The Annual Report

Accept no substitute, this is it, the conclusive and ultimate plan for end of June to end of June.  Another year of balancing, AA with MM with the new to arrive JB.  Let it all flow swimmingly, and keep the magic going, keep the spirit going.  Get better at file management and try to take some time off.  Keep leasing the POD effectively and assisting associates.  Do what you can, in the time you have.  What else is there?

It’ll Pass

Catching up with Reeder last night at a beer garden, last time seeing him since Carter was in town, pre-pandemic.  Reflecting on the tragedy, enjoying the reminiscing even amidst the sadness, the incomprehensibility of it.  The injustice.  The fat waitress leg tattoo of the title does not cover all things terminal, alas.  The influencer chat with the 42 and 27 year olds entertaining in putting the new life in context as compared to the old.  How easy it seems, in retrospect, and yet.

Now sitting here on the Sabbath Day with a sleeping big man, instead of trekking through the sands of Sable.  Contemplating Toronto and Montreal as a mid-July escape.  And how to steady yourself for the organizing and writing and planning of what is to come.

The disaster of the domestic divisions only partially solved.  Marriage as a constant work in progress.  Why?  Fun talking about it last night.  The moment of Ben falling asleep at the Spring Garden library, waking to ponder the question of moving here. What if he had?

So many paths to choose in the multiverse.  Courage to live the right one.

Roast Veggies

I have tried, and yet continue failing along the same lines.  Makes you want to give in at certain moments, just scream into the abyss.  Why?  Why this?  The emotional toll.  It is so hard to know what to do. Try and get the cooking partnership going.  And then the setbacks take days.  The minutes feel like hours before the return to a positive mood and communication restoration.  Next time just let be, even as there will surely be something else.

I don’t know.  Just love.  Try as best as you can to stop letting it get to you.  It was a nice time overall.  The big man, the sad symmetry of the eating and diaper changes for both generations.  The circle keeps on spinning, and the years keep rolling by.  The baseball cards and Kareem Abdul Jabbar doc.  Remember?

Happy Father’s Day, old man.  Next year x2.

Fiver

That day again.  Double-booked, wearing a suit on the express bus into the city from Cole Harbour.  Time catches us all, and puts us on paths not of our own making.  The MFA is back in person as well, and strangely not so much in the mood for it as in the days gone.  The focus just on the writing, the words.  How to get them out, get them down.  Edit and rearrange later.  Bird by bird.

Much hanging over the head with #2 on the way, but tasks slowly getting accomplished.  Ready for the summer off the dock and a routine in advance of the second and last birthing day.  The naming seems in place, still reeling from the loss of Benny C.  The 9th must be played, maybe tonight, maybe tomorrow.

Let’s get through this hearing first.  Back in the old Toad room, new Chair, new Board Counsel, wedding suit and ring on.  19 years since the Ship, and in some ways it does feel every day that long.  New mentality.  New mind.