First night "out" in Florida. Beers and cigarettes with old friends.
Could've done without the cigarettes, but such is my vice and I've exhausted that subject many times prior. I like taking my time to write, vacation is good for that, snatching a few minutes here and there during the day with no midnight deadline looming over me or "writing windows" which I must work within. Ran into an old friend at the local brewpub, whom I hadn't seen in some ten years, and had a great time catching up and talking shop (even though I was many years his junior, I used to be his manager when we worked together at the record store). I like learning what people I used to know, even just as fleeting acquaintances, are doing now. I guess most folks enjoy a good round of "where are they now?" Anyway, Keaton was asleep and I touched her soft little face when we finally hit the sack around 1am. I'd had the perfect amount of spirit, enough to make a plea for marital relations (a plea that fell on deaf ears), but not enough to wake up with a headache (although my mouth tasted like an ashtray).
Today my day went like this: wake up around 7am and hand babygirl to mom for a wakeup boob; go online and load up the blog to see if anyone commented on my "best of" entry, and make a couple changes when I realize I forgot a couple albums (too late to shuffle them into the rankings now, the deed's been done); no comments on the entry, time for to evacuate the bowels and wash the scent stale smoke and beer from my skin; play with babies for several hours, both my own and those of friends come to visit; finish the first volume of the books I'm reading; take a nap; blog. I'm telling you, it's mindless, aimless bliss. I have time to really sit and enjoy playing with Keaton, and to appreciate how happy she can make her relatives when she smiles and coos and makes mean faces when I tell her "No" as she tries to grab the spoon during feedings.
Substance or no, it's done now. Until tomorrow.