Fatherhood

What reason can be given for ordering a large pizza, garlic bread sticks, and two sodas at eleven o'clock at night and after handing the pizza boy a twenty dollar bill, devouring the whole lot in less than three minutes?

I have a son. Have I mentioned that before? His name is Frodo and he is about a month old. He is a cat. How envious I am of his body. You can bend his spine like an acordian then launch him across the room. He'll spring up, prancing back for more.

I went and got a hair cut a few days ago at a beauty salon. A young woman cut my hair. She was very stylish. She asked me what I did. I said that I was on the greens crew at the golf club. For the last five years I have answered that question like this: I am a student. Most people find that interesting. I would see this look come over them as they imagined their life as a student--wondering how their lives would have turned out if they had gone to college. Instead of working ten hours a day at the salon maybe they would have been a lawyer, like Ally McBeal. Day dreams about wearing power mini-skirts to court and having sex with boy toys. That look always made me a little bit sad.

I'm sick of people asking what other people do.

And what do you do?

I sit in my kitchen and whistle the entire Braveheart sound track. I pretend that the trees at the golf course are Ents. I shake my foot at a wicked pace when my legs are crossed. I am a creature of routine. I wish I had more faith.

My parent's grandson is sleeping on my shoulders and my stomach is kneading seven pieces of pizza in acidic juices.