BB's current therapy: "In the Garden" by Van Morrison. He's coming again in late December, and I'd really like to go. I'd love to be there if he spins that ethereal spell of his.
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Thank you for stopping by. Yeah, I changed this to a private blog, an invitation-only setup. I appreciate your patience during this time of transition.
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This evening at supper, Wolfboy referred to an asteroid as "enormous." This kid is in the first grade! I asked him where he learned that word: "In a book or at school I think."
He also thinks first grade is easier than kindergarten was.
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I'm tired. Very tired. Happy though. I have been fortunate enough to experience a few epiphanies in my life, and I was reminded this week just how important that is.
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MOBB is at a party or soiree of some sort, so I wrangled the kids alone this evening. Their behavior was perfect. Okay, so Wolfboy whined a bit when I told him if he wanted to read his only choice was the Spider-Man/Fantastic Four Hard Choices comic, which is a PSA about underage drinking. "But there's no super-villain!" he protested.
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My hair's getting long. Sometime back I just stopped getting it cut. Funny how this works. Once in a while I walk past the mirror and think it's cool. All those other times I walk past a mirror and think, Dude, you look like you lost a bet.. But I aim to get it trimmed a bit tomorrow.
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They say men are simple creatures, with a narrow range of emotions. Looking back over this week, I can tell you that I have personally felt the following:
Happiness
Depression
Anxiety (who--me?)
Anger
Frustration
Elation
Fear
Confidence
Satisfaction
Acceptance
Relief
Calm
Gratitude
Redemption
Bemusement
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And I know this isn't exactly an emotion, but I'd just like to add that I never once felt intimidated.
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BB tired now though. Take care. More soon, I hope.
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New to the scene, a cohort arrives in a white '64 Chevy SS, 409, 4 in the floor, black leather rolled and pleated. Yet, sunsets don't wait, and I'd rather have an electric golf cart for wheels, and have the boys and girls come home.
I handed out a Ron Paul bumper sticker on the corner just east of the 8.0 tonight. Shook hands, and the black Mercedes asked, "How long have you been working on his campaign?"
"Three minutes," I answered.
Quite an arrival!
On August 29, 1968 in Freeport, Texas, Ron Paul delivered all 10 pounds, six ounces of BB. Yep.
Six degrees of . . .
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