light

A bit cooler for sunrise this morning, the ride into work should be nice. I think the time changes soon, no more waking sunrises, and I’ll have to leave the office while there’s still daylight or get lights for the bike.

Spent the past several days in Pittsburgh with my buddies for our annual guys trip, which we call Dickstack (yes we are permanently 14). Pirates game, Warhol museum, way too much food. Was supposed to be a Springsteen show but he cancelled. Had a fantastic time.

At work I’m working on some of the most fun, most fulfilling work I’ve tackled to date. I enjoy the challenge and am hopeful about the return. But I’m also weary of becoming too intoxicated with all that, as it’s just so easy for me to let “productivity pride” take over.

Love always.

venus fading

Been having more dreams I can remember upon waking lately. Has been a while, although I wouldn’t have noticed had I not started remembering again.

And while they’ve not been blue or anything, they’ve definitely had all the elements of a good story, including romance and passion. I’m in bed with an old love, I’m watching a woman I know do things not meant to be watched.

But also I find myself nude (aside from a do-rag on my head) taking a dump in a bathroom only to notice that I’m somehow in the bedroom of the grandmother of my childhood best friend. She’s still asleep in bed and here I am taking a naked shit in full view.

Sharaun says something rude so I walk, and walk, and leave and walk. I find a huge unrealistic tree house.

Those kind of dreams.

one thing or another

There’s water under the kitchen sink. Damn.

Let’s pull everything out and climb down there in that cramped space and probably hit our head a few times and crane our neck and see if we can figure out where it’s coming from.

From the disposal. OK I’ll replace the drain gasket. Still leaking.

And, y’know, I’ve not been doing a very good job keeping up on the house to-do list. There’s that tear in the screened-in porch panel I’ve been meaning to patch, I even bought the patch material like two months ago. I need to replace the screen door handle, too… have the parts for that sitting on my workbench in the garage. Both cars, and the RV for that matter, need an oil change. And shit, man, have you seen the bedside drawer in the guest room? What, we just put all our random stuff in there now? That’s gotta get cleaned out.

Sometimes piled-up things like this feel oppressive, and I find myself in an agitated state, feeling behind and negligent… wanting to fly into a fury of productivity to “clear the list” and feel better about keeping up. I think this is why I’m so anal about keeping a tidy house. When I see clutter around, it makes me feel that much more overwhelmed. I have a hard time sitting down and relaxing if there’s shit everywhere, and it’s easier for me to ignore that tear in the screen panel if the place where I spend most of my time is neat and tidy.

Seems to be leaking from the body of the disposal itself… like it’s cracked or compromised. I have some leftover silicone sealant/adhesive in the garage. I’ll slather that around where the water seems to be weeping out, let that dry, and see if I can stave off spending $150 on a new disposal.

One thing or another.

a smile and a fist bump

They cleared out a homeless camp that was in a patch of woods I pass daily on my bike ride to and from work.

It was just one person “living” there. There are a few one-person camps I pass on my route, tucked away off the bike trail and main roads. Some hidden better than others, having taken several rides right past them before I glimpsed them.

I’m better at recognizing the signs of where a camp might be: worn trails off the asphalt and into the bush, or has been: cleared brush and multiple “No Trespassing” signs. I know where most of the regulars stay or hang around during the daylight hours.

The camp they cleared away was fairly established. Had a tent with a real mattress, held off the ground on a platform of pallets. Had camp chairs and a line of suitcases. Had a stand mirror and traps strung around as makeshift walls. Had several shopping carts of stuff.

I only saw the resident twice in six months of riding, but one time he was panhandling at the corner and he gave me a smile and a fist bump.

Sleeping rough in the city, even if it’s in the woods, especially in Florida, must be challenging. I don’t envy those in that unfortunate position.

Hope that dude found another place he can tuck into and have some sense of safety.

Hugs.

628am, back porch

You know that dream?

The one where you’re in college again and, like, months into school you remember there’s a class you’ve forgotten to go to the entire semester. You went on day one, but just completely forgot you were even in the class after that. That feeling; a sudden and pointed guilt because you can’t believe you could screw up so bad.

Sometimes I have that same feeling in the waking world. Not often, but occasionally, the thought will just hit me that I’ve not spoken to my mom in forever. A wave of shame and sadness descends; how could I be such an awful son? When was the last time I even called my mother? What kind of cruel uncaring beast of a son just forgets to call his mom?

The kind whose mom has been dead for years, I guess. That kind.

The brain is funny like that.

birds chirping

Outside on the porch watching the sunrise.

Sipping coffee and listening to the sounds of the morning. City sounds: jets flying overhead (we’re close to the airport), the pneumatics of a garbage truck a neighborhood or two over, cars on some distant road , the little refrigerator I keep beer in cycling on and off. But also some country sounds: a rooster crowing in the new day, birds chirping, squirrels chittering, a turtle or fish or something disturbing the water just a little.

Already dressed for my ride. Been cycling the 6mi to (and back from) work for about six months now, started in March. I loved it from the day I started, and am surprised how much I still enjoy and look forward to each day’s ride. Takes me right about 30min each way. I shower and change clothes and get ready in the gym locker room at the office building after arriving dripping in sweat. Lost some weight in the first few weeks but not from the gut or upper body. Since then it seems only to continue strengthening my legs.

This year has been good for new habits. Cycling to work, doing my own vehicle repairs, and cooking more. I want to add a return to writing and “art.” I’ve long wished I had some artistic outlet.

There’s fog, or steam, or condensation on the lake. Floating over it, moving across it in billows. It’s pretty.

Time to pack for the ride.

so much happened

It’s not going to be possible to “catch up” here.

Too much has happened since I was writing consistently and regularly. I guess no one’s reading this chronologically, anyway. But I think the weight of all the years not writing does often feel to me like a block or weight that keeps me from starting again. Maybe acknowledging that won’t be fixed will help me be free of that feeling.

I’m on the back porch in the sun, looking out over the lake. This is our home now. Sometimes I miss California, the mountains and the weather and the people, but this place is definitely our home now. A cinder block house we own outright, on a small lake. Place is in good shape and I do my best to take care of it so it’ll last. I’m proud of where I am personally, the changes I’ve made and the person I am.

Our kids are so old. Our marriage, too. Proud of all that, also. I like what we bring to this earth, I’m pleased with our energy. I feel like we’re all doing a good job trying to learn and grow as we mature. We’re doing a good job. Sometimes I wish my parents were able to see our family; how we’re doing, how similar our route so far ended up being to theirs in some ways, how much better in others.

I’ve felt inspired to write for over a year but I’ve just not done it. I have the time, too. I’ve just not made it part of my routine.

Love.