Best debate of the bunch

Engaging questions, mostly well-rendered responses. McCain, as feisty as one who can’t fully lift their arms can be. Obama, thoughtful and willing not to repudiate repugnant Republican rally racists.
All made the more palatable by a tall glass of Long, Strange Tripel and some cookies. Yep…beer, cookies, and politics. I think the debates would probably be better if the candidates themselves shared beer and cookies.

Best debate of the bunch

2nd Presidential Debates

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the most interesting discussion of the night was between roman and i.

me: “roman, whom do you want to be president?”
ro (holding up 3 fingers): “3 presidents.”
me: “why 3 presidents?”
ro: “my want grapes, daddy.”

then, once the initial supply of grapes ran out…

ro: “my want more grapes, mommy.”
ro (pointing to me and saying in his worst tone of pure punishment): “no, daddy, back” (pointing sharply to the t.v.) “you watch mccain.”

2nd Presidential Debates

The room is dark

save for a green glow in the corner indicating the baby monitor is on and doing its job.
A box fan near our feet hums on low-speed, blowing air at a wall, away from the baby crib. She likes the sound but we should probably start to ween her from it.
3:30 in the AM. She’s been waking this early for a couple weeks now, wanting to be feed. She fusses for about 1/2 prior then really comes alive to let you know it’s time to eat.
But she’s calmed easily enough with a warm, full bottle. She likes to hold it herself now…big girl.
So she’s not crying. She’s just kind of grunting (like she does) and twirling the bottle around. She’s not fussing and we’re both drifting in and out, rocking in our chair.
Though she’s not crying, this song still pops into my head:


and I lullabize it for her. And it’s a surprisingly solid lullabization. Were I a capable musician I would put some of these to tape, especially the ones that work better than expected. I’m shocked I recall the lyrics as well as I do, and it’s a good and creepy tune – the way good lullabies (and children’s stories) should be (see Rock-A-Bye, Baby).
Soon she falls asleep, not likely due to The Lullaby of Oz, but asleep nonetheless. I place her back in her crib and pat her bottom for a couple of seconds to smooth over the transition. I turn to leave, jumping over the middle part of the room to avoid creaking floorboards, and tip-toe out the door and back to bed, that deep, dark, bass line underscoring the short trip.

The room is dark