Travel day. Packing to do. I’m on the way to Marathon to listen to and make music. Nice combination.

Summer golf means early tee-times which also means early times for leaving the house. Today it was a 7:15 start at Delaware Springs in Burnet. We left my house at 6, which meant no time for the daily words even thought I got up at 4:30 to eat and get ready.

I’ve been up and doing things this morning now I’m writing. Sort of a backwards start to the day, but why should every day start the same way.

Had a good day yesterday. Bought some shelving to use for my garage storage. I’d been looking at cabinets with doors, but that’s pretty much an invitation to critters of all sorts to call the place home as I discovered with my old wooden cabinets.

I was attacked at the gas station yesterday. Totally unprovoked in my opinion. The attacker obviously had different ideas.

Yesterday was a surprisingly dour day. I thought I was prepared. I wasn’t. The anniversary of my wife’s death took most of the air out of my sails. Luckily, a coterie of friends stood by with words of love, and words of encouragement.

Here we are. August 4. The second anniversary of my wife’s death. Last year I took off my wedding ring. It seemed as good a time as any to admit the obvious.

Drove into Houston yesterday to visit my ENT specialist. A persistent cough was proving troublesome. The visit lasted less than 20 minutes.

There’s a heavy wind this morning. No idea what that means. Just disturbed air going from here to there in a hurry. Meanwhile, we bounce from the 70s at night to near 100 in the day.

It’s Monday. I’m late in the writing, for no good reason, actually. I have started taking Sunday’s off, which is why I had no words to offer yesterday.

My affection for barn swallows is diminishing in direct proportion to the number of active nests on our porches and in the garage. The number is currently seven. Sometimes I feel as though I’m living beneath a highway overpass.

From the beginning of our time together my wife and I were hand me down kids. If we could use it, and it was offered, we took it. Beds, tables, washing machines, all got second chances in our house.

The minutia of everyday life ate my day yesterday.

I skipped my morning essay yesterday because we left at 6:15 to go play golf. Nice time of day to do that. Got the round in under four hours, ate a nice lunch, and came on home.

I was standing outside yesterday evening around 10:25. No particular mission. I just like looking at the pasture at night. I walked over by the fence and path that runs into our back lots. As I stood there the area was lit from behind by a white light…

There’s a fresh coat of paint on the back door. Downing Straw by name. The exterior latex paint for our house. It looks fresh and inviting. Going forward, I will endeavor to keep it fresh and inviting.

A brief laugh at yourself story. Last night as I prepared for bed, I heard what I thought was a soft barking sound, maybe a distress call from some unidentified animal.

About a month back I ran into a rock. A flying rock. A rock of indeterminate size. It whacked my windshield. At home, I looked for a sign of impact. Found none.

We moved into our house in December 2009. It was brand new. Now, nearly 13 years later it’s starting to look a little frayed around the edges.

I long ago quite watching my emails as though I was getting nuggets of gold. Mostly, I was getting told about things I needed to do. When I retired that stopped.