I took the dog for a long walk this morning in the mist. Forty five minutes of wander took us down to the Delmar loop and back in among the mansions. Interesting to see yard after yard of multi-million dollar homes strewn with the toys of children or gardened within an inch of propriety by hosta happy horticulturalists. I kept wondering why the toys hadn’t been stolen, the magic of gated communities I suppose but these gates have no guards – psychic sentries must suffice.

These neighborhoods are on the back end of the age flip, only a few classic Cadillacs remain to remind us of the drifting generation, drifting into the spare rooms of their children or the managed care facilities that line the inner belt highway. There is a shimmering of wealth here and I wonder, as I enter my thirties, if it will ever shimmer in my direction. Does Lakshmi, have my number, as Lloyd once asserted?

My work woes have eased for some reason, as wheels I set in motion some weeks ago have begun to bear fruit. The “what does he do exactly” thoughts that sometimes flicker across my coworkers faces have been moved aside by the arrival of a great deal of product, the store is bursting. I have also been given something of a blank check to redesign the bookstore. So that will be fun in the short term.

It’s raining still – day three. I just got a massage – nearly snoring on the table as the sound of car tires on wet pavement mixed with whatever new age selection Tory pulled from the CD wallet. It’s a cold and dreamy day of heavy sweaters and half thoughts, drifting toward evening. My last ten dollars swishes around in the gas tank of the van itching for a destination. Weekend payday road trip, looming like an unseen view; the vista beckons through the window where a man looks down at his desk, writing a long list of “to do”.