Chilly

The clear skies I mentioned yesterday mean that the blankets are off our part of the world, and with the clear comes the crisp. Yesterday while watching those movies I opened the window to let in fresh air. And because that made the heater fire up, I turned off the heat. Come along about evening I was shivering in my thick jacket, then went to bed and shivered under all the blankets my lovely wife usually piles on herself while I loll half out of the covers. We must be going through a cold snap, I thought. Long about breakfast time this morning I remembered that the heat was off. Silly boy.

But I did write 10 poems last night and this morning. I kid you not. I've never done that in my life. And they all look like keepers.

Plus the iPod got a workout.

I did more touchup painting his morning, and it's drying now. Every half hour or so, I'm going to put an additional coat on that spot on the bedroom ceiling.

My son likes to play at being rebellious from time to time, and making a show of preferring Mommy to Daddy. But every night when he's in bed he tells me he loves me. Nobody asks him to, and he says it first. I'm a good dad. There are more reports of him hugging my photo at his grandparents' house.

I can't wait till he gets back and can sass me some more.

And yeah, in case you're wondering, I have done a little crying. Not the kind you have to worry about, the therapeutic kind. Most recently for example this morning when I was listening to part of the Dylan 30th anniversary concert, and the crowd started cheering for the entry of a familiar voice, which I recognized as George Harrison. And then I remembered that George is dead.

I jogged two blocks (not exactly what we'd call a normal jog, boys and girls) and then walked the rest of the way to the gym. You know that really light workout I have? Well, I did half of the reps, only. I don't want to shock the muscles. Just want to remind them.