We arose, her and I, glacial. Because she is smaller, her tiny heart pumped her brain full of bloody brilliance at a faster pace than my overgrown engine. Despite the extra neural-nutrition, she pronounced "Mama?" I replied "Dada." She insisted, incorrectly: "Mama?" And I corrected: "Dada." "Mi, mi, mi, mi," she said aloud. "Give over…
Author: Backpacking Dad
On Writing, Part 1
So, last week (or the week before that, or some other time in the distant, misty past) I mentioned that I was very tired and had been doing a lot of writing. Some of you were really excited about this, and I can only say “Thanks” and “Don’t get your hopes up”. Yes, you will…
She has to top this forever
Today I will enjoy my second Father’s Day. I have decided, after much pressuring to just make up my frickin’ mind already, that I will have breakfast with Erin and Emily, take a long bike ride in the hills behind Menlo Park and Redwood City, and then take Erin to some farmzooment park called Happy…