Friday, January 06, 2006

Okay, just so you can see the week hasn't been pure anguish...

We've had time on the court.
Max likes hitting the ball.

Alex is close to breaking his
best record.

William comes out reluctantly, but
I think he secretly loves it and wishes
we would force him to join us on
frequent public excursions.

And of course everyone has a
good time if there is someting
for everyone to enjoy.

Speaking of enjoyment...
Frozen yogurt. Remember when
frozen yogurt shops were even
more prevalent than Starbucks?

Yea, yea, it's not health food, but
one small yogurt split between 4
people seems like a fair compromise.

Share? Believe it or not she did share.
Nothing can test your convictions like money. Money and security. Money, security, health insurance and plans. A few years ago I felt certain enough about my disdain for violent video games to walk away from a house and chickens, a view of the sun rising over the foothills. I imagined we could forego immediate luxuries in the hope of rebuilding everything in a tropical corner, all through the honorable work of writing non-violent games. It ain't so. Apparently I have been way too naive. Society, it seems, has an insatiable appetite for blood, crossbows, and automatic rifles and most game companies are more than happy to feed the demand.

So. Now what. I am grappling with the sick feeling I get thinking of vampire pimps selling poisonous apples to zombie whores while pillaging the villages of hapless drug enforcement officers... What's the cliche? "If you can't beat them, join them?" Yikes. Someone has got to put food on the table, and we haven't seen my resume on anyone's desk in the last 15 years, so why do I recoil at the idea of sending my partner off to the office to write first person shooter games?

I thought I could sit quietly by and just go with the flow, but I sort of got uppity with Geoff about not wanting him to go to work for the Shooting Flesh-Demons companies. I was frustrated and deeply appalled by the midnight sound of whistling munitions coming from downstairs, where he was doing his research. He tried to help me understand that my standards would leave few options for finding a job, and I tried to help him understand that... that I am naive, and want the world to be merry and bright... no*... that I don't care if we are poor and never have our own home... definitely not... so what is my point? My point lies somewhere between job security and not feeding the zombies. I don't know whether it's possible to hold off much longer, but I hope to keep the dark forces at bay.

*Yes. Yes, I do want the world to be merry and bright, but I suppose I am losing the naive part, that is if 'naive' means my choices make a difference in the world.

Tuesday, January 03, 2006

Bad cabbage. I am not going to read too much in to this, but I had planned to make a salad this morning. I prepared most of the ingredients, and I was feeling good about my healthy choices, then I realized that the cabbage had gone bad. When cabbage *goes* bad it never returns.

Our other option is oatmeal. Maria will eat oatmeal. Max will eat oatmeal if I make it with raisins, but then pull the raisins out. If you are thinking "That's crazy," you're right, and you probably have very little idea about living with Asperger's. Sometimes things work out. Maria loves extra raisins.

Bob, the landlord, came by on Sunday. He came with his wife and two kids. They wanted to scope out the yard, so they can begin to make their plans. They want to build an addition and call this place home... it served as a friendly reminder that time is running out and we need to be moving along.