Anyway, a missive had found its way here. It said, "SEND THE MONEY OR SHUT UP."
I had taken a page from the Wisdom and sent my daughter a simple letter a mere day ago. I offered money in return for certain things. Everyone who now knows of the offer has made themselves clear on the subject. And that's OK, none of them were dads. I won't convince them. I don't care. I'm not even going to try.
Anytime anybody offers you money? It comes with strings. You need to learn to see them. That is part of my job.
She cannot learn what she does not hear. I'm all about letting her hear. It's what father's want.
|Target Angle 180 and opening|
Yeah. Been there, done (repeatedly) that.ReplyDelete
Well this is that kind of Harold Lloyd failure epic where I can't help but pick myself up, dusty the jacket a bit futilely and have another lash at it. As you know from watching Harold Lloyd, it was tragedy disguised as comedy. It tends, to my mind, to look kind of like one of James Herriot's stories where the car rolls away shedding bits and pieces as it makes its own way to the ditch bottom of the windswept moor.Delete