So much to do today, one where I pick all kids up early.  Some basic wants, l

like clearing this desk, which I just did.  Want to shower, shave.  Do that on lunch break.  Also need to go to store and get some groceries for kids, this weekend.  Some staples I plan to buy at Safeway, but then things like lunch meat or any produce, Oliver’s.  How can I swing all this?  Just have phone on me I guess, ‘case I get a call.

11:31 right now.  Unbelievable.  Got latte at Noto which ate into any surplus of time.  OH… have to run laundry, wash Jack’s uniform, or baseball pants.—

Something went down an incorrect pipe causing me to cough fittishly so I get up and walk to bathroom, didn’t last long.  Stress of sales and this AE story only adding to everything.  I brought myself here, but why. Of course wanting to get out of the wine industry and try something new, but there was no one ‘thing’ I was after.  Interesting perceiving it that way.

Taking a little break here, even though I don’t technically what I’d say deserve one.  Doing it anyway.  Looking at books on shelf, Malala and Hemingway, Richard Wright, Plath and the usual others… me as a Single Dad and yes capitalizing it like a job title.  It is, without a doubt, a job.  The best yet the most trying and the most complicated and unpredictable.  This morning Jack and Emma incredibly cooperative but thinking of other mornings when anything but was the case, I scratch the side of my face.  There is no pattern with parenting, really.  No forecasting, and certainly no crystal ball.

Have to leave in a little over 2 hours to get Emma and Henry then head back this way and get Jack from camp.  What are we doing the rest of the day…. Another to-do, planning that.

Another call, prospect from a call last week.  Check in, see if they’re ready for a contract.  Sales and being a single dad… do I want to do something else?  Like what.  Well, of course, this.  Writing… finishing a goddamn book or hundred and selling every last one of them.  Being happy.  Remembering my plan of drinking coffee and writing books.  That’s happiness.  My formula thanks to the covid mask Mom gave me.

That simple.  Isn’t it? Worried, no, ‘cause I’m demanding happy.