Macaulay Culkin
The pitter patter of lacksadaisical raindrops beat against the windows of my apartment as I sit in strange solitude. My wife and our two-month-old baby are hundreds of miles away, surprising an old friend and celebrating with another. It's the longest I've gone without seeing the new life we put together, and the first separation of more than a half day for me and the wife in a month of Sundays.
She's probably tossing her head back in laughter with people who knew her before she was legal, and I'm chilling (not literally -- I started running the heat the second she left and never looked back). The beloved stepdaughter was my road dawg today, as we experimented with music making, sculpted in clay and took her to a capoeira class. She's getting ready for bed and Hulu awaits me while I sit and listen to the rain and write until I'm ready to sleep.
Once upon a time, this kind of night was de rigeur -- the soft light of a single lamp and some gun-wielding entertainment the accompaniment to the sound of my brain churning out copy. Now, it's weird, like a throwback Jon Kitna Seahawks jersey, a reminder of "glory days" that weren't really anything to write home about.
Tomorrow, Mooch's dad picks her up and I'll have the house to myself, with laundry to complete and dishes to put away before the family starts its week in earnest. Now, she wants to read Diary of a Wimpy Kid in anticipation of the big screen adaptation before her 8PM bedtime comes down like Mjolnir, and I'm happy for the company, suddenly uncomfortable in the space that's taken up most of my life. Hopefully a deluge of writing, coding, TV and games will get me through tomorrow.
"... and to all a good night ..."
Playing (Music): "God Put A Smile Upon Your Face" by Coldplay
NOTE: Since this blog is automatically imported into my Facebook page, I apologize if you comment on it and I don't respond, as I am taking a sabbatical from social networking for 2010. So me not responding is not personal, I just won't see the comments ... until 2011. Maybe. Also including this disclaimer on blogs, but you're welcome to go to the blog itself and speak your mind, as I may look there ...
She's probably tossing her head back in laughter with people who knew her before she was legal, and I'm chilling (not literally -- I started running the heat the second she left and never looked back). The beloved stepdaughter was my road dawg today, as we experimented with music making, sculpted in clay and took her to a capoeira class. She's getting ready for bed and Hulu awaits me while I sit and listen to the rain and write until I'm ready to sleep.
Once upon a time, this kind of night was de rigeur -- the soft light of a single lamp and some gun-wielding entertainment the accompaniment to the sound of my brain churning out copy. Now, it's weird, like a throwback Jon Kitna Seahawks jersey, a reminder of "glory days" that weren't really anything to write home about.
Tomorrow, Mooch's dad picks her up and I'll have the house to myself, with laundry to complete and dishes to put away before the family starts its week in earnest. Now, she wants to read Diary of a Wimpy Kid in anticipation of the big screen adaptation before her 8PM bedtime comes down like Mjolnir, and I'm happy for the company, suddenly uncomfortable in the space that's taken up most of my life. Hopefully a deluge of writing, coding, TV and games will get me through tomorrow.
"... and to all a good night ..."
Playing (Music): "God Put A Smile Upon Your Face" by Coldplay
NOTE: Since this blog is automatically imported into my Facebook page, I apologize if you comment on it and I don't respond, as I am taking a sabbatical from social networking for 2010. So me not responding is not personal, I just won't see the comments ... until 2011. Maybe. Also including this disclaimer on blogs, but you're welcome to go to the blog itself and speak your mind, as I may look there ...
posted by Hannibal Tabu, The Operative at
7:03 PM
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