So it's been a while: yesterday I watched the unfurling of the pageant that is daily beside Northern Boulevard across from Best Buy at the shopping complex where John and Alric I used to do our weekendly grocery shopping at the Stop&Shop, but where I was now with Joephet as he went into Old Navy to get flip flops, but I continued my protest against that family of companies, even as I marveled at the irony of little boricuabois wearing Old Navy 2004 Puerto Rico shirts as waves of boys a bit too old to still be boys walked by with their aged mothers, both eating the same ice cream or sipping the same can soda through a straw, the halter tops in all pastels, the beadedness which makes both tops unattractive and slippers unlikely to cushion adequately much less shield from flying dirt, the flabbiness and the aged delicately picking their ways across, the bedecked families ethnic in ethnic garb, amid the honkings of the livery cabs, and the inexplicable wavings of passersby to workers within Old Navy, as if they would be seen, the couples that from a distance seem quite mismatched, but as the details and the chemistry fill themselves in make rather more sense, waiting impatiently until Joephet emerges after a full twenty minutes to digging with an armload of flipflops like a catch of fish or a bunch of bananas.

My schedule's been off and I've not been home and Joephet's wireless piracy days are pretty much over, I fear, and so I've been short on bloggery. This period is still one of just waiting, I'm afraid.