I have nothing really dramatic to say today. Well that’s a lie. I do. But I am feeling very self conscious. Part of me wants to go the grocery list route: woke up, walked the dogs, had a bowl of cereal, it was good....you get the point.

I feel there is an innate sense of heaviness to this blog. Cancer, physical and emotional numbness, the joys of fatherhood. I mean, I just as easily could tell you that I am playing Indiana Jones on the PS2 and it’s hit a snag. Or I could tell you that Matilda the chihuahua steals Stella the Basset Hound's bone and chews on it just to fuck with her. Really. Or that I walked the dogs this morning and suddenly noticed a tree that has always been on my route. I followed the trunk up with my eyes until the branches became thinner. I went over to touch it and run my hands across the bark. I could tell you that someone slowed their car down to stare at me while I was doing so...you get the point.

I do have very dramatic things to say. I mean, I am a very dramatic person. I live with other dramatic people. Even the pets are dramatic. Atticus is not very dramatic. Intense, yes, but not dramatic.

I have things floating in my head, revolving around in these orbits. On each cycle they inevitably pass right by my immediate thought center and I think about them. Like my friend Shari’s second inevitable gift to me (in no less than a year) where she put me at ease about something I have been rather defensive about. She looked at me across the ocean of digital numbers (or cornfields, whatever) and did her whole you’re not listening snap out of it it’s really simple say what you feel thing. Other orbits like the worry about my friends, the love I feel for them, the love and fierce protectiveness I feel for my family. Going to Reza’s last night with Jon and Lisa and having Atticus sit on my lap while I was talking and having it feel completely natural. Then there is always the art, is it good is it bad would you give me 100 bucks to write a poem about your foot and paint a picture of a cherry orchard?

Sunday morning. The birds are chirping. I made chai and am waiting to open the door and enter the day.