Weather: August and sticky — normal for this time of year.
Work: busy and noisy — also normal for this time of year.
Personal: quiet with showers of socialization.
Life: exceptionally good — for reasons I still can’t figure out.
Sorry it’s such spotty posts. I do know there are some of you out there still. I want to inspire and create and enrage — but all I can do is be what I’m right now and that is comfortable, happy, sort of empty and thoroughly overwhelmed with work, play, Braves, August, friends and family.
My dad wrote a poem though. I keep re-reading it. Not sure what to say about it. It’s different for him. On a personal level it brought up a ton of memories from childhood–mainly good ones. You know the type I mean. The ones that sort live in a golden bubble — yet they still have the honest red clay and ants on brick walls. Something like that. Anyway, what can I say — at least someone is writing in my family and it’s good.
I’ll get there though. The competitive streak in me will not let dad win.