I Know That. I’m The One Not Writing, You Know

You know you’re having trouble putting your thoughts into words when WordPress starts harassing you because “You haven’t written anything yet!”.

I’m Hoping I Don’t End Up Having To Do A Constitution As Well

Like any house, our house has rules, and like many houses, those rules are largely informal.  If bedtime is 8:30, I’m not going to make a federal case out of it if my son isn’t in bed until 8:40, and if the story that night runs long, that’s why bedtime is a little bit before the time he actually needs to be asleep.

But lately we’ve reached the point where even the most self-evident rules are being questioned ad-infinitum, particularly when it comes to the consequences of breaking said rules, so I’ve decided it’s time for a little more . . . formality.  The rules are going to become laws, and laws are clearly written down so there’s (ideally) no misunderstanding.

And that’s why I’m in the process of drafting out “The Laws Of Astra.”

Now Where Was I?

“That was . . . random,” my son informed me after reading my post from yesterday.

“Not really,” I said out loud.  “I did say right up front that I was giving some background information so what I was going to say next would make sense.”  Random, I mentally added, was you and your mother deciding to name the house Astra.

Suffice It To Say That’s Its Name

For what I’m going to be talking about for at least some of this week to make any sense, you first have to understand that our house is named Astra.

Well . . . maybe “understand” is too strong a word here.

You May Have A Future As An Editor, Son

It takes a special kind of gall to argue with me all morning, then still have the nerve to point out one of my formatting mistakes to me in the afternoon.

He’d Obviously Thought This One Through

“You have on weird socks,” my son, L., undiplomatically told Lala the other day.

In fairness, they were even weirder than he knew, and Lala demonstrated this by showing him what was written on the bottoms:  “If you can read this,” it said on one sock; “bring me coffee,” was written on the other.

Without saying a word, L. (eight years old) turned and walked away.  Not long after he returned . . . with a cup of coffee.

“How . . .?” Lala managed to ask once she got past her shock.

L. gleefully explained how he’d gotten a stool so he could reach the coffee mugs (something I would have assumed would have been out of his reach even with a stool), then poured her a cup from the coffee pot.

Expecting the worse, Lala went into the kitchen expecting some sort of disaster, a broken mug, spilled coffee . . . something, but all was pristine.

“That was very nice,” she told him.  “But next time be very careful around the coffee maker.  It could have been hot.”

“I know,” he said.  “That’s why I did a careful temperature check first, so I knew it wasn’t hot.”

“Lately” In A VERY Relative Sense

Sometimes the light’s all shinin’ on me
Other times I can barely see
Lately it occurs to me
What a long, strange trip it’s been

– “Truckin’” – The Grateful Dead

Last Week It Was “Kobayashi Maru”

Some weeks the label on the memory engram being downloaded into your jar reads “Blue Sky On Mars,” other weeks it reads “Kobayashi Maru.”

Just Something That’s Been On My Mind Lately

A fool’s paradise is a wise man’s hell!

– Thomas Fuller

(This is the closest I could get to attribution for the idea that “One person’s Heaven is another person’s Hell.”)

This Will Make More Sense To You Over Time, Kiddo

There’s always a cost, son.  Always.  Maybe you pay it right away or maybe you pay it later, but everything eventually comes due; and if you don’t end up paying the cost, it’s only because somebody else has.