Day 3,915 —Still Home—

I thought I had a good title as I was running, but I cannot remember now. It was probably one of those throw-away-phrases like “White Clean Lines,” which I almost titled a recent post. I used to take special pleasure in naming my essays in school, long meaningless titles. What I was doing was expressing that I didn’t understand how titles were supposed to be used, based on how I saw them used in the art I was consuming. One of my teachers in college looked at me with scorn when I said something to the effect, and he told me how important a title was to provide information to the reader. Full disclosure, his answer was longer than that, and he gave me the two specific purposes for titles. One was the obvious one I knew, but the information thing made me think, so I do try to give information in my titles most of the time, like a well-written poem does.

I realized what I was thinking about when my 20-month-old son came down the stairs to greet me. I had a few lines of a poem written about him.

My Red-Headed, Mischievous Son

What am I going to do about you?

You climb like a monkey.

You jump like a bunny,

But you give hugs like a full-grown adult.

That’s all I have so far, I felt like I had a few different specific behaviors to work in that would be interesting. He has broken the thermostat and a light switch recently, and he loves to eat popcorn and throw things in the toilet. He also has started to open the refrigerator and sit inside if there is enough room.  

Running today was dangerous because there was no shoulder, so I went to the side streets, but if a car was on one of them I wouldn’t be able to hear them, so I was constantly looking behind me to check there was no car approaching.