Saturday up at the lake we celebrated Josie turning two. It was fun with lots of her relatives up for cake and ice cream. Once more I remember the rule of waiting until afterward to buy her things since odds are high someone will give it to her. We had lined up a tricycle and it turned up thanks to her grandmother. It's kinda like that crummy "The Secret" book except your wishing for someone else to get something.
The day after the party Becky decides to tell me that our pal Barron has killed himself. Normally such news would sadden me. Except Barron had been a mess for most of the decade with his drinking and constant talk of suicide that it was as if she said Barron had renewed his subscription to Sports Illustrated. But then she hit me with the uglier news that he might have been dead for nearly two weeks in his foreclosed condo. As Josie sat on my lap while we stared at the lake, I realized that I was in a good place. That I couldn't cash out at this point because the kid needs me. She might drive me nuts, but never insane.
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