The air is warmer, the sun is higher, the seeds are (hopefully) germinating, and the bells of the ice-cream man have returned to the Mission.
As the parent of three young children, the first day of every weekend is almost completely devoted to being a Dad. It has always been so.
There's basketball camp, backyard basketball, ice-skating, "art" projects, Play Station 2, Sponge Bob Square Pants, "Hanna Montana," macaroni and cheese, and so, so much more.
By nightfall, they've spread to the wind, my children. One is watching the pre-NBA All Star Game competitions at a friend's house; one is staying in Santa Cruz near the boardwalk with a buddy; the third is staying with a friend at (improbably) 1234 (street name) #5.
If you do not have children, or are not actively involved in raising them, I imagine that Saturdays must be far different from anything I have ever experienced.
Maybe this is a day when you go out with a club of like-minded bicyclists, kayakers, hikers, or quilt-makers?
I hope so. Given how hard we all work, I hope for single people that Saturdays are the time to relax, pursue your passions, and shut out all the cultural noise that engulfs us.
After all, we're all in this together.
So, "I'll let you into my Saturday if you'll let me into yours." (Sorry, Bob.)
=30-
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