and no day off for me, which I still find strange working for a prop tech/security company based in DC. ANYWHO…. Home and thinking of dinner options. Have stuff here in house, told them Daddy DoorDash tomorrow night. Equivalent of me cooking. Chef DD I tell them, like Chef Oliver, or the pseudonym for Oliver’s Market.
No activities planned tomorrow. Thinking, maybe, beach? Haven’t done that in a while…. Or maybe a park here in Windsor, the one across town where Jack baton’d Emmie in the forehead. Or, maybe, Petaluma? Or… that park with the trees we used to visit. I’ll figure it out. I think.
Single dad manuscript in all tells and frames. Should go up there in a minute.
They’re fine. Dinner request so I put on their favorite, nuggets and fish sticks, Makah (what they call my mom) fries. Calm Composition in the poz loft.
Writing, being taught again… word count considered and played. The coffee cup, iPhone charger, the nothing ‘things’ are the tallest tellers I’m finding. Not all I’m discovering in these last few communications. Letters and notes from old friends, finding stories I never knew were there or would collective construct. Huh…