dear blog, its been a fun coupla years, but you are cramping my style. kisses, Alana.

My posting frequency has dropped in inverse proportion to Alana’s development. I am too busy, and if not too busy, too tired to write. All those months of blogging about my radness and 15 posts about G are long gone.   I’m sad, cause Alana does so many mind-blowing things.   I have to leave myself notes:

TODO: WRITE ABOUT PODFORD!!!

She learned the chorus, sort of, for the Bob the Builder theme song, but I’ve been too transfixd to record her screaming it.     It goes like this “blaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaab the blablab!”.   Its got hit written all over it.   Ideas i once had that i would build into something interesting, polish like a standup bit, i’ve no bandwidth for.     ironic that she disempowers her own image broker. she could rule the ‘tubez, if i wasn’t so busy chasing her. She is that stinkin’ cute.

she get into and out of the car and into and out of school, with minimal risk to life and limb.   I didn’t notice it til it was happening, when I could open everyone’s car doors and collect the handful of   blankies and packpacks and diapers and turn to see everyone punching the key code into the front door.   My amazement is only in reflection, there was never really any doubt. If G is going, Alana is going too. today G cleaned\taught\drowned Alana in the shower, while i went downstairs and got a beer, not worried. I deserve a refreshment for my architecting. And Alana is indeed that smart, with a constant example just far enough ahead of her to make her stretch to find the way.

The dynamic the kids have developed is not what i would have expected. G is always the loudest, but instead of shrinking, Alana got herself sum street cred. She never backs down, carries her cool like a real-ass gansta. she’ll knock the black off yo ass. And that is why G keeps her around.

I have to carve out time. Not writing about my kids, logging pictures, storing memories seems like i am forgetting them.     Ironic that i spend more time with them when not on the computer, but the everpresentness of it vanishes in a blur of daily responsibility and emotions and grind. Your memory is what is burned in by repetition, but your personality is what you live every day.   I wonder about those divorced fathers, a weekend is not enough, its not every time every day. As my self has become about them only, so has my internet. Its not quantifiable like a stat counter, but its worth more.

Resigning myself to declining stats, i’ve unexpectedly opened myself up to artistic freedom, as it were. Why do you write? This blog is about…its about me doin’ me.   i can draw hits with posts about biking and titles that generate cross traffic, i can squeeze out some tall tales from a ride, but i’m so thankful just to find time to ride i don’t care anymore.   i have become an artiste. 4 yrs have led me through the intertubez Gomorrah and back.

The new-and-improved chollaball.net.   The No Bullshit chollaball.net. all killer no filler chollaball.net.   i’m so thankful to find time.