First of all, this is not a formal journal entry. I'm not here to impress anyone with my mad writing skillz, or my keen intellect, or my extravagantly fascinating life. The things I can't write about I'll skirt around. There may come a time when I can find a way to talk about how the family is being shaken to its core, or what is putting my job in jeopardy. But I'll have to talk in allegories, probably, to avoid repercussions that no one deserves. For now, I'll just say that things are bad, but possibly not as dire as they can seem on those nights when I'm riding the emotional rollercoaster to Insomniaville.

So, what's left? And how to start? I don't want more to be made of my recent absence (or of anything I say here, for that matter) than is warranted. Everybody gets sad. For that matter, everybody dies, but as far as I know, nobody has any reason to fear imminent demise, at least no one in my small circle. (Rejoice! An almost positive note!) I don't need reassurance, at least not any more than I normally do. Insecurity and low self-esteem? I learned to live with those dragons a long time ago.

What I'm thinking of doing is popping in here from time to time and leaving a few notes about what is actually going on. And what is actually going on is that I'm working, as much as I need to but as little as I can get away with, and watching TV, but much less than I used to (and less than I will again, once the new season starts), and following the Giants on their madcap journey to wherever they're going. I read, I putter in the yard, I talk to Mom every day and have coffee with Suzanne once a week or so. Once in a while I see Aiden and Kylie and Alex.

Here's a vignette from yesterday. Suzanne and I are sitting with Alex on the patio at Starbucks, her with a nonfat latte and me with a soy latte. He's munching away on a yogurt until he's had enough, and then he clearly makes the sign for "all done." (He doesn't talk much yet, at least not out loud, but he knows a lot of signs.) Someone walks by with a dog on a leash, and Alex notices. He turns his head to watch the dog disappear from sight, then turns back to us, uttering a single muted "Woof." And then he goes back to pushing the buttons on his toy phone, as if he's said everything that needed to be said on the subject.

Tonight I watched a movie called Hide Away. It's a maddeningly claustrophobic story of loss and redemption and blah blah blah. I'm usually all gung ho for loss and redemption, but this flick seemed determined not to let you care about the main character, played by Josh Lucas (who was just as memorable as he is in every other movie he's in; go ahead, name one, I dare you). In style it was so much like a seventies Movie of the Week that I kept expecting Ted Bessell or Barbara Feldon to show up. If only.

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The night ended happily with a win by the Giants to complete a three-game sweep of the hated Dodgers and extend their lead in the division to two and a half games over LA. There was consternation in the ranks last week when their leading hitter was banned for using a controlled substance, but they have overcome the trauma and put that whole affair in the past. That's what a team does when things go wrong: They pull together and move on.