Born to Run

I spent most of the morning on my usual Sunday chat with Mom. Mom herself is fine. Dad was at the dock with Keefe, whom he's paying to help with repairs around the boat. No, it's Rose and Anny who are in trouble.

Rose has had problems with depression in the past. Apparently, Craig found her depressed again. She's been hiding, not going out, not seeing anyone, talking suicide, not doing anything but school...again. She did this when she was in college in Washington DC around 2000-2001. I caught her once. It scared the living daylights out of me. According to Mom, she's now seeing a new therapist and is changing her medication, and both seem to be helping. I hope so. I've lost my grandmother, grandfather, and stepmother, and my favorite uncle has cancer. I don't want to lose a sister.

Anny's not doing great, either. Mom says her boyfriend Mike doesn't think their son Collyn is 100% his, despite the fact that everyone in Cape May County says the kid looks and acts just like him. They're going to have a whole custody battle and DNA tests and everything.

On the other hand, Mom had an excellent suggestion for me - Culinary School. It would be cheaper than trying to go to graduate school for library arts, and there must be a hundred fancy eateries and bakeries in Philly and the suburbs that could use pastry chefs. It would be something I could always do. As much as I love reading and books, I love to bake and cook, too. I've been thinking of writing cookbooks as well.

It was a lovely, sunny, reletively warm almost 50-degree day when I finally headed to work around quarter after 1. The Acme was packed, with long lines at every register and more than half the registers open. No surprise there. Not only is today the Super Bowl, but it's the first day of the month, and people are just getting their food stamps/government money/paychecks. I had no relief and left a little late, but other than that, work was perfectly fine and passed by quickly.

The moment I got off, I rushed home, changed my shirt, grabbed the pudding pie I made yesterday, and headed over to Uncle Ken's for his Super Bowl party. Everyone was there when I arrived - Samantha and David and their kids (who were playing bartender, with a few older kids kicking out little guys, much to their annoyance), Dolores and her kids and their kids (including tiny, almost year-old May), Mark, Vanessa, and Brittany, Dad, Jodie, Jodie's parents, and a couple of Uncle Ken's sports-obsessed buddies.

For once, the game was as good as the company. I only stayed for the first half, but one of the Steelers' running backs made an amazing 100-yard touchdown in the last few seconds of the second quarter, pulling them ahead. There were a batch of nifty 3-D commercials right after the first half (that NBC show Chuck looks almost kinda cute), and the Bruce Springsteen concert was downright amazing. He played two songs from the Born to Run album (which, ironically, I listened to this morning before the Beatles show), one new one, and "Glory Days." The Boss really was boss, with more energy than some people my age. It was a truly spectacular show.

And at press time, the Steelers just pulled ahead of the Cards and are winning 27-23, with just 23 seconds left in the game.