Track 72

Things get strange when
one moment you’re home (the original one)
looking at the window of your childhood room from the outside,
& in a flash you’re talking to Ranftle or Billingsley or can’t remember Name.
20th reunion–> discovering what/who is the same/different. And I’m reminded of how big Mount Rainier and Teachers are. And it’s strange and beautiful to walk into the same gymnasium where at times I hid, at others I shined.
And seemingly hours later you go- there I go-     to sit in an ornate theater finding myself moved to hear David Sedaris describe crossing state lines to get a tumor removed by a stranger in hopes of feeding it to turtles come late Spring.
And then there’s Don’s.
You and I could say we had a strange weekend.

 

 

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Track 67

Me + jeans and a clean shirt = someone who seems reasonable at work or walking down the street (not overtly friendly, but a conversation could be struck up with this Me.)

Me + 6:30AM emerging from dark pickup = a shady character to be avoided in the parking lot.

Me + a button up = “have a good day sir.”

Me + torn shorts and hoody filling gas cans = concerned looks.

Me + two kids in Woods Coffee = a highly trustable man perfect for watching a college student’s purse and laptop while she goes to the bathroom.


 

 

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Photo by Moonwater 

Track 66

In Trivial Pursuit I’m always better at the Pop Culture or Sports questions than Science.  Though I latch on to science folk and try to learn from them, I guess I prefer books about life at Sea or in a Band.

Also what classifies as a crib around here, the one we used for Tayen, never really got reassembled for Nyla.  She’s been doing other things at night.
That said, I love-love-loved this line I read from The Scientist in the Crib:  
 
“If the child is the budding psychologist, we parents are the laboratory rats.”

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Track 65

Was out in shorts and T yesterday, nearly applied sunblock to children. In February, that’s how it’s been.  I fully get we/West haven’t the reality or even imagination of the snow banks out East, but we’ve had our wind(s) this winter.

The season’s wind damage to the acre:

  • some shingles + ridge cap down
  • big flying branch takes out gutter section, could have been worse
  • big flying branch takes out no one, could have been worser
  • significant neighbor branch flies a long way on to our property
  • shed door wildly swings open busting hinge and post
  • birdhouse down
Through all of it, every single gust, there’s been this little pinwheel surviving in the same spot for months.  99 cents that never wavered.  An exact partner a few feet away didn’t last two days.   This thing has amazed me–> repeatedly standing ground and doing its job no matter the weather–>  staying true and still spinning as other bigger branches have surrendered and messed up our yard.
Telling myself if it can I can.

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Track 64

I can see it. I expect a win. –> This is still a relatively new mindset for a Seattle Sports Fan historically prone to low expectations and a well-guarded heart. It feels rather nice to prepare for something good to happen. I could get used to not being used to pain. The other shoe can drop if it pleases, I just won’t be waiting for it. And since I don’t even know what that expression means, I’ll forget it completely and visualize success.

Of course nobody knows what will ultimately transpire. No one of us can foretell which will be THE moments or who will fall and rise in the end.
So sure I might get hurt, I just don’t see it happening. What we see matters.

 

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