I am in too deep. Wait, no, it's just a tidal wave. I'm at the same elevation, just gotta wait until the wave passes.

Grief needs a sponsor. There's money to be made.

Tomorrow, the boys and I head out to Flagstaff. It's a risk, them being teenagers and all. How will they respond to a road trip with a parental figure? Will it awaken their inner rage?

Maybe. 

Am I worried about it? I suppose I am. We've never had any major ideological differences. I'm much more pragmatic now in my old age. Or rather, I'd say I'm much more aware that ideals are for the person holding them, and the world in no way is under any obligation to accommodate them. There is no friction-less vacuum for practical application of ideas. And now here's a bunch of photos of my bamboo. I need to label these rascals. Also included is a fig tree.

Beware the caged bamboo! It bites, it fights, it scratches, it claws. The roots rise up and snatch your shawls!