Melissa is back in Minneapolis for graduation parties involving her siblings. Lucky girl. Kris graduated from big-time MCAD design school, Matt graduated from a fuzz program (po-lice) and little Ange wrapped up her illustrious career at Windom High School. Congrats to all of them, and best wishes from here on out. Ma/Pa Okins have done wonderful jobs with their children. I’m glad to be running with one of them.

I envy that she’s back in Minneapolis digging the place. I still miss it. I hope she gets her fill of it.

Get back Melissa, I miss you. I still don’t like yer cats, so don’t get yer hopes up. Funny how you miss someone that you can’t wait to spend time away from! Our little break was a good thing. Space is good. We have rough bouts of “cabin fever” from time to time and we barely survive them unscathed. Get home, let’s hang out.

I spent my weekend working on CINCO projects, ho-hum. Lots of projects, lots of levels. Lots of mouseclicks. At least I got paid, so the bank account is stocked and ready to be whittled down to a shameful amount.

Talked to Dad today and he put a smile on my face. My parents always do. He brought back memories, ugly ones at that, involving heating the household with wood. My winter duty was to “bring in the wood” from under tarps outside in the snow. Dad stocked the side of the house in the fall, insuring an ample supply of logs for the cold Michigan winter months. I’d get home from school, unload the books and then trudge back out to bring in enough wood to get us through for a couple days. One load after another, cold, dirty and clunky, trying to efficiently make a beeline through the house, without spilling shit all over the place. Oh yeah, I put up a fight. I always put it off to the last possible moment. Much like mowing the lawn. Every load came with multiple objections and gripes. I hated that shit.

And all it takes is for Dad to remind me of those swindling afternoons where he’d break every child labor law in the book. He’d pass the wood in through a window. I’d stack load after load, and bitch about the whole fiasco. It was dirty and cold, and afterward I’d be the schmuck who’d have to clean up the window area. Ice, wood chips, bark, bugs…. you name it. I think the transaction came around every week or so. I remember assuming his role when he was down in Detroit. I’d pass wood in to Mom and she would stack, and of course, I’d be outside bitching about the whole process.

I miss that old sonofabitch, and oddly enough those days and all that fuckin’ wood. We had a good life in Central Lake. It was hard and ugly and mean, but I loved it nevertheless.

Goodnight from Portland where I’m proud to say that Graphic Design is the deal that pays my bills.