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Friday, Mar. 31, 2006
I was all set to continue my mild little tale of life, if life can be defined as installing heavy plywood cubes onto a wall at an Army base. But life isnít all about that, and we know this to be fact.

Fact is, for all our genuflecting over them and fretting and pondering the essence of a shitty diaper at 3 in the morning, kids can be real assholes at times. For those of you without a child, and wanting one, my sincerest apologies.

Know ye something: Every time you think your kid canít surprise/shock/amaze/dumbfound you anymore than he already has God hands you a star. When youíve got enough collected to make up a small nighttime canopy over your head, take a beer and go sit on your patio. Hold your beer in one hand and bury your face in the other and say, ďWhy the hell do they keep doing this stupid shit? Why?Ē

I donít know that Iíll ever get a straight answer to that.

And this rental house doesnít even have a patio. But it does have a nighttime sky and a slew of stars, and God and I sat and had a long chat a couple of nights ago. I admired his stars.

But sometimes I wish he hadnít been quite so generous in handing them out.

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