So… 100-150 special guests will be coming to tour our new digs tomorrow.
The exhibit hall is almost ready.
There’s a dugout boat, really just a tree trunk hollowed out like a bread bowl.
A 12,13 foot dory model of the type that was once used for whaling; talk about having balls the size of Cleveland; think Moby Dick and imagine yourself in a 12,13 foot dory trying to harpoon that big white fuck.
I just told Jay that Pam’s in the gym. But it’s not a gym. It’s an exercise room. You know, tread mills, bikes and such; we have showers and locker rooms here, too. 4 floors , many offices encased in glass that’s frosted to halfway. Still working on making the heating even though….

Oil change after work. I’m heading north again after work tomorrow to be with my baby. And to shop for the girls and the boy.

This is going to be a special holiday season for me. I’m actually looking forward to it. I’m in love, and Christmas is for kids and I will see the joy on their faces and my heart will fill with happiness and love.

Somehow, my dad won a stuffed santa from a bank one year. I loved that fat red fucker. From his toes to the ball on his cap he was about 4 feet high. I hugged that santa a lot and danced with him, and some years later, treated him as a wrestling dummy. I mean a WWF wrestling dummy… so much so that I ended up knocking the stuffing out of him—literally. Santa was full of those Styrofoam peas…

I knew that there was no such person as Santa the year I asked my dad for the Game Pivot Pool. Because everyone knows that kids can’t sleep on Christmas Eve. So the year I asked dad for pivot pool, I fuckin wired up even more than normal on egg nog and sugar cookies…so I wasn’t asleep and I heard footsteps on stairs … thunk thunk thunk….then I heard—BAM!—and the sound of things—balls—rolling around in a box, and my dad saying “SHIT!” and “Way to go.”

No more Santa. I didn’t let on though. Then after awhile, it was just a mutually understood silent understanding that my parents knew that I knew that there is no Santa.

However, I still get a present from Santa every year.

But this year, with the help of Janet and the little people, I get to believe in him again….