contemplative

My wife's busy tonight, so I'm sort of on my own. We bought my kid some painting canvases, and he's up in his room, slinging paint and grunting like a caveman if we disturb his wa.

      So I'm on the patio, and enjoying the night. It's a cool south Florida night- breezy, maybe 68-70. First night of the year where folks can get away with long sleeves. I'm on the Caribbean  diet tonight. Rum and a cigar.

 My house has double sliding glass doors that face my pond, which I share with my neighbors. It's about 15-20 acres, and I can see 4 houses across the way. The houses with families have kids coming and going past the windows. It being after 9pm, the rest are dark, as the elderly sleep.

 It's peaceful as hell, is what I'm saying. Seeing the colors of the neighbors' lights reflect off my pond provides some background color for me. My windchimes are just barely making themselves known. It's one of those moments that I ache for, when I'm at work. Later, Inappropriately Hot Foreign Wife will come out with an ice bucket and a bottle of champagne. I've already got the glasses on the table. Should be a nice cap to a busy day. Plus, I went to the dentist today, and I need a fucking root canal, same week I shelled out to have my mother in law fly up from Brazil for the holiday season. Daddy's gonna be drinking the cheap shit after this week. 


He rose at dawn and, fired with hope,
    Shot o’er the seething harbour-bar,
And reach’d the ship and caught the rope,
    And whistled to the morning star.

And while he whistled long and loud
    He heard a fierce mermaiden cry,
“O boy, tho' thou are young and proud,
    I see the place where thou wilt lie.

“The sands and yeasty surges mix
    In caves about the dreary bay,
And on thy ribs the limpet sticks,
    And in thy heart the scrawl shall play.”

“Fool,” he answer’d , “death is sure
    To those that stay and those that roam,
But I will nevermore endure
    To sit with empty hands at home.

“My mother clings about my neck,
    My sisters crying, ‘Stay for shame;’
My father raves of death and wreck,-
    They are all to blame, they are all to blame.

“God help me! save I take my part
    Of danger on the roaring sea,
A devil rises in my heart,
    Far worse than any death to me.”

      -Robert Louis Stevenson