It's practically Old Home Night around here. First I caught the end of Rocky III (Hell, I don't know, maybe it was Rocky Iv. Or V or XII. I don't keep up.) which left me with pretty much the same impression as all the other Rocky movies I've seen: boxing just looks like a really, really bad idea. At least with all the sports I've done, getting hurt is just a side effct, not the main idea.
I've also been reading the latest of Janet Evanovich's Stephanie Plum mysteries. Trenton's right over the bridge from Philly, so despite the lack of bounty hunters, low-level Mafia, really hot cops and even hotter mercenaries in my early youth it somehow reminds me of home. Must be all the rowhouses. Then I read Sixweasel's latest update and it was like a continuation, only with a slightly less obnoxious family, without the hot cops and mercs but with all the assholes. Or maybe she's got the hot cops, I don't know.
I need to go to bed. Going to bed not alone would be even better but Rudder doesn't get home until tomorrow morning. And I'm postponing going to sleep because I'm hoping he'll call home, if the vendors clamoring for his attention release him at a reasonable hour.
Posted by dichroic at March 3, 2005 08:48 PM
"Home along," just doesn't cut it I think. Occasionally Heather will fly off to visit one of our kids. She leaves me with a well stocked larder and plenty of ramen and TV dinners and the accessories.
But even though I spend a lot of time at the keyboard and she is in watching TV or on the phone, or perhaps some thing she wants to do. We are are apart in the house, but now alone. There is a well used comfort in that, I think.
Posted by: Denver doug at March 4, 2005 12:14 AM