The short month. Two months into the new year. The kitchen butcher block rolling table always seems to have crumbs on it. I’m probably the culprit, slicing bread, making a sandwich.
I was going for the light to the carport last night, hearing Diane Harrison pulling up and about to step out into darkness. I knocked over her orchid and smashed the vase. I saved the orchid.
I was in Tampa at Joe’s office by the little inlet. Outside, before coming in, I stood and looked west toward the pink clouds over the darkening water.
There was only gentle old Alex, Venezualan, Joe M., whose office it was, and me. Just the three of us. Prayer.
Where do I go from here? I keep going to the same place. That nowhere place.
Looking at condos earlier in the day. I don’t want to move. I just want Diane to be happy. And me able to live with integrity, with peace of mind.
The condo area, down by the lake, was very nice. But — move again?
True, there is much to fear living in a vinyl and metal place in a place of violent seasonal blasts.
I walked today — past the ibis and muscovy ducks. It was very nice. It was after 9 a.m.. People here and there talking to their neighbors.
I see my old broadcast group up north will get together March 14. I won’t make it, of course. I wish I could.
The year goes. And goes. Pray. Work.
I participated in the Emerson “Pizza&Politics” zoom session today. People from coast to coast speaking on my desk. I’m glad I do this. It was all about Ukraine. Where will it end over there? What will happen to us? To the world?
Happy? Old Saying: your happy as you make up your mind to be. Plus which: it’s decidedly ungrateful to be anything but happy. Especially me: I’ve been given so much.
Today’s gospel, as we edge along in Lent, was Matt 6:7-15 It contains the Our Father.
Finish your writing. Sacrifice. Concentrate. Pray.
Welcome March. The year goes. Lent goes. Repent. Realign. Real-ize. Whatever it takes to improve the game and the vision.