The dream. I want to experience just the last few minutes of it over and over again. I replay it in my mind before getting out of bed. There are just certain things you need to hold on to.

Make coffee. Clean the kitchen counters. The granite in this kitchen was never sealed or never re-sealed and so it’s pitted in random places. Which means that every time I run my fingers across the countertops I think there is food stuck to it. This drives me bananas. I can never tell if they’re clean.

The sound of the coffee percolating. I think back to our conversation when I said something about how it’s not even just the drinking of coffee that’s become a ritual, but the sound of the coffeemaker that brings about some peace, offers some grounding.

Game day.

I thought it was Wednesday?

If nothing else, it’s just good to have an ally, no matter the result.

I keep myself from reaching out to grab one of the calamari. I assume that if I could have eaten some he would have told me to dig it. PIctures first.

Truffled popcorn.

The baby cows are no longer babies anymore.

The boys are travelling all over the place. But we finally win a game. Maybe his method is slow and steady.

The story is right here. The story is right here.