It felt like Monday was the last day of summer. Upper 80’s. Today’s forecast 15 degrees less, tomorrow 25 less. And tomorrow they say rain, a bunch of it, and I’ve found myself yearning for rain these last couple of months, so it’s all alright with me.
I took a couple of long walks yesterday, just to be outside, the second late afternoon up to Wilshire Park, which is filled with Douglas Firs high in the Portland sky, and all kinds of other amazing trees. I asked myself to walk the circumference four times, not sure if I’d done that before, and your little sweat-ball blogger did it, probably about three miles.
Last Thursday I walked to the Regal LLoyd Cinema and paid to watch “The End of Oak Street.” There were three of us in the theater. I say this because the last time I sat in a movie theater was October ’21 in Encinitas in California, not long after the divorce, and sent-away me by then becoming a boogie boarder and eating veggie burritos every week – dancing with and around sadness. I liked “Oak Street” – it’s a pretty scary dinosaur movie – and I’ve liked it better as time has passed.
Passing. Like sadness. Like the good times. Like summer.
Oh! – here’s a good time:
from a mountain bench 
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