Mama's gone? Who knew--because we're HAVING THE BEST TIME EVER.

So Mama took off for the big city. Papa says she'll be back but frankly I have my doubts. Before she left, she: a) took a shower, b) dried her hair, c) painted her toenails, d, e, f) some other girly stuff I can't remember. It was obscene. The way I figure, she's been city-fied--she's gone soft and cosmopolitan. And what does she leave us with? Old Man Turner, sick as a dog, sleeping all day like a good-for-nothing. Thanks for nothing, Mama.

And before Papa mentions it--because I'm sure he's gonna blab to everyone that asks--yes, I had my first baseball practice today; yes, my friend Jon was there; yes, I sat the entire hour on the bench and refused to play. Why? I'm a watcher, friend. I watch. I'm probably watching you right now. Fact is, there was nothing on the line today. It was the first practice! I know how to play baseball! I don't need the basics! I'm watching. I'm analyzing. I'm figuring you out before you even know I'm there. Next Saturday, when practice starts up, guess who's going to know all your moves? Your tendencies? Who's going to know that your first swing always hits the tee? Who's going to know you tend to skip second entirely when running the bases? Who's going to know what you're thinking before you're thinking it?





I am, brother.

We'll see if Pops laments my lack of go-get-'em after next week's practice. Not likely.

Anyway, the old man was feeling much better this afternoon, and we ended up having a pretty great day. Mac-and-cheese for dinner, awesome story time, awesome car parking time, some Inspector Gadget. Then we went to the "other" park, where I busted out my mini-bike again and did my ridiculous sharp turns and super-fast pedaling around the playground. June can pretty much do monkey bars at this point, which makes her the only one in the family who can. I'm not exaggerating--she has a freakish ability to cling and hang on things--like zip lines, for example. You can send her back and forth on a zip line for hours and she never gets tired. Remember how she used to carry around a single bead in her grubby little hand for days at a time? Originally, I thought she was training like monks or Navy SEALS where they keep something painful in their hand to focus their minds at all times--well turns out she was just practicing for monkey bars.

Anyway, before we left the playground I spotted a field full of old dandelions. I recognized the scene was pregnant with photographic opportunities. So, in pictures, we made a VIDEO ESSAY.

"Existence is SO ABSURD. If I have to choose between crying and laughing, guess which door I'm taking?"

"You want me to define 'irony'?"

"Dandelions grow without toiling or spinning, yet I refuse to consider them."

[No caption necessary. Sometimes images speak with more passion than words can imagine.]

"We're all like so many dandelion fluffies. Like fluffies in the wind. Or dust. Dust, too. Dust in the wind."

"I know--I'm A1 adooorable. But you should've seen what Papa saw when he got me up this morning. Let's just say laundry was performed...laundry was...performed."

"You win some, you lose some. I guess that about sums up this old thing they call life. Winnin' some, losin' some...

Unless you play for Cleveland! Ho ho!!! SLAM!!!! In yo' face, Unkie! GG!! Grams, Aunt Jill, all you NW OH'ers!! Slam!!!"

FIN.