Sunday, July 5, 2009


It has been a picture-perfect early summer day. The air is fresh and smells of newly cut grass and two-stroke engine fuel, and a cool breeze tickles the leaves on the neighborhood cottonwoods. Airbrushed cumulus soften the unending blue of the sky. It is the kind of day to let the cats outside so they can chase bugs across the lawn; the kind of day a blanket on the grass and a good book sounds most appealing; the kind of day that begs for a picnic by the lake.
And so I wonder why I am sitting inside, when the world calls.

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