Home.  Finally.

In the kitchen, yes… with different mind and more passion than I know what to do with.  Tomorrow in San Jose, three site surveys.  Recording everything.

LoFi, a somewhat warm beer but I don’t care.  Writing to cap the day, which has otherwise been odd.  No explanation, just know the character pushed through something.  And I owe it, all pieces and steps and climbs and corners, to that Nurse of mine.

My soon2B bride… magic.  All her words, motions, looks, when I bring her dinner at work as I did ce soir….

Getting darker earlier now.  My thoughts fly away to Sunriver when it’s snowing, taking the kids, traveling more.  Around this country, most of which I haven’t seen.

Cat, Figgy, meow-moaning while he paces back and forth to the sliding screen door then to the edge of the couch.  He makes me laugh.  I think he might be…. Well, a little, off?  Maybe?

I laugh, and enjoy this new freer writing rile of mine.  Where was I seven years ago?  Not sure why I’m asking, but let’s fucking look…

Technically this pic was taken seven years ago, right now 7:50pm, tomorrow.  In the kitchen, which years later would have a meaning sound and loud to itself.

My point… TIME.  Keeps moving.  And it only has that purpose, to move.  So, I can only follow and capture and stress occasionally, but either way I learn and grow.

Tonight brings, more education.  Each item – hate that word… I mean, piece in the scene.  Fixture, article, what would be the right word?

Today, turned around.  Again, to the Nurse all prai—  Fig hops on the table, then the counter.  Yes, know I can finally know and wholly conclude, he’s batty.

Letter to the Story itself, asking why is there so much that I still have to solve.  I was never good at math…. IS it an equation, or does this fucking writer make it that way?