we meet ever two weeks on Zoom. We used to meet in person, but she move about an hour north of me and I don't feel like making the trip in the winter. I've become very passionate about writing and craft. It's great to have someone to share it with.

Passions

I’m not writing her much because new encounters keep turning into possible entry points for short essays. I went to breakfast with Max on Sunday. He and his girlfriend have moved into the twins’ condo, while the twins are staying with their mom.

The twins love it. I still don’t agree with it. A time frame of six months to a year has been kicked around.

Max still hasn’t found a job. He’s being selective… again. But his girlfriend started a new one today — a good one. She’s making a decent salary. Together — and that’s the right word in this case — they’ll do alright.

In the meantime, Max has been doing a side hustle he’s passionate about. For several years now, he’s been painting Warhammer figures. They’re tiny, and he gets incredibly detailed with them. He sells them online for a good profit. Warhammer is a big game, and many players build vast collections.

I’m glad he has a passion like that. It reminds me of where I am with writing right now. It gives us common ground — something we can actually share. I understand how he feels.

I think he wants to make it his full-time job. I encourage him to pursue it, but I also suggest he explore every avenue for revenue adjacent to painting: buying and selling, commissions, content on YouTube or TikTok, anything that widens the lane.

My responsibilities derailed my own dreams of being a writer when I was his age. I had a wife and kids to support.

But there’s another side of Max I don’t encourage. In fact, I openly push back against it — the stories about scamming Amazon by claiming packages were broken when they weren’t. The way he justifies it is concerning.

Max can be incredibly motivated when he’s passionate about something. He’s smart and analytical. I see reflections of myself in him — but definitely not all of me.

I’m not saying he should be like me. We all want better for our kids. If I could have passed anything on to him, it would be creativity and the drive to pursue what he loves.

He is still Max. He is still my son. He seems to accept my flaws as well. Another thing we have in common.

Snow Days and Max

It was the MLK holiday, but my office didn’t give the day off. I had a doctor’s appointment, and Tinkerbell asked if I wanted to get together, so I decided to take a vacation day.

Winter in Michigan has been rough this year. A lot of snow. A lot of cold. Monday was no different. When I got to the doctor’s office, industrial fans were everywhere. A pipe had burst. I arrived just in time for them to tell me they were closing the office and rescheduling everyone.

I headed over to Tinkerbell’s side of town early. I had time to kill, so I stopped at the mall near her house. It’s been a while since I’ve done any shopping or even just gotten out. I parked and struggled through the slush and blistering cold.

Inside the mall, the first thing I noticed was jackets and shoes strewn on the chairs near the entrance, but no people. I thought it was odd until I realized they belonged to the mall walkers.

Apparently, they aren’t concerned about their jackets. They leave them behind like guests coming to visit and then walk the mall. The retired crowd. Soon that will be me. I did do some walking, but I wanted to shop. I ended up buying a belt and two shirts on sale.

After the mall, I picked up Tinkerbell and we headed to the Henry Ford Museum. This was our plan, but she failed to mention it was a free day. It was packed with everyone who can’t afford the usual $34 ticket. Tinkerbell has a membership. A fact she mentioned repeatedly.

Still, it was good to get out and see her. She has decided to do Frankenstein’s Laboratory for Halloween this year.

Max is still avoiding telling me what’s going on until after the fact. He and his girlfriend are still underemployed. They are moving out of their apartment and back to Chesterfield. I assumed they would move temporarily in with his mom. That’s not what’s happening.

My ex is moving the twins out of their condo and back into her house and allowing Max and his girlfriend to live in the twins’ condo.

I was shocked. It feels like she is continuously rewarding Max for poor decisions. She isn’t charging them rent. Even if the condo is paid for—which I don’t think it is—there are still association fees and taxes. I will be very interested to see how long they stay there and whether the twins ever get it back.

I’d also be very interested to know who is paying the mortgage and the fees. The fact that the twins were instructed not to tell me what was happening already tells me she knows it’s wrong or that something shady is going on.

Obviously, Max and his girlfriend need help. But giving them that condo isn’t teaching them anything. Judging by the way they took care of the duplex they rented in Northville, I doubt they will take care of this place.

My harsh opinion is not well received by Max, but I don't really care. There is a pattern of poor choices that has lead him to the situation. Rewarding him will not change his behavior. Yes, times are tougher for young people today. That only means you have to be even more careful with the choices you make.

2026 Updates

I spent most of the holidays alone. I saw the boys, but otherwise I kept to myself. I did a little writing, a little LEGO building, played some video games. Solitary things. I caught myself thinking: this is probably what my retirement will look like.

I don’t plan on retiring anytime soon. Six more years, at least. There’s no reason to rush it, not with the way things feel right now. I make decent money. And once I walk away from this job, I doubt I’ll ever find another that pays the same. That reality alone keeps me planted.

Max and his girlfriend are struggling. She was laid off from a good-paying job over the summer and hasn’t found anything steady since. Max has had his own run of jobs, none of them lasting. He doesn’t want work that’s hard. He wants easy work. Something that doesn’t take much out of him.

That’s been a constant point of friction between us. I’ve never left a job without another one lined up. Right now, he’s technically a salesman for a gutter company, but there are barely any leads. I think they fed him a few at the beginning just to get him in the door. Since then, nothing.

I think they are supplementing themselves by doing Uber Eats. Delivering food to people like themselves who are living hand to mouth. 

I still believe you don’t get anywhere without working hard when you’re young. I know hard work doesn’t buy what it used to. I know the math has changed. But I also know the alternative. And it’s worse.

I don’t know that financing his decisions is helping either. If anything, it feels like I’m reinforcing the same thinking his mother has always had: someone will catch you. Something will work out. Everything with Max has slid downhill since he moved in with his new girlfriend. I’m starting to think she’s part of the gravity.

Max has always been quiet, but I have noticed a shift in his personality since they have been together. 

He wouldn’t see it that way. But in the year since he moved in, he’s left a stable job for a string of bad ones, burned through what had to be close to fifteen thousand dollars in savings, and now they’re a month behind on rent.

That’s not bad luck.
That’s a direction.

Personally, I hope they breakup. Max should move back home and get his act together. One day she is going to get tired of being broke and move on anyway.

Halloween

On Halloween, I took a half day and drove to the west side of town to see Max and spend Trick-or-Treat with Tinkerbell. When I arrived, Max and his girlfriend were dressed as vampires. I didn’t realize they were going to wear costumes for lunch, so my Willy Wonka outfit stayed in the car.

Max starts a new job Monday selling gutter systems. I’m not sure how that will go—he’s not especially outgoing and doesn’t have a salesman’s personality. His girlfriend is between jobs, working part-time at a red-light therapy business. It all feels foreign to me. By their age, I was well into a career. They still seem to be chasing dead ends.

Tinkerbell’s Halloween display was over the top—elaborate, expensive, and meticulously crafted. Each of the two hundred kids who came by walked away with eight different items: a Wonka-themed sticker pack, a light-up ring, a sucker, a disk shooter, a foam wand, a juice box, a piece of chocolate, and a pair of glowing glasses. She must have spent hundreds on those three hours.

The wind took down part of the front display before the kids arrived, but it calmed later. We stood outside from four to eight. The night was clear but chilly. Dressed as an Oompa Loompa, Tinkerbell greeted every kid with enthusiasm. Watching her reminded me of my mother—not because my mother ever did anything like that, but because of the exaggerated tone that didn’t quite feel like her. It’s hard to explain, but it triggered something.

Still, it was fun watching the kids parade through the neighborhood, their wands and rings glowing. They needed them—no parents carried flashlights. Most kids wore costumes, but the older ones from the nearby trailer park didn’t bother. One group of three teenage girls dressed like streetwalkers caught me off guard.

I’m not sure what drives Tinkerbell to go to such extremes for Halloween. I think her talents would be better suited to set design, but she doesn’t see that. She’s already planning next year’s theme: Beetlejuice or pirates. She suggested I go as Jack Sparrow. I told her maybe I’d pick one of the older characters instead.

Gaining Traction

Beyond Words picked up my essay, Shimmer for their March 2026, literary magazine. I am gaining traction just when I needed it. I have been struggling with the rewrites to the memoir.

Lately, I’ve been deep in the weeds with rewrites on the memoir, trying to apply all the feedback I’ve received. Every note has been positive, which makes it both better and harder. It’s not about whether I can write — it’s about shaping the story in the best way.

My friend Ariel, the wife of a coworker and a fellow memoirist, has been a big help. Still, I’m wrestling with the same questions every writer faces: What stays? What goes? What’s missing? And where does it all belong?

Gia seems to have left Detroit. She hasn’t shown up anywhere lately. My guess? She went back to Rhode Island to see her family before heading down to Tampa for the winter.

A couple of weeks ago, Max asked me to help him change his oil. Said his car was blowing a cloud of white smoke every time he started it. I told him an oil change wasn’t going to fix that. White smoke means a head gasket problem. He decided to trade it in for a new Ford Maverick instead.k.

Max's mom helped him get the new truck. Honestly, I would not have. It is not teaching him any responsibility; it probably strapped him with a five or six-year car payment. 

For those wondering, I will be making an appearance as Willy Wonka for Tinkerbell's Halloween display. My custom is a cross between Gene Wilder and Johnny Depp.

Retro

 Max texted me today:

“What are you doing? I may need some help.”

“What do you need? I can make time.”

He and his girlfriend were heading to an estate sale. They had their eye on a vintage freestanding cone fireplace but weren’t sure it would fit in his car.

He was heading to an estate sale. They had their eye on a vintage freestanding cone fireplace but weren’t sure it would fit in his car.

I met Max there. He paid $450 for it. We loaded it into my truck and took it back to their duplex. Afterward, we walked into downtown Northville for lunch with his girlfriend, Kay. Over lunch, we talked about Max’s recent battle with a tonsillar abscess.

Like his father, Max is leaning heavily into using ChatGPT. It diagnosed his issue—and even pointed out the inadequate care he got when the hospital discharged him after draining it. I'm glad he is. It gives us something we can bond over.

I asked if they wanted the concert tickets, but they declined. I told them what had happened with Gia. I spoke in psychological terms—about her avoidant personality. They get that. Like many their age, they’ve replaced religion with psychology.

Later, I called Tinkerbell to see what she and Tech were up to. She mentioned she had Googled Gia. I’m not sure why. I never asked her—and I’ve never done it myself. Tinkerbell has this innate need to tear down the women in my life. She didn’t find anything I didn’t already know.

Just because I like to see the good in people doesn’t mean I’m not hyperaware of who I’m around.

Tinkerbell invited me to join her and T-Rex on Move-In Day. He’s starting his second year at CMU. It should be a fun adventure—one that reminds me of the good old days, when the three of us used to go everywhere together.

Max Update

Max moved in with his girlfriend. She rents a duplex in Northville, almost an hour away. I have met her twice. She is pleasant. I don't dislike her, but I don't think she is a good fit for him. I look at different metrics than Max, though, and I think she is too much like his mom. She is also a year older than he, and definitely less attractive.

Max quit his job, which was close to home, to move out there. It has been 4 weeks and he still hasn't found a new one yet. I don't understand this. I think it was a poor decision. The type of decision I thought he stopped making. I am disappointed, and I do not think his reasons are valid.

The two of them are caught up in this therapy culture. At some point, you have to take responsibility for your own actions. Perhaps having bills to pay will teach him some responsibility. It will be interesting to see how long she will indulge him, living there without a job.

Coping

 I went out with Ava several times but never picked up where we left off. Despite what Ava says, I don't think she has broken up with her boyfriend. She has it in her mind, but he doesn't think so. This is all from my casual observations. At one point, Ava suggested she would need more to come over but could only stay for an hour. I told her that wouldn't work for me. Something tells me I haven't seen the last of her though.

What have I been doing?  Like half the men in their 20s, I have been glued to my tablet playing an online game. The game is called LastWar and it is raking in billions. You can download it from your phone, but I don't suggest it :). I spend nights on Discord chatting with members of my alliance and trying to grow my squads.

I have been secluding myself away from others by choice. I went out last month with Jay, Sam, and Alexis to celebrate our collective birthdays, but for the most part, I haven't even been spending time with them. It just doesn't bring me joy. The only ones I see regularly are Max and the twins.

Gia and I text regularly. She is happy in Tampa again, and far enough away from the coast to have weathered both Hurricanes unscathed. About once a month we get on Zoom so I can see her gorgeous smile. We are planning a Zoom call on Thanksgiving.

I received a drunk call from Tinkerbell late Friday night. She was walking home from the bar. I think her boyfriend Tech doesn't approve of our relationship. I don't blame him. While I consider it more of a father/daughter type bond at this point, I can see how it can be intimidating. Tink wanted me to know that T-Rex is doing good. He is away, at Central Michigan University now. 

I think Tinkerbell is sacrificing her happiness for the T-Rex's future. "Don't ever think, I don't love," Tinkerbell stated more than once. "You are my Luke." This is a reference to a character on the show Gilmore Girls. "Lorelai ended up marrying Luke." I assured her that wouldn't happen with us.

Tink's unhappiness was palatable. More from what she wouldn't talk about than what she did. I do miss her. I miss the days when we would talk for hours on the phone. This conversation just leaves me perplexed.

Are we all just trapped in unhappy lives? Some of us just coping better than others.

Eclipse

 I viewed the solar eclipse yesterday. It did not go dark here, but we witnessed the moon cover the sun. I used special glasses. I have nothing of interest to report. I have been building Lego and seeing my kids, but otherwise, I have been lying low.

Gia still hasn't decided whether to return this month. One day, she is coming; the next, she is not. Gia wants to stay for a month or more but feels it is too expensive. Gia is worried about it working out financially. As of this morning, she has returned to considering coming out for just the week of the NFL draft. Gia will need to make her mind up soon. The draft is only two weeks away.

I really want to see her again. Though I know it will probably lead to nothing, she is fun to be around. I do have a coffee date with a new girl tonight. We will see how that goes. It would be nice to have someone around for the summer. 

This week is Max's birthday. He turns twenty-five. I want to buy him a new pair of boots for work. He has been walking around with duct tape on his current pair for a month but refuses to buy a new pair. 

Weekend In

 I stayed inside and built Legos all weekend. I hope to be accepted to display in BrickFestLive the first week in March. The club I loosely belong to displays year-round at other venues, but they specialize in city scenes, while I tend toward castle scenes. I have an interview this Wednesday to see if they accept me. If not, I don't know where I will display this year. 

I have one large layout and four smaller stand-alone pieces. I am working on a fifth, which I hope to have completed for the show. I just need to figure out the complex roof angles for the building. 

It is a lovely building with angles but needs a properly angled roof to make it unique. The challenge will be finding enough parts for a roof, determining the angles, and keeping the tower.

I want to go to Utah in March, also. Gia will not go. Max is interested but needs to see if he can get the time off work. He will need to take off seven work days. I want to attend the Off-Road Wrecker Games. It would be a busy few months if these things come together.