Full Moon Over Saint Plotniko and Twenty Five Years

The Great Plotnik and The Great Ducknik appreciate all the kind words from friends who wanted to make sure no veins had been opened after the kids left. This is what happens when the blogger shares his personal angst. Perhaps it would be better to hide behind clever turns of phrase, and Plottie knows how to do that, but you'd see through it.

Actually, everyone's doing great. The truth is that Plot and Duck's kids long ago started living their own lives in their own unique ways. They learned to do that at home. It's all good.

Yesterday, Sunday, was BZ's 25th birthday. How in the world is this possible? But Plotnik has always had his problems accepting that his little girl is no longer ten or twelve or fifteen, despite all signs to the contrary, despite her having already traveled the world and accumulated life accomplishments most people twice her age can't even imagine. He is so proud of her, already, but he also knows she's only starting to mark out her spot, to count her steps, to figure out which of her many talents to use at any one time.

And yet, he was there when she was born, he saw her first, he heard her little cry, he remembers thinking that he now had a little girl and how could it be that God had smiled on him like that?

Twenty five years ago? In that nursery at Kaiser in Stiletto City where there must have been thirty babies born that night and the nursery was filled with kids named Lopez, Ramirez, Gonzalez and Garcia, and they were all beautiful but no one was a match for the kid named Plotnik?

So she's now in Graduate School at a great University in Providence, Rhode Island. What's to be sad about?

Same with PD, 5H and B2. They texted early yesterday morning, to say that Isabella and PD were at a small nearby park in Brooklyn, where it was already really hot and humid, New-Orleans-in-September hot and humid according to 5H, and Belly was running through a sprinkler in her diaper and laughing with all the other kids. Talking on the phone last night, Plot and Duck learned that Mischief had had no problem with the canine carrier on the plane and was already fond of his new back yard, that PD had found a store nearby that was open at midnight to buy Pad Thai and a 6-pack of beer and that their new neighborhood is diverse, exciting and beautiful. Nothing to be sad about there either.

And Saint Plotniko? A full moon creeping around the avocado tree with the night blooming jasmine tossing bouquets onto the back deck? A city of trees and errands by bicycle, of organic pinot noir and pomegranate juice, of lemon and lemon grass? Not too big, not too small, not too hot, not too cold? No whines here. It's hard to imagine living anywhere else.

So Happy Monday! Yes, a certain team seems to be defying Plotnik's lowest of basement expectations. We'll just see what happens.