Charlie Bertsch (cbertsch) wrote,
Charlie Bertsch

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Tarrying With the Negative

While Kim was enjoying some much-needed alone time this evening, Skylar and I engaged in a series of pleasant pursuits. First I took her to the basketball court at Manzanita, where she practiced dribbling, showed me the bounce pass that her friend Haley taught her, and made her first two baskets ever (on the kid's height hoop, of course). Then she chased me around the court playing defender in a manner eerily similar to her mother while I illustrated the virtue of being able to switch the ball fluidly from one hand to the other.

From there we went to AJ's for the first time in weeks, where she ate her usual chicken breast, cheddar cheese and baguette and I had a small portion of overpriced spaghetti and meatballs. Then we headed to Crate & Barrel, where we picked out some lovely Christmas ornaments with which to put the finishing touches on the family tree. I never feel the full holiday spirit till I indulge in some hanging of ornaments and the inevitable rehanging of ones I need to displace in order to make room for the former.

Afterwards, we returned to AJ's, where we had matching milks to accompany a slice of "mondo" chocolate cake. During the messy munching, Skylar informed me that her math teacher has had to ask her to stop using negative numbers, because they aren't supposed to be doing that yet. "But I love negative numbers, dad," she lamented. Is this a girl destined to revel in the reading of Adorno or what?

Upon returning home, I hung the new ornaments while Skylar made Christmas presents for Simba, her mother and me. We took two of her Crate & Barrel-purchased moonstones -- you can get a whole bag of polished-smooth ones there -- outside to see what happens to them in the moonlight. Although it was cloudy, you could still see a whitish glow deep within them. We're going to try again tomorrow.

Bedtime reading was restricted to Dr. Seuss's Oh, the Places You'll Go, which remains one of my favorites and hers, even though the page about the "Waiting Place" fills me with existential angst and the one with the monstrous beast in a cave makes me think every time of James Baldwin's Giovanni's Room, where the narrator describes fleeing the bulldog in his yard only to find that it has made the transatlantic voyage to confront him in Paris.

Kim finally returned, Simba in tow, and gave Skylar a goodnight kiss before taking her migraine medicine. I tried unsuccessfully to call a friend, began writing another entry about why I'm not writing much in this space, and then switched gears to share my evening.

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