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A Ramble: Tragedy and Luxury

Brett Kelly — Sun, 27 May 2012 04:49:45 +0000

People don’t know.

They can examine a situation or opportunity and give what they believe to be their best advice. But it’s almost never gospel truth.

So much of what others tell us is colored by their experiences and prejudices. They got a great job when they got out of college, so college became the answer.

The military is littered with second- or third- or fourth-generation soldiers, following the model set forth by their fathers and grandfathers. They had walked a certain road and come out the other side as men. Respectable, honorable men.

We long for the approval of those who are around us and those who came before us. Following in their footsteps or, at the very least, heeding their wisdom seems like a fine strategy for achieving happiness and success and honor.

And it can be. But I would say that, much of the time, it’s not. At least, it’s not the ideal.

Those who advise and counsel us are different people with different gifts and talents and desires. Just two generations ago, my grandparents worked—worked hard—in service of their families. What they did wasn’t important as long as their wives and children ate with a roof over their heads and had clean clothes to wear.

I, too, believe that my primary responsibility is as a father and a husband. But, I have the luxury of being able to choose. To choose what fills my days, what my work looks like and how much satisfaction I derive from that work.

I don’t believe that every person in this world is destined for satisfaction in their profession. That’s fine, I think. I’ll never begrudge anybody the sacrifice of personal satisfaction in the name of providing for the ones they love.

But.

I do believe that those of us who have the opportunity—the luxury, even—to pursue what is true and beautiful and profitable both for us and the world around us have a duty to do it.

I can’t tell you what your particular flavor of that journey looks like. I wouldn’t presume to try, honestly. But I do believe that it’s a blessed thing to be in a position to do your art and experience the adventure that this life has to offer.

And to not take hold of that… to squander such a unique opportunity…

That’s tragic.

Milk Price Notwithstanding...

Brett Kelly — Fri, 25 May 2012 06:08:49 +0000

As I mentioned not long ago, my wife takes great care to ensure that our family eats well. Organic foods, homegrown if possible. We buy raw milk and pastured eggs and glutens are dispatched with extreme prejudice if seen within a quarter mile of our home.

So, we bought a cow.

I didn’t even know you could do that. We and another family went halvsies on a grass-fed, RGBH-free bovine. To eat, I mean.

We paid this rancher guy a bunch of money to take ownership of the beast, which (to my knowledge) has been slaughtered and is in the process of being butchered to our specification. Soon, an absurd amount of meat—packaged, labeled and ready to cook—will arrive at our door. By all accounts, this should last us a year.

What’s really weird about this is that, like I mentioned a second ago, the fact that this is even possible is kinda surprising to me. I mean, we’ve all bought many pounds of ground beef, steak and all the rest of it. But a whole freaking cow?

Crazy, unexpected solutions are all around us. It just takes a diligent person (like my wife) with a creative, thinks-outside-the-box mind (like my lady’s) to find them. I hope I can extrude the same kind of thinking out of my own goofy brain someday soon.

Feast of the Ascension — Part 1

Brett Kelly — Mon, 21 May 2012 01:36:57 +0000

Guess somebody likes me. Sheesh

Brett Kelly — Tue, 15 May 2012 23:24:39 +0000

The Mother of my Kids

Brett Kelly — Mon, 14 May 2012 05:29:12 +0000

Growing up, I never really knew how to think about Mother’s Day. Of course, I loved (and still love) my Mom and appreciated all that she did for my brother and me, but it was always sort of abstract. After all, I was a kid and didn’t have much of a concept of what it was like to be a parent.

It’s a different ball game when you’re a father married to a mother. When you spend your days watching the mother of your children work and sacrifice selflessly for the well-being of your kids, the whole reason for a day like Mother’s Day comes sharply into focus.

Thankfully, our situation allows my wife to be a stay-at-home Mom, as well as a home school teacher to our two kids. I know not many families have such a luxury. But, even though my wife doesn’t draw a paycheck any more, she works harder than just about anybody I know.

Virtually all of her discretionary time is spent investigating new curricula for the kids’ education and ways she can make our home a healthy and environmentally responsible place to be. She barely takes any time for herself and I don’t think our kids really understand how fortunate they are to have somebody so smart and intentional steering the ship. I don’t blame them for that, of course, but it’s interesting to be on the other side of the arrangement now.

I love my wife immensely, but I also respect the hell out of her for how much she invests in our family. I’d like to think that it doesn’t take a day like Mother’s Day for the kids and I to realize what a blessing she is, but it’s always such a joy to instruct her to sit her ass on the couch and relax while the kids and I take care of the cooking and cleaning.

My love and respect for my little redheaded firecracker is far from perfect, but I hope she knows how profoundly her example affects me and how I approach my own life and vocation as a breadwinner, husband and—most importantly—father.

Maybe you should hire...

Brett Kelly — Tue, 08 May 2012 02:18:19 +0000

Coconut Killers Inc.

I'm not a detective...

Brett Kelly — Mon, 07 May 2012 15:03:03 +0000

But either my wife is having bourbon for breakfast or one of the kids has her phone.

Nora's First Evernote Note

Brett Kelly — Mon, 07 May 2012 00:45:10 +0000

Making a packing list for our upcoming vacation!

Learning about Baseball

Brett Kelly — Sun, 06 May 2012 21:32:30 +0000

Watching an Angel game as a family. We decided to keep track of the players and such. This is fun.

The Neti Pot Theory

Brett Kelly — Sun, 06 May 2012 06:25:21 +0000

If you follow me on Twitter or read this site, chances are you're aware that I've been fighting a nasty sore throat for the last week or so. This happens to me once a year or so (some years worse than others, usually around this time), and I've been unable to establish any kind of culprit.

My wife, who is very smart, has a theory that, after having given it a smidge o' thought, sounds like it might be right on the money.

I have weird sinuses. They get irritated easily and, if left untreated, can cause me to get sinus headaches that both curl my beard and leave me essentially worthless for the day. They suck.

I also like tobacco. I don't smoke cigarettes anymore, but I still routinely enjoy a nice cigar or a pipe, particularly when I'm in a social setting and enjoying some alcoholic beverages. Needless to say, the smoke that gets all up in my grill can easily give me that sinus headache I dislike so much.

About four years ago, I was introduced to a little something called the Neti Pot. The short definition: a small teapot-looking container that you fill with warm (almost hot) water mixed with a prepackaged powder that becomes something like saline. You shove the business end of this teapot into your nostril, open your mouth (for air flow) and pour the saline-like solution into your nostril. The stuff comes out your other nostril along with any undesirable irritants that may have attempted to settle in the lower parts of your sinus cavity.

It worked beautifully. I've recommended this thing to more people that I could possibly count. If you have sinus problems. definitely give this thing a try (and it's only really weird the first time you do it).

The directions for the Neti Pot encourage the use of distilled, bottled, pre-boiled or otherwise pure water when you make the saline milkshake. I, being the obstinate jackass that I am, decided shortly after adopting this little miracle that having to heat up distilled water at midnight was simply more of a hassle than I was willing to suffer. So, I just ran hot tap water through it after each use and used warm/hot tap water to make the solution.

As it happens, a few other people have tried the same thing and, well, they died. These people also used regular tap water with their Neti Pots and ended up implanting the warmly-named "brain-eating amoeba" on the insides of their sinuses. Lovely.

Now, as far as I know, I'm not dead yet. But I have a hard time believing that this tap water situation produces such a binary set of results ("you're fine" or "you're dead"). My wife posits that it's the fact that I'm using tap water in the Neti Pot — that's why I spend a week in bed around the beginning of spring every year.

And, as I said before, I'm pretty sure she's onto something. It's amazing how often that happens.

So, for the next, well, several years, I'll be using only distilled water in my Neti Pot. Hopefully I won't end up with the same annoying illness I'm now getting over. I'm also planning on avoiding the brain-eating amoeba like the plague.

Erm. Yeah.