Yesterday, however, as I settled into my chair after breakfast and turned on the tunes. I had a thought. What if, rather than building a refuge, I’d actually built a prison.

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.

Two projects are on tap today. A pool hose needs replacing, no big deal. New speakers need to be installed in the ceiling, big deal.

I put on a long sleeve shirt and worked in the yard day Friday I needed the shirt because I was hauling brush. I have a deal with my arborist son. He trims; I haul.

Last year, I let some poke salat grow in my garden. The plant was enormous with lovely purple berries. At the end of the season, I cut it down, hauled it off, and decided it was a noble experiment, but I didn’t want to repeat it.

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

I traveled a once well-traveled road yesterday.

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.

I never expected to be well into July and hoping for a dry day. But I am. I walked out to feed the cats this morning, and there it was, drizzle.

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.

I am suffering the torture of Sisyphus. My boulder is a love of technology combined with just enough brain power to get it to work.

No fireworks to speak of yesterday. Mostly I did the one thing I love to do. Read a book. Almost all day. A sort of fitting book for the Fourth, Freedom’s Forge by Arthur Herman. It’s the story of how American business mobilized to help win World War II. Great story.

Yesterday we got rain in the morning, rain in the afternoon, and a sauna in between. For a brief moment it felt like the Gulf Coast.

It’s raining on the Fourth of July and I saw a frog on my porch this morning. The latter jumped into the lavender. The former is simply falling all around.

Went with friends to visit my wife’s grave yesterday. We hung a little decorative pendant by the headstone. It was made by her Ya-Ya’s at their last gathering.