Hey Jakey,

It was your grandma's last day here today with us, so I took advantage one last time to get out of the house. I saw the Christ movie. Bleh. No big whoop.

I guess there will be a day someday when I don't pick out people in crowd scenes in movies and think to myself "wow, maybe Jake will look like that when he grows up..." or "Jakey gets that look on his face when he's hungry...". I'm such a dork nowadays.

In his book, in a chapter for dads, Dr. Karp writes something like: when it comes to birth, men contribute a sperm, and mom's job is tantamount to pulling a dog sled from Alaska to the Gulf of Mexico. I like that. Anyway, your daddy is driving me nuts. I hope he gets this new job, I hope he stops acting like life is beating his ass into the ground, I wish he would smile more. I'm still pulling that damn dog sled here, and *he* comes home every night looking like someone killed his best friend. I don't need that shit. Maybe there's something he's not telling me about his job. Whatever. It's just a job. Quit acting like every day is the end of the world.

I hope it snows tomorrow. You and I can lay in bed all day and watch out the window. I hope you learn to like snow. I've already predicted that you'll be the captain of the snowboarding team. You *are* quite the daredevil, y'know. I love you.