Day 97 excerpts… no edits

I’ll proof the letter to Dav momentarily, but now I enjoy quiet on the bottom floor, on carpet thinking about the run today, and when my next “race” is, next month, and how that 26.2 is just months away, the Santa Cruz beach and views and everything in my birthtown and zone, waiting for me to come back, another story, one more!  A visit to be noted not just in this project and the future journal (as this book will long since been finished when that gun goes), but for my story collective and everything to me– in this morning’s run, the 4-miler with Alice and Mr. Jack, the weather couldn’t have been more optimal, air with slight chill but nothing invasive and the water still, ducks and geese and swans, and those from Canada, flying overhead then landing on water only to take off again, see what we can’t on the ground.  Could use coffee now of course but I’ll refrain, wait for later perhaps– or no, stick to water.  Should buy some of those iced coffee drinks at store so I can have my fix and caffeine push and not have to fire up that coffee machine.  Tomorrow morning, one early, and right after 1A, a quick drive back here to home for my morning prose and additional cup and some meditation.  Then, after 1B, to Howarth again like today but for a longer run.  Saw a young woman when we just arrived, there, just finishing her run, going over to the lakeside to stretch away any tightness.  I could tell she was a serious runner, one who has no trouble fitting in intervals into her life, like my wife; Alice always finds time to run, it matters to her.  And it matters to me, but I always find some pretty rationale to NOT run.  And that stops with today’s 4.  Tomorrow I’ll get in at least 6.2– I’ll start at Howarth parking lot, run around most of lake then sprint to Annadel, run along that long paved path to end, then into forest a little, then turn around run the rest of lake then come home to shower before picking up the little Beat.

For lunch this afternoon, a wonderful salad Alice made;  fresh avocado, tomatoes (little ones, think they’re called ‘cherry tomatoes’), olives, cheese and croutons, mushrooms.. perfect balance of all voices in the salad, both in presence and impression, wouldn’t have changed a thing!  Not full, not experiencing any kind of food coma, lovely.  Three more days in this project now, and I’m back to the thought of that daycare center at Mendo, for some reason, and my son… Alice and I brought Jackie to the toy store on Santa Rosa Ave. and bought him a toy, yet one more for his 3rd.  Why not, we thought, and I see him aging, developing as I’ve noted throughout this journal but he’s looking at me differently now, like I’m there for him, he understands me role, his mother’s, that we’re always there, here, at his left, right, for him, everyday, always.  He knows, now, and I know he knows.  Can’t explain it fully or even adequately, but he sees me with more thoroughness, now.  When on the couch, as he ate his veggies and dip, he took a couple seconds to turn right, look back, at me, smiling, and he didn’t blink, as if to convey, “I get it now, I know you, and I love you.” And I smile thinking about it, this event that flashed little over an hour ago.  And gone.  That’s Time, my enemy, and motivator.

Wanted to write a 500-word standalone fiction piece at some point today, to submit somewhere, just for smirks and light laughs, and maybe I will when done with this entry, this 3rd page.. but I have to just let the moment drive me now, from now on, my life’s remainder.  Stop planning, follow moments, and don’t stress about what you can’t navigate/control/chain/manage.. that’s why the winery release didn’t and doesn’t bother me.  It was out of my hands and dictators will be dictatorial, civility isn’t in their tongue.. but never mind that I’m too much into this moment and its gravity to be pulled by the negative.. to my short story.  510 words, max.  Topic?  Characters?  What do I do with this blank page?

 …I do rejoice in my letter to Dav and draft to Mom.  And I think of how my budget is ZERO for writing, so everything has to go to the blog, EVERYTHING!  And when those start flying and dropping money in my lap, then I’ll print again..  Front door open, little breeze but most sounds of a lazy day for everyone, President’s Day, and don’t ask me which president as I’m not quite convinced I care.  But the lazy sounds and wind and even the birds don’t chirp as loudly and often, everyone’s napping or resting or just taking it easy, as they should on a day off.. huh, a “day off”, imagine that.. even Mom just messaged me and said she was taking a nap.  But I’m in no mood to nap, and I haven’t had caffeine since before noon.  This energy that I know chalk into my prose is innate, in my particles and nuclei…