Man Among Boys

This post has 473 words. It will take approximately 4 minutes, 43 secondes for reading it.

Don’t tell me we can’t work together because you’re a Christian and I’m a Muslim.  Hungry is hungry, and hungry doesn’t give a damn what your religion is – Minister Louis Farrakhan

One of the marks of being a man is being able to set aside differences for the greater good and focus on what’s important. We may not always agree, but we can co-exist.  That’s one on the hallmarks of this great nation of ours.  So I’m asking myself why the President’s religion is so important.

People are really making a big deal out of this because the President said that Muslim worshipers should be able to build their mosque two blocks from Ground Zero.  He said the government doesn’t have the right to dictate what religion does as long as they are within the law.

(Note: …and Obama’s right about that one.  They legally have the right to and they have the land to build it.  If the Jewish wanted to build a synagogue there and they own the land, mazel tov.  If Catholics wanted to build a church there and they owned the land, they can do that little sprinkle, sprinkle baptism thing they do all day long.  But I digress…)

Some people are using that an excuse to say that Obama’s muslim, which he isn’t.  He’s Christian.  The White House is coming out with releases saying that the President goes to church, abides by the Ten Commandments, and knows the New Testament front and back.  I’m saying they shouldn’t have to.

If Obama came out tomorrow and said that he was Muslim and chose to pray to the East five times a day…so f*cking what??? Does that effect his ability to do his job?  Does that effect his ability to lead the nation?  Does that hinder his ability to move us out of this depression we’re in?

Remember, George Bush is Christian, and he didn’t exactly lead us to the land of milk and honey.

We’re supposed to have freedom of religion in this country.  That’s one of the reasons the Revolutionary War was fought, to be free from oppression.  I’m not arguing if Obama is or isn’t Muslim; I’m arguing that you shouldn’t care.  Religious freedom shouldn’t stop at the White House steps.

You should care that he’s doing his job.  If you want him out because you think he’s making our standard living worse, I can respect that.  If you want him out because you think the reads he Koran instead of the Bible, you need to have your head checked.

I just want him to bring our boys home and lower my damn taxes.

Feel free to comment.

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This post has 480 words. It will take approximately 4 minutes, 48 secondes for reading it.

The grass isn’t always greener on the other side.  Just because something may look better doesn’t mean it is.  It’s rough all over right now.

When I took this job in Costa Rica, it looked like a great opportunity.  Hell, it still is, no real complaints.  I had the opportunity to experience another country and culture, all on the company’s dime.  No real negatives to speak of.  There were plenty of people that were happy for me.

There were also people that downed it, even some in my own family.  Don’t get me wrong, they were happy for me, but thought the opportunity was just another example of the falling of America.  They said I was helping my company grow in another country and take jobs, and that they couldn’t be as good as the people in the United States.  They said we were losing jobs and that eventually everyone may have to move abroad just to find work.  I argued back and forth about the topic, but I can understand their point.  The United States is losing jobs to other countries because of cheaper ,and in some cases, better educated labor.  My staff all have a bachelor’s degree, and at least 75% are pursuing their master’s degree.  Education is basically free here, financed by a higher tax rate.  The labor market in Costa Rica is becoming more and more attractive.

But that doesn’t mean that other countries aren’t feeling the pinch too.  If you follow me on Twitter (http://twitter.com/truemanmab), you know that I bought the paper this morning like I usually do…

(Note:  I LOVE La Teja.  Love it.  They’re some great journalists working there and they have a lot of insight into local events.  There’s a picture of one of the local events now   Check out http://lateja.co.cr )

…but his morning was a bit different.  I stuck my arm out the window, gave my colones to the Nicaraguan guy on the corner, got my paper, and we pulled off.  But a block up, another vendor, a Costa Rican woman, ran up to the car offering the same paper.  When I already told her I bought from the guy up the block, she cussed me out like no other woman has (that’s saying something too) for buying a paper from a “nasty” Nicaraguan.  She went onto say how Nicaraguans were taking all the jobs in Costa Rica, and that soon there wouldn’t be any jobs for any Costa Ricans.

Next time I see here, I’ll tell her to go up to the United States.  With the way things are going, there are plenty of jobs for her up there.  Then she can hear Americans complain how she’s taking their jobs.  It’s rough all over.

Feel free to comment.

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This post has 364 words. It will take approximately 3 minutes, 38 secondes for reading it.

I don’t know how you feel about same sex marriage.  I don’t know if you’re hetero or homosexual.    Honestly, I really don’t care.  I just don’t like hypocrites, which is why I’m writing this piece today.

I was watching CNN while doing my morning cardio and came across a piece about same sex marriage.  In San Francisco yesterday, the government ruled that California’s Proposition 8, a voter-approved ban on same-sex marriage, is unconstitutional. Chief U.S District Judge Vaughn Walker, wrote in his opinion that “Proposition 8 fails to advance any rational basis in singling out gay men and lesbians for denial of a marriage license. Indeed, the evidence shows Proposition 8 does nothing more than enshrine in the California Constitution the notion that opposite-sex couples are superior to same-sex couples.”  Frankly, I agree.  Gay people should have the right to marry and have f*cked up relationships just like the rest of us.

Now I’m coming at you hypocrites opposing same sex marriage.

The main argument has been that same sex marriage invalidates the sanctity of marriage and demeans the union between a man and a woman.  Sorry, but “The Bachelor” did that a long time ago.

When you can basically hold a contest to see who you’re going to marry, the concept of marriage isn’t all that sacred.  I don’t see the people opposing same sex marriage picketing ABC for pimping potential brides out or for trading wives on Wife Swap like they were NBA players. I don’t see them up in arms because the networks are making marriage a joke.  I see this as a much bigger threat to the concept of marriage; at least those homosexual couples love each other.  They wouldn’t fight so hard for this if they didn’t.  The people that go on The Bachelor, The Bachelorette, and Wife Swap are in it for a check or exposure.

In closing, those of you opposing same sex marriage are full of sh*t.  Think about that during commercial interruptions of “Who Wants To Marry A Midget” (you know that’s coming down the pike).

Feel free to comment.

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This post has 498 words. It will take approximately 4 minutes, 58 secondes for reading it.

Fellas, this one is for the ladies, but keep reading anyway.  I’m sure you can relate.

I was reading Twitter the other day and I saw a tweet from a young lady that said “I’m starting to feel like the only men that are committed are institutionalized.”  I kind of laughed, but that got me to thinking, “Is that what women really think?  Do women think that men can’t be committed?”

It was a long ride home from work so that gave me even more time to ponder the subject.  I started thinking about all of the male friends I have, and a lot, if not most, of us are single.  We don’t have someone to come home to after a hard day’s work, share a home cooked meal with, or snuggle on the couch with while watching a movie (yes, Trueman does like to snuggle at times.  Tell anyone and I’ll kill you ).

Are we afraid of committment?  Are we men afraid of marriage and taking a vow before God to stay with one woman, for better or for worse for the rest of our lives?

Ladies, I’m going to give you the answer.  I’m crossing one of the “man lines” and will tell you the secret.

No, we’re not afraid of committment.  We’re afraid of being committed to that b*tch.

The one who makes our lives a living hell.  The one we complain to the fellas about on that one night a month we’re allowed to out on for a “boys’ night out.”  The one who tries to control every aspect of our lives.  The one we don’t want to go home to after work so we go to the bar to sip whiskey alone to prepare ourselves for her complaining ass the minutes we put the key in the door.

That b*tch has ruined it for a lot of you ladies.  I know guys that have said they will never get married or get involved in a serious relationship again. I know guys that have turned gay because they are sick of some of the bullsh*t they go through with a woman.  They are just sick and tired.

Which brings me to the title of the post.  In some cases the only guys that are committed are in institutions, mental or correctional, take your pick.  That’s the only place we don’t have to worry about ya complaining asses yelling in our ear or putting your finger in our face every five minutes.

It’s funny, I remember from Chris Rock’s “Never Scared Skit” (loved that one) when he was talking about Nelson Mandela and how tough relationships are.  He survived over 20 hard years in prison, came home to his wife…and got divorced in less than 6 months.

Damn…3 hots and a cot don’t seem so bad compared to being nagged to death.

Feel free to comment.

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This post has 658 words. It will take approximately 6 minutes, 34 secondes for reading it.

Got a Saturday special for you.   Hope you like it.

I like to follow people that have interesting, weird, and though-provoking posts on Twitter.  They make me laugh or think and help to make boring work days go by faster.  One I follow is this white guy called LukeRomyn.  He usually has some funny stuff.  Yesterday he had this Twitter post that said:

“On behalf of all sane white people, I hereby give you permission to shoot any white boy who calls himself ‘nigga’.”

That got me to thinking, why would any white kid want to call himself “nigga”?  Do they think they are getting themselves closer to black?  Is that a feeble attempt at trying to associate? I don’t even know why a black person would want to call himself “nigga.”

Then that transitioned to thinking about how the color line is getting more and more blurred each day.  I’m not really talking about interracial relationships, even though I could (look at Seal and Heidi Klum; they’re as happy as can be and keep poppin’ out the babies. More power to them. At least somebody’s happy. ).  I talking more about “black stuff” and “white stuff”.  What we think only certain races or cultures are supposed.  As generations have passed, we’ve moved from segregated areas to more of a melting pot.  I know white guys that can school just about anybody on the basketball court and black kids that do wicked tricks on a skateboard.  The best rock musician in the world is black (Lenny Kravitz) and right now, Soul-Brotha-Number-One of R+B is a white boy (Robin Thicke).  Hell, the greatest guitarist of all time is Jimi Hendricks.

(Yes, Lenny Kravitz is black.  So is Obama.  It tickles me how before the election, people were calling Obama black, President N*gger, and all other sorts of stuff, but after he won, he magically became “bi-racial.” Get outta here with that bullsh*t.  He’s black.  Your President is black.  Deal with it.)

I have friends of all types.  From black militants to surfer dudes to pacifists.  I listened and still listen to all types of music.  But I know there were and are certain things that seen as just for white kids and others just for black kids.  Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about.  I knew white kids that had no idea what “grape drink” is (not grape JUICE, grape DRINK).  And have you ever seen a black guy get mauled by a bear on those “When Animals Attack” videos?  Nope, because we’re not going to stand there like a dumbass and try to film a charging bear until the last possible second.  We’ll use common sense, run, and YouTube that sh*t later, living the moment vicariously through someone else.

I try to understand just about anybody.  So today, I decided to live on the edge and do something only white people do:  I went out in the rain with my beach sandals.  It was only a light rain, a little more than a drizzle but rain none the less.  I always thought it was weird because your toes get wet, but did have kind of a cooling sensation.  I don’t think I’ll do it again, but I can’t say it was a completely negative experience.

(However, for any white people reading this, can you please explain to me what “winter shorts” are?  How do you wear shorts in the winter? I don’t get it.)

Have you ever done what you think only another group or race does?  White guys – have you ever worn a doo rag?  Black guys – have you ever work khakis with penny loafers and no socks?

I’m interested to know how blurred the color line is.  Let me know.  Just something to make you think on a Saturday afternoon.

Feel free to comment.

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This post has 496 words. It will take approximately 4 minutes, 57 secondes for reading it.

I’ve been in Costa Rica about 2 weeks and am just getting the lay of the land.  I’ve met a lot of great people, warm, friendly people.  I’ve been taken out to dinner and invited to family gatherings by co-workers and friends of co-workers that just want to make sure that I’m having a good time.  Really nice people.

However, I’ve also met some assholes, really rude and ignorant people.  Unfortunately, most of them have been from my home country.

I went to lunch the other day with some of my co-workers at one of the local “sodas” (usually a local, family owned diner type restaurant with really great food. F*ck TGI Fridays down here).  I ordered my meal in my broken Spanish, probably getting as many words right as I did wrong and it probably too 5 minutes to order my meal alone, but the lady taking my order appreciated the fact that I tried.  We both smiled and laughed our way through it.

I couldn’t help but overhear the conversation from the table behind me.  The man ordering his meal was frustrated that the waitress couldn’t understand him.  He was loud and rude, cursing under his breath while telling the waitress that she needed to listen more.  You can probably guess that he was the typical arrogant American trying to order in English and complaining that “no one knows English anymore.”

The waitress turned to me and asked me to help, and I did what I could.  Eventually we got through it and he placed his order.  The arrogant prick turned to me and laughed that “these people” need to learn English.

(Note:  Whenever you hear someone making racial jokes in front of you, don’t laugh.  They’re probably telling the same jokes about you and your kind when you’re not there.  Also, you don’t argue with people who are cooking your food.  You might find a few “extras” in there.)

My response  was, “No, you just need to at least try and learn Spanish.  We’re not in the States.”

You’re not in Kansas anymore, or whatever hick town you hail from.  That’s like going into someone else’s house for dinner and complaining they didn’t make your favorite meal.  That’s just disrespectful and shows to your ignorance.  Just be glad your simple ass is eating.

You might have to go out of your way to learn a few phrases, but it at least shows respect for where you are.  This usually gets into a debate on how I feel about immigrants coming into the United States and if I think they should have to learn English.   My simple answer is “HELL YES.”  You’re in America, learn English, but I expect our citizens to reciprocate when traveling abroad.

When you’re a visitor, you have to adjust.  You’re not in Kansas anymore.  Man up.

Feel free to comment.

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This post has 628 words. It will take approximately 6 minutes, 16 secondes for reading it.

“And my existence, while grotesque and incomprehensible to you, saves lives. You don’t want the truth because deep down in places you don’t talk about at parties, you want me on that wall, you need me on that wall.” – Jack Nicholson as Col. Jessep in “A Few Good Men”

There were four words uttered by golfers on the PGA tour in the past few days…

“Oh, sh*t…he’s back.”

It was reported by ESPN that Eldrick “Tiger” Woods will probably return to golf at the Arnold Palmer Invitational in about two weeks.  He’ll have his share of hecklers, people spitting at him, and womens’ rights groups in an uproar (who gives a sh*t?).  But golf needs him.  It needs him badly.  Viewership and attendance has been down since Tiger took his leave of absence.  Basically, nobody cares to see second tier players on the course.  Say what you want about Tiger, but he is golf.  The PGA and sponsors (Nike kept him without blinking) will welcome him back with open arms and fat checks, no matter how many holes he putted his balls in.

(Note: In my opinion, he got some on the side.  BFD.  The only issue I had with it is how he did it.  See my “Something On The Side – Part 2” post.)

You always need your best guys to play.  No matter what you think about them, no matter how you feel about them, when it comes down to grits and groceries, you want them on your side.  Golf is no different.  Hell, life is no different.  Tiger is a necessary evil to golf, just like Col. Jessup was in “A Few Good Men.”  You may not like him now, but he’s the best.

You’d better get used to this in life, too.  Sometimes, you have to put personal feelings aside and work with people you don’t like because they’re the best at what they do.  I do it all the time.  I work with people I think are assholes, but when I need to best, they’re who I call.  They help you win, whether it’s on a golf course, basketball court, or at a negotiating table.  It might even cost a few chips, but you know you’re getting what you pay for.  When you need to get something done, you go to the best and make it work.

I remember watching a game on Monday Night Football where the Buffalo Bills were playing, and of course the focus was on then Bills’ WR Terrell Owens.  Old senile windbag Ron Jaworski kept talking about T.O.’s issues and how he was a “team cancer” and basically questioned why the Bills got him.  His fellow broadcaster and former championship NFL coach Jon Gruden looked at him like he was nuts and responded,

“Everybody’s saying he’s a cancer.  Let me tell you what a cancer is: a cancer’s a guy who can’t play. Terrel Owens is one of the best WRs ever to play the game. Give me 10 of those.”

He realized that sometimes you have to make a “deal with the devil” to get things done.  Nothing wrong with that. Just like golf is…because they know they need Woods as much if not more than he needs them.  Elin can take half Tiger’s money and he’ll be ok;  I’m guessing he can survive on $500 million.  Golf can die quickly without Woods.

Woods is a necessary evil, just like Col. Jessup.  You don’t want the truth because deep down in places you don’t talk about at parties, you want him on that course…you need him on that course.

Feel free to comment

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This post has 620 words. It will take approximately 6 minutes, 12 secondes for reading it.

I had an interesting situation this weekend.

I was spending time with the old lady, kicking back and watching TV.  Now she has an issue with my Blackberry.  Sometimes it goes off late at night.  It might be an email from my credit card company with a “friendly reminder” that a payment is coming due or from an old friend that lives out of state that just wants to say “hey”, some male, some female.  We’ve had conversations about this before about what are deemed to be “appropriate” call and text times….which frankly buggs the hell out of me.  I’m a grown assed man.  You don’t tell me when a friend can or can’t text me.

Anyway, this weekend, I just wasn’t in the mood to talk, so I decided to turn my Blackberry off.

“Why you turning your phone off?”

“I don’t feel like talking to anyone.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

This proceeded to turn into an argument about how I’m keeping her in a box because she really hasn’t met my friends and I’m shady for turning my phone off.

Honestly, she hasn’t met many people I know.  We have quite a few mutual friends we’ve known, but other than them, I don’t know many.  A woman will have hundreds of friends, ranging from people she might run into every ten years to old friends she’s known since the second grade.  A man as about 3, maybe 4 people he calls “friends”.  And if we haven’t talked within the last year, don’t try to hit me up on Facebook with a friend request.  You will get ignored without so much as an afterthought.

I’ve got 4, and none of them within what most consider a reasonable distance.  My closest friend lives a little over an hour or so away.  The others live out of state.  We’ve tried to make arrangements to get together but haven’t been able to coordinate schedules.  When I’m not with her or my son, I can be found at the gym or work.  I have a very uneventful life.

I was told I’m “shady” and it isn’t the first time I’ve heard that.  I’ve been accused of doing things I’m not.

There’s an old saying “If you keep knocking on the devil’s door, eventually, he’ll answer you.”  If you keep poking a dog with a stick, eventually, he’ll bit your ass.  If you keep accusing a man of cheating, eventually, he will (not saying I’m going to but you can only push someone so far).

A lot of times, people, particularly women (yes – I’m calling you out), look for things that aren’t there.  You think you have the 6th sense for cheating that lets you know if he is.  I’ve even heard of women checking their man’s pockets for numbers and underwear for “evidence.”  Then, they get surprised if he does cheat.  If he’s going to get accused of cheating and called a dog, he may as well go bury his bone.

If you’re going to accuse a man of playing games and cheating, at least have some evidence.  Don’t go on a hunch.  Don’t go off what your lonely assed girlfriends have to say.  If you have proof, fine.  Until then, stop looking for sh*t to argue about.  Life is hard enough without that.

So ladies, go ahead keep knocking on the devil’s door.  When you see your man inside with his feet up on the couch, don’t say you weren’t warned.

Feel free to comment.

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This post has 840 words. It will take approximately 8 minutes, 24 secondes for reading it.

When we’re going through a bad situation or seeking help, we often look for someone to analyze our problems.  This leaves vulnerable, and we’ll listen to just about anyone that lends an ear and seems to know what they’re talking about.

That’s very dangerous.  When you’re at your lowest is when you need to hear what people are saying the most.  There are millions of snake oil salesmen out there that lack substance, but because it sounds like relieving words at a time of need, we take it as gospel.

That’s when people fall for the “okie doke.”

For those of you who don’t know what that “okie doke” is, that’s when someone gets played for a fool.  Think of all those internet scams out there that promise $1000 a day for 15 minutes work…and all you have to do is make 3 payments of $39.95 for it.  That sounds like a godsend…but if it were that easy, there wouldn’t be a broke ass on the planet.   A lot of people fall for the “okie doke” on a regular basis.

The reason I bring this up is I was listening to an urban radio station today and heard a classic example of the “okie doke”.  A psychic was on and invited people to call in and discuss their problems.  A  young woman named Trina called in to ask the psychic if she should stay with her child’s father.  She said he comes around to spend time with her and the baby, but that they don’t see eye to eye.

A slick talker would be able to take a lot out of the italicized passage and use leading questions to guide someone in the direction they want the conversation to go in, luring them into the “okie doke”.  The psychic skillfully asked  series of questions that didn’t really say much, but had Trina thinking she was the second coming….

You probably feel overwhelmed with work and taking care of the baby, right?

Uh, no sh*t.  Basically, Trina’s a single mom, and there may be no tougher job in the world than that. Unless she’s on welfare, she’s working.  I know I talk a lot of sh*t about the ladies, but I acknowledge and appreciate the hard work a single mom puts in holding down a 40 hour a week job, and then coming home to cook dinner and help the kids with homework.  She must be tough in a tough situation.

The psychic made Trina feel appreciated, like someone out there understands what she’s going through.  Whether the psychic was single and had children or not is irrelevant; she made Trina feel like she could relate and played the sympathetic friend.

The first part of the “okie doke” is to make someone feel like they are safe and can trust you; a boa constrictor always hugs its prey before squeezing it to death.

(On a Side Note:  Some of you ladies brought this upon yourselves. A lot of times, you nagged a good man to death and drove him away.  The next time you want to blame someone, look in the mirror instead of calling your girlfriends and complaining that there are no good men out there.  He wanted to help with kids with homework and make family time, but you were steady b*tchin’ about the toilet seat being up.  The toilet seat is down now, but there’s no man in sight.  Dummy.)

There were probably money issues, right?

That’s not exactly a leap of faith since money is one of, if not the, top reason couples separate, whether it be one uses it to control the other, or just that the bills and necessities aren’t being taken care of.  And we the current economic state of the country, chances are money issues would apply to Trina too.

Even though he come by to see the baby and make family time, you’re still not happy, right?

All the psychic did here is repeat what Trina first told her but in the form of a question.  She didn’t really add anything, but the way she phrased the question makes it seem like she did, kind of like the “Great Repeater” at the office, who just repeats everything everyone else says with a few gestures and some big words thrown in.

xxxxxxxxx…RIGHT?

Notice how the psychic ended each question with the word right.  She’s TELLING Trina these are the reasons for her issues, even if they aren’t.  Right isn’t used to confirm, but to control.  For someone already having troubles, hearing that this is right is like finding the cause to your problems…even though they are something all together different.

After Trina hung up, I’m sure she felt like she had the source of all her problems…but she really didn’t get much help.

That’s the “okie doke” for you.  Feel free to comment.

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This post has 696 words. It will take approximately 6 minutes, 57 secondes for reading it.

I’m sorry for not posting the last few days.  I’m in Chicago on business and I haven’t been able to get to Man Among Boys as often as I’d like.

When two people have been in a relationship for a long time, sometimes the love gives way to hurt and pain, and that’s when the relationship ends.  Women become more emotional, and men shield themselves and become colder.   There’s a lot of hate, but eventually, even that gives way to understanding. I have an interesting story to tell.

My son has been sick for the last few days.  He’s been impacted  and has stomach cramping severe enough that he’s gone to the hospital the last two days.  My ex-wife and I have never been able to communicate, but when it comes to anything that has to do with our son, we make due.

I had to fly out to Chicago but I wanted to stop by and see him on my way to the airport to make sure he was alright.  I knocked on the door and my ex-wife greeted me with a warm “hello”.  I replied with my usual “hey” and walked in.

I walked into the living room and made my way to the stairs to go to our son’s room. My ex-wife stopped me short and asked me if I wanted something to drink.

“Is it poisoned?”

“No, it’s not poisoned.”

Hmmm.  So she was just interested in making sure that I wasn’t thirsty.  That was strange.  She was being…nice.

For those of you who know me personally know that our relationship and marriage was very rocky to a point that we hated…I mean HATED…each other.  We have designated places for when we pick up or drop off our son because we don’t feel comfortable alone with each other.  Our son has a cell phone so he can call either of us without having to involve the other.

I’ve laid down to sleep and had dreams of watching her take a bath and throwing an electric space heater in.  For Christmas, I thought about getting on some Kill Bill 2 sh*t and giving her a huge box of money wrapped with a big bow…and when she ripped open her present, have a black mamba with a Santa hat on spring out and bite her on the neck.

But this was different. So I decided to go with it for now.

I said thanks, took the drink and headed up to my son’s room.  I kissed him on the forehead, plopped down on the bed next to him, and we played a few Xbox games until I had to head to the airport.  My ex-wife stayed in the room a little while and watched.  All three of us laughed and joked a while, which was really weird because the conversations my ex-wife and I usually have revolve around the words “f*ck you”, “b*tch”, and “drop dead” .

You could see the joy on my son’s face and he looked back and forth at us.  It almost made him feel better.

For those of you saying “Awwww, that’s so nice. They’re made for each other. They’ll get back together”, uh….NO.  There is no reconciliation.  We’re ex’s for a reason.  Our time has run its course.  Maybe we’re realizing that although we’re not good together, that doesn’t mean that we have to hate each other.  I hope she finds someone that is crazy enough to love her.  Two crazy people can stay together forever.

As I got up and made my leave, she wished me a safe trip and told me to call her and my son when I got in to let them know I got there.  Hmm, another act of concern and kindness…gotta be a full moon somewhere.

Or maybe we just turned the corner.  Even after the hurt and pain, we still have a beautiful child to care for.

We’ll see what happens the next time we meet.

Feel free to comment.

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