A dismal week for writing. The Thursday debut speaks for itself.
Been working late most nights, winning the bread. Meetings have eclipsed most of the daytime working hours to evenings are email catch-up.
Within a week Keaton starts school and soccer and re-starts ballet. I’ve told Sharaun that we’re going from a relatively “easy” schedule to one of those suburban first-world problem nightmarish kind. The school, off to ballet, right from ballet to soccer practice and back for a late dinner kinda thing. Maybe this is some new phase of parenting that we’re about to be broken in on. Keaton… people ask me if she’s excited about starting school. I tell them that she is, but, in reality, she has no idea what she’s excited about… so who really knows. She’s excited to wear her new twirly “first day” dress and see what all the other girls are wearing; she’s excited because she and the next-door neighbor best-bud share a class; she’s excited because they have playground.
Yeah, one’s school-age now and one’s working on crawling (no appreciable progress yet, friends). One’s a boy and one’s a girl and that’s about as “square” a family unit as I could ask for. I guess that’s why I paid a visit to my general practitioner the other day for a physical. See, they wouldn’t refer me directly to the urologist… maybe they wanted their insurance money or maybe that dude really likes squeezing my balls, but whatever the reason I had to go there first and get checked-out before they’d point me to the vasectomy doc. Yup, sterilization. Can you believe that, before they’ll do this to you of your own volition, you have to go to a “counseling” session and a class on the practical irreversibility of the whole thing? After that they make you wait through a “cooling off” period before you can have the procedure. California: where elective surgery is akin to buying a firearm. It’s OK though, I’m not in any real rush or anything, I can wait.
This weekend is Disneyland for Sharaun’s birthday, courtesy of the travel miles, courtesy of the RV trip spending, courtesy of the bread won, courtesy of Monday through Wednesday night spent working instead of writing here.