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2002-12-23 --- 7:58 a.m.


So there’s this marvelous little 5.5 year old son that lives in my household.

Mostly, he does pretty well in the morning—as I generally have to go through evolution each and every day (grunts/knuckle-dragging; eventually coffee/speech.) But today, he pulled a “I’m awake dad, and it isn’t even the crack of dawn! Look! The sun isn’t up yet.” All the while bouncing me like a proverbial tigger. It is hard to be grumpy with a happy little person. After having read til’ well after dark-thirty and change I wanted to be—but couldn’t manage—so I went with it and before long we were rolling about on my big-ass king bed laughing at each other and generally doing the boy tussle.

Having read up on the world’s happenings since I last left this computing-thang at about midnight—and at least partially caffeinated meself (Blue Mountain Peaberry for the holidays! WhooooHOOOOO!) it became apparent I am in-fact awake and not feeling too badly about it. Thus this update on all things.

Groovie Gal and her daughter were by last evening for a bit (yeah… I know, my resolve about socializing with mommies of classmates is truly breathtaking.) But, without entering into Methinks-He-Doth-Protest-Too-Much-Land—it is a joy to talk with another single parent about inane sole-adult-with-kidlet issues… and it is not as if that or the run to the SD Zoo later in the week actually counts as a date. She is lovely, smart and smart-mouthed—and appears to be a swell human (and when she moves, she does cause some minor swelling and discomfort.)

I have been on a loud/fast music jag which is especially tough when I made a strong commitment not to break the ginger-haired-boy’s-eardrums with same before nine or ten years old. Thus the few minutes I can steal of late with headphones have me bleeding my ears to the joys of Clutch/ST/SystemOfaDown/Meatmen/BadBrains/Guttermouth, et al. As an aside—a good pair of headphones with a nice separate headphone amp (like a Creek) is the only way to cross the 120db line with any aplomb—and cross it I do. Feels good.

To the fledgling Sauce reader who asked if my libido/tastes crossed into those attractive female humans below the age of majority? Gently?

Hell no. Please.


Find a playmate your own age—and pretend he is older or has an old fish (er, sole) or something. Get thee to a nunnery—before I have to…

But your offer was kind. Thoughtful even.

Keep moving. Nothing to see here.

[Hoping I handled that firmly without being mean, Ma’am.]

Gonna sluice off my skanky (not showered since last nite) arse and go do errands with His Wonderful Little Boy-ness now.

And since the recipe thing was such an odd hit (who-da-thunk) I’ll throw another up before making it. My son and I are making North Carolina Pulled Pork tomorrow (don’t get juvenile about that—as I plan to be calm—for a Sauce—on innuendo in the body of my YouTooCanMakeThisAtHome overview tonight.) But. Do note that I will have the opportunity to have my cute-faced and straight-man son ask for some Butt at the meat counter in our local grocers today…

It should be fun. A giggler along the lines of our current favorite gag—which he doesn’t get but really enjoys my sophomoric reaction to… I loudly ask the child in the midst of a busy produce section to name the smallest citrus fruit for me—and his piping little voice bellows Kumquat! You should see the looks. That word does sound wonderfully salacious.

Yep. I’m a dolt. And I enjoy it.


PS. For those who haven’t seen it—my favorite little site to send vegetarian pals? Really funny.

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