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Just Fine

July 9, 2006

Sitting in a local pub with Arethusa (the MacBook Pro) and Leucosia (the iPod) and my second pint of Strongbow makes this Sunday just fine. Sara, meanwhile, is off selling her hand-made books at show with the Atlanta Craft Mafia and the dog, alas, is at home. It’s these days, where the work is about brainstorming and researching, where the wife is out being praised for her clever work, and where I feel at least somewhat plugged into the city where I live, that things are all right.

Tomorrow, the hectic but magnificent anguish of work begins again and the chaotic weeks between Now and Gen Con start slipping away like a house going off a cliff. But today, dammit, goes as slow as they said the South would go, slipping by an inch at a time to the tune of World Cup-watching drunkards cheering and the taste of a rocket salad with candied pecans. The day ekes forward like a hot dog panting down a dirt road, but as of now it’s four in the afternoon and I’ve still got five hours of daylight ahead of me. Drink up, me hearties, yo ho.

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One comment

  1. “Like a hot dog panting…”

    Evocative in two ways, not just one!

    — Chuck



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