A leisurely anniversary Sunday. Kinda. We're still not sure if Liam pulled his wagon downstairs or sat inside it and lowered himself down step by step. I want to believe the former. Oh, and the not so leisurely drive back to the restaurant we had dinner in last night from the diner we had breakfast in this morning to see if they had Bern's American Express. And they did.
A little walk on the beach.
Some lemonade at the farmer's market. After his first long sip he says, "Mmm, daddy, it's nice and smooth." That's right, son. Just like that 18 year old Glenfiddich we were drinking last night. WTF? Where do they come up with this stuff? And... screaming from upstairs. Now what? Ah. Somebody broke somebody else's imaginary robot. I hate it when that happens. Any point to this particular post, you ask? None whatsoever, except that if I keep typing then maybe I can delay my cooking lesson. Some people find cooking leisurely, others do not. Hmm, how about Middle Aged Woman's meme or blogart. Whatever the difference is.
I am: all man, baby. Ahahahahaha!
I think: but I try not to.
I know: an exceptional amount of useless information.
I have: a new Salman Rushdie book, The Enchantress of Florence.
I wish: my job could be eliminated so I could take a year off to spend with my kids. Hey! Wait a minute...
I hate: not being able to find the remote.
I miss: Buffy, Angel, Enterprise, Journey Man and every other show I've loved that's been cancelled.
I fear: more things than I did before I had children.
I hear: the cooling fan on my computer, the US/China basketball game, my wife talking to herself as she cooks, the boys breaking things upstairs.
I smell: suntan lotion.
I crave: attention.
I search: for salvation. No. Enlightenment? Not really. The fridge for something to eat.
I wonder: how long before Connor is taller than his mother.
I regret: je ne regrette rien.
I love: oh do I ever
I ache: in my neck because even though I am pretty relaxed about losing my job, apparently I am somewhat stressed on the inside.
I am not: 6'2 like I tell everyone who asks. I'm a smidgen under. Not a teensy bit, but a smidgen.
I believe: we are not alone.
I dance: naked under the light of the full moon. (not really)
I sing: even though I shouldn't.
I cry: yes.
I fight: myself.
I win: when my wife lets me.
I lose: but I don't stop fighting.
I never: but I always wished I had.
I always: lift my feet when I drive over railway tracks. Thanks, Mom.
I confuse: easily and often.
I listen: to my wife even though I don't always hear her. Or is that the other way around?
I can usually be found: if I want to be found.
I am scared: of you finding out what I'm scared of and using it against me. I know you, you'll do it.
I need: repeated kicks in the ass.
I am happy about: being able to be happy.
I imagine: oh yes I do.
And I'll leave you with this:
It's blurry, but that's because it was taken in a hurry and while I was laughing. This is my littlest monkey balanced on top of a railing that divides our dining room from our living room. We're in the middle of potty training and in this picture he is watching his pee roll down his legs and drip off the railing onto the floor.