Working from home is a sacrifice we can all enjoy

March 22, 2020

We’re not talking about it. Okay, we technically are. But I’m not mentioning IT, specifically. Well, not by name, expressly. This week, anyway. Not because I’m not taking it seriously. I am. Boy, am I. It’s not because I’m not scared. I am. Man, am I. It’s not that I don’t worry almost every second of every day I awake on the third rock from the sun it could really hurt someone I love. In particular, that someone I love more than my own life. Do I have to say it? Fine. I don’t want it to happen to Kyle Donald Fernando Kimerer, aka, my favorite human. I don’t want ...

We’ll get through this together, at a distance

March 15, 2020

You probably haven’t heard much about it yet in your area. It’s a new thing, really. Just burst onto the scene about back in ... oh, late December, I believe. Nah, I’m not referring to the whole deal with the super-jolly dude in red flying around on his big old sleigh with his cool caribou pals. I’m talking about that yucky old situation originally called coronavirus but now referred to as COVID-19. I know it sounds like a cool trendy ale or neat new video game, but it ain’t. Perhaps you’ve read a little something about it or heard it mentioned on the news — say 4.7 ...

Pop was always there and will always be remembered

March 8, 2020

Fernando. Fred. Freddie. Hon. Dad. Foh-pa. Bop. Grandpa Marinucci. Honorary big brother. Mr. Marinucci. Marinuch. My father was called many different names by a myriad of folks. As for me? I called him Pop. I was pretty much the only one who referred to him that way. I think that’s why I loved calling him it so much. Pop wore many hats. Most of them knit and with a big fluffy tassel on the top. My favorite is the red, green and white one with the holly pin he always wore “a Natale.” That’s “at Christmas” to the average non-Italian bear. Indeed, my Pop was a lot ...

Don’t worry about what you hear; you know you

March 1, 2020

It all happened so quickly. It was over nearly before it started. “Are we the only ones in here?” I faintly heard one gal ask another from my stall at the far wall end of the ladies room. “I think so,” came the somewhat muted reply as I tried to whip up a sham sneeze in attempts to be transparent whilst not looking like a double-agent of the KGB (i.e. covertly eavesdropping). Hey, do they still call Russia’s version of the FBI the KGB? Not like I’d understand a newer moniker anyway. I don’t even know what KGB stands for… I digress. I didn’t get out one spec ...

Drowning in love with the life of a swim mom

February 23, 2020

Swim parents. We’re a breed unto ourselves, to be certain. Take one glance and it’s clear that we aren’t your typical sports moms and dads. Or aunts and uncles, grammas and grampas, or general fans of float. We don’t cuss, fuss or tell the coach how to wrangle his school of fish. We’re different. In no other sport does a single, shrill, well-timed yelp (no, not the online recommendation sort), trill tooth-whistle or high-pitched WHOOP mean so much. Parents of breast-strokers get it. Actually, some tend to get carried away with the ritual, which is what the other swim ...

One word says it all if it has enough capital letters

February 16, 2020

It’s actually one of my all-time favorite words. Hmm. Do we really need the “all-time” preceding favorite? I mean, aren’t we strongly implying, by showing overt preference for a thing, that it became such as a conscious decision made over, you know, time? I digress. Anyway, it’s not really a word, to be technical. It’s a more of a mini-phrase. An abbreviated statement. An exclamation. The expression in question? Aack. Or Aaaack! Or AAAAAAAAAAAAAAACCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKK! It’s versatile and can convey a myriad of emotions. The number of A’s (or letters, in ...