Froth

It's still raining. Time for another Cappucino. Since Anja was tiny, Daddy would dip a finger into his large Cappucino mug and give her the white foam. "Make sure you don't slip her the espresso" says Mommy-the-broken-record. Sometimes she would wind up looking like Burl Ives.

Lately Anja wants the whole mug. Rick gives her the last drops of froth and cocoa that has settled to the bottom. She carries off the mug, sits down and drinks with the cup nearly covering her face. She throws her head back and her feet come off the ground. So now she's The Joker with a wide brown grin.

I hear that some people let their children have coffee. What do you think about that?


Who Knows Where The Time Goes
Outside of Anja, our Odyssey, we have our things. Rick is making a work of art out of a 1980 MGB. I've been mixing & recording (learning) and working on literary projects. This year we're supposed to attend our 20 year high school reunions. Rick has ruled his out. I go back and forth. Everyone will want to exchange business cards and compare success stories. My successes have certainly been unconventional. The dream reunion to me is a large party in the fig orchards or in an old barn in the country, with kegs and a bar, a live DJ and casually being ourselves - a more refined version of an old tradition.

Twenty years is a long time. Then again, it isn't. When I see recent photographs of my peers, who I remember with braces and lop-sided wedge cuts, I feel like I'm looking at complete strangers. Yet, there is something wholly familiar in the eyes. It is a cruel trick upon your senses. How will we look to them? In another twenty years we'll be grateful to have all of our teeth. That does it. I'm going.