In a minute I'll be heading outside with Lloyd to read while he plays in some Lloyd-type destructive way. It's turned out to be a lovely day, as if these parts appreciated even the sip of rain offered. There's a nice breeze and a reach for 80 degrees.

I called my dad's house and left a message that I needed to ask him something and didn't want to bother him at work. Typically, he can call me from work but I don't always get the nicest reception when I call him there--that is by him, not the phone service. I feel bad for him, which is a pleasant change from the guilt I used to feel in dealing or not dealing with him. I know I cannot begin to understand what his life is like. Stopping right there lets me love him and accept his love just the way it is. There is a bit of pretending and handicapping for blind spots in the process, but my love isn't perfect either.