This is killing me.

Why can't Kerry say this:

"Yes, I voted for the authority to go to war. It's like this: All because I support the right to bear arms, that doesn't mean people should go shoot people. We authorized the president to go to war, and he dropped everything and invaded."

Why can't Kerry say this: "Our President has three major character defects: Cheney, Rumsfeld, and Ashcroft."

Why can't Kerry say this: "Look, Bush is the kind of guy you'd want to have a beer with, but he's certainly not the brightest bulb in the lighting store."

This is killing me to watch.

Cascading sickness.

Like offset-but-interconnected sine waves, my family is passing various bacterial and viral ailments in a pattern of timing that is make all of us sick and irritable.

That is all.

20.15

Well, I just ran a 20.15 mile training run. It's the farthest I've ever run. I can say without any reservation that I ran through the worst knee pain I've ever experienced. Yowch.

The next three weeks are windwown weeks, so I don't have to run this distance until Chicago. Phew!

A 175 pound gorrilla.

I think I'm going to buy a full-on gorilla suit for a halloween costume, and use it for the rest of my life. I can be a different kind of gorilla every year.

The American Dream is right here.

I mean it. It's right here. In my yard.

The last two hours: two 11 year olds come over to skateboard at our house... they join my 8-year-old, who is quite good for his age, probably due to living in close proximity to the older boys. My kindergarterner-daughter, fresh off her first week of school, is visited by a neighbor. They take turns pushing my youngest boy around the driveway in a red, plastic car.

I try and skate, too. I'm not very good, but it beats sitting there and supervising. Thank God for pads.

Earlier in the day, I coached my first soccer game. I ran a team of 5 year olds around for an hour. It was completely hilarious. My older son's soccer practice (at which I assisted) was a little more serious... but still quite fun.

This is the American Dream. MY American Dream. Being of a state of mind and physical condition to actively participate in my childrens' lives in a way that, usually, brings them joy and security.

We're so fortunate.

So.

I should be in bed. Sleeping. I have to get up at 5:15am, as usual... and I've done my run for the night. I'm starting to worry that my knees are going to give out before I actually make it to Chicago.

I'm having these brief flashes of: Why the hell weren't you this healthy when you were 24? The answer, I guess, is because I didn't have to be. Playing rock and roll, smoking too many cigarettes, maintaining a diet of exlusively Doritos and Coke... this was totally doable, back then.

Nowadays, I have to eat right just to keep up with the nuances of my oldest son's conversations.

Love you all. 'Night.

Disney and iChat have nothing for me.

After 10 minutes of holding on the phone for Disney Reservations attempting to correct a accidental overpurchase by my beloved, I decided to pop in iChat to see who was around.

Nobody.

For the first time ever, my buddy list is completely and totally greyed out.

My God. My God.

Happily irritated.

Ah, life. You fickle bastard.

Being home alone was making me crazy. Now that I've joined up with my family in the Hamptons, all is well. I've been properly and pleasantly irritated by the total madness which is Parenting Three Children. I'm exhausted at 7:14, pm. That's good, though: tomorrow is a 20 mile run. Yaaaa!

Love you all.

Solo is so strange.

I hate when the house is empty. I hate it.

Ugh.