Went to see a show last night at the Paramount Theater in downtown Austin. We parked in the garage they use and went off to meet friends for dinner.

A while back, oh, let’s be honest, several years ago, my little push mower that I used on my Tiffway yard stopped working. Just wouldn’t roll. I poked at it for a while then just set it aside. Another thing in my life that didn’t work.

Three friends. More than fifty years together. Lots of laughs. Lots of parties. Lots of dancing. Lots of football. Yesterday we sat there together on our metal seats, backs against the concourse wall. Comfortable.

Went for a drive in the hills south of town last night. A little bit of free floating anxiety had made its way into the house and settled on my shoulders. I needed to get out.

Made music last night. It was a spur of the moment thing. Last month my steel guitar playing son asked my bass playing daughter to sit in with him during a monthly music gathering a friend of his has started. This month they invited me.

Well, durn, I hike over half of creation this past week without a twinge from my feet or any other part of my body. I wake up yesterday with a left ankle so sore I can barely touch it after a really good night’s sleep.

Yesterday was a surprisingly dour day. I thought I was prepared. I wasn’t. The anniversary of my wife’s death took most of the air out of my sails. Luckily, a coterie of friends stood by with words of love, and words of encouragement.

Here we are. August 4. The second anniversary of my wife’s death. Last year I took off my wedding ring. It seemed as good a time as any to admit the obvious.

It’s Monday. I’m late in the writing, for no good reason, actually. I have started taking Sunday’s off, which is why I had no words to offer yesterday.

From the beginning of our time together my wife and I were hand me down kids. If we could use it, and it was offered, we took it. Beds, tables, washing machines, all got second chances in our house.

About a month back I ran into a rock. A flying rock. A rock of indeterminate size. It whacked my windshield. At home, I looked for a sign of impact. Found none.

Ate Ramen noodles for the first time last night. Unsure about the nutritional value, but they were tasty. On the recommendation of a friend, I used the beef.

Went to bed at my normal hour. 9:30. Woke at 12:30, worried I’d never get back to sleep. Got a drink of water. Read a bit of a book. Fell into a sleep so deep that I dreamed.

The sweet smell of rain is hanging in the cool air this morning. The grass sparkles with dew. Everything looks soft and alive. Makes me miss the Gulf Coast where moisture is in the air every day.

It rained yesterday and I forgot it was my anniversary. No penalty to pay for either event. The gauge this morning shows a little bit more than .3 inches fell, and my wife passed away in 2020.

I’ve probably written about hugs before, but I’m going to do it again. Met with a group of friends last night to cook dinner and there were hugs all around, coming and going. It’s a huggy crowd, and I love it. It’s the magic of the human touch.

We buried a mother, a daughter, a friend yesterday, Sky Jones Lewey. Figuratively and literally.

Here we are. A new day. The sun lit the morning clouds in a spectacular fashion. That’s done. The day is started. Not much on the agenda. Plans are in hand for the trip to Uvalde tomorrow for the funeral of our friend, Sky.

Another friend has ceased to be. Now, rather than drive to a birthday party in Houston this weekend, I’ll drive to a funeral in Uvalde.

I enjoy watching the slow progression of life across my land. Yesterday I stood on the porch, leaning against a cedar pole, and looked at the flame leaf sumac with all the new sprouts popping up. I felt good.