day 363: summit

I just moved my leg and my neck cracked in the most delicious way. Lovelyyy. I tried just now again but it seems it was a singular moment.

A is on the couch again because when he lies flat he can’t breathe. Poor guy. I miss him. He had a rough day: watching his dream job given away to someone else purely due to circumstance. The champ he is, he did not moan or tear at his hair or beat his chest as a lesser man or his wife likely would have done. He assessed the situation with all the practicality the world holds and moved on.

The matter is academic, the job never his to contend (is that not infuriating?) but I would get a moneybags job in a second for him to have this chance. He could gym manage and take care of the bean while I brought home the bacon. He’d lay everything in place to open his own gym down the road. And this man who never allows himself the luxury to dream would finally make his small impossible wish a reality.

I interviewed today for a breadwinning gig. I smashed it. We could have made it all work, but now there’s no more “it”. Gone before it was even there.

As for me? I’ve niched myself in data analysis. So if I’m crunching numbers in the form of dollars for government lending next week, or numbers in the form of psi from road to foot ten years from now, whatever the data is doesn’t really matter in the end. Does it?


There’s always that pie in the sky, that world where life is just living and love is what you do every moment of every day. I see it in a log cabin, freshly shot venison draining in the barn for sausages and a day with A, boom, and bean foraging the woods for veg and berries. Idyllic, unfit for this day and age. Maybe that’s heaven.




Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s