mention something, mention anything

A cup of coffee sans snark of family members or fellow peons, errands run, doing the Typical White Person in Gentrified Area Activity of drinking fragrant and rich caffeine in a classy local establishment after buying homemade bread and a cucumber at the farmer's market, wondering if sarcasm is an adequate counterweight to the inevitable caricature as I notice quite a few Priuses with stickers that read "I Heart Yoga." My old station wagon had a Fugazi sticker and such, but somebody stole the FU part of it off while it was resting in the Rapid station parking lot.

The garden is yielding more squash and herbs than one skinny girl can consume, next year I'll make room for more peppers and the like, the sun has returned, and these afternoons of basking have elicited yet more wrinkles in the mirror this morning. I don't fear gray streaks and crows feet like some women, but to watch the process engrave in my skin is strange.

The rain and sun are welcome, though the storm plus unshut windows put in jeopardy my admittedly hodgepodge stereo equipment yesterday (what's up first world problems!) and attempts to beat the storm were late on my part, standing under the Towering Slab watching the lightning strike across the street as streams of water flowed down the streets, shedding shoes to move drenched and barefoot down sidewalks and across streets thankfully not getting hit by errant drivers under the shelter of the fellow peon's umbrella and a plastic bag, driving through the streets of Clevelandia exultant in the cleansing power of water and lightning and rocking out to the dulcet sounds of Faith No More, enjoying the traffic jam because of the pyrotechnics of the sky, sculpting clay, sharing dinner with good people, reading until sleep comes, the sense of anticipation is beautiful.