Today I succeeded at living. I did yoga, then took care of my girls, made everybody breakfast, lead everybody in gratitude, made lunch for the girls, took them to children's museum of art, spent hours there with them, made many great works of art. witnessed my 5 year old daughter writing a genius lunch haiku. "Eddie Eddie says he's sweaty/ so he goes to the Ferris wheel." On 1 on way home had to run to the end of the train to find a place to get the stroller on with the girls, total drama, action movie climax. Watch 2 crazy dance routines in the subway at the 7/1 intersection, the second one a midget Michael Jackson impersonator. Made it home at 6 PM in by 7 had made a curry sweet potato cauliflower tofu soup. (One fail was not testing the strength of the curry spice before feeding it to Lucia.) brushed off my wife's neggo-criticisms and general work-crankiness. Engaged her. Ate with family, had good conversation. Wrote for three hours after dinner including a story about the "children's museum of art" for my dada blog. While Listening to early Pink Floyd. And then working on a manuscript due August 1 for KrupskayA. I am happy with it. A rare hard won feeling. Then off for 2 beers and a weird electronica space jam and an intense convo with Quinn and Estaban down the block. Quinn said I looked like his dad, who he never knew. I said it must just be just as hard to miss what you missed as it would be to miss what you knew. The sublimation deepens.