Baby boy and I are looking at apartments. Cheap two-bedroom places with two stories (we like stairs), a garage (he likes to build things), and a big garden (I like to nurture.) We spent the weekend in Folsom, and Saturday night exploring a half-finished mall. No one understands our weird hobby, but that's okay.
I've started taking pictures. I like framing a moment in time, a moment we had together and a visual demonstration of our viewpoints, our lives. That sounds pretty gay, I know. It's awesome.
Writing here is purely masturbatory, I realized. That is a big part of why I don't do it much anymore. I may leave soon and start another diary, one where I am truly anonymous again, because that was valuable and I did not appreciate it while I had it.