Today the boys summer camps were in full swing. Erik is doing another theater camp, this time a 3-week one, and I'm taking him to and from on the electric every time. It is going to be over 200 miles that I put on the e-bike for those trips alone. That thing will pay itself off at this rate. Our goal is to extend the life of the car so we don't have to buy our next car for another couple years. I think we have around 850 miles on the bike and we only got it last summer.

Erik is the only boy in his theater camp. He is a little bummed about that, but the truth is that if he had a boy in there he would screw around with that boy and not focus as well. I know this from experience. The play is about Zeus and all the other Greek gods, but they're actually animals in a pet store? I'm sure it will be great.

Desmond has a camp as well, and he is happy doing just about anything we put him in. He is a good dude.

Today I got another essay written for my Master's hours. It's boring as hell, but it will make me more money when it's all done. 

Erik's grandparents came out to watch him play in his baseball game on Sunday, and the boy put on a show. He was ripping hits everywhere, and he made a catch of a line drive that made even the other team's cheering section applaud. A caught ball in a T-ball game is rare. Erik even surprised himself. 

I'm still off the sauce. I found myself looking at pictures friends were sending with glasses of whiskey, and while I will admit it looked good, what I'm finding is that it is an urge to dull myself. There is a nervous energy that kicks in like "what should I do with my spare time," and what I'm finding is that uncomfortable feeling is okay. I don't need to throw booze at it. So, here I am blogging again instead of having a couple drinks and looking at my phone. 

If you have ever read my stuff in the past you will notice that I don't write as well as I used to. I'm not going to pretend that isn't the case. But I'll get better if I stay with it.  

Shimee Shay's Bar & Grill

I haven't had a drink almost 3 months now, and I feel pretty great. I'm more present for things going on in my life, more aware, more in the moment. I feel healthier and happier, getting more done, and enjoying my time with my family more.

So that's that.

Hey, let me tell you about someone else who was drunk. A friend of mine was in town with his son (he wasn't the drunk one, nor was his offspring), and he was bringing his young boy to his first baseball game at Wrigley Field. This friend has been living in LA for years-and-years now, but he decided he would be damned before he let his son's first game be a Dodgers game. And guess what? His son had the ultimate Wrigley experience and will likely (read hopefully) be a Cub fan for life. He got onto the field before both games and got autographs, the whole 9. 

So onto the funny drunk person story. After I parted ways with my buddy at a rooftop hotel bar overlooking the ballpark (where I drank fake beers, staying the course) an attractive 20-something attractive gal approached me. Did I say attractive twice?

"Do you know where the karaoke place is over that way," she said, motioning south down Clark Street.

"Well, Murphy's Bleachers used to have some karaoke" I suggested, not knowing if this was still true all these years having gone by since I painted the town brown in that neighborhood.

"No, that's not it."

"Oh, well, you could for sure go to Trader Todd's. That's not far at all, on Belmont and Sheffield. They do karaoke 7 days a week."

"That's not it either. It's a big name," she said, spanning her arms out like jazz hands in either direction, looking deep into my eyes like I would get it. She might have been on something besides booze, now that I think about it. "The name is like . . . Shimee shay," she said in an epic, important-sounding manner, "Like that's not it, but it's like that."

"So that's not the name at all because that's nonsense, but that's like the rhythm of the name?"

"Yeah!" She said, thinking I got her.

I didn't. "I'm sorry I don't know this gibberish bar. I wish I could be of more help."

"It's okay," was the last thing she said to me as she joined her friends walking south bound, relaying to them that the guy she talked to didn't know where the bar was. I hope they found it. I walked away not wishing at all that I was drunk like her, but looking back fondly on those drunken adventures. I don't need any more of them, but they're nice to fondly look back on in the rearview.