For the sake of saying anything:
No one told me watching your kids grow up is hard. A little heads-up would have been good.
Fried sage leaves. Try them. Make a chiffonade, sautee them in butter and don't let them burn. Tonight they went into a relish of farm-fresh tomato, grilled onion, and dill. Planning to try it with angel hair pasta, pancetta and parmesan.
You should be listening to my podcast. Yes, the music's odd, but some of it is quite beautiful.
"Bob's Date" continues to get bookings, and they continue to thrill me. Meanwhile, someone finally licensed plays (That Thing and First Time for Anything) out of the Smith & Kraus anthologies. I was starting to worry that getting them published was like pulling a "Cask of Amontillado" on them. (For the love of God, Montressor!)
I should get back to work on a play. Then again, I'm quite enjoying the podcasts and reviews.
Weather's getting cooler. Soon I'll spend nights sitting on the deck in a sweatshirt and shorts, saying nothing and listening deeply. Or, at least, I hope I will.
I have deleted at least three lines/paragraphs in this post already. Wouldn't you love to know what they were, now that I've mentioned it?
Tired now. Thanks for indulging. The next one might even have meaning.
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I should have introduced you to my neighbor Joe. He was eighty-something years old, told long and shaggy stories, bragged about his grandkids, and slipped me a prime gardening tip or two each season.
ReplyDeleteBut every time he saw my daughters running about and giggling, he'd shake his head and say, in the most heartbreaking possible mix of bitterness and wistfulness, "Chris, you know what kids do? They grow up, and then they leave you." And he'd walk away.
So. Head up.