easy like sunday morning

The last time J-Dog and I flew on an airplane I happened to notice him eating his meal. I saw my beautiful J-Dog hunched over a plastic tray of really bad food and as I watched him pick through it looking for something edible the futility of the world came crashing around me -we are all just trying to get through life and do the best we can, and we take what we are given and we try and make it work. And we are so precious in the process.

I felt the same on the playground today. The Bay Area is a weird mix of the super rich, super smart, super tech, and everyone else (whatever, yes, I am the latter). The playground today was filled with mostly the former, and I again felt a similar futility - highly intelligent men and women trying their damn best to engage with their children over sharing a sand toy for the two hundredth time, about leaving your SHOES ON, PLEASE, and tailgating their kids through slides so no one came to any major bodily harm. But what I noticed was their faces - the occasionally forlorn and far off looks, the sometimes forced joy and cheerfulness, and maybe even the desperate attempts to not stab themselves in the eyes out of boredom.

And this does not mean they don't love their children. We all do - in fact, we are mad for them. But we also remember those Sundays in the not too distant past where we slept in late, had delicious morning sex, and then walked to a sidewalk cafe with friends and drank bloody marys in the sun.