The weekend, that is. It can’t come soon enough. Not that there is anything wrong with today. I woke up and emailed a set of documents around before sneaking out to make 65 throws getting me through 18 holes of disc golf (only two above than my best). Lilac bush doing what lilac bushes do:
Followed that with lunch at the Sunspot. They took my suggestion and are now offering vegan smoothies with frozen bananas instead of ice. I can make them at home whenever, but it is nice to have high quality frozen treats on the town. The veggie burger was as wonderful as the first time, too. Black beans and corn fried up real nice. Some red pepper relish atop the lovely, too. Nice folks. So glad to have them on the list. Chives doing what chives do:
Read about a wonderful person named Nathalie Kosciusko-Morizet. Am I into her or maybe all Parisians? Like NYC, Paris has added many kilometers (seems appropriate to speak metric here) of bike lanes. Unlike NYC, according to Ms. Kosciusko-Morizet, all Parisians are into the lanes. Could that be right? Probably a few haters in the bunch, but my hat is off to Ms. Kosciusko-Morizet for saying all Parisians are aboard the good ship bike-a-lot. That’s what we need. Less publicity for the haters. More for the lovers. Perception is a powerful thing, right?
ANT Light Roadster presents show up on the 20th. Gosh I love package tracking. If they put a live-cam on my package I might watch it just to see what my package is seeing. Are you listening UPS? USPS? FedEx?
Tuesday’s lottery drawing sent me zero correct numbers. Would it have hurt to give me one matching number? Speaking of lotteries, my friend is leaving town because his kid didn’t get into the desired school. For pre-K. That’s how he brought up the subject, but I think it is actually still in the mulling it over phase. I tried to gently pull him back, but felt funny trying. I get why he wants to bail. I want him to stick around for selfish reasons. I’ll keep poking around the edges. I have inertia on my side and inertia is a mighty fine anchor.
To be fair, the neighbor probably didn’t despise the chair. Out my window, I spied her carrying a pair of them to the curb. Before I could shuffle across the street to collect them, she reclaimed one. One is better than none, but I am hopeful that the second will turn up on the curb during Spring cleaning madness.
Yours with a springy step and peeled eyes (for wooden arms and gay pride webbing).