The Year of Being Happy?

I haven't heard from my son in three weeks. I guess that's not a big deal. But one of the days was Christmas. I guess I royally messed up his life. I should have told Randy and Sandy to knock it off, but I was too timid. It's only been three weeks, though. I, in all probability, am making way too much out of it.

I wanted to save the money. Now one or two guitars, some gun stuff later and I'm already down a thousand dollars. I know Randy would tell me I could buy whatever I wanted, and that would be true. But someone has to be the adult. Someone has to put the brakes on their spending. I wish it didn't always have to be me, but there you go.

I wish I had someone to talk to. I guess that's why I still have this. It's not big, or witty, or important, or well traveled, but it's important to me. It gives me that place I can dump all my worries, troubles, what-have-you, without hurting people, without looked down upon.

I still wish my son would send me an email. If just to say, "Kiss my ass".