Weekends are too short. They are designed for midgets, dwarves, and children.
We made it in to SF but did not go to any drug-fueled after-parties. We went to a nice bbq. We're at that age. We were the only people there with a child. He didn't seem to notice or care that it was all adults. He has fun most everywhere he goes, and he's very cool about age and height issues.
I got a stain on my white shirt on the way there. Fascinating, I know. It is uncanny. I left the house with a newly washed shirt on. I did absolutely nothing on the way there that could have caused this stain. But when I emerged from the car there it was. A mystery stain, like Elvis. Somehow the spots always seem to draw attention to my ever-increasing belly, in addition to them just drawing attention to me in general. A brown liquid shit-colored stain perfectly placed on the center of my shirt.
In this regard I am just like a child.
Speaking of... Rhys is getting to be a lot of fun. Admittedly, it's a pain to always have to have to triple or quadruple our normal considerations when going anywhere, but there's starting to be a big payoff. It's as if we are engaged in constant responsibility acrobatics - doing backflips and passes and tosses, all with little practice and barely a safety net below. The fumbling family on the flying trapeze.
But Rhys is great to have around - among the most charming events in my world can be he and Rachel just getting out of the car, preparing - when laughing he makes it all feel worthwhile. He is curious and energetic and happy, everything that I want to be, shirt-stains and all.
I have not exactly solved the case of the missing box (or boxes) of books, but I have confirmed that they are gone. I pulled every box out of the closets and inspected them yesterday. There were thousands and thousands of back-breaking records, but no books. I have begun making a list of the ones that I once had that I might now try to replace. I believe I have a picture somewhere of my old bookshelves in NYC. Perhaps the resolution will be high enough that I'll be able to figure out which books are missing.
So, this is my fascinating life-update for the day. It's true, this site is more self-involved than it should be. I mean, it's truly a mystery why people come here to read this tripe, and I don't mean a cow's first or second stomach, I mean the paragraphs of gibberish just above.
I recently found two examples in past posts where I spelled the word paid as "payed"... If nothing else, this site at least stands up to the subscription price.
"A child can teach an adult three things: to be happy for no reason, to always be busy with something, and to know how to demand with all his might that which he desires." - Paulo Coelho
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