Somewhat glad to still be alive

The Bones have not been flourishing thus far in 2025.  It's been a good year for anxiety; a bad year for sobriety.

Both Mrs. Bone and I have experienced quite a bit of upheaval at work.  I was informed my position was being discontinued.  No worries, though.  I will simply be transferred to another position; same pay, worse hours.

We found out the daycare we send the kids to for the summer is shutting down.  So we've four months to find another place.  Ha!  I'd have a better shot of getting a liver transplant in that time.

I thought of starting a daddy daycare.  But even just typing that creeps me out, what with Epstein and Diddy, et al.

If I may just say one thing to anyone even thinking of becoming a parent: get on as many waitlists as you can.  Now.  Because every place that isn't openly endangering children has a waitlist.  If you wind up not having a kid and they call you with an opening, there's no cancellation fee.

Then last week, the brakes went out on my car.  And one day the window refused to roll up on the Jeep.  Why was I rolling the window down?  It's literally ten degrees outside.  I don't know.

And now, Mrs. B's car won't start and needs a new alternator.

I've tried to cast a positive spin on each pratfall.  For example, at least I wasn't going 85 on the interstate when the brakes failed.  At least it wasn't raining the day the window stopped working.  I mean, it rained that night, but not like a ton.  And my bath towel and duct tape barrier was barely impenetrable.  (Barely?  Hardly?  I always get those two mixed up.)

Besides, things could always be worse.  Haitian immigrants could have eaten our cat.  I could have been forcibly catheterized.  Or I could be an Auburn fan.

I've been trying to decide on a new family slogan.  You know, something we could all rally around, really get behind.  Here are my ideas so far:

"Taking a nose dive in '25."

"Refuse to thrive in '25."

And probably my favorite so far, "Somewhat glad to still be alive in '25."

But, and this is a huge but -- like if I didn't think it would screw up my sidebar or the rest of this post, I'd put it in 1638 font-size, all-caps, underscored and bold -- none of these things mattered last Tuesday night inside the back gym of the local civic center.

Because what happened there was a near-miracle.  The 8-and-under Magic basketball team won a basketball game.  For the first time in their opposite-of-illustrious history.  

Despite losing their best player and leading scorer to a Christmas day skateboarding injury, and another kid who just stopped showing up.

Despite coming into the game with a record of zero wins and eight losses and having been outscored in those eight games by a combined 180 points to 58.

Despite trailing 11 to 8 in the fourth quarter.

And despite the obvious coaching deficiencies of yours truly.

With hustle and a never-give-up attitude the likes of which I have rarely seen (and one I definitely do not possess), a little luck and possibly divine providence -- I may have said several prayers -- this team overcame it all to defeat the Grizzlies 12 to 11.

Little Ralphie may have summed it up best when he looked at me on the bench, pointed towards the other team and said, "They're losing."

We may not win another game.  (As I look at our upcoming schedule we almost assuredly will not.)  But for one night, the kids were happy, the parents were happy, and I thought to myself, "I wonder if the concession stand is still open."

(It was not.)

"Of popcorn I shall be deprived in '25."   Evidently.

I leave you today with a picture of snow in the deep, deep South.

This is from the uncles' place.... near the Gulf... of America.

God help us.

The blessings of a well-worn snow

"The first fall of snow... is a magical event.  You go to bed in one kind of world and wake up to find yourself in another quite different.  And if this is not enchantment, then where is it to be found?" ~ J.B. Priestly

Snow fell on Alabama last Friday.  With predictions ranging from up to eight inches several days before the event down to one or two inches or maybe just some sleet and freezing rain on the eve of this latest snowpocalypse, the professional prognosticators had all their bases covered, as they are wont to do.

We awoke Friday morning to the pristine, white peacefulness of a freshly fallen snow.  Schools had already announced they would be closed the day prior.  Back in the 80's, that decision wasn't made until Dr. Key, the school superintendent, got out at 5 a.m. and drove around the county to check the condition of the roads.  At least that's the story I was told and still believe to this day.

I was also off work and able to enjoy the day at home.  After years of working in the 911 Center and before that, radio, being expected to show up no matter the weather, nowadays I am considered non-essential.  I know it may sound like a slight at first, but let me tell you, it does not suck.

Snow continued falling throughout the morning, before changing over to sleet and then a gentle rain in the afternoon.  We wound up with around four inches in all.

Snowmen were built, including a "redneck" snowman who we gave lit sparklers for arms and was later shot at with bottle rockets.  Snow creme was made.  Snowball fights were waged.  Heck, Luke and I even recreated the Reliaquest Bowl on the snow-covered field that was our backyard, because... Luke.

On Saturday, I texted Mom to see if she still had snow on the ground.  She texted back with a picture of her untouched lawn.  "Oh yes, still beautiful," was her response.  "What about you?"

"Yep.  Ours has been played in a lot though," I typed as I looked out at the abundance of footprints and barren spots where snow had been scooped up for the aforementioned snowmen, snowballs, and snow creme.

And then she texted one of those lines that stops you for a moment; makes you think.  It causes you to reflect and focus on a singular moment all at the same time.  A statement as simple and as pure as freshly fallen snow.

"That is a blessing to have well-worn snow."

I thought a lot about her statement that day and since.  How glorious the snow looks when it has just fallen and is completely unbothered.  Flawless.  There is a peace, perhaps even a loneliness, that only it can bring.  A silence sometimes so quiet I swear you can hear the flakes gently kiss the frozen ground as they fall.

It starts to look a little messy after people begin to trod through it, and much more so once kids have their go at it.

But there is a different beauty in the imperfection.  Much the same as that of a lived-in house, well-worn jeans, or the weathered hands of an old friend.

Comfort and familiarity filled with memories of life lived, laughter shared, tears shed, people loved.

My kids may never know the joy of waking up at 6:00 a.m to watch the closings and delays scroll across the bottom of the television screen.  Wishing, hoping, praying you'd see your school on the list of cancellations.  And the exuberance when you did.

But may they long know and appreciate the blessings of a well-worn snow.

Redneck Snowman (1/10/25~1/11/25)
"For we all burn as sparklers in the brief hour of life."