Leaving Kerri’s driving up Fountaingrove and seeing only fog, Ghost Fog as my kids call it.  Soon as I’m home, quick Teams call with the Voice Systems Designer, straightening out something, something minor.  Me this morning thinking about the kids and looking forward to having Jack and Emma here tonight getting them something fun for dinner and hanging out in the loft as we do.

Thinking again about manifesting, or materializing/actualizing as I say.  Kerri and I having another conversation on this note, what it does and what it can do, how one can not have to wish.  For anything.

Driving to Sebastopol in 15 or so minutes for a site inspection, then over to Santa Rosa for meeting with attorney, hopefully one of the last.  And if it’s not, then it’s not.  That affair will take up no more ground in this writer’s meditative plane.

In my own new and healing folklorico this morning, and it’s as delicious as this espresso.  No angst or anxiety, no worry and nerves as I sometimes get before the kids get here.  And I don’t know why that is.  Try to find some answer with inward jots and discussion on page, find nothing.

Hoping for a call, convincing myself it will happen today or tomorrow, close the week with something remarkable that will change everything, the EVERYTHING to the new Mike Madigan story.

Wish Kerri a nice day over text.  We’ve been spending time together nearly a year.  Time reminder.  Move quick, don’t excessively deliberate.  Act and perform like Coltrane on the sax, not thinking even for a second about the next note but just playing and being present.  Now, new, renewed, Finding more gems and promise in my Now.

Repeating the known, the conviction.