Just Loving My Kids

So I got home yesterday and am still wondering if I have a job at the paper I work with. I blew a rewrite in Peru--my plane was delayed in Miami and there is no computer availability there for rent, got to Lima very very late, to tired to work; got to Iquitos next day and discovered there was a nationwide strike called for the following day which meant I had one day to outfit for nearly 10 days all the goods, dry goods and fresh vegetables needed for 23 people plus a party for 60, so stalled the rewrite thinking I could do it after I finished provisioning, but then time went by and by the time I got to the computer, about six PM, with the story going to press at 8 PM, I fell asleep at the computer until 10, when the computer place closed down. So I never did the final rewrite, leaving my boss in a horrible bind. I knew the story was good, no real holes to fill, no errors, but still, when I was the boss, that was the sort of mistake I fired people for. So I'm getting home not knowing if I have a job or not and understanding both ways: one error every five years, let him off the hook. Or: One error every five years, maybe that's the start of a trend. Fire him. So I still don't know.
What a preamble, eh?
And when I got home yesterday, two days late, my Madeleina wasn't here. She's still with my ex out at the new boyfriend's place in Iowa. Been there for weeks and won't be home for another few days. So to say I came home feeling weak and then got weaker without a hug from my daughter, due here three days ago, is an understatement.
Ah, but then there was Boots, the wonderdog, the blind watchdog who played with me for an hour. And then Marco came home from work and he, at 19, if you can believe it, came in and hugged me and then simply sat in my lap like a kid and had me hold him for 15-20 minutes. And right now Italo, my oldest at 22, came in an hour ago from working on his car at Chepa's house, all hot and sweaty and angry from working on hard steel on a 105 degree day out in the sun and he asked me questions about all sorts of things, then asked if he could take a nap on the couch behind this computer, which is where I sleep. Or try to, at night. And now he's sleeping behind me and I feel like a crazy and wonderful dad. And Madeleina called me today and said she had the best time going on her first jet-ski and I'm proud of her. She'll be home soon. But the boys, the boys who are really men, they surprised me with their overt affection. And Marco, right now, Marco who has only been working for six months but who had just won Stock Person of the Year for the Brookshire's store he works for, is out at the Texas Motor Speedway getting his award and later tonight he'll find out if he was voted Stock Person of the Year for all of Texas. Either way he's a winner. And Italo starts his college scholarship in two weeks.
And in the oven there's a chicken cooking Peruvian style, to be served with good garlic rice, red beans and bacon, broccoli and a jungle guacamole. That's my recipe, with two 2 lb avacados (smuggled in from Peru, but in very plain sight of Customs, who let them fly) mashed to pulp, mixed with diced sweet red onion, garlic and tomatoes that are all cooked in olive oil with a couple of lemons, then a bit of salt and pepper. It makes for a good guacamole in the woods.
So here I am with one kid affectionate enough to sit in my lap like he was four-years-old, and another sleeping on my couch/bed behind me.
That is something I am in wonderment about.
These have been a series of very intimate entries. I will get back to humor and stories soon, but right now I'm full of medicine from the jungle that's making me very vulnerable to my emotions. I hope you all don't mind.