January 9, 1962 – The day my synaptic vesicles first released neurotransmitters into my synaptic clefts in response to the sensory overload forced upon me by the outside world. I was pooped out into the world.

I guess I owe that day and the rest to my Mother. This weekend was payback. I spent the better part of Friday night driving to Tucson AZ (120 miles one way) to pick up my Mom and bring her back to Phoenix. She sold her house in Tucson last week and was basically homeless. We spent Saturday morning at the bank opening up new accounts. That was quite fun as my mom’s synaptic vesicles aren’t what they use to be and she really had no idea how much money she had and where it was. After flipping a coin a few times we made some educated guesses on her financial status and opened a savings and checking account. I figured I’d deal with any collateral damage created from our ignorance as they came to light.

The bank chick was understanding and pretended to take a genuine interest in us, asking about the skydiving shirt I was wearing that morning. But that’s another story for another time.

With our banking behind us we went house shopping. I’ve only been back in Phoenix for 7 months. During the 10 years I was gone property values increased about 300%. This roughly translates into bedrooms. The money you use to spend to buy a three bedroom house now only, just barely, gets you into a one bedroom. So house shopping for us was really about just trying to find her a place that wouldn’t put her (and I) into the poor house and that was at least a couple houses away from any obvious gang members or crack houses.

What was originally scheduled to be a marathon hunt to the death ended up a walk in the park. Luck was with my mom and I, the second place we looked at fit the bill and our offer was accepted in time for us to have lunch at the local waterin’ hole. (We had to see what the neighbors were like right?)

Saturday was also the day we had selected to celebrate my son, Craig’s birthday by having a pool party.

June 13, 1989 – The date my wife and I forced Craig’s synaptic vesicles to begin firing out of control. Craig was born.

The pool party was a success, and marks the first time we had invited people to swim in it whom we suspected would use it as a urinal. I thought about writing that date down but ultimately didn’t, thinking I was better off forgetting some things.

Sunday brought with it some minor house cleaning and an assessment of the pools water quality. A little acidic and low on chlorine. Sounds like pee huh? I added chlorine in little round 3 inch tablets.

After checking out the pool I loaded my mom and her 2 suitcases into the trunk of my Mustang GT and headed off for Tucson again. 240 miles later I was back home and ready for work on Monday. Yeah right!