And as I’m now doing in my Guadalupian Epoch, I will not be blogging every day. I will be soaking up the sights, taking notes, gathering my thoughts. Then, when I come back, I will tell you about it.

Drove to Houston yesterday. Watched the Cougars play football. Drove home. We ate lunch at Tony’s in Sealy on the way and grabbed Taco’s Supreme at Taco Bell on the way home. We lost the football game. I don’t believe it was my fault.

There’s an old saying, measure twice cut once. Good advice. It’s also good advice to measure even once.

Got a text from a cousin yesterday enquiring as to the names of the parents of one of our great grandparents. I knew them. Almost off the top of my head. Peculiar bit of information to have.

Home. The grass needed mowing. I mowed. All else seems in good order. The rain gauge stands at an inch and two tenths. The Crossvine I planted this spring is blooming on the trellis. Lots of promise there.

This is it. the final night thoughts. It’s about happiness and how it’s under your control.

Yesterday, I talked about how to wait for an answer. Today, it’s what happens when you get it.

Ah, the midnight rambles. That time in the night when I wake from a sound sleep to begin thinking intrusive thoughts. The time of obsessive mulling.

Drove to Houston yesterday. Hit a patch of hard rain. It reminded me of the days in Houston when I drove to work in the hard rain. Those were the days when it paid to have lived here a long time and be familiar with the old roads.

I had a revelation the other day.

Ah, the big game, for us. Houston against Texas. Football. It’s always fun to beat them, but we’ve only done it seven times. So, it’s definitely not a habit.

Yesterday was a good day. In the morning, I got Wordle in two. In the afternoon, I got to Houston to visit my daughter and the two grandkids, and last night Altuve homered in the ninth and the Astro’s won.

Played a little music last night. My wife’s cousin invited us to perform at their RV rally just up the road in Stonewall. We obliged.

Went for a long walk yesterday. Five miles. It’s the nicest thing about my small town. I can walk out my door, go through the Johnson Settlement Park, get into town, turn right on Avenue F, and before you know it, I’m in the hills south of town.

I don’t know what to make of this. My current streak in Wordle is 118 days. My streak started on June 22. That was the night I saw Reckless Kelly at Gruene Hall. I went by myself.

Drove through parts of Houston yesterday. Traveled up 45 from Sagemont, into downtown, and out again via Interstate 10. Went through areas where I lived a large part of my life.

It is closer to noon than it is to dawn. Yet, here I sit, writing, as though the sun is still to rise and my day yet to begin.

I am returned from the valley of Covid. Dropped off the cliff Saturday morning about 2 a.m. Woke up to a raging fever and a head full of everything, along with a cough.

Durn. I went to bed last night without thinking of something to write about this morning. This means sitting down fresh and sorting through a large collection of random thoughts to see what might be worth a few words.

Yesterday, I wrote about memories and the making of new ones with new friends. And a high school friend commented that she was in a new locale and ready to make new friends herself, and added, “…I sense you are lucky. I believe a lot of men don’t have friends for whatever reason….Any ideas why??”