Frogs and Dogs.

The day began with an ominous, but hopefully not prophetic, start. I, in another confounding battle with my coffee maker, entered my day by forgetting to put my cup beneath the coffee squirter spout (techno-jargon, sorry). After using half a roll of paper towels and all the swear words I possess, the mess was cleaned up and I moved on.
This coffee maker and I have engaged in some epic struggles. I have screwed up making a simple cup of coffee many times and in ways that would certainly puzzle and likely amuse the designers of this machine. I can easily imagine them sitting back, with a perfect cup of joe, snickering and looking at each other with raised eyebrows saying things like, “Wow, I sure couldn’t imagine someone trying to do it like THAT.” And, while shaking their heads condescendingly, “My God man, we tried to idiot-proof this thing, but you’re a special breed!” Well maybe, I am. I had finally figured out our other coffee maker after six years and now this new one has me stumped, but I will fight the good fight and prevail. Eventually, I will have a delicious, grind-free, cup and I will be pleased. I, also, won’t have to face any more awkward questions about how we go through so many paper towels. I look forward to this day.
Following my coffee-making snafu, my day carried on, though it was still a little shaky. My daughter reset her morning alarm for 6:15 instead of her usual 7:15. While this may not seem like a big deal, it was. I get up at 5:10, exercise, then train the 6 am class at my CrossFit gym. I arrive home around 6:45 or so and enjoy sitting and drinking/eating my coffee while watching the news and a few minutes of the “Today” show before the hive awakens. Since, my daughter was already up and was watching cartoons, I had to play the old “catch the remote from the moving hand” game with her in order to change the channel. This is not an easy game anymore, as she is getting pretty quick. After grabbing the remote and changing the channel, my act was met with some soft-screaming and dirty looks. And in a thoughtful display of her anger, my little girl ripped up the blue construction paper swirly flower thing she had made for me the night before that had “I Love You” written in black marker. She set the torn pieces on the arm of my chair with a satisfied look in her eyes. I was a little hurt by this gesture, but since I had placed my “present” in my wallet the previous night, she actually tore up the one she had made for her Mom, so no real damage was done. At least not to me. Upon showing her my in-tact gift, my daughter made some strange noises with a mean face and stomped off, foiled again. So it goes.
The house came to life at this point with the dogs needing to go outside and my sleepy son fighting to stay in bed against my gentle, but insistent, pleas. He is delicate in the morning and requires kid gloves or a shark suit for his wake up call. I always lie down next to him and softly whisper, “Time to get up, buddy”, while gently scratching his back. This seems to soothe his savage morning mood and saves me some time screaming at him for screaming at me. He was up and moved, slowly as a glacier, to the shower. Ok, I thought, things are shaping up. It’s gonna be a fine day.
After making breakfasts and lunches, I began the day for real. It was foggy and as I do whenever it’s foggy, I thought about a day in my life many years ago: I was probably five or so and performing my daily ritual of eating cereal with my Dad at our kitchen table before he went to work. As he opened the sliding glass door to take the trash out, I noticed that it was a foggy day and, using my hilarious, even-way-back-then, wit told my Dad, “Daddy, it’s froggy out there. Don’t step on any frogs!” I laughed about this one for quite a while that day and I still do, but for different reasons these days. I like the fog and frogs because of this.
Back to the present day: Before I could really claim a portion of the day for myself, I had to drop my dog, Diego, off at his buddy, Dakota’s, house. They are best friends. As I pulled into the driveway, both dogs were barking and jumping in excitement at seeing their pal. Their genuine joy was a little contagious and as I opened the gate and watched them fake bite and jump all over each other, I was happy that my dog had a best friend. I am not offended that I am not his and he knows he’s not mine, but I’m glad he has someone better than me to play with. Everybody needs a best friend. As I drove away, lighter in heart and head, I felt pretty good about the direction of my day. It was regular and extraordinary at the same time, just like most of them, and that’s just fine with me.