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.

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.

More Wonka

 Sunday, I drove across town to help Tinkerbell set out her Halloween display. She doesn't do a scary theme. She feels they get too many kids and doesn't want to scare them. She is really enthusiastic about Halloween.  She has been working on her creations for ten months. 

This year's theme is Willy Wonka. When I arrived, Tink was trimming back plants around the front of her condo. There is something very nostalgic about hanging out with Tink. Listening to her exaggerated groans as she pulls plants from the ground is uniquely her--like walking past a bakery and smelling cinnamon. 

"Help me get the cookie," Tinkerbell says.

She leads me to a narrow hall closet where a giant, round object wrapped in plastic is wedged. I struggle to remove it, wondering how she managed to put it in there in the first place. She reveals the cookie. It is a glossy recreation of a chocolate chunk cookie with M &M's, three feet in diameter.

We place the cookie next to the air conditioner. Then I am assigned to cover the bushes in lights and purple gauze. 

Next come giant lollipops and candy confections — a Pop-Tart, cupcake, and ice cream cone. Each with intricate details. 

Tinks boyfriend comes out to help, but he mostly stays out of the way. He knows better then to incure her sharp tongue when she is working. I don't hold back. Tinkerbell bicker good-naturedly over details.

They want me to dress up as Willy Wonka for Halloween and join them. I haven't decided yet. It is a long drive.

And That's Okay

I wished Billy a happy birthday today. She told me she’s thriving and sent a couple of pictures of her daughter—she’s adorable. I told Billie that motherhood was always where she belonged. She agreed, saying it’s given her a whole new perspective.

She also said she thinks of me often. I can say the same. We bonded through trauma, but these days our connection feels less about what we endured and more about acknowledging that we survived.

Since my divorce, I haven’t had many meaningful relationships. That’s why it matters when someone like Billy remembers me as a positive part of her story. Even with Tinkerbell, for all the chaos, there’s still a mutual respect and acknowledgment.

Gia was different. With her, I did everything right—or as right as I knew how—and still didn’t get the ending I wanted. She walked away and erased the relationship completely.

The irony is that Gia probably would have stayed longer in a messy, chaotic relationship. But I’m not built that way anymore.

And that's okay.

Searching Questions

One in twenty people will go to jail in their lifetime. I know six friends and several acquaintances who have spent at least a night there. I’m not sure what that says about my social circle. I’m not saying I haven’t done things that could have landed me in jail—I just didn’t get caught.

I don’t seem like the type of guy who would end up in jail. My tattoos might suggest otherwise to a casual observer, though.

Why am I thinking about this? I was searching for a post about the time Tinkerbell spent a night in jail. It was over a domestic argument with her baby-daddy at the time. They took her in just to cool her off. I’m sure I wrote about it back then, but searching through 2,000 posts without a tag is like fishing for a needle in a haystack.

It has to be out there. It was too funny not to record.

Shimmer

Before my trip with Tinkerbell, I wondered if she had ulterior motives. I was analyzing her from a distance--the invitation, her desire to get a new job with more money. They had me thinking that she might be thinking of making a change in her relationship. 

The undercurrents were there, but I think she has made peace with them. Her boyfriend is loyal and makes good money; she values those more than she misses other aspects. I know this by the way she talked about Billie or Gia when each left. Tinkerbell sees things through her eyes.

I try seeing others' possible motivations--which often differ from my own. You don't have to agree with them to see them.

I have been writing 2 hours a day, often more. Gaming has suffered. So has my sleep. I am not sure I am getting closer to my goal, but I am trying.

Today, I think I wrote my best piece yet. I melded two short nonfiction essays into one. Which is a good counterweight to getting my first rejection letter last night.

Wonka

When we returned to Tinkerbell's place, she showed me her preparations for Halloween. A three-foot-tall soft-serve ice cream cone sat in her living room. Her theme was Willy Wonka.

"Tink, this is amazing! How did you do that?" I asked.

She went into detail on how she constructed it. "The bottom is a trash can. The top I made from pool noodles."

"What about the sprinkles?"

"Those are clay. You have to bake them first."

The result was outstanding. She'd captured every detail, down to the texture on the cone. But this was only part of it. Stuffed in closets throughout the house were large toadstools, gumdrops, and lollipops. Each piece exploded with detail.

In the downstairs closet, there were materials for a giant Pop-Tart she was creating next.

"You could do this professionally," I said.

Tinkerbell downplayed her skills, but I’m an arts-and-crafter myself. I know good work. People would pay for such a display. She had been working on things since December.

"Wouldn't you love getting paid for what you enjoy doing?"

We headed back outside. Tink sat on her porch while I stood nearby. Tinkerbell gossiped about her neighbors as they entered and exited the condos across the street. Unlike the dorm, this time I was reluctant to leave.

I’ll make sure to post some pictures of the completed display.

Movin Day

 Movin’ Day

“Do you want to drive?” I ask. “I should warn you, Gia thinks my driving is terrible.”

“Are we going to have to take the keys away from you one day?” Tinkerbell teases.

She invited me to go with her and TRex for Movin’ Day. TRex is starting his second year at CMU. It’s her way of saying, You were a part of this.

Like so many times before, Tinkerbell turns it into an adventure. We’re not just helping TRex move into his dorm—we’re spending the night at Soaring Eagle Casino first.

I pull into their driveway in the early afternoon. TRex loads what wouldn’t fit in his car into the back of the Buick. He’s so big now—six-foot-two and lean muscle. I almost don’t recognize him, except for his smile. He still has his mother’s smile. He’s a good kid. Tinkerbell did a great job raising him. If I helped even a little along the way, I’m glad.

We take two cars, with Tinkerbell riding with me. I only miss one exit. She complains dramatically, but it’s all in fun.

Conversation flows nonstop during the drive. She tells me about the elaborate Halloween display she’s planning—this year’s theme is Willy Wonka. She’s been making giant ice cream cones, candies, even a six-foot Pop-Tart. It’s a year-long project. She still knows how to maximize fun. Tinkerbell has settled into her life, and I’m happy for her.

She still babies TRex. He’s her shining achievement. She complains about him when he’s home, but I know she misses him fiercely when he’s gone.

At the casino, the three of us spend more time wandering than gambling, but it’s still enjoyable. We play a few slot machines. No one wins more than they lose, though TRex seems the luckiest. When we finally retire for the night, Tink and TRex share a late-night pizza in their room while I sit outside on a bench, listening to the fountains. I’m settling into my life too.

The next morning, we help TRex move in. We’re a week early—he’s part of a special donor-sponsored team-building program—so the dorm is mostly empty. His room feels cramped for four boys. No privacy, one bathroom. I compare it to prison.

Tinkerbell is a nonstop flutter of over-helping and nagging. Halfway through, TRex’s roommate and his mom arrive. Suddenly the roommate’s mother is carrying on just like Tinkerbell.

“Oh my god, it’s like an echo chamber,” I whisper to TRex. “I thought it was just your mom.” From bits of conversation, I learn she’s a single mom too. Maybe that plays into it.

Tinkerbell and I explore the rest of the dorm. There isn’t room for two moms in that tight space. By the time we return, TRex has most of his things set up. I shake his hand and say goodbye, signaling to Tink that it’s time to go. She’s reluctant to leave, but my presence keeps TRex from having to push her out.

Things change over the years, but it’s surprising how much stays the same. I can picture the two of them pushing me around the old-folks’ home in a wheelchair one day—still bickering, still pampering.

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.

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.

Three Updates

 Tuesday night, Tinkerbell sent me some images of T-Rex moving into his college dorm at CMU. How time flies. I still remember T-Rex as the child from my book. I didn't respond to Tinkerbell. As much as I love her, she seems to only reach out when she needs. She will ignore me otherwise. That is not the type of relationship I deserve from her. 

I saw the Ear, Nose, and Throat specialist yesterday. Medicine is such a joke. Fifty percent of the time, they are just guessing. I have gone from a person who avoids medications to walking around with five. Two are in case I have an episode of vertigo (they don't stop it), one antibiotic ( for twenty-one days), a steroid (for six days), and a diuretic (duration tbd).

None of the pills cure my issue. They are not sure if they will even help my situation. These are the least evasive solutions. Here is a nifty video on the disease. I need to search for my own solutions, too.

Firefly update. Firefly is now the mother of a second baby girl. It's so amazing how some people change. I haven't contacted her lately, but I am glad she is married and has two kids. Hopefully, the future will continue to be bright.

Update

A long time ago, we used to be friends
But I haven't thought of you lately at all
If ever again a greeting I send to you
Short and sweet to the soul, I intend... We Used To Be Friends, The Dandy Warhols

I debated whether to contact Tinkerbell and see how she is doing. I don't reach out to many people very often. Besides my twins, Gia is the only person I text frequently, but I think even that will wane. I am not sure Gia will return to Michigan.

I sent a text and asked Tinkerbell how things were going. She didn't reply, so I don't think I will bother picking up the phone next time she calls. I deserve the same level of respect, and she fails to give it.

Brit came over Wednesday night, but she is hard to talk with and seems to struggle with depression. I wouldn't enjoy spending a weekend getaway with her, but she is hot and does the job, So I don't mind seeing her occasionally.

I have not noticed anyone else interesting. I have been concentrating on walking. I have hit my goal of 6700 steps daily for over two weeks and have averaged over 10,000 steps for the past eight days. I am picking up other exercises, too. It is not doing what I want; I am not losing weight, but it is supposed to be good for me.

2:30 a.m. Phone Call

Thursday, July 4th

The holiday has yet to begin, and I get a phone call at 2:30 a.m. Only one person calls me at 2:30 a.m.: Tinkerbell, my pseudo-adopted daughter. Tinkerbell and I have not spoken or texted in over six months. She pulled away without an explanation. She still knows there is one person she can always call.

Tinkerbell was drunk and on her porch after an argument with her boyfriend, Tech. It sounds like their relationship is imploding. Tinkerbell mentioned they hadn't had sex since January. Their sexual relationship has always been an issue for Tinkerbell. 

I listened. I told her she would get through this. Tinkerbell reminded me I said last time. I didn't ask her why she had ignored me for six months or more. I assumed it had something to do with her relationship. I will ask her that another day if she decides to stick around. She said thanks for picking up several times during the call because she knew she had no right to expect it.

I often told Sam that Tinkerbell and Tech's relationship would end when T Rex (Tinkerbell's son) graduates high school. T Rex graduated this year and will attend CMU in the fall. Despite how obvious this seemed, Tinkerbell made no plans for this eventuality. I am sure Tinkerbell will figure it out—she always does. My only advice was not to rush things and leave his house without having a plan.

We talked for an hour. On Friday, I texted Tinkerbell and told her I was available on Saturday if she needed to leave the house. She replied that she would be fine. 

The Past, Shimmer

 It was Tinkerbell's birthday on Saturday. I texted her the day before asking if she had special plans and didn't get a reply. I didn't hear from her, so I didn't bother texting her on Saturday. Tink has been distancing herself from me for a while. I am not sure why. Anyone who read my book will note this is not the first time. I can only guess at the reason. 

Tinkerbell is a lot like me in that respect. She cuts everyone out eventually. I wouldn't be surprised if she shows up again without explanation sometime in the future. Years ago, this would bother me more than it does today. I don't care anymore. I lack the energy.

Excerpt:

Shimmer Originally Published, April 3, 2009

 "When you are all happily ever after," I start. "You better not forget about me."

"I haven't so far, have I?" She replies-- but that is not an answer. I know she will have to let me go. I cannot play the same part in her life.

As I drive home, I can't keep from wondering: Who will need me now?

We're here and now, but will we ever be again?
Cause I have found
All that shimmers in this world is sure to fade
Away again

It's too far away for me to hold, too far away

It's too far away for me to hold Its too far away... Guess I'll let it go-- Shimmer, Fuel

The Scene Of The Crime

Four Years Ago

On a partly cloudy day, Billie and I drove to Sterling, Michigan, to go kayaking on the Rifle River with our friends Tink and Tech. Little did we know it would be our last trip together.

"She is cheating on me," I tell Tink and Tech as Billie headed to the bathroom.  The night before, I discovered incriminating text messages on her phone. All morning a growing pit of anger and despair was forming within my stomach. Unsure of what to do, I elected to go on the kayaking trip anyway. We booked the long route, which can take six hours or longer. Midway through the trip, the river became congested with intertwined inner tubes carrying inebriated campers, resembling oversized floating lily pads. Billie and I got separated from Tink and Tech. We navigated through the chaos without slowing and reached the end an hour ahead of Tink and Tech.

Last Weekend

I returned to the Rifle River at the invitation of Tink and Tech. We were joined by two other couples for a kayaking excursion. I had been jokingly referring to returning to "the scene of the crime" when friends and coworkers asked about my plans for the holiday. However, revisiting the exact location didn't evoke many memories. Once again, at the halfway point, where the river became congested with tubers, I lost sight of the rest of the group and finished over an hour before they did.

I won't be going back. I cannot stand the crowds of drunken partiers. It is not my idea of fun. That is Tech and Tink's. Although they are getting too old for that, in my opinion. Still, the Rifle River leaves me sour.

It is the fourth of July. I declined Sam's invitation to go to the annual party friends put on. I am not pleasant company lately, and I cannot shake it. Back in March, the Psychic said 2023 was going to be a dry year in the dating market. She indicated I am going to start wondering if there is something wrong with me, but not to get caught up in that negative energy. Even with that warning, I feel like that is exactly what is happening.

It's Me

I have this thing where I get older but just never wiser
Midnights become my afternoons
When my depression works the graveyard shift
All of the people I've ghosted stand there in the room

Friday, Sam and I went to Green Lantern for dinner. I ordered a small gluten-free pizza, and Sam ordered a salad. Our conversation was stilted. We are both people that articulate the things we are thinking, and neither of us has anything new going on in our lives to discuss. 

Sam ordered a second tall Blue Moon beer with her meal. It takes her a long time to finish off these drinks, and she is usually a bit buzzed after. I found myself staring at the glass, wanting her to finish. Sam will not leave before her beer is done. She likes her Blue Moons.

I wanted to leave. I am less inclined to enjoy these nights out. They are triggering in a complex way that I find hard to explain even here. I would never try explaining it to her for fear of insulting her. We have been friends for more than fifteen years. Much has happened during that time. We have both changed. Like an old married couple, you wake up one day and realize you don't recognize the person sleeping next to you.

Stoically, I am sliding into this new phase of my life, yet still hoping for one last fling to extend the fun. Growing bitter about my choices, even though I know I would not change them if given a chance. 

It's me, hi, I'm the problem, it's me

It's me, hi, I'm the problem, it's me

It's me, hi, everybody agrees, everybody agrees...Anti Hero, Taylor Swift

Originally Posted March 7, 2009

Six Months Ago

"You've wasted your summer," she said, not for the first time, as if summer marked some invisible boundary of importance more significant than the other seasons.

Sam drew out another cigarette and lit it. She was not ready to leave. The shadows were deepening around us. It was a bright early evening when we entered the restaurant now, no light showed through between the window blinds. Another sign that summer was coming to an end.

I tried to form a reply. I sputtered partial phrases, none of which made much sense. "Don't get defensive, " she continued. "You need to find someone more mature. Someone that can offer you something mentally."

It sounded horribly boring to me. Like watching paint dry-- acrylic paint, not oil-based. No fumes to enjoy. I don't really want someone to challenge me intellectually. I don't really put much thought into things, except people, maybe, and you really don't need a Ph.D. to observe people.

* * *

Last weekend:

Tinkerbell sits at the table in front of my computer, feeding her addiction to mySpace. I am sitting on the counter in the kitchen facing her. "See, he is avoiding the issue, and so are you," I say.

"How can he and you not fight? You are the most annoying person I know! He avoids fighting because he is afraid of losing you. Which means he is probably suppressing issues; eventually, that will make him unhappy."

She listens, and we talk more. The conversation is mentally stimulating. It is a side no one else sees.

Ticket

 Friday night, Tinkerbell and Tech were on my side of town to drop T-Rex off at a friend's house. T-Rex had to work first, so it was late before they arrived. It was 11:30 pm before the three of us headed out. Most bars in my area close at midnight. We ended up at the bar in the local bowling alley. A colorful place, to say the least.

The bar was empty. A few people were bowling. Surprisingly, I saw several young kids with their parents in the mix. We had a few beers and discussed the state of dating. Things are dry out there. It was fun to see Tink and Tech. I always have fun talking with them. 

I ignored my phone on Saturday and worked on my Lego project. Sam reached out, but I still didn't want to hang out. I prefer staying home. I did drag myself out on Sunday. I went around the block to buy some new vapes. On the way home, right in front of the condo complex, I was pulled over.

I had not been speeding. The officer said my tags were expired. I told him that was impossible, my birthday is in September, but sure enough, they were. I don't know how I missed that one. Usually, I am on top of stuff like this. I applied online, and the transaction must not have gone through. Afterward, I forgot about it.

The cop was cool about it. He did give me a ticket but said he would waive it if I updated my registration and made a court appointment. I updated my plates as soon as I got home. 

Just Don't Need It All

He wants to dream like a young man

With the wisdom of an old man

He wants his home and security

He wants to live like a sailor at sea

Beautiful loser, where you gonna fall?

You realize you just can't have it all

He's your oldest and your best friend
If you need him, he'll be there again
He's always willing to be second best
A perfect lodger, a perfect guest
Beautiful loser, read it on the wall
And realize you just can't have it all
You can't have it all. You can't have it all
Oh, oh, can't have it all...Beautiful Loser, Bob Seger

I have had much on my mind lately, but I have not been able to articulate it. When I go to dinner with Sam, I am silent. I've noticed I gravitate to a certain type of person, whether it is a woman or a man, they tend to have issues that trigger my deep-rooted childhood.

A coworker said to me today, "You are lucky I like you."

I replied, "No, you are lucky I like you. Whether you like me or not has no bearing on my job."

I have not heard from Ava in two weeks. It will be interesting to see how long it will be before she reappears. If she even does at all. Hopefully, she gets this new job sorted out and makes time to slip away.

Tinkerbell called me twice last night. She received a bad review from her bosses. The major complaint was that she didn't get along with her coworkers. Tink is a good worker. Her staff like her. The people in her groups like her. The managers on the same level as her are older. I think they are intimidated by Tinkerbell. Although, getting along with others has never been her strong suit.

I find it disappointing that she ignored me over the holidays only to reach out when she was having a bad day. She didn't mention any other problems, but maybe she is suffering from the same seasonal blues.

It Is What It Is

This post has been in draft for a few days. Work has been busy, and I have been lazy.

I worked in the office Friday afternoon after Ava and I parted. I texted Sam and asked if she wanted to go to dinner. I was making an effort to get out. I haven't been very social lately. Tinkerbell hasn't shown any interest in getting together for whatever reason, and though I have seen a few other friends over the last few weeks, I prefer sitting at home.

The weekend was no different. I went to dinner with Sam, but I couldn't wait to get home. I spent the rest of the weekend watching episodes of House and playing video games. I am not sure if this is a problem. I would deny I am depressed. I have had depressive episodes, and this doesn't feel the same. 

Sam invited me to a fundraiser at a hall next weekend. It would be a chance to meet some new people, but it sounds exhausting. I have not been good company lately. Which does point toward depression or maybe just winter.

It has been a while since I heard from Tinkerbell. She is distancing herself from me. She tends to do that with everyone in her life. She doesn't speak to her family. I can't blame her, though. After all, I tend to do the same thing. We are kindred souls.

I have stopped wondering what this year will hold for me. It is what it is. Ava's favorite saying. She'd be proud.