Bearded single dude seeks...ah whatever

I am growing my hair out. Hmmmm....

Should I? Why not? Why?

Because of the fact that I am losing my hair on the top of my head I have been shaving my cranium for a good many years now. I do this because, frankly, I'm a little embarrassed to be losing my hair.

Should I really be though? I look younger with a shaved head. Is that what I am going for? Since I am single should I try to make myself as physically attractive as possible.

Same goes with the beard. (Or the squirrel as Colby calls it) If I grow out my hair and grow a beard is this going to hurt my chances of finding a mate. How the hell should I know.

This is what I'm thinking. Being alone for now is OK. I have some girls that I go out with and they don't seem to mind the rugged look. I really don't care. I think now that me being me is more important then the hair (or lack or hair in certain places) that I have.

For now the hair on my head is growing out. The hair on my face is doing the same.

If this sends away a potential date then so be it. I didn't want to be with that person anyway. I am OK with that.

I am OK with that.

But man alive my face is starting to itch....

Music

When I was in middle school I did chorus to get out of some other class that I didn't want to take. I remember like it was yesterday the afternoon that I tried out for a solo. I sang "Your a Grand Old Flag".

It didn't go well.

I remember one of the kids that could sing came up to me afterwards and said, "Nice try." That make me feel GREAT. Actually it made me fee like crap. I couldn't sing...

Years later I tried to teach myself the piano with little to no success. Same thing with the guitar. I tried and I wanted to but just never really put forth the required effort.

For years I've day dreamed about picking up a guitar and playing for an audience. For years I'd sit in my car with the music loud and sing along like I could. It was always a pipe dream.

Then the moment came.

It was a goal written in a book. I was going to learn to play guitar.

For Christmas last year I got a cheap guitar. I picked up a book and I slowly started to learn. After a while I went and took a few lessons with my son. I discovered fairly quickly that I actually did have an aptitude after-all. I could play guitar.

A while later I found a better guitar at a garage sale.

Then I heard "Highway 20 Ride". I feel in love with the song last winter because it made me think of my dying father. He's two years into a desperate battle for his life. He has cancer and the end is near.

When I was a kid my dad used to do the "every other Friday" ride to get HIS son. The road wasn't hyw 20 but it was route 44. Different numbers but the same meaning.

I wanted to play this song for my dad.

My instructor taught me part of the song and I went on-line to learn the rest.

Then I got divorced and the song took on even more meaning in my life.

I learned to play and sing the song. A month ago with trembling hands I sat down in front of my ailing father. I played the song. He enjoyed it. The moment was touching. I had done it. I could play and sing.

One day this summer I had a moment of inspiration. When I'm inspired I often write. On this day I wrote a song. I wrote a song for the girl that I wanted ti be with. In a period of 90 minutes I had written her a song and composed music for the song on my guitar.

At the time she wasn't even talking to me. To me then it didn't matter. I wrote from my heart hoping and praying that I could play it for her someday. I practiced and practiced. Finally a couple of weeks ago I was able to play her the song. She liked the gesture but I still wasn't sure about the quality.

This weekend I learned a new song: "The Search is Over".

I kept practicing all my songs.

Last evening I stood before my girl and her three kids and I played my three songs. When I was done  the youngest looked at me and said, "Mr. Rick. Can you play "Mom's Song" again?"

Words cannot describe how good that made me feel.

Music. I can play music....

....and play it well.

Owls

Of course I get the fun job.

What I separated from my ex my fantastic son (I use that term in jest at 7:46am) got to stay and live with her.

I am OK with that. I live in an apartment down the street. Since she has a job and actually makes money and stuff she kept the house and all. I’m good with that.

For the last 10 years I have gotten my son up and off the wherever he was going. Some years he went to a baby sitter (Thanks Carrie!!), some years he went with me to work, some years I dropped him off at school or daycare, sometimes I let him sleep alone (Shhhh.. don’t tell his mom) but now he gets on the bus at 7:47am. It is my parental duty to get his lazy butt on the bus every morning.

I’m usually pretty good at it. Today, however, I ….ahem… missed the bus. (Pun intended!)

I didn’t say that I enjoyed it.

I guess I do enjoy it in a way I because I do get to see my son every day. That is nice. I should consider myself lucky. My dad only got to see me one weekend per month. I see my son every day of the year. Why does it have to be in the morning….

Today is a perfect example. I get to their house at 7:15am after teaching class 6am – 7am. I come in, (I have a key. I do have a good relationship with his mom) shut off the home alarm, and find him sleeping on the couch. That’s great. I wonder how late he was up watching TV on a school night.

Anyway. I wake him up. Plenty of time to get up and off to the bus at 7:47am. I go back to my laptop. 5 minutes later he’s still sleeping. I wake him again. I repeat this process over and over again until finally its 7:40am and REALLY time to get up. Again, he missed breakfast. He gets it at school so that’s OK. He’s up and getting dressed.

7:45am he finds his shoes and starts to untie his laces. Of course he’s been told 5 million times to untie his shoes before he takes them off. I want him to do things himself but I help anyway because, well we have about 90 seconds to get to the bus stop.

He finally gets his eyes open and his shoes on. Out the door at the exact time the other kids are getting on the bus.

We missed the bus; first time this year.

So glad I get to spend this quality time with my little dear.

Then he comes up to me with a smile on his face.

Colby: Knock, knock.

Dad: Who’s there?

Colby: Owls.

Dad: Owls who?

Colby: Yes they do!

I guess he’s going to be a good kid after all. If only he’d wake his lazy butt up!