23 March 2009


The Jazz got whooped tonight.  I don't recall the score exactly, but it was like 670-36.  We went to the game tonight with a couple of our friends, so gratefully that made it worth it. 

Not a whole lot else on my mind, I'm afraid.  Yeah.  Nothing.  I keep typing lines and deleting them.  Must be a sign. 

I will, however, leave you with this:

I don't care what he's doing.  He's the cutest thing on the planet.


We're waiting for Sumner to fall asleep.  I'm glad that I learned the lesson of ritualistic living,  otherwise I may have lapsed into a coma long ago.  Besides, one can come up with enough variety to spice up life if they try hard enough.

For a third day in a row, I've been allowed to leave early from work.  While this does not afford me a full day's pay, it has been enjoyable to taste the "early release" again.  To those still in grade school, cherish those days forever.  Go get a slice of pizza instead of going home and watching television.  I dunno.  Fly a kite or something.

In the next room, I can vaguely hear my son moaning wearily.  He's so tired that he cannot fight it any longer.  But still he must make some amount of noise.  I'm willing to wager that he's asleep by the end of this blog.  Man, that really does sound sad.  But at least it's not a full cry...yet.

Other things worthy of mention:  We moved out of our old abode into a new apartment.  We did it completely sight unseen.  As we figured it, anything was better than the place we had dwelled previously.  The simple joy of not hearing 56 motorcycles on their way home from mechanic school at 11:30 at night is unspeakably poignant.  To no longer have a street sign lighting up your room is equally wonderful. 

There.  I believe that Sumner has drifted away into slumber ok maybe not.  Just like that a sleeping baby becomes awakened by the slightest noise...in this case, perhaps a leaf fell to the ground outside.  That must measure as a 7.8 on a baby's auditory Richter scale.  Perhaps it was nothing more than a passing thought that kept him awake. 

But without language, what are his thoughts like?  Images, probably.  Colors, sounds, and memories of the day.  Much like his daddy's dreams, except much less filled with thoughts of money and basketball.  Those don't go hand in hand except when trying to come up with something interesting to write about.

I've also reenrolled in school, and am about half-way done with the semester.  It wasn't as bad as I thought it would be; however, taking abstract classes such as Psychology and Sociology is a disaster.  Those classes are especially dangerous to take online if it is your first venture into the online setting.  Online classes often leave you with but one recourse...that of reading the entire text book and hopefully gleaning the correct material for your quizzes and tests.   I think it premature to say that I despise online classes, and even would admit that there will be many more to come.  But I long for a regular classroom.  One where discussion and questioning of material is second-hand.

Sumner is quiet now.  Time for his daddy to find a peaceful time of things.  Goodnight.


We ought to begin with a rhetorical question.  But we won't.  There are simply too many questions, and most of them are arrogantly rhetorical. 

I can't help it, however.  Where have I been?  Why did I see fit to dispose of this Web site for over six months?  Haven't the past months been filled with enough viscosity to fill page after page? 

Decide for yourself.  While you are pondering, find the joys of solid food here. (Note:  This file is much too large for my Web site, but I'm much too lazy to create a smaller one and my the looks of things, I ain't using too much bandwidth.)

Hopefully, maintaining a Web site is similar to riding a bike.  If it's not, I'll have a nasty time of getting back into the swing.  I've already surprised myself by remembering my username and password, and the fact that I can still type and think at the same time is rather encouraging.  If I can find and promote some type of regularity with this, then I may be eligible for some flavor of medal or trophy.  Definitely not a pizza-trophy, though.

As you can see by the video provided earlier, Sumner has changed by leaps and bounds.  No longer is he completely bound by the chains of gravity; on the contrary, he loves to test his limits on a daily basis to see how much more movement he can attain.  He loves Cheerios, and has found a fondness for all types of juices.  I finally talked mom out of watering everything down, although that may not have been such a good thing. 

Secondly.  I must apologize to any who came to this page on any type of regular basis.  And by regular, I do include those who passed by once a month.  Judging by the looks of the meter, six visits per person is rather generous.

That's plenty for tonight.  I think that I have loosed the bonds of writer's block for now.  Pray that I stick with it, these are probably the years for which I will want to have some sort of record.  Cheers.

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