Got to get me in the mood this morning. The mood for what I don’t know. The mood to complain? The mood to whine? The mood to document? Why am I wearing a wool hat on a day where the temperatures are going to soar to the high eighties and low nineties? Why am I wearing red wool socks and listening to the likes of Suzanne Vega? So many questions. I want to piss off a little about politics this past week but know that every battle has winners and losers and there is no need to offend those of you who thought Hillary to tbe the better of the two candidates. She was certainly the whiter of the two and she had more white supporters. Just ask her. She’ll tell you. I guess we now know that the glass ceiling for women is lower than it is for blacks. Who-da thunk? I, for one, will tape and probably listen to her concession speech today. It’s the one she should have given the night Obama went over the top in the oh-so-important delegate count last tuesday night. She and her gang of thugs have finally run out of metrics to devise and now there is only one metric left that counts for anything. That is to say, the number of minutes it takes her to give the speech. Here’s my advise for those of you looking for anything definitive. Look and listen for something resembling wiggle room. You’ll know it when you hear it. If you listen closely enough, you may even hear the lingering falsetto of the proverbial fat lady singing.

There are moments in your life when you come to the realization that your children are human with frailities of their own. You like to think that when you first see these frailities manifested in your child’s behaviour that they will come and go like every other transitory thing in childhood. Then you come to realize, slowly at first, that the things they don’t and can’t let go of come to dictate their view of the world for better or worse. It has them turning left when they should be turning right; looking up when they should be looking down; swinging hard at a ball while up at bat when they should have laid out down a bunt; and drinking soda when the better choice would have been to drink water. So, I was not surprised to hear Evan say yesterday that he would be terrified if he had to go through a bar mitzvah like his good friend whose bar mitzvah he plans to attend today. The very thought of being the center of attention with all the people and all the fanfare is apparently more than Evan would care to comtemplate. Funny thing is, I think I’ve known this all along about Evan but have not really recognized it until he put it into his own words. It’s the kind of thing that they carry around in their heads but rarely on their sleeves. It all makes sense now. These demons are not to be taken lightly. I guess that is where we as parents come in. Stand behind me my dear child and behold while I show you how to slay the dragons. In one fell swoop..... I wish it were that easy.