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Friday, March 3, 2006

Even before I walked into the House, I was already feeling better than yesterday. My car had started every time today, without protest. I had made a decision not to wear the wrist brace to bed last night, and I hadn’t had to put it on all day. The storm last night had brought spectacular thunder and lightning, but no leaks. And all my other ailments, major and minor and imaginary, were reduced to no more than a smudge on the windowpane of life.

And I didn’t stay at the House very long. I picked D.J. up from school, and Tammy immediately packed all the kids up and hauled them down to the shop to see David. So it was a whirlwind of good feeling, and then it was over. But as soon as I walked through the door, Aiden greeted me. “Hi, Uncle Mike.” And he jabbered on from there, but of course I didn’t understand what he was trying to tell me.

It was easy to understand the next part, though. He went to the phone, picked it up and held it out to show me, saying, “Grandma sing ‘Baby Beluga.’” Apparently Suzanne had been convinced to sing that timeless classic to him as she walked through a market in Hawaii. Three times. Well, I know the two of them have been missing each other terribly, because they’ve both told me about it in their own way. At least he isn’t angry with her any more, for going on vacation and not taking him along.

Dakota came bouncing out of his room with the big dinosaur book in his hands. “Uncle Mike, I want to show you something.” You can’t imagine what a big deal it was for me to hear him say that. It was like music, hearing a sentence like that spoken in his charming little voice. What he wanted to show me, of course, were the pictures of dinosaurs, all of which he could name. That impressed me, too, but not as much.

And then it was all over. They were on their way to the shop, and I was on my way back to work. I haven’t seen them every day since Suzanne left, but nearly. I know I need to get back to full work days and all, but I’m going to miss this when she gets home next week. I really am.

3 March 2006

The Old Oak on a cloudy day in early March.

On the way home from school, D.J. was obsessed with something other than Star Wars, for a change. Today he wanted to tell me what he would do if a stranger tried to grab him. “I’ll kick him in the penis,” he informed me. That’s all well and good, but I spent most of the trip trying to convince him that the most important thing was for him to get away. “Yell as loud as you can and run as fast as you can,” was what I actually told him. The kicking could come if the yelling and running didn’t work. I’m not sure he believed me, but it’s something worth working on.

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The Giants played today, but their game wasn’t on the radio, so I don’t even know if they won (or care, since it doesn’t count). Instead, I took advantage of my XM Radio subscription to listen to parts of three other games involving six teams that I don’t normally get a chance to follow. I heard broadcasts by the announcers for the Twins, Reds and Angels, and I’m sticking to my opinion that the Giants have the best broadcast team in baseball. Still, it’s fun to hear other perspectives once in a while, especially when that’s the only choice.

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"Since all change is bad, that would have been a big step into a dark crevasse that was probably filled with vicious pumas."

Two years ago: Adjustment
"He talked as if he were planning on living forever, and working as long as he lives. I promised him I had exactly the same plans."

Three years ago: Erroneously
"But our hearts were in the right place, even if I left my brain in a jar by the door."

Four years ago: Stumbling Toward Spring
"It's not a three-day weekend I need as much as I need a three-day week."

Five years ago: Please Pull the Trigger
"Yeah, that's what I need. Then my life would be perfect."

Six years ago: Sonoma Avenue
"I sometimes wonder if we don't lose more than we gain by instilling this fear."

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I’m sitting in class trying to read my book,
My baby gives me that “special” look.

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