Wed, 17 May 2017, 08:17 PM (-06:00)
A cold wind blew out of the north-northwest. The thermometer never topped 60 during the days, and it plunged into the 30s at night. But the sky was blue, and at times the sun was warm. (This, mind you, comes from a Texan who left 90 degree days in brief exchange for the wind and a fire burning in the wood stove all day long.)
It was spring — time to pull the sections of dock off the beach where we left them last fall and hook them together in anticipation of still distant summertime celebrations.
These were my compatriots.
And this was the fruit of our labors.
Wed, 17 May 2017, 07:51 PM (-06:00)
There were dogs in Michigan when we put the dock in — two white dogs and one black one.
Izzy would have run circles around them (in the literal sense, not in the my-dog-is-better-than-yours sense), and then she would have run straight into the woods which would have been the last we saw of her, because within seconds she would have been on a bee-line off to … Kalamazoo.
And this, alas, is why there was only one black dog and two white ones up there in the woods.
Trudy objects to this characterization of Miss Izzy.
“She would come back…,” she says, but I know no such thing.
Besides, Izzy would never sit quietly for hours in a carrier under a seat in an airplane. But don’t tell Trudy about this opinion of mine, because there is no doubt that she’d love to put the hypothesis to the test when fall comes around and the dock needs to come out.
Tue, 16 May 2017, 10:00 PM (-06:00)
We went out and about.
We hiked a coastal ridge trail to Pirate’s Cove.
And of course, we (and a few others)
watched our graduate
graduate. Thumbs up!
Mon, 15 May 2017, 09:53 PM (-06:00)
With a bright sun shining and Pomp and Circumstance playing, the graduates streamed into the stadium, walking to their seats on the field.
We saw them come in. We saw the radiant smiles. The relief. The joy. We all saw it. We all shared it.
Tomorrow they would finally be able to sleep in without guilt. If that’s not joy, what is?
Mon, 15 May 2017, 09:28 PM (-06:00)
Flying west, we passed over the mountains.
Mon, 15 May 2017, 06:01 PM (-06:00)
1. Flying Over
We left Austin on a Thursday afternoon. And as we flew over fly-over country, we saw the red monuments of Monument Valley Navajo Tribal Park.
source: maplogs
And we saw the winding water of Lake Powell up to where in the distance the water abruptly stopped at Glen Canyon Dam.
source: Lake Powell Tours
We saw these things looking straight down from 30,000 feet.
2. Chowing Down
We arrived in Berkeley around dinner time. And seeing how Trudy and I are all about dinner at dinner time, we texted my brother and told him we were headed to Razan’s Organic Kitchen.
source: The Fair and Industrious Trudy
We met at sea level, and we all chowed down.
Wed, 3 May 2017, 07:37 PM (-06:00)
I sat on the floor in the kitchen this evening next to Charlie as he ate his dinner, reluctantly at first as he always does, and then only begrudgingly, as if the kibble had no taste and offered nothing of interest.
I kind of understand where he’s coming from. My tastebuds are still recovering from last year’s treatment, and I find that I approach my meals reluctantly at first and then eat only begrudgingly, because the food often has no taste and offers nothing of interest.
We seem to see things from the same point of view, Charlie and I.
Sun, 30 Apr 2017, 06:46 PM (-06:00)
It was chilly this morning — by Central Texas standards. At lunchtime in the park, we sat in the sun to warm our bones. It will be blisteringly hot soon enough. So the cool air blowing against our faces as we walked thru the woods was medicine for the soul and inoculation for the coming summer.
As the sun went down in the evening, as the shadows of the trees across the street stretched over to where the dogs and I were sitting, as the cool air got cooler, as the yellow Texas Star began to glow in the late afternoon light, I sat down and leaned against the stump of the old Ash tree and crossed my legs and let the last rays of sun hit my face as the breeze blew thru my hair.
Don’t tell Trudy. She was inside being industrious. I was sitting outside being not.
Sun, 23 Apr 2017, 08:02 PM (-06:00)
It was lunch time. We were eating barbecue. We do that a lot, he and I.
He was telling me something about a friend he has back home. She’s a woman roughly his mother’s age, if I got the gist. He stopped for a moment and looked at me. (It was just the two of us at the table.)
“I have this habit of making friends with old people.”
Yep. That’s me — I don’t deny it: I am an old people.
