Tuesday, May 13, 2008

People get paid WELL to do this?!?

I read today that the lady who blogs at dooce.com makes $40,000 A. MONTH. blogging. Are you freaking kidding me??? Sadly, I know people who don't make that much in a year. And this woman sits at home typing up a storm (and managing small children and a household, I might add) and pulls in nearly $500K a year. Her husband quit her job to manage the income from their website.

Seriously. Wow.

Monday, May 05, 2008

Happy Birthday, Dad

Happy Birthday, Dad....yeah, I know your birthday was yesterday, but I was paralyzed with grief and sadness and I just couldn't face this.

It's hard to believe you've been gone now for more than two years. I feel terrible saying this, but part of me was so relieved when you left us because I knew that the fear and the sadness and the pain were gone for you. I'm thankful you departed this world with your faith intact, and I hope you found what you were looking for on the other side.

I also feel bad for saying I wish you were still with us. I feel guilty as hell wishing you were still here knowing that you were hurting so much then, and that it would surely be worse now.

I miss you, Dad. I find it odd that after all this time, I still look for your truck on the street and think about calling you for random fatherly advice. I know in my heart that you're gone, and yet......

My heart hurts to know that Gabriela won't really have any memories of you at all. It kills me to see little Addison, so much like you, and to know that she missed out on knowing you. And I'm sad for us all that we missed seeing you with her. She is a pistol, and you would have loved every single cell in her blonde-haired, blue-eyed body.

We're told all of our lives that our parents will eventually leave us, but I didn't really get it until it happened to us. The finality of it all is almost overwhelming, and it sneaks up on me when I least expect it.

I am so sorry that I didn't take more time for you while you were here. I feel so bad for cutting you short on calls to the office, because I was too busy, and for blowing you off on the weekends for whatever ridiculous excuses I came up with. I regret like hell that I didn't realize then what I was giving up now.

I cherish the good times we did spend together, and I just wish there had been more of them. More than any monetary inheritance, I realize that what we leave for the ones behind are the memories - both happy and sad.

I would do anything to spend just a few happy hours with you to let you know how much I love you.

I have to believe that heaven for you includes a computer that is better than the piece of crap you had when you were here, and I hope that somehow you stumble upon my words to you.

Happy Birthday, Dad. I love you.