Friday, July 19
Yes, that is my theme for the month, developed in my Wednesday yoga class.
This particular week, I have not had a moment to myself until just this afternoon, when I stole away and locked myself in a private room at Common Grounds with a large iced tea and a turkey-pear sandwich. And deleted 70 of 100 emails, avoiding Yahoo's "Hipsters flock to Mexican Coke" and "How to crack an egg". Unfortunately I did succumb to "Netflix dropping your favorites". Dammit. My favorites!
I have been thinking of you (Tricia dear) a lot this week. Paul and I went yesterday to Red Rocks - startlingly bright and strangely energizing - and I ran up and down the stairs for a total of seven sides, which I figure to be about 1850 steps plus some. I was totally crawling up the last time, when he passed me twice, going down and then again on the way back up. I churlishly imagined him skipping circles around me. Maybe humming as he did so.
Later he and Abby and I went to the IMAX Great Whites and watched South African shark cage adventurers, along with about 150 amazingly quiet daycare kids. Scared straight perhaps.
Lastly, at an exchange student/local student party near Megan Prentice's house in Green Oaks, I talked with a group of parents/sponsors about S. Africa (one woman's daughter is there somewhere, she never did remember where), and your parent-traumatizing New Zealand quest to drive me crazy with ever-more dangerous thrill-seeking attempts.
So, it was Tricia, Tricia, all-day Tricia.
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