Many moons ago, after dropping out of college, but before joining the Army and before going back to school, I waited tables. It was a McJob, to be sure. (Though it was Bennigan's, not McDonald's, but whatever.) Have you seen Office Space and the "thirteen pieces of flair"? Yeah, it was that.

I can say with perfect sincerity that jumping out of an airplane was less stressful than waiting tables. And during that time, and for years and years afterwards, I would have anxiety-laden stress dreams about waiting tables. Anything that would make it awful, like I would dream that I had fallen asleep in the stock room and wake up thinking I had another goddamn Chicken Caesar to run ...and find myself halfway out of my bedroom before I realized I was at home. And this went on for a long time. I don't think I ever once had an  Army stress dream. I've been responsible for websites with millions of hits a day, and not tossed and turned once - but waiting in tables? Fresh Hell, every day.

But it hasn't happened for a long time - you know, eventually wounds, even psychic wounds, heal. Until last night. Why last night? I have no idea, but there I was, waiting tables again and completely forgetting orders, trying to punch in orders and not knowing the codes for the foods, running to the bar and realizing I'd forgotten to order drinks. Stressy as heck, man.

Why? No idea. Hope it stops. I mean, it's not a big deal, as embuggerances go, table-waiting stress dreams is pretty minor. But it's an odd throwback from the ol' subconscious, and I hope it's not a harbinger of other long-buried crap bubbling up.

Yesterday the various mothers in the family assembled, like the Avengers, only friendlier. We had a pleasantly long day on "A" Dock in Long Beach. There was a pall of fog hovering just off-shore, but it never made landfall. The day was hot and sunny, with the backing breeze occasionally delivering a bit of welcome coolth.

My father-in-law rigged a sail sun-shade next to a pop-up canopy on the dock, and we sat on deck chairs having cold drinks and snacks while the family took turns going on harbor tours on the hard-bottomed skiff they built. Blink and Bertie romped ceaselessly, only stopping to slurp down water against the heat. Our niece was charmingly adorable, exploring the boat, the skiff, the harbor, the dogs, and being amazed and entertained by everything - she was all smiles and giggles.

Even as we were giving gifts to the various mothers assembled, we knew it had been an especially fine day, and I commented that it was the sort of day we'd look back on in the future, burnished by nostalgia, as being a rare sort of perfect.

For me, a special sort of significance, but not one worth mentioning at the time; I've had precious few occasions in the past for a Mother's Day to be particularly worth celebrating. But no more, from this one and ever after, my soon-to-be-born daughter will have a reason to be grateful, to be proud, to be happy. Family can be awful botheration, it's true; but when you get it right, it is the foundation on which all other joys are built.

Yesterday we got it right.

I'm not sure what Bogey smelled like, but in my imagination, he smells like I smell today. I mean, this is the scent that says, "This man can totally rock a fedora." (For the record, I can't - but I sure do SMELL like I can!)

Last night I dreamed that I moved to Austin, TX (which I will never, ever, ever do) and opened a business disposing of garbage by dropping it in the Marianas Trench.

My two month migraine continues, almost unabated, though sometimes it's better for brief periods, which is at least a little bit of progress.

This morning I woke up early, looked around, saw the dog, the cat, the wife, the unborn daughter all still deep in sleep, and did my best to drift back to sleep. As my thoughts wandered in a disordered, shambolic but good-natured stream, I had a sudden, strong and very lucid sense of being in a huge children's library - vaulted ceiling, shelves upon shelves of brightly colored books, cheerful carpets with toys and kid-sized furniture scattered around the empty spots like seeds tossed in a furrow of fertile earth.

And imagining that scent, the scent of a room full of old and well-loved books, it brought me back to the Wolfson Memorial Library. It had a huge downstairs library for children, and attached room full of young adult books. My mom used to take my sisters and I there at least weekly, and I poured over every one of its stacks, many time, mining out every book that I might read. That's where I found L. Frank Baum's Wizard of Oz books, the Lewis' Chronicles of Narnia, Lloyd Alexander's Chronicles of Prydain, and so many others.

I realized it had been way too long since I'd been in a room full of old books. Just Saturday I was in a book store, but it's not the same, new books don't have the same scent, the same aura at all - there's something about the thumbed over pages and broken spines, the card-catalog inserts and dewey decimal labels that make a library a special place, as near to sacred to me in both mind and heart.

Years ago the Wolfson was closed and moved to a community center that also includes the police station. The old building was for a while sold to some folks who had the sort of kooky but sort of cool idea to turn it into a permanent Renn Faire sort of place; they started a faux-medieval "tavern" in what was once the kids' library, and intended to use the upstairs as a combination performance center and knick-knack shop. Unfortunately it wasn't terribly well executed, the concrete building blocks were painted over and given an amateurish veneer to look like a wattle-and-daub wall. The menu at the restaurant was just meatball subs, fried mozzarella and frozen pizza slices, the kind of stuff you'd get at a snack bar. But a girl I knew was determined to see that crazy idea succeed, and so she'd bring along a wool cloak in her car, and every day on her lunch break drive over to the old library and get her lunch there.

On one hand, I loved the idea of such a creative, nerdy place...but putting it in the library that had been the portal to so many worlds, adventures and explorations - a surer guide to the universe than any TARDIS - seemed like an ignominious end to a noble career. Unsurprisingly the attempt didn't succeed, and not too long after they closed. I don't know what happened to the building after that - what is it today? Was it just knocked down and replaced with something modern and tedious?

I wish I could go back to that place today. At least I know before too long I'll have good reason to visit a children's library just as often, I can't imagine any child of mine not being a reader. I just have to find one here, in my new home, or wherever I fetch up, washed by the tides of fate.

And I know this - I need to smell some old books, and soon.

The night before last, I dreamed I was on an expedition to the Arctic Circle. While standing on the ice, it turned into a "blue hole" (one of those circles of clear water that occasionally happen, but of course, never in the Arctic) which meant that the ice melted and we were underwater. I was going to drown if I didn't get up out of the blue water, but as long as I kept swimming, I could breathe water.

Then last night I dreamt I was on my way to a trade show for work. We had a 2:30 appointment, but at the airport on the way there, I had a problem. I was bringing a friend's puppy that I was watching with me, because the hotel said it was fine to bring the dog. His name was Joel. I had him on a little yarn leash, because he was so tiny. At the airport on the way to the hotel, I was chatting with a coworker and when I got to the top of the escalator we were on, I found with horror that the yarn was untethered and Joel had disappeared into the escalator! I was horrified that I'd find his mangled body and I called for help, running around trying to get an employee to help. When I finally found someone, I couldn't find the escalator, I wasn't sure which one it was. I then had a stress dream about missing the morning's appointment, never finding the dog, not being able to find the shower at the hotel, and not being able to check voicemail to see if anyone had found Joel. But - I'm happy to say, just before waking up, I remember going back to the escalator, shouting hopelessly for Joel ....and he ran up to me! Don't worry everyone, the dog was fine.