Out-Numbered

Last week was a tough week. It started with me having some minor surgery. Skin Cancer. My shoulder looked like a pizza. 30 stitches and it just missed my Chargers Lightening Bolt tattoo. Thank Goodness. Kids, use your sunscreen. I'm not fucking around either. I had to miss a couple of days of work and take it easy. Impossible! I rarely associate the word easy with being a parent. As scary and uncomfortable as the surgery was, the thought that kept running through my head was... "Man, this is nice. It's air conditioned, it's quiet, people are listening to me and there are no kids around." There was even a U2 mix tape playing. I love U2. It's truly a sad state of affairs when you view a trip to the surgeon as a small getaway. I mean, they took a chunk of flesh out of my shoulder and left me looking like the *Jewish Frankenstein but I felt like I was at an outpatient Sandals. Fantastic. I was pretty out of it that night and still in a bunch of pain. All I wanted ...