29 Nov 2017, by

Failure and Goose Poop

If you don’t know what goose poop looks like, lemme tell you something – it looks a whole lot like a mossy little rock. And you’re probably asking “Who cares what goose poop looks like?” But you’re only asking that because you weren’t the one skipping stones with your son and you weren’t the one who picked up goose poop with your bare hands. If you were, then I promise you, you’d be very interested in what goose poop looks like.

I was only picking up that goose poop in the first place because Liz and Finn were tossing stones into the lake. Lucy was next to them, picking what I assume were poison berries. I didn’t feel like picking poison berries with my daughter (though I did say “Try not to eat those poison berries!” so I feel like I did my job there). So stones it was.

I heard Finn and Liz talking as they threw. Or rather, I heard them pause, each with a stone in hand, look at each other, each say something, and then throw. I got closer to listen to them. (Which is probably why I was distracted and picking up goose poop instead of stones.)

What they were saying was pretty cool. They would name a thing that they wanted to get rid of, thoughts and fears they wanted out of their lives, and then hurl the stone into the lake.

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19 Jan 2012, by

You and Simon Cowell

I want to watch American Idol. I really do. Not because I love the show, but because it is something that my wife and I bond over, and it’s either that or The Bachelor. And The Bachelor, which falls somewhere between crack and cocaine on the addictive scale, is kind of depressing. Even the winners are doomed to a hideous public break up that people like me, recovering celebrity gossip junkie that I am, will track with breathless excitement.

So why don’t I watch American Idol? Good, clean fun that it is?

Because Simon Cowell left. And I could only watch Stephen Tyler make so many sexual innuendos at seventeen year old girls before I wanted to pour bleach down my ear canals. (Also, he looks like some kind of Brooklyn hipster’s leathery art project.)

Simon Cowell’s absence made me realize that for me, he, and he alone, made the show not just watchable, but inspirational. I know that’s a funny way to describe him. But watching Mr. Cowell reminded me how important it is to have that person in your life who can help you truly become not just yourself, but the best version of yourself.

Very Hallmark, I know – just hear me out.

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I’m calling this a resolution-free new year, and I’m saying it loudly because I feel proud that I’m bucking the trend. (I’m a Trend-Bucker! Look out, Trends! You’re about to be Bucked!)

But that’s not exactly true. I did make one, I’m just sort of embarrassed about it.

Here it is: I resolved to not just eat food to be polite.

I do this all the time. Maybe we’re having a small get together, and somebody brings over a snack, like, say, Lays Brand Potato Chips. I am under the (apparent) misconception that like if I don’t wolf down the whole bowl, snatching it away others people and making audible gobbling noises, the person is going to have their feelings hurt because their chip-bringing wasn’t met with sufficient enthusiasm. Like that person’s entire self-worth is wrapped up in what percentage of the bowl of Lays has been eaten.

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Copyright ©2012 Conor Grennan. Photos: Larry Closs.
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