Another weekend away with the boy. I have part of life figured out. I will need to put new tires on the car soon, or maybe a new car altogether.
We turned left on the main road that cuts through Petaluma and followed it through the bubbles of hills to the coast, then south on the PCH along mostly national seashore to unincorporated Bolinas, the end of the world. Onward to Stinson Beach today with the boy and my expatriate friend who is on an extended leave of absence from Prague. Airbnb has made the world possible again.
The boy mostly napped on the way here. I was falling in love with The Beach Boys and The Beatles, again. Pet Sounds, Revolver, and Rubber Soul. In that order. I could hardly be much happier.
Sheriff John Stone, why don't you leave me alone? Yeah, yeah….
We arrived to game 5 of the Stanley Cup Finals, incredulous that Tampa Bay participates at this level. At any level, really. I'm told their team is good. I thought it was game 7, to give you an idea of my involvement. The boy is a Chicago fan though, so still am I.
Who, in their right mind, would take Tampa over Chicago anyway? Even living in Tampa is not reason enough.
I didn't sleep a single second last night, again. I worry too much about the boy, him waking up and not knowing where he is, trying to find the bathroom and falling down the short flight of stairs here. That's all it took. About an hour later I got up and turned on the bathroom light, so that he could see the steps, but it was too late for me. My mind was already at a full gallup.
He slept next to me on a pullout that when he awoke he promptly announced was a "robot bed." The second words out of his mouth were the completion of a promise made last night to try to persuade him to go to sleep: We're all superheroes now!
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