I got away last week. Got a dog sitter and took off. Spent some time in solitude to clear my head. Long walks. A few dinners with friends. A couple really nice runs. Carried a notebook wherever I went so I could make notes for the eulogy. Then I wrote it in a single two-hour session, a few thousand words to define a life that deserves two thousand pages.
I called my sister Mary late last night. I was on the back porch drinking IPA and playing guitar. She couldn't talk. "I'm in a casino," she said, whispering as if no one speaks loudly in a casino. "I'm walking into a concert."
Before I could ask which band she was seeing, we said our goodbyes. I dearly love my baby sister. This morning she sent me a video from her seats, Chris Isaak singing "I Can't Help Falling In Love With You." Typing those words now, I feel the actual title should be tighter. I'd make it tighter. Too many words. Dilutes the impact. But you know the song. We all know that song.
I left the Christmas lights up on the back fence this year, for no other reason than because they looked good and I had defied the laws of nature and my own mechanical limitations by putting them on an automatic timer. Leave Christmas lights up on the front of the house and you get a sharply-worded letter from the HOA. Leave them up out back and you don't get anything but a label as someone who is either lazy or eccentric. I am not the first but I'm definitely the second. Most of all, however, I am a romantic.
Calene had a CT scan on Thursday. You know your world is surreal when CT scans and PET scans are business as usual. I have become a waiting room connoisseur, knowing which have the best chairs and plugs for my laptop. We were running a little late so I dropped Calene off and went to park. By the time I got to the imaging center they'd already taken her back. I sat down and began to write. It was just me and some other guy across the room who was speaking loudly into his phone, using a foreign language I did not understand. I have been blessed with the ability to write anywhere, shutting out distractions as if they didn't exist. I credit being a detached introvert for this skill set.
It is a strange contradiction that I've read every single day this year but can only remember a handful of books. I figure that means they're pretty special. So as I eschew a list of my favorite Christmas movies, because we all know it begins and ends with Love, Actually, Die Hard, and It's a Wonderful Life…here's my list of favorite books. I have to admit that I'm as surprised as you may be about what stands out.
A lazy morning on the couch, waiting for the Packers game to start. Cup of coffee, fireplace roaring (hey, it's almost 50 degrees), dogs sleeping on the floor. I don't particularly like the Patriots but I like that they're beating Buffalo, just because I still see them as the underdog. Obviously, I don't feel the same about the Bears beating the Browns. Or the Jets, for that matter.
