So what happened was, the wireless card in my five-year-old MacBook up and died. I brought it to the Apple Store, and the earnest Genius behind the counter consoled me, as if he was a vet, me bringing an old dog in for an routine ailment. Cure it? Sure, we can buy the old boy a few more months, but Death claims us all in the end. Men, dogs, laptops - we are all waiting in line to join the bleedin' Choir Insivible.
Of course this coincided with being nominated for the Babble Greatest Dad Bloggers In Human History thing. Longtime reader Cheryl had some nice things to say, and although such lists are disturbing and suspicious, like the McRib for the blogging set - we don't understand how they are made, we really don't WANT to know what goes into them, and yet when they emerge we devour them voraciously - it was nice to be nominated. If you like, you can check it out here: http://www.babble.com/dad/fatherhood/top-50-dad-blogs-nominate-a-dad/index.aspx - as of 12:09 PST I was in first place, whatever that means.
So what's the connection? The nexus of the Apple Store, The Mortal Coil, America's Best-Loved Not-A-Hipster-Parent Site, and this moment? It should be obvious: I'm typing this on my iPad. My daughter is slurping down a bowl of tomato bisque. The iPad only allows TypePad to do HTML posts. I don't know HTML. I'd try to look up enough code to let me at least give you, Dear Reader, something pretty to look at, some hyperlinks to click. But there's tomato bisque to be monitored, and with a three-year-old manning the spoon, there's the potential for a major spill event. Thus from chaos a dadblog entry is born.
Sound carries through the big house; he heard my muttered string of profanities from downstairs. Open office window, open back door. I'm usually smarter than that.
"What's the matter, Dad?"
Where to start? The computer, like that red wheelbarrow upon which so much depends, was on the fritz, not picking up the Internet signal (see: red wheelbarrow). There were posts that needed to be written. My latest contact gig ended with no notice. There were checks that had not yet arrived. There were bills that were overdue. October was drawing to a close, the holidays and the end of another year and the rest of my goddamn life were rolling in like a black tsunami.
I looked at him for a second. That was all it took, all it usually ever takes.
"Nothing's wrong. Go grab your rugby ball. We'll play catch."