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June 17, 2002

DAD - bambi

Beautiful. 70 degrees and a breeze.
The wife took Alex to the beach, his favorite place in the world -- even pictures of water get him flapping his arms with sustained glee. The only other thing that gets him that happy: School buses. If a school bus, properly modified, drove on the water past Alex, standing on the beach, I believe he would get a good six or eight inches off the ground with his arm-flapping.
Me, I stayed in my basement office, writing. Finished a chapter of my book. Alas, it was the third or fourth time I've finished this particular chapter. The story keeps changing, I have to go back and make the necessary adjustments. But I think I've got the plotline locked in now. Tomorrow I'll actually get to continue the story, something I haven't done in weeks. I stayed cooped up for so long that when I finally went to mow the lawn, it was a true pleasure to do so.
My wife passed up a real opportunity -- as long as I was outside, she could have had me do anything. Clean the gutters, paint the house. Just let me breathe fresh air for a while. I think a nice lawn is a sign that its owner has made something of himself in the world. Yes, I have the financial resources to pay someone to keep my lawn looking THIS GOOD. Or not, I am so free of worry I have not yet made anything of myself in this world.

My house is on the top of a short, but steep, hill. I stand sideways, like a man in an Escher print. Still, between the writing and the catfish dinner, it felt like I accomplished something.

Neither of the kids wanted it to end. Alex did his stalling routine -- that's nothing unusual. But Lea is asleep by 6:30 -- you put her in the crib and she kicks her little legs in a display of happiness. Tonight she wept and wept until I took her back out to watch a Simpson rerun. She was right -- it was one of the good episodes, the one with Steve Martin as the trash commissioner.

© Fortunato Caragliano

Posted by lck at June 17, 2002 03:52 PM