Matching Tracksuits

fun in fours

the girl

First Day 2026

2025

January

February

March

April

May

June

July

August

September

October

November

December

Post-Holiday Downtown Walk

19th Party

The evolution of the Girl’s birthday parties over the years has completed a full arc of planning and responsibility. Her first party doesn’t even hold a place in her own memory: we picked a theme, made the guest list, decided on the menu, chose the cake, determined the games and activities. It was less a party for her than a party around her.

As the years progressed, we brought her more and more into the planning aspect of her parties. Where do you want to have it? Who do you want to invite? What sort of cake do you want to have? 

Then, as she edged toward adolescence, she began taking a more active part. She prepared snacks, festooned the living room with balloons and ribbons, and took an overall more active part in the whole process.

Her last couple of parties were almost all her doing. She made all the plans, prepared all the decorations, went shopping for this or that element. We helped here and there, but it was mostly her party and her work.

Tonight was her nineteenth birthday party, and the only thing K and I did to help her was clean the basement den that served as the venue and help keep the kitchen clean as she baked the cupcakes she wanted and her birthday cake, prepared the charcuterie board, set the drink table, and the million and one little things she did to get everything just as she wanted it for her party.

There remains only one more step: the transformation from co-host to invited guest. That’s still a few years off, but it will be here sooner than we expect.

Birthday parties, then, serve as a sort of indicator of independence in one’s child’s life. 

Watching the Semifinals

19

"My age still begins with a one! I'm not that old, E!" L was laughing at the Boy's suggestion that she, turning nineteen today, is, in fact, old.

"When you're nineteen," K added, "thirty seems old. When you're thirty, fifty seems old. And when you're fifty, seventy seems old." I understand the idea, but I think the perceived difference in ages is a exponential curve: Now that I'm in my fifties, for example, it's not just the addition of twenty years that seems "old." Truly "old" for me would be somewhere close to mid-eighties or even nineties.

Old in your teens means having a job and bills. In your thirties, it suggests kids in or barely out of college, and increase in fiscal responsibilities that hints, nonetheless, at relative financial freedom. In your fifties, with a kid in college and another approaching high school, I feel truly "old" is when mobility begins really declining, and that seems to me to be sometime in one's eighties. When doctors' visits are the primary reason for the ever-challenged mobility, that suggests advanced age.

Still, I understood the sentiment: an age seems old until we reach that age.

All of this seemed to receive a coincidental confirmation when, on L's urging, we looked at our year-end Spotify summary -- Spotify Wrapped. K's listening age: 80. How L and I laughed! I knew with my recent re-obsession with Ghost and several similar bands, I had to be younger, musically. But alas, it couldn't outweigh the jazz and classical music that forms the core of my classroom music. My listening age: 84. So my listening age is what I officially consider the very edge of old age, suggesting to some, I suppose, that I have an old soul.

The day as a whole was just as strangely out of sync with our standard daily routine as was this date nineteen years ago. We spent it in the hospital with the newly-born Girl and my parents. Today I took a personal day to appear in court regarding the still-unresolved accident roughly two weeks ago, but the office was not in the courthouse and would not be able to make it time, so everything got reschedule for Monday. K spent most of the morning sleeping: one of her projects was finishing up with the actual waterline tie-in, which is something that requires water to be shut off for a number of people and as such, is usually done at night. She got back home a little after four in the morning, just about an hour before her usual wakeup time.

In the afternoon, I helped the Girl bake some cookies. I broke up the candy canes as we chatted about anything, everything, and nothing of any real significance. College classes, politics, music, funny things we saw on the internet. Everything and nothing. Having those conversations with our daughter is still a relatively new development in our relationship, and, I think, a sign that she's growing out of that teenage reluctance to go beyond monosyllabic responses to many questions much of the time. I was that way, too. Most of us are, I think. and see it's a binder from

Random Advent Thoughts

We're into advent now, the first without the Girl living with us. She came for Thanksgiving and headed by that Friday because of a football game the next day. (I'm still not sure if she really cares for the game or if, more likely, it's the social aspect of it all. She's grown fond of tailgating, suggesting the latter.) It's also the first year without an advent calendar. I think K was looking to get one for the Boy, but I haven't seen one, so perhaps it never happened. Add to that all my ignorance about our advent-calendar-status and everyone's apparent indifference to it and it's obvious how much things have changed over the last few years.

One of the things that definitely has changed is this site: I rarely write anything here anymore and post pictures only sporadically. At first, I thought it was just a break. But it's easy to slip out of the habit of daily reflection and the mental energy it requires. And as for the pictures, the Girl is gone, the Boy is an increasingly-reluctant subject, and honestly, I'm just getting tired of that whole process as well.

That's not to say I've given up writing altogether. I spent some time in recent months working on my memoir about growing up in a fringe Christian sect, but even that has hit a jam: The more I read and listen to podcasts about growing up an Evangelical Christian, I realize my experience in a high-demand religion is par for the course here in America. We weren't the only ones viewing ourselves as the only true Christians on the planet while relegating everyone else to The World -- that big, bad anti-Christian amorphous society that seems to be everywhere and nowhere all at the same time. Evangelicals and we even referred to it identically: The World, while pointing fingers at each other and lumping the other into The World as well. Exclusivist religious views are hardly exclusive to fringe sects (though being on the fringe does help, sociologically speaking). So I reevaluated what I was writing, revised it heavily, then started again. And ran out of steam almost immediately. I poke at it every now and then, but it sits in a Google Doc festering now.

One positive change in all of this has been my new job. which I've not written about much at all. The difference is astounding: no stress about end-of-year testing or even lesson planning in a given format to a prescribed level of detail to be submitted by a specific day of the week. No stress about kids who are out of control and negatively impacting every other student in a given class. No stress about needing more time to complete a given topic juxtaposed against the ever-ticking clock of standardized testing. No more quarterly benchmark tests. No more tri-quarterly Common Formative Assessments. No more pretending administration is not telling us to teach the same thing on the same day when we all have to give the same CSA (Common Summative Assessment). No more mindlessly useless meetings to discuss "data" (quotes very intentional) as if it's something we teachers have never done, some new revolutionary new pedagogical silver bullet. No more (almost) reports based on questions and prompts that seem to assume our cumulative classroom experience would be best measured in mere weeks. Not a single student has been disrespectful to me the entire school year. Not a single parent has taken her child's account of events as gospel truth and verbally attacked me for disciplining the kid.

The Girl Returns

After three months away from home, the Girl returned tonight for the first time. Such a novel experience: for eighteen years, she was a daily joy in our lives, and then suddenly, she was gone. And now she's back. "At last, I get to take a shower in my bathroom." Well, the Boy has taken over most of the bathroom now, but never mind that. We had a drink in celebration of her return, talked about school, future plans, current classes, and random trivialities, and simply enjoyed having L back home.

At one point, she noticed E's math homework on the table. She glanced at it and sighed: "Oh, I'd love to have work this easy." She pulled out her iPad and showed us some of her work in Calculus III.

"See? There's not even numbers anymore!!"

She showed us some of her physics problems (not shown above -- more calc), some diagrams from Chem II ("Just wait until next semester when you take organic chemistry -- it's all diagrams," I laughed.) and reveled in the tastiness of the water.

The Boy, for his part, after making us all laugh by annotating his algebra homework to look a little more like L's calc homework, brought down his ever-growing collection of trombone mouthpieces. Earlier, when L and I were in the basement, she noticed two of his three guitars down there.

"Does he play at all anymore?" she asked.

"Not so much. He's focusing on trombone. But wait until you hear him play," I replied.

A quiet, laughter-filled, joyful return. What more could we ask for?

First Tournament

Roommates