We’ll Talk in Present Tenses

No supercilious self-satisfied diatribes today, folks. It’s Friday and I’m pooped. Mozart’s Requiem is the cd player — not exactly peppy music, but good with black coffee. (By the way, today’s title is from Joni Mitchell’s
href=”http://www.jonimitchell.com/Clouds69LyricsHome.html”>”Chelsea Morning”
, which was my soundtrack from yesterday. I’m not awake enough yet to think of anything original.)

I’m looking at a picture of my Dad that I have propped up against my monitor. It was taken in the summer of 1996, the morning after I got back from Kenya, on the back porch of our old house in Newport News. He’s in his undershirt and is pushing up the end of his nose with one finger in his famous pig imitation. When I was a kid (no, I can’t lie, it’s still true) this used to make me scream with laughter. I couldn’t even look at him. It’s now one of my favorite pictures on the planet. Hooray for goofy family photos!

I’m looking forward to tonight: a bunch of people from work are coming out to the farm for a cookout. It’ll be a good start to the weekend, especially accompanied by the St. Terese’s Pale Ale from Asheville’s Highland Brewing Company. Many thanks to my brother with the good taste in beer for the gift.

Well, I’ll sign off — I really can’t think of anything meaningful to say today, probably because I slept through my usual morning fix of Tom and Jerry, which put a severe crimp in my mental processes. Cartoons make the world go round, especially my world. Better consciousness to you all!