Tuesday Night

"Mom, why can't I stay home alone tonight? That thing's not for kids. I don't get why I have to go to a school board meeting."

"You don't have to go, you get to go."

"Really, Mom? That's how you're selling it?"

Back in the Bleachers

I took two excellent trips in the last two weeks. "Excellent" in this case is the strongest word I can think of without sounding hyperbolic, even though saying things like "life changing" would be true. I am also happy to be home.

Smacksy Sunday Links

Hello, my love.

Wellbeing is enhanced more by places than by objects.

This is the marathon for me.

An interview with Patti Smith about photography and other things.

And a goat kid pajama party.

Happy Sunday.

Smacksy Saturday Photo: You Already Know This

Exactly. 

Unblinking

Sometimes you get a magnificent ten hours of sleep while a giant horse head stares at you. It's not the same kind of sleep you get when there is a very tall man and two enthusiastic, snoring dogs in your bed. (And sometimes a very tall eleven year-old boy-child.) The horse bed is supremely comfortable but you are always aware that the crowded bed is better.

Buttermilk Sky

Mr. Rosenberg took this photo a few days ago. I think this is what is called a buttermilk sky. I am making an appointment with myself to grab a blanket and lay down in the backyard and watch the next time I see one of these overhead. I think I need to make sky-watching a thing. My new thing. 

Le Chien

While I was out of town last week, my sweet Levi experienced a smidge of ennui. He moped around. He slept on my side of the bed, on my pillow even. He smoked a pack of Gitanes. He drank café Americanos he made himself in the one cup, stovetop espresso maker. He wrote cryptic haiku on rumpled cocktail napkins and listened to hours of Edith Piaf (on vinyl). He was too shrouded in a certain malaise to even bark at the mailman.

Please don't tell him I'm leaving again in the morning. Let us have this night.