There’s no place like home

Finding my triplet sons in grand spirits upon my return from Serbia, and my better half none the worse for wear, I resumed work on my opera. Well, it’s sort of true (the first part), but writing that sentence proved somehow irresistible (I mean, how many other people could write it?).

I am home and back in the swing of things – and “things” even includes tending to this poor neglected blog. The boys are still themselves, just a little bit more so. The last two weeks have served, as I’m told certain illicit substances do too, to intensify their personalities and, in the case of Pablo and Levi, heighten the astounding effect of their rock star hairdos. I have vowed that I will administer the first haircut when the time comes, an act my own father perpetrated upon me, but can thank gravity that the time is not particularly near. The hair grows and grows, but grows straight up, and though the boys’ beseeching eyes sometimes seem to scream out, “father…product….now!” I am content to let nature  express her deviant humor on the scalps of my sons for some short while longer.

Let’s see, I must have a photo around here somewhere…

stripes

This one reached me in Serbia – the boys pulling some style.

The backup team

Grandpa Bob and Grandma Barbara filled in for papa while he was away in the Balkans.

This is how we talked

Not in picture: me – in that little black box. Gotta love Skype!

back in the saddle again

Pablo is looking right at the camera. This is because he is situated at too far a remove to enjoy this book in his typical manner (which is to say, to eat it).

Squeeze!

In the pack and play, each waiting for his bath.

More soon!