by Kevin Burton
Our younger cat Lakin is a great leaper, has a good set of lungs and is eager to communicate.
And she’s wild about exercise. I should be so wild about exercise.
You share your living space with two cats, you find out a few things.
Like on a recent morning, my wife Jeannette is two-thirds asleep, early a.m. walking to the kitchen, no lights, no shoes.
She navigates the hallway, but before that left turn to the kitchen, she meets the unexpected. She steps on something, a present left for us by one of the cats.
Oh, no!
Well the light switch is right there. She turns it on and sees, she has stepped on…..a cat toy.
She stepped on a string with a cloth mouse at the end of it. Lakin has this dog-like habit, that if cat daddy, me, hasn’t played with her enough, she will as a reminder, take this toy out of its box, bring it up the stairs and deposit it where no one can miss seeing it, or misunderstand the meaning of why it is there.
Sweet relief fuels my wife through her morning, like that first cup of coffee, and she recounts the tale with a smile.
But I am shamed and on notice.
“Come on dad, let’s have a catch,” said the cat acrobat….
A trace of the electricity generated by the British Invasion is still reverberating around the universe. It must be. Chicks still dig the Beatles.
Last month, in a hole-in-the wall bar in Collinsville, Illinois, I found myself singing karaoke with some of my team mates from the Cleveland Scrappers beep baseball team. We had just played a forgettable World Series and were out having fun.
My second song of the night was “Lady Madonna” by the Beatles, and that choice started something. The DJ must have been a Beatles fan. After I sang, he came by where we were sitting and asked me if I was going to sing another one.
So I requested “All My Lovin.’” Another Beatles tune.
When my turn came back around the DJ tells me I’m doing All My Lovin’, and after that I’m going to sing “I Feel Fine” as a duet with him.
Well DJs don’t usually let people do two songs in a row.
It’s fun to sing with people who appreciate what you’re doing. I crave that musical collaboration even if it’s a brief one. And I was feeling it. So we must have sounded pretty good to people in this little place.
So I’m going back to my seat after this impromptu Kev Beatles mini-set. People are high-fiving me on the way.
The last one to reach out to me was a woman seated at the bar who, so I thought, drunkenly whiffed the high five and stuck her hand in my hair. I figured she was just overserved.
But one of my very assertive team mates, unbeknownst to me, saw what was happened and spoke to her.
Here’s how she described it:
“This one girl tried to touch your hair. So I asked her ‘hey what you trying to do..’”
She said “Well he was good…”
“So I said so…..”
And that’s how, for a moment, I got the faint whiff of what it is like to be a featured performer. Actually something similar happened a few years ago at my karaoke place in Kansas. Probably I was singing Beatles stuff that night too.
There weren’t any highlights from the beepball tournament just ended, so I was glad to have at least a little something to write about…….
For two weeks I’ve been pacing around in great anticipation, picking through lists of names. But I haven’t painted any rooms pink or blue. For I’m not welcoming a baby, just one or more fantasy football teams.
Yes, it’s very nearly time for my seasonal obsession.
And here very publicly, I want to re-assure my faithful wife Jeannette that I will not disappear irretrievably into fantasy.
Some husbands do that you know.
This is good counsel from a writer named Tim:
“For the Husbands. Fantasy Football Is Fun — But She Comes First”
“Hey guys — let’s be honest for a second. Fantasy football is awesome. It’s strategy, connection, competition, tradition… all the things we love wrapped into one ridiculous, glorious hobby.”
“But if we’re not careful, it can creep in and take up way more space than it should. We all know the signs: the Sunday tunnel vision, the short fuse after a bad loss, the way a trade notification suddenly feels more urgent than a toddler meltdown.”
“It’s on us to make sure our priorities stay where they belong. That our wives and families feel seen, loved, and cared for — especially during football season.”
“Here’s something simple to try: Ask her, now and then, “Do you feel like I’m too focused on fantasy football lately?” Or, “What can I do this week to help you feel more supported or loved?”
“That’s it. You don’t have to give up the league — you just have to show up in both. Because being a husband and dad is the real championship. Fantasy football is just for fun.”
“She’s forever.”
So then, Jeannette, my beloved forever girl, this is your assurance: when it’s halftime, I’m all yours!
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