Dad time = Mad time.

it's 9:20 in the am on Nov 17th.  the sun has been up with the Roosters baking Encinitas like a scone.  maybe it's a broil.  heat pounds off the concrete and thru the windows.  the santa anna's are up, which means that the air is dry and warm, and the waves are finely shaped by the off-shore breeze and buttery smooth.  Augustella is happily yelping in the background while her toes, just inches from these pages, squeeze an imaginary sponge.  Every once in awhile i pause to rub them and she clamps my fingers with her foot claw.  We've been having a lot of dad time lately while Jenna has been powering through an intense weekend of doula training.  It's worked surprisingly well, the way our schedules collide.  it can be a bit, drop-the-girl-off-and-go, but it's working it's way into normality.  totally a fireman's schedule, minus all the life threat and heroism.  i leave town, get 2 weeks of work done in 5 days, come home and am home, until the next tour stretch 2 to 8 days later.  I get be in a lot of places while not being there at all.  the culture becomes some venue somewhere, off some highway in some town.  being home, watching those toes turn to a timing of their own is a delicacy.  Those toes are growing.  Those hands are cunning.  And we get dirty.  Me, by association with her and her by quick touch exploration.  On Friday night she submerged a nearby tumbler with seven-up and dark rum, that stealthily went unnoticed to my radar until i saw a dripping hand, smacking lips and trail of splash from crime scene to culprit.  On Saturday Morning Augustella Mike Tyson'd a bowl of oatmeal, slopping oats on the both of us during our weekly fellas breakfast at the Potato Shack in Encinitas on I st. and the 101.    As this is becoming a staple in our father/daughter routine, i look forward to introducing her to one of those manhole sized cakes of pan and watching her eyes bounce with syrup and sugar.  On Sunday I got domestic.    The crock pot simmering on low all saturday prior with a homemade chilly potion as evidence of it.  It must have cooked for 36 hours, mingling smoked sirloin, smoked sausage, black beans, chilly, cinnamon, crushed red pepper, port wine, merlot, jim beam and fat tire.  It was a death trap.  A first class ticket to the nearest bathroom!  So good, but so so so bad.  Sunday, football day, chilly day started the way every sabbath should, with some boys, some instruments and Augustella.  She fell asleep in my arms, turned limp and i rushed her home while she slept in her Curly - Lamb - Bow Green Bay Pack onesie for 3 hours while i ate chilly and cheered on the Packers.  Throughout the weekend, Jenna would call to check-in for the eating and sleeping report.  I was very unlucky with solids with the exception of a leaf that Augustella consumed while i was pointing to the tree it fell from.  we are proud to announce that Augustella is still 100% organic.