Miss Carol and me have been having a time lately with our moms.
I’d love to say I’m this tough guy that doesn’t care, that scorns softness and fragility, that says- hey it’ll work itself out, that grabs another beer and pushes out down to the beach and gazes fondly out at the bikini babes tanning in the late afternoon sun whilst sipping suds and thinking blandly.
I long to be that guy.
I do.
But I can’t.
So, yeah.
Miss Carol and me’s moms are having differing and probably progressively downward spiraling problems that will, I am sure, chew into my heart and what little free time I might have dreamed of having.
But, ya know?, I love them both.
So as much as I want to be the frothy-beer-swilling-bikini-watching-total-denial-thingy-dude?
I just can’t.
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