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1 comment
Destiny took her first day of the 2nd Grade in perfect stride. Back-to-school night was last Wednesday, so she knew where her locker was, who her teacher is, and how to find her classroom. We reviewed her lunch account number, we went over how to find the daycare van after school, and we talked about how to use the time between when I drop her off and the start of school.

And, then I fit the 'big uncool dad' role by going over everything again, as Des tried to inch her way towards the school.

She played on the playground before school, until the approaching lightning spooked her into dashing to the school. Classwork went as expected, and she found the daycare van without having to ask for help from anyone. She got her lunch paid for, and she even knocked a baby tooth loose on the edge of her desk.

Life picked up speed for Destiny, and she's completely unfazed. This morning, Des' first words to me were: "It's the second day of school!"

I sat quietly in my car, at the bottom of the 25th street underpass at Main Avenue.

From the opposite end of the underpass, a beachball rolled down the street. It was about 2 feet in diameter, alternating blue and white panels.

It slowly coasted down the incline until coming to a rest at the bottom, just to my left, nestled against the curb on top of the stormdrain grate. Traffic was on Main Avenue, so the lanes were empty on the northbound side of the 25th street.

A little breeze came up, stirring the beachball from it's place. Slowly, the ball worked it's way back up the ramp, pressed onward by the wind. The breeze slowly pushed the ball into the nearer of the two lanes.

A car turned right and adjusted it's path to avoid the beachball. The air movement of the car pushed the ball back towards the curb.

Another car passed, but the drag behind it sucked the beachball back into the traffic lanes.

The light at the top of the underpass turned green, and both lanes filled with cars.

The first vehicle in the innermost lane was a 1/2-ton blue pickup truck pulling a trailer.

The beachball went under the truck's passenger-side tire. The POP resounded, echoing harshly against the cement underpass walls. Even though I saw it happen, the retort of beachball death still startled me.

Daily Condition:

in cd player: Best of Devo

my condition: impressed that 11111001111 is #2 and #3 in AOL searches for pictures groin kicks. Hooray!

Daily Condition:

in cd player: Best of Devo

my condition: impressed that 11111001111 is #2 and #3 in AOL searches for pictures groin kicks. Hooray!

Destiny and I visited my parents last night for dinner, roasted marshmallows, and miscellaneous fun.

As we left, my mom pointed out her new acquisition next to the front door.

She had bought one of those fancy birdhouses that were never intended for birduse. These houses are rediculously ornate, designed as a replica first - avian home secondary. Birds could care less if the waterwheel actually turns or not.

I look at the little birdhouse, and nod my approval.

"You better put a mothball in there," I say.

"You don't want Hobbits moving in."

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