Thursday, October 12, 2006
flannel shirt weather
Ahh. . . I must confess my dear reader, that sadly, while I do miss them terribly, part of me is reveling in the solitude of the first night of Autumn.
This morning, The Wife loaded The Boy and all of The Boy's Gear: a veritable pediatric ICU, all gently crammed into a 2006 Honda CRV. A sister-in law went along for the ride and for support with The Boy. The trio bravely journeyed out into the wilds of Texas, to their ancestral homeland.
Sometimes no news really is good news. They have travelled into a land still beyond the reach of cellphone towers. Only in case of emergency do I expect to hear the phone ring out from the old school landline call of a relative.
I have not been writing as frequently, yes, I both confess and apologize to you my dear reader.
The scene being set thusly. . .
Whil'I jus'a beggin' your forgiv'nss, guvnor. . .
Ah, so what. I am a blonde. Don't you wish you were me?
I have been simaltaneously relaxing and a rocking. Sitting outside in the cool damp of the night air. I have my guitar. I have beer. I have a fresh pack of smokes.
Admittedly, the latter two are not without memories of joyous youthful overindulgence tempered by their now recognized risks. We are all cursed by our own temptations.
But really now, my dear reader, who that walks amongst us dare claim to be a stronger man than Adam? I am still, calm, with neither expectation nor obligation; alone with my thoughts and myself for the first time in the months that I have been the joker king of this castle.
The first and therefore relatively mild "norther", as some of the locals still call them, loudly heralds the arrival of the autumn scene. It huffs if not quite puffs around me.
It is a beautiful night. . .
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This morning, The Wife loaded The Boy and all of The Boy's Gear: a veritable pediatric ICU, all gently crammed into a 2006 Honda CRV. A sister-in law went along for the ride and for support with The Boy. The trio bravely journeyed out into the wilds of Texas, to their ancestral homeland.
Sometimes no news really is good news. They have travelled into a land still beyond the reach of cellphone towers. Only in case of emergency do I expect to hear the phone ring out from the old school landline call of a relative.
I have not been writing as frequently, yes, I both confess and apologize to you my dear reader.
The scene being set thusly. . .
Whil'I jus'a beggin' your forgiv'nss, guvnor. . .
Ah, so what. I am a blonde. Don't you wish you were me?
I have been simaltaneously relaxing and a rocking. Sitting outside in the cool damp of the night air. I have my guitar. I have beer. I have a fresh pack of smokes.
Admittedly, the latter two are not without memories of joyous youthful overindulgence tempered by their now recognized risks. We are all cursed by our own temptations.
But really now, my dear reader, who that walks amongst us dare claim to be a stronger man than Adam? I am still, calm, with neither expectation nor obligation; alone with my thoughts and myself for the first time in the months that I have been the joker king of this castle.
The first and therefore relatively mild "norther", as some of the locals still call them, loudly heralds the arrival of the autumn scene. It huffs if not quite puffs around me.
It is a beautiful night. . .
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