pink squishy ball

i observed my daughter and her cousin playing the other day. my daughter was off in her own world and quite happy to play with some little glittery sticker that she found. that is until she noticed that her cousin grabbed from her toy box a squishy, pink ball. then she became discontent and desired to play with the ball too. kids, i thought, what makes them so possessive?

i was reminded later of a shameful time during my courtship with my wife. i had wandering eyes while on a trip which led later to communication between myself and another woman. my wife (then girlfriend) discovered an indicting piece of evidence and broke up with me. we stayed friends for a while , and eventually our relationship budded again. but i really didn't have a lot of interest in pursuing things much beyond the "a little more than friends" level. that is until...she told me she was going on a date with another man. soon thereafter, my comittment level dramatically increased, and eventually we were engaged and married. i guess i just couldn't let anyone else play with my pink, squishy ball.

Patrick's party

sad to say i had no beer on st. patty's day. i guess i could rush the fridge and slosh down my last guiness. but it's already 12:30 am, so i don't know that it really counts at this point.

i think next year i'd like to go to a outdoor celebration. the kind where green beer is a flowing in the streets; and everywhere you look, you see a lovely lass in a green hat; where irish songs echo in the alleys and where the air wafts wildly with the aroma of fish and chips. now that is the way to celebrate the life of st. patrick - a man who brought the jubilant message of jesus to the irish people.

rest assured or demurred?

i slept for about an hour last night. this and other recent nights of similar sleep deprivation have made me ponder my prepubescent aspirations to engage in insane episodes of forced insomnia. why were all-nighters ever appealing to me? why did i always want to stay up late as a child? it seems so bizzare to me now, because rest is all i really want anymore.

it makes me more sympathetic to the plight of the cat for two reasons. first, on the surface level, cat's sleep 19+hours a day. enough said about that. second, and slightly more profound, cats always want to be on the other side of the door behind which they currently find themselves. e.g. our inside cat wants out, and our outside cats want in. i guess i'm an outside cat now and i was an inside cat when i was young. why do i say that? because right now i really want in so i can jump on that big fluffy, pillow infested, blanket covered, squishy, lovely, wonderful bed.

good night, folks!