It is entirely possible to get caught in the trap of comparing what you have to what other’s have.

The party’s over. It was a success. But the afterglow is fading. I thought it might last longer. But there it goes becoming a thing of the past.

Here’s a cartoon trope. A character is chasing another character. Let’s say, Wile E. Coyote. At some point the chaser, Wile, will find himself suspended in mid-air having run off a cliff.

It’s gonna be a good day. It started out that way. I got Wordle in two. It happens less than five percent of the time.

Got my new tire and wheel yesterday for the big mower. Put it on. Saw that the tire was touching the frame. Thought to myself, they sold me the wrong sized tire. Took it off. Put it in my trunk to take it back.

It seems a simple thing. Thursday is trash day. It needs to be on the street by seven a.m. I missed it yesterday as I have missed it many days. My late wife never missed it. Never.

Bonus. I scored two thunderstorms yesterday. The first showed around 8 p.m. The second appeared in the morning at 1 a.m. Although as I write that I realize actually it was one yesterday and one today.

This will sound weird. But I do believe I’m going to try and work outside more days this summer.

Had a good day in the yard yesterday, despite the heat. It was actually invigorating if you count being drenched in sweat invigorating. But I had chores to do, and I wanted to do them, so I did.

Memory is a funny thing. I know, for instance, there is only one natural lake in Texas. Somehow, I came to believe that was Inks Lake.

Happy Father’s Day. I’m a father. I like it. But I don’t really think I need a day. Generally speaking, I feel celebrated all the time.

The birds are fed. The cats are fed. Wordle is in the books. My day begins. I’m thinking about my garden again and the satisfaction it offers.

Swallows. I have a pair trying to nest on the wall over the entrance to the dog run. Which means, if they’re successful, that when someone comes to my front door, they’d have to navigate a pile of bird dung. Not in the plan.

Last night, as I lay in bed, wandering around in the dark world of 3 a.m., I cast my mind back to the days when sleep was just a thing I did. I puzzled over it a bit.

I spent Memorial Day weekend on the banks of the Nueces River. It’s the river that runs through my life. It’s a beautiful river made even better for the memories generated along its banks.

We had a high of 94 yesterday in our little town. Today it is expected to hit 97. But it’s cool this morning, and there are a few clouds about. So, it’s a nice walk around the trees to look at the plants.

It’s an air-is-out-of-the-balloon day. The grandson is gone, back to his mom and dad, and the emptiness is shrinking in around me. That’s okay, however, it happens every time the kids come then go.

I’ve had a good weekend. The littlest grandson came for a visit. Slept on the couch. Went with me to hear music. We trekked through Longhorn Cavern. Swam at the city pool. Went shopping. Three times.

I have to say that cleaning and organizing my garden tool storage room revealed a startling fact. I have tools I never or seldom use.

I am reaching deep into every corner of my life and home as I reorganize. Yesterday, I got after the storage area at the end of my workroom.