Time Will Take Care So Itself, So Just Leave Time Alone
Been busy writing, and about to get busier. But not on the weekends. I’m traditional that way. I like to shut down the computer on Friday night and not open it again until Monday morning—with the possible exception of watching a few episodes of Anthony Bourdain: No Reservations.
Have you seen the one where he goes to Sweden? Hilarious. You just can’t help loving the asshole things that come out of his mouth. We also have a game where we count the number of drinks he puts back in a given scene. In the Columbia episode, he bottoms half a bottle of white rum while waiting for some peasant soup to cook. Respect.
So Saturday was a beauty, the first real summer day we’ve seen yet, and it passed in a blur of yardwork, skateparks, and cottonwood fluff.
Sunday, the rain returned, but it was warm, almost tropical, so we went walking on Sauvie Island, our pant legs sopping within minutes, and then stopped by the farmers market for a pint of fresh strawberries still muddy from the garden.
Summer rain—just grab an umbrella and git out in it.
And on the stereo: Phosphorescent: To Willie. An entire album of Willie Nelson covers, what's not to love?