and chase his big brother around while he fielded fly balls and grounders hit by his friends and a tennis ball. I couldn’t get enough of it… just watching little Henry, his story not even really having started. He has everything in front of him. EVERYTHING.
I feel the same this morning. Turning on my ‘journal loft’ playlist again as I did last night writing a bit but more so enjoying the night and quiet to self, the Pinot and what was left of the Roth Cab. My story just now here, arriving, day and page ONE.
I need to note it, ‘cause I want the kids to know I was thinking such – last night, here in the quiet and yesterday walking to the Green which is only a block and a half away, thinking about Melissa, my kids’ mother, my “ex” and I hate calling her that. Sounds degrading and de-everything-ing Seriously, I don’t like it and am still not used to it. Her and I always talked about one day, when we’re rich (and I am NOT, by the way…) having a place on the Green, maybe one of those condos above the candy shop Cravin’s or Kin one of our favorite restaurants…. I don’t know, just though about her, nearly all day yesterday, how happy she’d be with this place, at this counter with me now having coffee as we did so many times in the morning – she with her mocha and oatmeal, the kids with their breakfasts respective and hot chocolates (which Emmie never finishes)…. Don’t know, just needed to note that. As frustrated as I get, and I’m sure she does too, I’m thinking about her still, from yesterday, poignantly. It needs to be noted. I want HER to know…
9:19, time to leave. Throat still cold-like. Really hope I’m not coming down with anything… the mortgage payment alone on this place is enough to make me sell internet and telecom. Starting Monday tonight… leads I need to call on, how to Market and SELL myself as an AE… happiness, stress-free technology… then when I get to a certain point start my own office and building, set of solutions. The roadmap is more than clear. Has been for some time but now that I’m here at the Johnson Bar it rattles me, grabbing me by the brain lobes and ordering direction and fruition.