Sometimes little lights show up and beat a big one, even one you figured on spending a little time sunning yourself beside, because you’re not expecting them to hang out and remind you how they look together, or you could look next to others if you have the right setting and timing.
This place turns into the house of the winds whenever a decent cold front passes through the region, there is just something about the angle of the building, maybe the parking garage underneath or the roof overhead. Even rarer: when skies clear and the heavenly bodies line up right.
I slept poorly after writing about a three-alarm fire that heavily damaged a historic church building, so later today, I countered with: a short walk out in sunshine; dark chocolate; organic sipping chicken bone broth; a ten-mile bike ride; a chat about health with the maternal unit.
It’s always a pleasure to walk around the room and meet folks who’ve heard of you or are just now realizing you exist, and it’s also a pleasure to sit in a backyard with a friend and acknowledge that both you and they exist. Both these things were fun and I should do it more often.
Oh, hello, loud rattling noise, making yourself heard at speed along the highway this morning. We were listening to something uptempo, so we couldn’t immediately place you. But then our dealership found you, and now we wait for a body shop appointment after a holiday weekend to fix you.
A full day, with a financial thing that required some face to face consultation, a surprisingly good sandwich from a butcher shop, a decent schlep around one of the water bodies that feeds a local creek, solid views driving downhill and some flipping through magazines at a bookstore.
I managed to talk with one of two of the folks who reached out, and that’s going to have to be enough. At least I was home, and had enough together to take care of some things and be present in certain ways and watch the pendulum seeing less narrowly than last month or earlier this one.
Today felt like everybody popping out of the woodwork and wanting some form of response. Did they deserve it? Much more often than not, the answer was no. So I held my tongue, tried not to bite it cleanly through at certain points, and made it all the way to the end of the day.
I had to enter a federal building today. After the metal detector, while retrieving my belt, shoes and watch, I showed a guard my press pass. He asked if my paper used to be the one he’d delivered growing up. We traded memories of the old newsroom, and I managed not to crumble into dust.
The cat’s in the hallway, yelling at A., and I’m thinking I’ve been a better steward of my thoughts here and elsewhere, and I’ll be better again someday if not soon. I’m not going to put money on it, but I might put time. Isn’t that stuff just as expensive as cash, if not more?