“No, there is too much. Let me sum up.”
So it has been months of oddness and wonder and ups and downs. The ups have surpassed the downs by a wide margin—but the lows brought new meaning to the term “Baby Steps.”
Say it after me…”I will never quit a gig without another one in hand. Period.” Now say that two more times and spin and touch yourself or somesuch.
HisNibs or DatSauceKid is swell.
He is six and 2/3rds today and continues to bring more laughs and smiles and such than growls and frowns. He has grown and grown and grown. In all ways. Size eight pants, size 4 shoes, and a size wider per day on his vocabulary and ability to act like a human. Grin.
When told that his father had a job and given an explanation of the tension abated thereof he responded with:
“Why didn’t you tell me that you were tense and scared, dad? I just didn’t know and I could have helped. But I’m glad you are better now.”
His father was VERY PROUD that his son never felt the sheer-fucking-terror that sometimes encroached upon the scene. For that matter? It felt good that the only real impact upon DatKiddo was that he didn’t get many new clothes, ate more chicken and rice and beans (cooked with love and as much imagination as humanly possible) and couldn’t have as many New Things. All in all, he didn’t notice—and that O’ Readers DaSauce is the greatest compliment he could have given your diarist of not-so-much-note.
We managed to ride out the unemployment without having to move to another household (by the skin of our asses and the kindness of a landlord.)
The wholly ridiculous hole that Your Idiot Diarist is in fiscally should take a goodly length of time to get out of… Like a full four year presidential term or so… Other similarities to presidential terms like the one we are currently inDaMidstOf would be:
*It too shall end.
*Something seems incredibly stupid about the whole thing
*That’s it! It is dumb as shit!
*The Fed can’t help.
*Congress won’t end it before its due date.
*Fighting this war on other turf would be a completely useless, costly and self-defeating act.
*And, last, but-by-far-not-least? Worse things can and will happen and yer diarist will suck them up and sometimes hunker down and deal with those things that are truly important with as many daily grins as possible (including grins of utter astonishment and bewilderment at both DaShrub and DaFiscalShithole.)
The net on the gig thing? Seven months and 16 days of meetings and negotiations to bring that single job to fruition. [And then to add insult to ongoing injury? Three other full-on offers happened within the next 24 hours.]
We shall have to move this summer (and that part is swell.)
It (DaJob) is a blast and will become more of one as the days move forward.
The videogame industry just might learn a few new tricks in the process—as ThisGoofBallDiarist is gonna have a bit of fun foraging for new profits from end-users (who in the deal will get far more than they pay for… which should make us-the-gamers-and-sellers-of-games all ‘bout as happy as shits in a pig!)
Finally, and most importantly?
As noted by Miracle Max in The Princess Bride?
“…true love is the greatest thing, in the world-except for a nice MLT - mutton, lettuce and tomato sandwich, where the mutton is lean and the tomato is ripe [smacks his chops] they're so perky, I love that.”
[One might also note that the title and the intro were in quotes and should be attributed to Goldman’s Book/Movie as well--otherwise we might find copyright problems and shit.]
This particular goofball goy/guy has fallen head-over/head-over/head-over/head-over/ass-cheeks IN LOVE (and that was a quad-gainer!) with a woman who very recently noted, “ “Thanks to you, I know it is okay to want—even if it is something expensive—like time to myself.”
I am in love with a woman who knows the value of time and can brighten each finite moment by her very existence. Wheeeeeeee!
[And she’d be able to quote herself better… as I have truly met my match in all regards including the literal quote department. Shit. She even beats my dumb ass™ in games… But she won’t be able to do it as often as soon as I can figure out how the fuck she does it. Grin.]
So, say it with me. “Awwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww.”
DaDame-DaSauce is incredible. [And this boy could go on for a day or 5,000,000… but decided not to belabor the point—besides—incredible sums her up nicely.]
Sauce has a girlfriend! [And there should be a chorus of folks going “nah, nah, nah, nah, nah, nah” in singsong nasal voices in the background.]
We’ll be moving into the same digs in the coming month or so—and have decided to see if we can enjoy it for a year and a day—and if-so and thus? We intend to become engaged. That part would be followed by “mawaj.” Duh.
It feels good.
Son Happy? Check!
Unexpected and completely bewildering love that is returned in spades? Double-Plus-Good-Check!
PS.? She has an ability to communicate that beats mine hands down (she can leave a trail of breadcrumbs that this dullard can actually follow?) And HerSwellArse® has more talent in its left baby toe than I do in my whole frigging oversized bod. And that, folks, is as it should be. This boy will never want for proper-ego-sizing moments.