Master of Sock Puppets

I recently found a cache of pictures from my childhood. That can be fun. It is made even more fun these days because today’s technology allows a much larger audience to reminisce with you. I scanned several and shared them on Facebook.

Here is a cropped version for the latest “Looking Like..” entry. I look like a kid who realizes he’s got a pretty crummy sock puppet, but also sees that his classmates are not really doing much better.  I really don’t have a great memory for details of grade school. This day day I do remember, however. That was a wool sock and by the time our little story-time play was over my hand and forearm were blazing, itching mess. I also vaguely remember that there was some drama with my mother that morning surrounding my last minute demand for a fully-formed billy goat sock puppet. Poor woman. I suspect that my brother Joe was mysteriously missing one of his socks soon before school started.

Where does the time go?

I decided to log in and start bloggin’ again. I’ve been tweeting and active on Facebook. That has satisfied my hunger to sound off on whatever is crossing my mind.

But those outlets are not mine, all mine. So I’m going to attempt the discipline of blogging daily here. Of course that will likely ‘go south” as I try to upgrade to the latest version of WordPress.

By the way – The Browns won a game that means nothing today. But it is still better than losing a game that means absolutely nothing. I think.

It’s Mother’s Day

It’s Mother’s Day. My boys provided many good memories for Joyce.  Memories are a funny thing. You might think they are indelible. They might be. But they can also get jumbled and fragmented. I saw Mom today. It was a nice visit.

I remember seeing the video below when the album “Spike” was released. I thought the video was touching then.  At the time I had sympathy. Today I have empathy. Happy Mother’s Day, Mom.

Matt Keough’s Blog Part Deux

It seems that the administrative and technical issues are mostly resolved. A small consideration, if you subscribed to the Matthew Musing RSS feed, it will be discontinued in about 29 days. The feed you see at the right is the new feed. Please update your subscription.

The Virgin Sports Section

I know full well that including “virgin” in the title of this post will send some strange search engine traffic my way. But a pithy title is half the fun of blogging.

I’m just old school enough to savor a freshly printed newspaper at my breakfast table.The experience of stepping out one’s front door to retrieve your local daily to with the birds singing, braced by the dew in the cool morning air is something that may be lost in a generation.I love to pour a cup of freshly brewed Joe and  be the first to retrieve the Sports.

The very fact that I’m a happily married man is somewhat related to this enthusiasm.I met the Lovely Joyce on a blind date. In the first awkward moments, in an attempt to make conversation, I asked her what was the first thing she read in the Sunday paper. She said”Hal Lebovitz”. I knew then I had to marry her.

But the fruits of this marriage now makes it a very rare occasion that I actually lay hands on a pristine sports section. Our oldest (who is 7) will grab the sports section and consume almost every bit of data concerning the Indians, Captains or Cavs. There is hardly a day that I’ll see a page that isn’t crumpled, folded, mutilated or bearing the stain of a buttered bagel.

And do you know something? I wouldn’t trade it for the world.

Matt is back

I never really went away. I’ve just not posted in some time. Sorry if you have tried to subscribe to my RSS feed.  It has man-made issues. I might work it out. I might not. Maybe I’ll just start from scratch.

Christmas Music Then and Now

One of the best parts about having four young boys is I get to see first-hand Christmas excitement that is enthusiastic and sincere. iTunes & Pandora on the computer and the Music Choice channels on our cable keep the boys well supplied in the holiday tunes.Of course, we also have several CDs, albums, tapes, DVDs and even one very memorable 8-track to keep the sing-along going.

Nothing beats being in the Dodge Caravan with a CD of familiar tunes cranking and having the boys belting it out in varying degrees of intelligible English from the back. It reminds me of sitting in the back of my dad’s Plymouth Fury as we drove around looking for Christmas lights and the radio fading in and out.We still listened to AM for music back then.

Maybe this year I’ll introduce the boys to the MP3 of “Santa Drives a Truck“; it could be the start of a new tradition.