Neptune’s Yellow Sands

 Different blog, same Halloween tradition.  Cruise ship day so a totally different vibe to prior years, but there is always a wrinkle.  The year has flown by and we have our second parade in the books.  AA and JB rocking the dinosaur outfits, and splurging on the lobster nachos and double rum cider seemed the natural thing to do.  Well stuffed. Four years ago it was here you waited for the flight out to be married the night of Biden’s win.  Trump, incredibly, is on the verge of a return.  Please no.  Let’s banish him and his ilk to the past as best we can.  A new way forward.   Book completed, contest won, edits and website in the works.  That’s the big fun of next year, as the UARB files will be a slog but with an even temperament you can find a way to make it all click. Go enjoy the fog and the memories.  Time marches, and the new possibilities are to be savoured.  Well done, McMahon.

Interested to hear what this will be?  On the meeting with the parents?  The epilogue?  Nanny?  Something not even on the radar?  Worked out well to provide the advance copy…  actually just about moving up the ring and adding the pearls from his mom’s mom and showing affection and the epilogue being a tad long.  Easy fixes. More concerning is the return of the drinking and smoking since the Thanksgiving trip, which seemed to go well and yet.  The desire for wine on night one, switched to rum on night three, and all the old terrible signs - the glossy eyes, the slurred words, strange behavior with the boys.  Managed to avoid triggering an escalation before the inevitable passing out, upright watching some show. Need to be delicate in raising the concerns pre-London.  It’s the price you pay for the selfishness of the trip back to the Thames, but the sanity requires it.  I’m sure it will work out.  The guys need the wake-up call a...

Into the danger zone in terms of the month, so spot the warning signs and act accordingly to avoid disaster, please.  From failing to close the curtains (that are meant to be closed) to boiling over inside at the waiting around, the exhaustion of the parenting.  Not knowing when to print, when to wake, when to do anything.  Time for cuddling.  Swallow your pride and sense of what’s right, or you’ll be sorry, I’m telling you.  Rest well and good luck McMahon.  Don’t forget the AA meltdown en route to the drop today.  The fun of seeing the boys playing with each other at this stage, the way JB walks with shoulders hunched and arms outstretched and a smile.