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Monday, October 3, 2016

Three Months

Tomorrow is the three month mark. Tomorrow, it will be 91 days since The Amazing Bob shuffled off to Whereversville. I hope that, in my Hunny Pie’s new state of being and nothingness, he can watch the playoffs. Imagine, if you will, a Red Sox/Cubbies World Series. Jesus-on-deck-circle-Christ, my beautiful man would be so damn psyched!

Three months.

At three months, a healthy, hearing baby can turn its head toward sounds and voices. A healthy, sighted three month old will show interest in faces – will make eye contact. He/she can bring hand to mouth, reach for toys, open and close their wee fists.

What can I do at three months? Knit, watch Big Bang Theory and Grimm, feed and pat Coco and Rocco, some days I can paint and, on rare occasion, I'm able to get all social with folks other than Jen and Oni. Those two make security blankets redundant.

No, I don't think I'll be able to watch the playoffs this year.

Astroturf Sucks

I’ve been around this planet for half a hundred years
Seen a lot of changes come and I’ve greeted them with cheers
I dig those bouncy sneakers and I drink those diet cokes
Frozen foods are fabulous and I buy those low-tar smokes
Little walkmans are a blessing, instant copies are just great
But follow me and I’ll let you see there’s some new stuff that I hate

That astroturf is plastic – it can neither grow nor die –
It’s only good for indoor domes where there’s never rain or snow
I hate the DH concept – don’t need no specialists
And metal bats are hideous, they can go and not be missed
I ain’t too fond of cellulars and I’ve got computer fright
I can’t stand pocket pagers (things that go beep in the night)
So even though we hardly know what’s coming down the pipe
Before you buy just ask ‘em why and don’t you believe the hype.

~ Boston 7/90


Sex music and baseball
I never wanted too much more
Sex music and baseball
Lots of things could be number four
I like good food and I love my son
And he of course is above number one
But there still ain’t nothin’ that is so much fun
as sex, music and baseball
(exhaustion tells me when I’m done).

Sex music and baseball
really old and still very new
A break for coffee with you.
Trite, but it will might be true.
I’ll read bad books
and I do like to shop
But I’m always hoping for a bountiful crop
of sex, music and baseball –
Lord, I hope it never stops

~ Boston 6/90

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