8:51 at Loft

All receipts entered.  Wine and writing, Tycho, counting cash I forgot about.

Starting new operation, thinking about it the whole time grocery shopping for the first time, for this writer’s loft, condo, hideout.  Budget was $300 for run 1, and landed at just 29 cents short.  Of course I was happy at the checkout stand and the kid ringing me out, and the bagger looked at me like I was an escaped patient.

At Johnson Bar, about to see if the hotspot from the Sonic phone will help with streaming a movie, or some news, something.

Not sure I’ve ever felt like this, EVER.  So happy, FREE… so much a REAL writer.

Not sure I’m feeling this Pinot.  What do I want… bought two whites and two reds at store.  Opened one of the whites, the Cutrer Chardonnay, of course ‘cause it reminds me of when we stayed int he hotel after the fires in ’17 them having it on-tap at the bar.

My mind in every place imaginable tonight.  Made self meal 1, carne asada quesadilla with guac, sour cream, salsa, and a couple tortilla chips.  Tomorrow’s dinner, not sure. Maybe just that pre-made salad, the chicken caesar.

Got kids cereal, stuff for snacks and pb&j’s (or maybe that’s for me, ‘cause I could have peanut butter n jelly every day for the rest of my life for ALL meals..).  I’m honestly not used to this.. this joy, this ease, this stretch of soul.  Look left, see loft and couch, wondering who’s visiting next.

About to stop, or at least take a break from pushing these keys.  Pour self another from the MacRostie Pinot… remembering when Chris and I went there, last year, at the beginning of all this.  Reaction, writing, poetry, music… couple today from Washington talking to me about wine and music, happiness.  I’m in a new world, with a new sight and scope, sense and spirit.