Life Goes On...Merrily, Merrily, Merrily, Merrily....

Well, well, well. I write a stinking blog about the world condition and everybody freezes like deer in the halogens, eh? C'mon, people. We all need a dose of reality away from Gorman's insane family now and then, don't we? I know I do. If it was up to my family we'd be sitting here shooting the spit about 24-hours-a-day and dad would be doing all the work with a wonderful smile on his face. But as an intense, insane, joyful and rowdy dad, that ain't happening around here, hear?
Pause for a second while I stir the franks and beans we're having for dinner, and NO, they're not just canned beans. There are those, of course, three types, but I started with bacon, diced, just to poison the family. To that I added a whole head of garlic, an onion, a sweet red pepper, 5 scallions, five smallish organic tomatoes and then the chicken franks, cut in 1/2 inch slices. Would have been bigger but I only had 13 franks and Sarah brought a friend over, as did Italo, so I've got to stretch the meat part.
And of course I'll be adding a nice touch of mustard, a bit of fresh jalepeno and a three-finger pinch of minced fresh cilantro. And some good Sam Adams Beer for liquid.
Okay, pause over. Family been busy. Chepa's still in Indiana with her beau and babies and now that she's there she's calling two, three times daily to check up on us. And putting Sierra on which I freaking adore. I know she's not really mine, but until her dad, the beau, steps forward to raise her, I'm the fellow in her life and she thinks she's mine.
And Madeleina continues to amaze. The other day, afraid to get on the skateboard which she just started riding without gear, she fashioned elbow and knee pads out of clothes wrapped in duct tape. Fantastic. Fell like a true pro half-a-dozen times without crying a bit.
Then this afternoon, while we were in Walmart picking up dog food and asparagus, which don't really go with franks and beans but will on my plate, there was this very pretty woman at the door. As we passed I said, loud enough for the woman to hear, "Wow, that's a pretty woman," and Madeleina hit me. But we saw the same woman on the way out and I saw she wore no wedding ring or engagement ring--she was probably 40 or 45, a woman, not a kid--and Madeleina saw her look at me several times. She was in a different line, however, and while I smiled, I couldn't think of anything to say cross-aisle, and so didn't. And so missed my chance.
And outside, Madeleina said: Hey dad, I thought you were great with women. Operative word 'were'.
Too smart for her own good, eh? She won't be 11 till next week.
I told her I was good with women, and everyone, when I started, but not good at getting started, particularly with pretty women I am fantasizing about.
"Why not?" she asked. "Do you think she wanted you to say something or do you think she was hoping you wouldn't?"
\ Floored me. I'd never thought of it that way and when I answered I said: "I guess I think she's thinking that if this creep says anything to me I'm calling the cops."
"Well, if that's what you think she's thinking, no wonder you can't think of anything to say. I wouldn't be able to talk then either. Why not start imagining that they're hoping you'll say something, even if it's lame? Just because they think you're handsome and nobody who was handsome said anything to them in a few weeks or so?"
I didn't have a rejoinder.
"Dad, I like it when you come to me with your problems, you know? But if I'm going to be like your psychiatrist, and I'm only a kid, then I'm going to have to start charging you. Is that okay?"
God I love my family. Thank you heavens, white light, angels. You've given me the best.