Things have not been going exactly as I’d planned. Well, that, and I am apparently only capable of moving at the speed of chilled molasses. I’m sure that everyone has enjoyed a little break from me and my incessant ramblings, but it’s time to try to get back to normal, so that is what I am going to do. And in case you were wondering, yes, I will have bonus columns in the Quarterly Edition to make up for this time that I have taken off, and no, I’ll not be posting them on the blog. Think of them as an e-book exclusive. And before you start complaining, yeah, a writer’s got to try and make a living.
So, what have I been doing for all this time? Mainly just stressing about bills and my lack of return phone calls from the business to which I have submitted my resume. Oh, and sneaking peaks at the little bundle of cuteness that is my newborn granddaughter as she’s being snuggled by my wife. I do not feel badly that I have not been asked to hold her. She is still significantly smaller than David when he was born, and anyone that small makes me just the slightest bit nervous. But she is cuter now. Her face has lost that initial scrunched up reddish pucker which makes all freshly born infants appear to be old men, and now she carries a look of wonder and frustration throughout her waking day.
And the crying… I had almost entirely forgotten about just how much crying newborns do. It’s like having a completely useless alarm clock for things you don’t need to remember. At least I can just roll over and go back to sleep without feeling guilty. And I don’t have to worry about changing newborn diapers, which, as I recall from my days with David, were an adventure in horrors I was ill-prepared to face. And, to be honest, I’m terrified of changing a little girl’s diaper. With boys, everything is fairly straightforward and easy to clean, and any direction will do, whereas with girls there is a procedure to follow, and it’s especially important not to get it wrong. That’s too much pressure for me to deal with when facing down a wailing, squirming infant. I’m glad that I’m not her dad, but I have a feeling that I will enjoy being her grandfather. If she’s anything like her brother, she’ll have me wrapped around her little finger in no time.
And what of David, in all of this? I think that he is handling this new baby ordeal better than the first time that he became an uncle. He’s learned to steer clear of his sister, and try to remain as quiet as an eight-year-old is able. But deep down, he is as enamored of her as the rest of us. Sometimes I forget just how full of love children are, when they aren’t wrapped up in their assholery. Sure, David can be bossy and manipulative, and have no idea about boundaries and abstract concepts such as personal space, but he is also compassionate, and loving, and has the makings of being a truly awesome uncle. When they are all a little older, the three of them, Minkey, Cream Soda, and Jenni, will be a force for mischief that will hardly be able to be contained. I don’t expect them to stay out of trouble, but I feel comfortable in the thought that they will probably manage to stay safe. Well, as safe as teenagers can stay.

Now it’s just a matter of getting from this moment to those. I could use a miracle right now, if I believed in them. I know it’s just a matter of finding the right avenue (not a euphemism! Wait. Maybe a euphemism?), finding the lock which my spirit can open. I know that there is something which I am meant to be doing, and a time in which I must do it, but I hate not knowing the next step. And before you all nod your heads and mutter that you knew that I had lost it, remember this: I moved to California without a plan, just something I did on a whim (I used to be more fun back then). I got a job at Fuddruckers, and wondered what was going to happen. I wound up meeting, and nearly marrying, La Diabla, and then the whole thing fell apart around me. I wondered about my decision to move to a different state, and how I would extricate myself from the mess I’d gotten myself into.
But after a few months, and almost complete financial ruin, I landed another job, one which would not have been available to me any earlier than I got it. I was hired to be a replacement for someone who wanted to leave, and would otherwise have been overlooked. They weren’t looking for management, they said in the interview. If I hadn’t gotten that job, I wouldn’t have met my wife. My son wouldn’t have been born. I don’t know what would have happened, but I can imagine that it probably wouldn’t have been pleasant.
Now, let’s skip ahead to when I left that job, a few years later. The ownership had changed, and my ethics demanded that I get out. I thought that the new owner was just an aberration, but it turns out that he has been more of the norm among restaurant owners. I spent a lot of time, when I’d resigned, bonding with my child. And when it came time to look for work, I couldn’t get anything. Now I had a family, and I was out of options. Fed helped me out with a chunk of a loan (which he later forgave), and we managed to hang on until I began working at Blondie’s Pizza.
That job started horribly. The manager was a complete ass, and despite the owner’s assurances that I would work full time, he scheduled me a couple of days a week. Were it not for the tips, I don’t know that I would have made it at all. I was trying to figure out what had led me to this place. I hadn’t met anyone I felt I needed to have met, and I was barely making ends meet. And then I was transferred to San Francisco, and became friends with my new boss. That boss had been renting out a room to a tall guy with glasses and large hair. Around the time I met Nerdenn Events, I also met my daughter.
And so it wound up that Blondie’s introduced me to my son-in-law. Were it not for that job, I wouldn’t have either of my grandchildren.
So now I am wondering who it is that I have left to meet, and when it is that I will meet them. Whoever it is, and wherever it may be, I just hope that it is soon, because I’m running out of options.