FATHERS DAY

First children are scary things.  Husband was amused by all the cuteness, but fully aware that he was just a visitor on the planet parenthood.  The responsibility for the cute one's well being was strictly out of his jurisdiction.  The whole diaper regimen was as baffling to him as a carburetor to me.

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Husband spends father time with little CB baby.

As time went on, things came more naturally to all of us, and before you knew he was galloping along quite nicely!

Strong of back and well trained,

Husband required no bridle, bit or saddle!

Now that everyone is grown up and gone, we are left feeling uneasy and at a loss to define our purpose in life.  For Husband, it is delivering seafood and doing chores around the home place.  For me, it is saving cats no one wants, feeding everyone, and playing sudoku.  

   

Could there be a more telling picture?  

Who are we?  What good are we?

Throw in a pitchfork and it is American Gothic!

I am truly thankful for my partner in life and so are his children.  Sunday we will have grilled fish, garden vegetables, and a large measure of gratitude for our family patriarch.  Maybe some wine as well.  HAPPY FATHERS DAY  TO ALL FATHERS EVERYWHERE!

Happy Fathers Day from Leo the cat.

MY DREAM

Part I:  WANTED BY THE FBI

I am heading to a beach house on an island and am on either a train or a ship going over water.  Sitting quietly and anonymously, I am paged to the phone, which is mounted to the wall of the train/ship.  A young pilot with wavy reddish hair announces that it is an important call from the FBI.  Stunned, I say hello and a hysterical woman on the other end relates how her husband has betrayed her.  I do not know the woman or how she knew of and located me on the transport.  All that aside, I try to comfort her with the fact she is in the company of so many good women who find themselves being eliminated in the love equation by espousal fickleness.  Feeling made quite important ( the FBI and all) I take my seat and resume the journey.

I take a call from the FBI.

Part II:  LOCATION, LOCATION, LOCATION

Instead of the beach house, I am let out in an older suburb of Los Angeles and I go in and out shops and residences as if with a realtor.  We take note of the negative aspects of the buildings, in particular the balcony/patio of one residence, presumably a rental.  I admire the handiwork in the shops.

I walk through buildings in LA.

I swear I change bodies with other people at night.  Once I dreamed I boarded a submarine at Gwynn's Island and came up near a big city at night with all the amazing lights imaginable.  Evidently I lack stimulation for which I compensate in dreams.

I marvel at the night lights of some unknown city.