Klowns in my Koffee

In a completely predictable sequel to Friday's I Unloaded a Truck is Saturday's I Threw Out My Back. More precisely, I think that my back has thrown me out and now refuses to go anyway that the rest of my body wants to.

For years, I've been looking for a suitable family slogan that could be translated into Latin as part of some unique and meaningful crest. Lately, Attila the Son has learned a phrase at school that he applies to our family at every opportunity when the slightest thing does not go his way. I wonder what the Latin is for "You guys suck."

It's been several weeks now since my giant coffee cup disappeared into the sunset. He said that he needed "some space" because "you're stifling me." I guess it wasn't enough to sit in my living room under a glass top and have things set on him. He wanted the highway. He's happier there today.

Still, I've looked for him. Since the photo on the plane, I've hoped that a postcard will appear to tell me that he is safe, maybe working as a barista somewhere or spinning around in Disneyland.

I know he's pretty steamed but I hope that he's cooled off by now. I hate to stir things up again but there's no problem that can't be worked out by sitting down mano a mano ... er, taza.

I imagine that he's had to take a lump or two out in the real world but I hope he's stayed as sweet as he was. He really has no grounds to complain about anything but he seems to have a bitter aftertaste. If you see him, please tell him that I miss his mug.