The wife has a mystery date planned for us tonight. She said, “Bring a sweater and a cigar.” Maybe a whiskey bar with an outdoor smoking area? I’ve been on tenterhooks all day.
When I picked up my new glasses, the optometrist (he of the press-on nails) said that there was no charge.
Apparently I get a new set of glasses every two years with my health insurance.
Free glasses! How wonderful!
Until I remembered that two years of health insurance has cost me over $8000.
Isn’t “fellowship” the word for the opposite of loneliness?
At seventeen months, the boy is picking up words like crazy. He seems to be using articles. He says “Oh, book” or “Oh, cat.” Interestingly, he doesn’t say the “Oh” before proper nouns like “Mama” or “Dada.”
He’s also got some adjectives: “up” or “down” when he wants to get on or off the sofa. “Off” and “back” as he dons and removes his little cap.
He is a clever little guy, and I am very proud of him.
Sundown tonight marks the beginning of Shavuot. It’s a Jewish holiday that commemorates when God (supposedly) gave the Torah to the Hebrews at Mt. Sinai.
That’s right, some believe that Moses didn’t just bring down the 10 commandments. They believe that he got the whole Torah, even the parts explaining that poor Moses dies before reaching the promised land.
You’re supposed to celebrate by eating dairy foods. I don’t know why but I’m sure there’s a reason. I gave the boy a cheese stick before his nap, does that count?
Also you’re supposed to study Torah until dawn.
My wife and I are going to celebrate with Neurotic Dad’s Famous Crock Pot Chicken™ and Season 1 of “The Wire.”
Wanted to take the boy food shopping this morning. It’s fun for me, plopping him in the cart and wheeling him around the aisles. We have many conversations. Also he loves the samples. Also my fragile sense of self-worth gets boosted when people admire my son.*
But then he fell asleep in the car and I drove him around for 90 minutes.
At least he got his nap.
(*Kidding. Somewhat.)
Worked at the dining room table all afternoon so I could see and hear everything.
Lame excuse: “I didn’t see him all day yesterday. I just want him to know I’m around.”
Walked the boy and the nanny to the playground.
Lame excuse: “I’m going for a hike in the park.”
Hid behind a tree to spy on them at the playground.
Lame excuse: None. Didn’t get caught, thank God.
Surely there are some Republicans who know that Sarah Palin is criminally stupid? Surely you can, say, believe in lower taxes and less government interference while recognizing that whenever she opens her mouth, nonsense comes out?
At dinner he was completely absorbed in putting puffed rice into his little cup. He looked up and said, “Back,” and then returned to the task—lifting the rice grain by grain and dropping them into the cup.
Later I thought about the concentration that he brings to the other tasks that absorb him—climbing onto chairs, flipping through books, spinning the wheels of his trucks.
We’re charming by this stuff. It’s cute. But they’re as important to him as my grown-up tasks are to me.
So there are two lessons here:
One, as he grows, try to remember that what seems childish is of vital importance to him.
Two, try to bring the same concentration to what’s important to me, my marriage, my teaching, and my writing.
