Spring update

It may be spring: corn snow, monsoon rain, and intermittent sun breaks. Becca is home from China, her life changed forever. Papa and Grandma went on to Ghana for a few weeks; they got home at midnight last night, exhausted. Here, it's a full house with Baby James and Becca's boyfriend, Chantz, both here until the next phase of each of their lives begins. Full house!

But truly, the biggest news is the addition of our new baby Maxwell, resident hedgehog.

Adorable.

The Momgoose

April 1

So last night, I'm sitting in the California sunshine, and...

Oh, wait...

[cue dream sequence, wavy screen and odd music]

I'm visiting my dad, and he wants to go for a walk. We go for a stroll in the California sunshine (my dad lives in Modesto, but we're in like Venice Beach or something...) (my dad has had several small strokes, and doesn't "stroll" anymore, either...)

Okay, so I'm with my dad, strolling in the California sunshine along the walk in Venice Beach, and we pass this little outdoor cafe. Dad wants to stop for a beer. We sit at a table there, the waitress comes by, and dad orders two beers.

Dad and I are talking, and the beers arrive, and there's a nice cold one sitting there in front of me...good dark beer, nice head on it, clean glass, bead of sweat dripping down the side...

A thought pops into mind..."Who'll know? Have a beer with your dad..." I laugh it off. *I* will know, the Universe will know, I'm not crazy anymore, and I'm not touching that beer.

Dad and I are sitting there, he's enjoying his beer, we're talking, the sun is shining, it's pleasantly warm, and I'm happy.

There's a table near by, and there's this guy at the table (who turns out to be Christopher Walken) and he's staring at me. He says, "How come you're not drinking that?" I tell him, "I didn't want the beer, I'm just hanging with my dad." Walken says, "What, are you some kind of pussy or something?" The guys sitting next to him laugh. I reply, "No, I'm just not interested in the beer." "Pussy," he says.

I get up from my table, walk over to his, lean on the table, get right in his face and tell him, "There's people walking the face of this planet who will tell you that's not true. They'll also tell you that it's not a good idea for you to mess with me. Don't push me anymore, pal." I go back to my table, sit down, turn my chair so that my back is to my antagonist, and return to talking with my dad.

[end dream sequence, wake up snuggling with my beautiful wife]

Now I'm laying there pondering what could be the deep psychological significance of this dream. I remember that before we fell asleep, Sherri and I were talking about her anniversary today, and how wonderful it is we get to share this life sober.

Our individual histories clearly reveal that, if we were not, absolutely_none of the joy we have today would be possible. We both remain committed to this journey, on this path, wherever it leads. So far, it's been amazing. Neither of us has any reason to believe it will ever be anything else...ups and downs, slogs, trudges, and easy downhill stretches with incredible vistas...all amazing and beautiful. Life.

I realize the meaning of the dream:
You know those two little imps on our shoulders? The one good conscience one, and the one little bastard with all the bad ideas?

My bastard looks and sounds like Christopher Walken.

LOL

Happy Birthday, baby. Sixteen years clean and sober, my April Fool.

~Rick