You find out what your kid is made of when you’re running full sprint to catch the 50.  You learn things about each other when you say “go” and don’t think –>  just run, crossing streets, breaking laws, giving it a shot.

It’s not a Bond or Death situation, but it feels like it knowing the next 50 doesn’t run for two hours.  We cut across the library lawn in a desperate effort to intersect before Dupont St., but we see its boxy frame turn and roll out of sight.    Slowing to a jog we accept the truth, we missed the bus.

And when your child, still huffing for air, looks up at you for what to do next you either laugh or cry.

Fortunately, we have resources and legs. All that’s really lost is the plan which probably needed adjustment anyway.  It’ll be OK, that’s what I convey.  But a part of both of us knows we’re missing a good story or character that just got on at NW Ave.

At least I’ve learned some things need to be unlearned. Needing coffee in the morning or generating anxiety over nonsense are habituals that can be unlearned, replaced even if needed. Not saying it’s easy, but a clear attack-path is always present and attainable.

The trick part though is figuring out what you’ve unlearned that you need to relearn. Mental or spiritual gear, practices or reminders that worked way back when–> but have somehow slipped away or been archived in brain boxes.

Oh see sorry you/I hoped for answers, no, I’m all just about excavating and encouraging the clues right now.

Tricky remember getting some things back or unback.

News/Notes:

• Big cottonwood(s) down, now processing
• Moon back to work, now scrambling
• Basement re-insulation project looms, now groaning
• Still missing Yeti LEGO, now wondering
• The Black Count book, now reading
• NBA made me look, now washing
• Getting back on track with exercise, now maintaining
• Ira Glass this weekend at Mt Baker Theatre, now buzzing

The play is epic. I am a Scrabble god. I bingo with “oleander”, not even really knowing the word, just total recalling from a book cover Moon read years ago. I see the title in my mind, White Oleander, and brilliantly surmise the presence and placement of “white” makes it likely not a proper noun so it’s a legit play.  I am amazing.  I am going to be on SportsCenter.  I see the highlights of me spinning and running through a field of oleander shrubs. I hear the postgame interview where I say all the right things.

ME: “My opponent played well but at the end of the day I just wanted it more.”

SC: “Wes, tell us what you were going through when you made that scintillating bingo.”

ME: “I guess I was just in the zone.”

SC: “How can you explain your high level of play?”

ME: “I’ve got to give thanks to my teammate my brain, I would not be here without him. We really left it all out there on the board tonight.”

Admiring my score, I reach for my next tiles (need to replenish a full seven you know because I just bingo’ed).  This is the stuff champions are made of, I might make the Hall.    Still grabbing tiles when–>  no….no wait  –>  without realizing it I’ve created a triple-triple opportunity for my challenger who swoops in to score 60 with a three letter word. She’s only half awake but that’s all you need when a rookie maneuver leaves a triple-triple wide open.  Um. Suppose the Hall won’t be calling after all.  Now I’m the goat. I hope the camera crew and attractive sideline reporter went home early.  My self-image as a strategist aware of all possible outcomes instantly shattered by three little letters. So caught up in my own awesomeness I’d lost sight of, fact I’d never even seen the big picture.

Scrabble I love you, I hate you.  Oleander, you’re not so sweet anymore either, you’re just a poisonous plant whose flowers are usually pinkish anyway.

It’s simultaneously–> getting easier for the beauty to slip right by out of sight or unnoticed, while becoming more vivid than ever when actually seen.

Take the full moonset I witnessed an early morning this week. From my perspective, a thin cloud curved right through the center showcasing size and influence. I’ve seen this same sky rock a thousand times before/never.  Could have easily missed this showing, driven right under it on my way to work or whatever.  Yet, it registered.  I’m still wanting to reflect on the rock; hold on like it’s a piece of important.  I think I have the capacity, even a propensity to do this holding, though it’s not commonplace for me anymore.  Trying and re-trying to make it common.

I can’t remember my brain not being full, and these days it’s taking more calculated attention to fill up with the right stuff.  It’s maybe even a fight at this stage.  Brawls with schedules and mounting chores, fisticuffs with internet and noise. And those self duels can be grueling.  There’s things to be done y’all/me, but those magic moonsets are happening all around all the time. They set across the dinner table and tell disjointed knock-knock jokes.  They can set to be seen in a side alley or Scrabble game paired with just the right cloud.

I think another just slipped me by, better put on those gloves or get a hatchet.

Some recent recommendations–  feel ’em / take ’em / leave ’em –>  

-“The Kings of Summer” (movie)

-headlamps

-kale

-magic

-“The Boys in the Boat” (book)

-breathing

-gumption analysis

-Son House (music)

-Hot Damn Scandal (music)

-fort making

-“Between Two Ferns” (comedy/?)

Husky Crew Foundation Photo:  Erickson Collection 

Workin’.