Blogtastrophe

Blogtastrophe . . . that’s what I call it when one of my entries receives not even a single view.  While this project continues to be something done for myself and my children, the ability to review certain statistics relating to the blog (thanks to the fine folks at Google) makes for a depressing reality check.  Pouring your heart into a written work, only to have it sit upon the bookshelf collecting dust, carries with it an appreciation for the old saying regarding the proverbial tree falling in a vacant forest.  If in fact it...

On Your Mark . . . Get Set . . . Van Gogh! My Life on Sabbatical

Opting out of the requirement of cutting my own ear off, I spent a portion of the weekend staining a canvas or two . . . or three to be exact.  For any artist, the pursuit of their craft can best be described as plummeting helplessly into a black hole.  It is all consuming, a void in space and time.  If not careful, one can find themselves lost in a project, only to awaken and realize that the better part of a week has passed and they have scarcely eaten or slept for that entire period.  Perhaps not the healthiest of activities,...

Fireside Reflections on the “F” Word

Perhaps it is a caveman thing.  Something left behind from our knuckle dragging days.  I can’t help but find myself enchanted with a roaring fire.  It was a relatively low key day around the magnificent Butler Estates.  A short trip to the grocery store was really all that was on the agenda.  The pace of our lives these days is certainly not likely to break any land speed records, but who am I to complain?  We still feel quite restless at times and miss our love of labor and our labor of love back in the States,...

Tale of the Broken Compass

Lists have been made and packing procedures meticulously practiced.  There is an adventure afoot and thoughts of it have become all encompassing.  Details must be sorted and tickets must be purchased.  The commitment is more than one of mindless detail, however, and I find myself dizzy with contemplation.  It has drained me of most of my reserves and I am battling to rally myself around my daily routine.  I have paintings half completed and ideas brewing for ones yet to be sketched.  My only constant seems to be...

The editorial staff is on strike, never a black belt be

Having spent a wonderful weekend with kindred spirits, I feel mentally nourished.  Enjoying long adult conversation over a variety of topics is a nice change of pace from my usual primary school banter.  This project received some attention and the ensuing conversation was an eye opener.  It was commented that the content of this blog does not often seem intended for the general public.  That much I know to be true.  It is personal and unedited . . . exactly as I hoped it would be.  The notable lack of an editorial...

Irons in the Fire

I have been completely absorbed with writing a number of different pieces that have all come to a grinding halt as I find myself chasing my tail a bit as to the sentiment I wish to convey.  The only way I can think to break free of this “writer’s block” of sorts is to write about something else.  My mind is full to the point of overflowing, and if I don’t start processing some of the data, I am afraid I will find myself face to face with the blue screen of death.  We are currently warming a lot of irons, the bounty of which can...

Activities Born of Retirement, or is it Bored of Retirement?

It would seem that the modern age is capable of assimilating the concept of a “stay at home” father, however I continue to face two questions time and time again.  The first is an inquiry as to what I do for a living.  Rather than place them into the wonderland that is our family’s concept of gender roles, I simply respond that I am retired.  Strange though it may seem, for most people, the concept of a man being retired at 37 seems less confusing than a man of the same age making the decision to abandon a legal career and stay...

Aristomatic Car Audio Installation

Having been back in France for a whole week, my wife seemed to feel the need for social engagement.  Not yet being completely steady on my French feet, I must admit that I was none too keen on the prospect.  As is usually the case in my life, my wife knows best, so I reluctantly agreed to the evening out.  Though my heart was not initially in it, I thoroughly enjoyed the evening among new found friends.  The cast of characters was eclectic.  Our hosts . . . wine makers.  Location . . . their lovely chateau in a well-known...

Smells like Hubris or is that Teen Spirit?

If it feels like Hubris, sounds like Hubris, looks like Hubris and smells like Hubris, then it must be Hubris . . . Right?  I am going to attempt a gross rationalization in the negative, but self-doubting has me questioning the truth.  Upon reading over my last few posts in as objective a manner as possible, I come away with a feeling that perhaps they stink of the sort of Hubris found in a braggart’s mouth.  Could this all be the halitosis of my soul rearing its ugly head?  Again I choose to fight the good fight and answer...

Rhythm of Life and the Return of the Mack

Life in the Butler household now carries forth to the rattle and hum of an 4 beat rhythm alternating between Open E and A emanating from my eldest son’s second hand electric guitar.  I say second hand because we are not the first owners, however, I would scarcely say that it has ever seen much use.  If anything, I believe in being well rounded.  I have made good on my promise of a few posts ago and have taken up the guitar.  As with many of my most joyous endeavors, the parity of my soul with that of my eldest son means that...

Bad Cop, Worse Cop . . . Absentee Cop

Before I typecast myself as a lunatic, I thought I would bring this project back to the mundane for a moment.  If a person spends too much time tending to the soul of the earth, they miss out on the details that make this all worth writing about.  The wife and I aren’t unlike any other set of parents out there.  We do our best in guiding our heathens into adulthood and each play our designated role to that end.  This good cop/bad cop routine is hard coded into our DNA.  There are notable exceptions of course, but generally...

Becoming Bruce Banner

Anger is a vile thing.  When turned loose, it consumes everything in its path like an F4 tornado.  Controlling it is not an easy task.  And it spreads.  It spreads like a virus, spoiling everything and everyone who dares to approach.  Don’t get me wrong, I find great joy in the Black and the White . . . The Yin and the Yang.  I have stated this many times in the past, without a dark there can be no light.  Without anger, one cannot understand their happiness.  Still, those times when darkness descends upon...