Losing It and Them.

What cripples me. My girls…ready to go off on their own. The middle holding the youngest still; but she’s okay. The oldest a half a step ahead of the rest, leading the way. None of them looking back.

I realized I was wearing my 12 year old's jeans this morning. (Thanks to the makers of Lycra, no doubt. Bless you!). The message was bittersweet. Wow...I'm wearing the size jeans I wore when I was 'a kid' and can still pull it off. But, holy shit, nothing worse than checking out an attractively built woman from behind only to have the bejesus scared out of you when she turns her head and you find out she's OLD. Have I become that scary woman waiting in line at the convenience store?

It's not supposed to be the man in the fine silk, checkered tie with the law degree hanging on his office wall. This man is supposed to be safe and kind and loving and successful and family driven. The man who could say and do such horrible things isn't supposed to wear a suit and tie.

He isn't supposed to wear a goddamned tie.

Encompassed seemed a classier, less used word, but surrounded best described the oppositional push that truly exists.

I seek the inane (or insane) as my buoy. So shall they sometimes guide (sidetrack?) my prose, thus explained first and foremost.

So, let's begin, shall we, and join the ranks of how many millions of others whose words hit the page and go unread and unappreciated.

What's one more blog?