Ready to leave, start the Easter thing.  Still nursing latte…

Uncle Stevie writes back a hilarious vignette about going to church, and not sure how much to donate, citing characters around him and letting out a fart.  Oh my god I’m dying… I need to be more like him, Stoic and comical in considering what happens around me, in my story immediate.  With work, stop stressing about it… it’s hilarious, all of it.  The people, their attitude and self-scripted pressure.

Coming back here tonight, more than likely working late in the office.  Do I have everything … Yes… bubbles, the Bellacana Pinot I bought yesterday after one of the most uncomfortable and awkward tastings of my wine life.  Oh my god, more on that later.

.686 avg.  Starting to become obsessed with this number.  Tracker of my efforts and how serious I am as a writing father, or just writer.  Why do I have to attach the dad modifier?  Thinking of my kids, their Easter Day, how much fun they’ll have, and how much I’ll miss them.  Trying to find humor in it, but it’s hard… okay, let me try – If we…..

Humor, Easter, a goddamn rabbit.  Don’t want to touch on theology, even though I do find it a little funny.  But seriously… bathroom then go.  Time for Easter celebration.  Or are we just painting fucking eggs, eating and drinking?  Even if I did go to church… okay, I do, then what?