Saturday Check In

Don't just stand there, bust a move.

Hey. It's Saturday night! I'm blogging every day!

This morning Hank had one of his many graduations in karate. This is our third one since he started in November. I decided it was time for Matt to get a turn taking him to the belt ceremony. They set off for that about 9:30 and I went back to bed for two hours. I was just toting along a sleep deficit all week long. I've gotta do better with that, because when I'm putting all the pieces together--eating well, exercise, enough sleep--I am feeling bulletproof. Like, better bring kryptonite. But when one of those pillars gets shaky, I notice a slight but definite degradation in the state of affairs around here. Okay, so I slept in.

Then in the afternoon, I took Hank to a birthday party in a park in the old town part of Norcross. Living in a homogeneous suburb as we do, I forgot that within easy distance are these places that are still like small-town Georgia. Like with a real little downtown clustered around the rail depot, red brick main street, and beautiful old houses. You just don't see that in the Atlanta burbs. It was refreshing. I definitely want to go back, even though it was twelve miles from my house. It was a great playground too.

Hank had a great time. But he always has a great time. There was some kind of dancing game, which was awesome, and a piñata (awesomer), and a cake that looked like a boombox. The speakers were waffles. The knobs were oreos. We all admired it.

Those Boden shorts are on their third year.

Then we came home, Hank falling asleep on the way. When he does that, I just roll down all the windows in the car and leave him in the garage.

The weather could not have been more gorgeous all day. Just perfect.

Then in the early evening, Matt and I played tennis with the Hamiltons while Laura rode herd on the kids at the playground. They beat us terribly, but when we swapped wives (swingers' tennis!), it was much more competitive. Then we had pizza at our house and talked about the game biz. Then I gave Kelly one of my Tropicana roses in a Red Stripe beer bottle, which makes an excellent bud vase. Then they left, Matt went downstairs to work, and I came in to write to you.

My Tropicana roses are bananas. I don't know what's gotten into that bush. It is just busting out and making all the rest of creation look bad.

Now you are up to speed. Yes, I know you didn't want to know any of this on a Saturday night, but I am serious about this blogging every day thing! Super serious!

Love to you.
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