Daughter’s new job involves telling me, when I melt down, that moving was not a horrible, awful mistake, and that we will change and grow and become new and better people. My job is to drag her outside and play. Our jobs collided, or exploded, or reached critical mass, or something. Saturday in the park is waaaaay different, now.

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And a new theme.

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Up.

Things are better now. I found the can opener, and (obviously) the card reader so I can upload pictures. Stuff is stuck in the dirt. I’m still looking for a good laundromat, but that will happen.

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