Monthly Archives: June 2012

A Nod to My Beloved…

AStay at home Dad‘ T-shirt  is something I would never wear. Although I am a one. Well, technically, only a step-Dad. But that still comes with all the ‘home’ stuff a real bona fide Dad should do. At least what he should be doing. And on that note do I believe I am indeed a ‘Dad’.

Right now I am unemployed, receiving a semblance of unemployment benefits, writing here and there, but as for a ‘real’ job, that I do not have. My lovely, patient wife currently works two different jobs, putting in ghastly long  hours, while I stay behind, at home, toiling and fiddling in our dwelling.

Domestic work certainly is nothing to sneeze at. There are countless details and chores to do and though I valiantly attempt to keep track of all the things to do in my head, my beautiful and stunning wife does leave my cr0-magnon like, Y-chromosome depleted mind a ‘Honey Do’ list every morning, a gentle reminder of things that need to get done. And I do appreciate it.

Where would I be without her? What is it about the depleted male cerebellum? All men should stand up and cheer their Beloved, for not only getting ready for work, but for taking care of all the details their significant other thought they had under control at the same time they are applying makeup.

How utterly foolish and mistaken menfolk are.

Again, where would you be without your lovely wife or girlfriend by your side?

The list contains things such as bills to pay (which she has already written and placed in envelopes for your convenience–and stamped–so all you have to do is drag your Neanderthal sluggish self down to the mailbox or post office) and a shopping list, as well as sundry chores around the house; vacuum (it’s in the side closet, near the bedroom), wash dishes (hot water), do laundry (that she has already separated into different categories….although I’m pretty good on this one, although occasionally I’ll let slip an all wool sweater into the dryer and it comes out as though it would fit only a Barbie doll), making the beds (men are just terrible at doing this!), washing the floors (again, different closet, everything you need…), and, don’t forget….taking care of the children!

Oh yeah, you say, in your thick-hided noggin, ‘we have kids’. What a revelation! At times, they do need attention. Like food, taking a bath, or brushing their teeth. Oh, and getting them on the bus for school. And after they come back home, checking their bags for homework. They may say they don’t have any, but check just the same.

Yes, the list of the ‘Stay at home Dad‘ can be a long and endless one, automatic and tiring to  some degree.

But aren’t you glad that your Beloved has left that ‘Honey Do’ list for you?

Make sure you give her kiss and a hug and a thank you when she walks through the door.

Better yet, later on give her another kiss and hug in bed, and tell her how much she is appreciated.

Copyright, Paul Grignon, 2012, All Rights Reserved.


Blooms at Dusk…

This gallery contains 3 photos.

Sitting on the back stoop, after coaxing our enormous black cat, Boo, into our domicile, I was privy to the splendor of the backyard. Here, various birds descend to peck at scraps of food strewn upon the lawn. Swallows, cardinals, … Continue reading

Rate this:

Heron Healing…


Watching nesting herons at a place that my Dad loved is a wonderful way to pay tribute to both fowl and father.

Here, nestled along cattails, swamp grass, and long dead trees, is a place that a sense of healing can be attained.

It doesn’t have to be of the traumatic type; it can be a time and place where one can go to collect their thoughts, to ponder things…to just simply breathe.

Here then, couched amongst rocks and pines and a turbid lagoon, one can relax and be one with nature. To engage all five senses in such a scene is to revel in the splendor of what nature reveals.

Sitting upon a rock, thinking of dear Pops, a lone heron flaps slowly into view, its magnificent wings seemingly in slow motion as it makes its usual u-turn in flight to arrive at its destination. It alights upon a spindly pine festooned with a profusion of sticks, a crude but effective nest for their offspring.

I sit, and listen.

A tiny frog appears nearby, perched upon a sodden hummock, and utters a single croak. It eyes me warily, a silent interloper plunged within his watery world. I gaze at the dead trees, and witness young herons squawking in their nests, flapping their wings in anticipation of first flight. Further on, a kettle of hawks effortlessly ride the thermals, circling ever higher in a hypnotically dervish swirl.

Come Father’s Day, perhaps I will be here once again, honoring my dear Pops, and these wonderful, primordial sentinels of the swamp.

My Dad loved this place, and I think he would have liked to have read this post.

I love you, Dad.

Copyright, Paul Grignon, 2012, All Rights Reserved.