It has poured rain much of the night, with 10,000 flashes of lightning. We’re warned here in California the first time it rains after months and months of drought, all the oils which have dripped from car engines wash to the road’s surface, and things become slippery.
I have an every other Wednesday date with a younger woman named Sarah to meet for coffee and talk. I’m not sure what she gets out of it, or if she has a goal. For me it’s always a chance to riff on joy. This morning I may pay more attention to the drive over than our time in the coffee shop. And yet, when am I never not all there?
Rain-soaked oily kid.
from a mountain bench 
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