The silliest damn crap you can find to discuss during a proper send-off for a friend.

Bon Voyage, my friend.

You have to believe in them. If you believe in them then you must recognize them when they present themselves.

Sweetie and I have disappeared into the mountains for a brief head check. Today I was sitting outside the trift store, waiting for Sweetie to conclude her scavenger hunt and making the most of a pretty October day. An SUV drove up to the sidewalk, stopped and parked. The nice woman who got out exchanged pleasantries and made for the newspaper vending machine. She plunked in a couple of coins, stopped, and asked if I had a couple of quarters. I rarely keep change so I had to answer no apologetically.

She started jamming on the coin return. I commented that she probably wouldn’t be getting her change back. Her last act was to grab the door handle and yank down. What do you know? It opened.

“Awesome!”, I celebrated. She fumbled in her purse, threw a few more coins in and retreated with the prize.

Sweetie returned so I asked her to repeat the process without dropping in any money. Again, the door yielded. She closed it back. Then she poked her finger into the coin return of the machine next to the insecure dispenser and found a quarter.

As we were walking away I looked at the quarter, noted it was a Louisiana state quarter, turned back and dropped it into the machine the woman took her paper from. I hope it covers at least 25 cents worth of her shortage.

Freeze this moment a little bit longer...

Once upon a time, in my home town, there was this magical place. The address was 1221 Larchmont. So long as the front door remained open I could walk inside, step back into my childhood, go and play.

Suddenly, the door is now closed and locked. The key in my hand no longer fits. An entire city block has become unfamiliar. I am a stranger in the neighborhood. I have no parlez. Childhood’s end.

Time stand still.

Someone you know winds up and lands one good, solid punch to your gut. In an instant your body forgets how to perform a function so taken for granted. You are doubled over, trying hard to retrain your lungs to take in oxygen. How odd that moments before time was out of control like a runaway train and now every second seems to take a year to tick by. C’mon, lungs…breathe.

On a lighter note, officials are puzzling once again on what made the plane go down. And once again I maintain that gravity probably played some small part.

…maintaining radio silence until  I can find a way to stick my head back on differently and the world will make sense again.