Hey, happy St. Patrick's Day. With that out of the way, let's jump right into the fracas. Without a doubt, this is going to be one of those evenings where the wifeage will lock herself in the bedroom with the lights off and and a hand towel about her forehead. She'll demand to be alone and that I'm on my own for dinner and that the kids need to be bathed after I'm done feeding them. How can I be so sure? It's parent/teacher conference day at the kiddiewinks school. And you know what they say...the cobblers children go without shoes. My wifeage, being a one time educator, takes all the shit in that shit sandwich the teachers are so good at feeding you so personally. "Jackson does an excellent job knowing his numbers up to blah, blah, blah. What he struggles with is compounding them in multiples of
n and then finding x," the teacher will say. This will be followed closely by a sniffle by my wifeage at which point I'll put my arm around her as she digs through her handbag for a tissue. Later, while listening to Maile's teacher go on about the fact that she can say the alphabet perfectly in English but struggles when she tries to say it backwards in Spanish, the wife will no longer be able to stymie herself and she'll let go with an uncontrolled wailing that will make you think a dear one just died. I remember hating report card day when I was little. Why is it even worse now? Doesn't seem fair. Anyway, hope you are well and please keep your voices down when in the presence of my wifeage. Sure to be not in a good mood, to say the least.

Johnny GoFast