Saloon Solid(ARI)ty...

A few nights ago, during dinner, a scarf-less Daniela and I were planning for the next day. So, I offered to take the kids somewhere Saturday morning and give Daniela some free time. "You can get some work done, and we will all stay out of your hair," I tendered. My offering, framed by an involuntary metaphor reflex, caught Ari's attention. "But Mama doesn't have any hair," he deconstructed with a sheepish frown. We all laughed, and Ari relaxed. Presumably, Daniela's crew cut coiffure has made a deep impression. Ari's comment, an unexpected reification of the literal, gave me pause. I was curious, and wondered if his comment was just a fraction of more formidable fears.

Yesterday afternoon, we both purchased the finest blue bubble gum cigars we could find. In the evening, we pocketed our bubble gum cigars and headed for the local pub, The Lost Dog Cafe. We sat at the bar. Ari ordered a tall pint of Root Beer Soda, on tap of course. I ordered a pint of pale ale. We trafficked in tall tales, and delved into the drama of his seven-year-old world. During our talk, he mentioned that Daniela looks "pretty good" without her hair. We toasted to the day when it grows back. Cheers!