When you're up to your neck in shit
How to handle the impending doom and gloom of modern times.
There’s a daily blog I read every day almost without fail: George Tannenbaum’s Ad Aged. He’s an advertising icon and his blog has taught me more about marketing, communication, and the bureaucracy of corporate America than any other publication.
I’ve a swipe file in my Google Drive in which I harvest links to articles, ads, lessons, catchy lines, and thought-starting ideas I stumble across on the web. I’ve been at it for years and today it’s nearing nine pages of inspiration. I’d guess 80% of the links are to Ad Aged. In fact, George’s writing is largely the inspiration behind writing this blog.
A line he wrote in an innocuous post last year about writing itself, has been knocking around my head lately. Thankfully, due to my trusty swipe file, I was able to find the line quicksmart.
George writes:
As my old (baseball) manager, Hector Quesadilla used to say, "When you're up to your neck in shit and someone starts throwing baseballs at you, do you duck?"
It sure reads like a cheeky throwaway quip, but he hits on a vein of truth with this one and that’s why it’s still bouncing about my noggin.
Maybe it’s a sign of the times. Or maybe it’s just a phase of life I’m in. But I feel as if I’m up to my neck in all kinds of shit right now. And perhaps I’m not alone in feeling that way, either.
I can’t help but think we all need to take a moment and collectively ask ourselves: are we okay?
Between Putin’s war, deep societal division, the decline of reason, sky-high inflation, a looming recession, a lingering pandemic, a collapsing stock market, political corruption, governments dictating our bodily rights, raging domestic terrorism, a dying planet, and Elon Musk’s tweets, it all feels a little bleak.
On top of this real-world shit, we’re supposed to maintain some semblance of normalcy at work while battling detached egos and smiling through all the bad ideas. Not to mention juggling the endless list of life admin and myriad to-do’s while we try our darndest to raise well-adjusted children or attempt to remain well-adjusted adults.
In times like these, I like to focus on the small wins. An easy feat considering all my wins recently have been both small and rare. But as a parent, I’ve learned to hold on with both arms and both legs to any win, no matter how small and insignificant, when it comes to raising my daughter.
This week’s victory comes in the form of an easier way to apply sunscreen to her impossibly perfect face.
Childless readers can only imagine the efforts a caring parent goes to ensure their spawn doesn’t feel the full wrath of the searing sun.
For whatever reason, children are hardwired to despise and rebuke anything that’s good for them, especially if their parents are behind it. That’s why Maala gags when she’s forced to eat a few pieces of carrot, or wails in agony when her playtime is interrupted by our insistence she drinks a few sips of water. It’s also why brushing her teeth often devolves into a screaming match with tears streaming down her face and me begging for 90 seconds of obedience.
Sometimes I think they had an easier time building the pyramids than I do getting Maala to do what I say.
Applying sunscreen falls under the same category. I’ll usually chase Maala around the apartment as she screams and squirms and flops and cries and complains and kicks her feet dangerously close to my manhood. Then she’ll squeeze herself into a crack in the couch or run and hide in the kitchen and wait for me to inevitably lose patience and energy.
After the whole ordeal, I’m lucky if I get a thumb’s worth of sunscreen onto her face, and I’m luckier still if I’ve managed to avoid my own tears after a few choice hammer kicks to the groin.
But this week it all clicked and I managed to evenly dispatch a healthy slather of sunblock to my darling daughter’s face without the physical assault.
All it took was pinning her down on her back on the bench seat of our dining table.
From there I was able to very easily dodge her wrecking ball feet while rubbing the sunscreen all over her face from a position of immense power, using the laws of gravity to swiftly and effectively get full-face coverage, apply the sun-protecting cream to her nose, under her eyes, behind her ears, both her cheeks, her neck, and forehead.
Any resistance from her was futile. From my leveraged position, she had no opportunity to run away, watch TV, or twist and jerk her head. It was genius in its simplicity, and good for the family. Happy daughter, happy wife, happy life.
I realize the silliness of writing about such an insignificant ‘win’ in the context of everything that’s happening in the world today. And I’m sure 93% of the readers will find this blog post anti-climatic—I sure as hell would.
But there’s something to be said about appreciating the tiny things we take for granted when everything feels lost and doomed. Not to mention, the words of George’s baseball manager are still tingling in my head.
I may not have a baseball bat to swing, but I do have a keyboard and a blog with a small group of fans, so I’ll keep swinging.
Becuase I sure as hell won’t be ducking.
Great one, chef. You had me at pyramids 😆