pretending to remember

Happy Monday night to you this Tuesday morning, my friends. Tomorrow is my this week’s Friday, as after that I’m away from the sawmill for a full seven days. Seven days, folks. Then it’s up to Oregon for some displaced work (y’know, work away from your day-to-day desk always feels different). After that, I have one single, solitary, lone-wolf day back in the office before I’m off for yet another week. It’s going to be a fast and spotty July. And, when I get back on the 23rd, it’ll be a mere month or so away from the beginning of my sabbatical. Two. Months. Vacation. ‘Nuff said. Let’s get this over with.

Remember way back when I was all obsessed with the bermudagrass infestation in my lawn? I went out and bought some serious poison, which I applied twice with some success and then didn’t follow up with the prescribed regimen and thus wrecked any small progress I made, ‘member? Anyway, I shoulda stuck with the regimen, y’all… I really shoulda. My lawn is at least 60% bermuda these days… I swear. Those little tendrils snake their way out of the boundaries of the lawn and onto the bare concrete of the driveway and sidewalks, where they stand out like blinking neon: “Dave got weeds.”

The other morning on the way to work, I came up with a novel new game to play while alone in the car. Speaking imaginary eulogies for those I know; practicing, out loud, the from-the-heart tributes I’d give in their honor at their funerals. May seem macabre, but I got a lot of enjoyment out trying to condense the essence of those I know down into small little speeches. I would revise my speech as I went, looking for honest, impactful, “real” things to say. It works best for those I know best, of course – easier to talk honestly about someone you understand (or think you do). This isn’t to say I want anyone I pretended-to-remember to actually slip this mortal coil, I guess I just enjoy hearing myself talk.

Goodnight.