If Words Were Eggs, This Post Would Be an Omelette

Today was far less eventful, thankfully. And I've got an idea for a post, one that deserves some time and thought and creativity.

But right now I'm sitting in a coffee shop, listening to a better-than-you'd-think local folkie, and watching the Rangers lose to the Blue Jays, and I don't feel like putting much effort into it.

There's a fine looking cinnamon scone sitting to my left, and just as soon as my chicken flautas stop making me feel as big as a mastodon, I'll eat it.

***

Every time I look up the Jays are batting again. That's bad. It's probably 8-4; I'm across the room and can't read the score so well.

But Josh Hamilton just hit a two-run tape measure shot into the upper deck. I want to see him do that all season long. This kid has the potential to be a real phenom.

***

I took Wolfboy to the doctor today, a follow-up after his bad allergies from a week or two ago. He's better, but the doc told me to just go ahead and give him allergy medicine "for all of April." Yessir.

On the way back we stopped at the botanical gardens in Grapevine for a look around. It's not the labyrinthine marvel the Ft. Worth gardens are, but it is pretty doggone nice.

By a fountain he kept wanting to play. I feel bad that I struggled with the idea. Uh... play? I knew I couldn't really run in my boots. He told me to pretend I was in some video game and that the trees were bad guys. Hmm. Well. I pretended to shoot and kick a couple.

That soon turned into the two of us "fighting." That amounts to me covering all of my sensitive parts while he kicks me in the legs and backside with full force over and over. But I snuck in a few lessons, like advancing side and back kicks, and a neat little punch defense/takedown.

But damn it if I didn't roll him over onto a landscaping tie-down and hurt him at one point. It wasn't bad, and he didn't cry for more than a few seconds, but shit, I felt like such a heel. It didn't break the skin, and the mark on his back was very light. I told him: Daddies are NOT supposed to hurt their kids. He was quick to forgive me, and I was very clear about how bad I felt and how I should have known better.

Boys and their horseplay...

***

I just came home and tucked him in, and I see no mark whatsoever. I feel a little better.

***

Tim Sylvia and Fedor Emelianenko are trying to make a fight happen.

Sylvia. Fedor.

Seriously... I hope they're holding open Sylvia's old job as overnight stocker shift leader at the Bangor Wal Mart.

***

So in the coffee shop next to me tonight were a man and a woman. He was there to use the wifi, and they ate as well. From the moment they arrived, he was a complete jerk to her. He snapped at almost every little thing she said. She'd respond with something about how he didn't need to be so vicious. Admittedly, she was a few fries short of a Happy Meal, and her incessant questions were a bit grating.

I didn't say anything, didn't stare at them, didn't sigh out loud... nothing. I will admit that I had moments when I wanted to call him "junior" and have a come-to-Jesus talk with him. But I didn't.

After an hour of that, they packed up and left. And as they passed me, he leaned over and said very sincerely, "I'm sorry if we bothered you."

I chuckled and said, "Naw." I lied.

***

I'm working a health fair in Red Oak, Texas tomorrow.

***

I guess I've prattled on about nothing for long enough, and hey... hear that? Hear it? I do. It's a cinnamon scone calling my name.

And some soy milk. Want some?

***

Amor sin fronteras, mis amigos.