Congraduations

My son Trevor graduated from preschool tonight, which was fun. Unlike the kind of graduation you're probably thinking of, he'll actually keep attending preschool for another month or so. It was an Hawaiian theme, with most of the kids wearing aloha shirts or appropriate dresses, leis, what have you. A stunnin majority of the kids are White, many of them blond, with maybe one mixed race girl, who's really beautiful. What can I say, that's just the make-up of this preschool for the most part. Other interesting facts: San Diego Padre Dave Roberts' kid attends, as does skateboarding legend Tony Hawk's, and two boys in his class are named after Major League pitching greats: Nolan Ryan and Trevor Hoffman, for real. Gretchen and I both took pictures as the kids sang "Pearly Shells", "Surfin' USA" and "I Believe I Can Fly", and it was sweet. Trevor hammed it up, though he was in the back row. There was a bad couple minutes, though, as a boy next to him cried from stage fright and the teachers were behind and couldn't see him, and no parents went up to help him, until eventually one of the teachers noticed or was told, and took care of it.

My former mother-in-law was there as well. A real hard-hearted woman with no sentiment. When she says something's cute, you can tell she's really detached from the very concept of cuteness, and it registers with her like tickling does to a blue whale. This is the second time she's made some sort of joke to Gretchen just within my earshot that seems like a passive-aggressive jab at me, though I was always nice to her. Something about "Tigger" which I take to maybe be some reference to Gretchen's new fella, Tim. I could be wrong, I guess. On a positive, going forward kinda note, I made sure to introduce myself to a mommy I fancy, Sonja (or Sonia), a thin, golden-skinned beauty with a pretty daughter, Samantha. Her ex was around as well, but while they seemed to get along, they didn't seem any chummier than Gretchen and me, so I think the coast is clear, barring other boyfriends, which is a distinct possibility with her looks. The guy wasn't impressive, though. Okay-looking, and he had a nice black suit, but it just looked too metrosexual with the pink stripey shirt and pink tie, and the carefully gelled ringletty hair. If I get to chat with her again, I'll ask if he's a piano salesmen, because that's what he reminded me of, or the pianist who plays in nice department stores like Nordstrom. A very theatrical look, not a business look. I told Trevor to ask Samantha tomorrow if she wants to go out to dinner--a shameless ploy, I know, but what the hell, it's only dinner with the kids. He'll probably forget, anyway, but I'll try to be there when she picks her up, and I'll ask her then. I'm not too worried about asking, actually, and after all, I don't see her very often, so if she turned me down it's not a big deal. Besides, the dinner thing is only halfway a date. So we'll see.

Getting very tired...