sometimes we decide we don’t like roller coaster rides. so we get off and try really hard not to feel things for a very long time. and then baby leaves the nest, the chickens and duck grow old, the tortoise sulks, and you decide to move back home. and you find work, maybe not enough but some, and you work on yourself but you don’t want to be a “dull boy” so you look up old friends to play with and make some new ones. and whoops you are back in the game; tall enough to take this ride. there is soaring. there is falling. there is speed and slowing down and oh such a wonderful view. and maybe when you weren’t looking you learned not to clutch the rail so hard. and you can always close your eyes through the worst parts. and the best. but since we like to talk about coffee let me just say this: my new infatuation is espresso cubano.
Archive for May, 2012|Monthly archive page
my little brother has been very dutiful about keeping all of us back here abreast of all that he is doing in his new adventures land. he and his sweetie got married in march so i guess i should refer to him as mister little brother. while they wait for mountains of citizenship papers to process they are not risking crossing the canadian border and their travels are limited to their little corner of the world. via the emails he sends, we have been enjoying architecture, foods, foliage, sightseeing, and the obligatory self-portrait shot of the two lovebirds. trust me, we would complain if that shot wasn’t included. every time. i myself don’t get out much. in fact, my circles of travel get smaller and smaller without a car, with aging, and with settling into my berkeley routine. today i changed up the layout of my room and feel like i really got somewhere.
buster and i can get everywhere i need to go. sometimes it’s nice to leave the bike at home and traverse the neighborhoods on foot. there were some delightful shots i did not get today. the adorable little blond sisters who insisted i buy a raffle ticket. they threw in a mom-baked oatmeal cookie for good measure. when they were done with me, the pair turned on the tough teenage boys with braided hair and low pants trying to sidle by. the lads mumbled no thank you they didn’t have any money on them. there was a friendly cat soaking up the heat in a garden with large lavender painted rocks in it. while waiting to cross the street, a car full of young ladies and trailing mylar balloons pulled up. “excuse me!”, she said, all sassy . . . uh-oh, i thought . . . she grinned even bigger and hollered, “you’re beautiful!” a few blocks closer to home, another young lady hollers at me from her doorstep, “i like your shirt”. i need to get out more often.