Another day done. My extra-large size sofa is full to the overflow of men/boys. The Steelers are playing Philadelphia in the City of Brotherly Love. Drew is streached out in his corner. Son #4 and two of his pals are huddled abound a bowl of homemade salsa. Occassional cheering or jeering interrupts the munching and the murmuring over whose turn it is to hold the bowl. This is a good thing

If I choose to look back on today, its happenings, and heartaches, which I think I will not, not look back on, that is; but if i chose to do that, I think might be saddened by the sublime and not so sublime jabs that were tossed about. Words that cannot be sucked back into the vocal cords, words that once spoken aloud take on a life and subjective truth all thier own, distinct in their interpretive meaning to the speaker, the spoken to, and the just happend to hear about. A day with no words, just silent wordless interaction; a day like that could turn out to be a sober relief to the illict and careless dagger-like utterings that slice and dice without reserve. Phrases and paragraphs slink about as jungle gorilla fighters. Fighters pose as innocent allies, yet their ammo when relased never misses its vulnerable mark.

Good thing I do not choose to look back on today. I might be saddened.