I have twenty posts, or so, to write, and myriad other things to tackle, but I have to say this…
Why, since we got home from our five-day vacation in the snow (which went almost perfectly, considering the trouble we could have had flying into the high desert in December with an almost four-year-old and a whiny pregnant lady to drive into the middle of nowhere for fun in the snow with family and vegetarian posole) has my return home felt like the reverse of the Mr. Miagi clap-and-rub? All energy sucked from me by the cold hands of incessant, useless, endless repetition of rules and basic social tenets, greeted with surly and defiant nastiness. Wax on, wax off. Wax on, wax off. Paint the fence.

At least Daniel got valuable skills in the film, and the chance, eventually, to kick the crap out of the nasty guy. I get the skills but no violent outlet. Mr. Miagi got the pride of being a fabulous coach AND he got his whole to-do list taken care of by someone else.

I get to do all the work and may, MAY someday get to smile as my kid uses his guts and skill to kick the crap out of someone else. For a change, please, kick the crap out of someone else.