My dishwasher bit the dust the other day. Twelve years of hard water and hard work took its toll. All it does now is blink at me, little blue lights, flashing away beside unresponsive buttons.

If you live in Hill Country, you should be getting up in the morning and going outside. The air is cool and fine. It’s a once in a lifetime August.

I was on fire yesterday. The day started with my usual one-mile power walk. Then I fired up my new power washer. Manpower and horsepower.

Wow. Went to hear music and sit with friends yesterday. To celebrate we got pelted with rain. And then it rained again last night. Is this still Texas?

Canned another six pints of peach jam yesterday (twelve, eight-ounce jars). It’s far from a lyrical enterprise when you do it by yourself.

Went outside last night. Stood in the dark and looked up at the stars. The milky way stretched across the sky. I thought how nice it was to have a place where I could do that.

For a very brief period of my life, I wrote about popular music. I lived in Houston and attended the university of the same name. It coincided with the rise of several eventually famous artists, and one of them was ZZ Top.

I think the feasting is done. The raccoons come at night. I come in the day. We all pick. Their bellies are full. My refrigerator is full.

It’s amazing how sore I can get from simply driving my car.

There was joyful noise in the house yesterday, children were underfoot while adults worked in the kitchen. The neighbors, even though they live fifty miles away, came to help me, a solitary soul can his fruit.

Yesterday, I was fretting about squirrels and peaches. Today, it’s elves. I did laundry yesterday and I have no idea where all those clothes came from.

At one point after high school, I worked for Ma Bell. We worked in teams of two. I was the junior member, obviously. We listened to a lot of radio, mostly country, but some talk, and the talk was always Paul Harvey. Those guys loved Paul. I liked his stories, too.

Drove across the rain-soaked hills of the Devil’s Backbone yesterday evening after listening to music with two friends at a local brewery.

I’m happy to report I made it home in one piece, which sort of goes without saying, since I’m writing this.

There are two cabinets over the washing machine, two cabinets over the dryer, with three shelves each.

I had a great day yesterday, and I feel good. Listened to live music. Got lots of positive vibes. Had the birthday song sung to me, twice.

It’s my birthday. Seventy-five. Three quarters of a century. I’ve seen a lot of history. Don Larsen threw a perfect game. Mays robbed Wertz. The Marines escaped Chosin.

There is probably of law of physics that speaks to the acceleration of a six year old boy as it relates to his physical proximity to the adult male charged with looking out for him.

This is nice. Children are in the house. Pallets are on the floor. Sleepers are all around.

Yesterday evening, as my day was winding down, I thought briefly about calling a friend. But I realized the hour was late and the call could wait.