Nice workout at the gym. I am grateful I can still do what I can do.
Dinner tonight. Sinful. Thick rib lamb chops, grilled to perfection. Heirloom tomatoes cut with fresh mozarella, with olive oil and salt, roasted red and yellow peppers. Fresh corn on the cob drenched in butter, salt and pepper. New York cheesecake. And Bandit Pino Grigiot, cold.
Mom's new dog finds me irresistible. I am covered in puppy spit. No complaints.
Talking with mom tonight about my dad. And one of my brothers, a man made of far more than he lets on. Grateful tears for both.
11 pm. A rare event for a San Francisco dweller: a summer thunder storm. Here in New Suffolk, it can rain any time of the year, and thunderstorms are not uncommon. Back in SF, the rainy season ends in spring and does not start up again til fall. And thunderstorms are rare at any time. But tonight, as I am sleeping in my dad's old room right under the eaves of the house, the wind is blowing in waves and the thick rain is crashing against the roof; you can almost hear every drop crashing, pounding loud, but you know you are safe and dry. Occasional flashes of light, then a few seconds later, the roll of the thunder. Again and again. Wonderful. You wish it would never stop.
Makes me want to make a thunderstorm of my own, if ya know what I mean.
No comments:
Post a Comment