family

Yesterday I found myself in a rather mellow state, feeling at once relaxed and perhaps a bit sad. For the week prior, I was in Las Vegas, Nevada, enjoying a five day family love, +100ºF heat, and sunshine feast. Coming back to the cool humidity, back to the grind of work, back to the ailing and aging pup - it's been a weird transition. So yesterday afternoon I did what I've learned I can do when I need a pick-me-up: I asked my friends for a little help.

I got the most ridiculous letter in the mail on Monday. The author was a doctor whose care I came under last summer (2008, to be clear). She said she hoped the letter found me well. She informed me that due to 60 days of inactivity, she was closing my file. At first I was dismissive, ridiculing the correspondence because I'd actually been inactive for over 6 months and the bitch was LATE. But, the more I made fun of it, the more I thought about what it meant. My file was closed. It was CLOSED. And that stupid piece of paper morphed into a certificate of accomplishment.

I'm actually writing this entry mid flight to Houston. There's nothing better for reminiscing than being stuck in a seat for three and a half hours. All is calm, all is bright, save a blonde hair-flipping college athlete sitting one row in front of me, with all of her “like” and “drama” and “totally” chatter to her seat mate. On a different day or trip I'd be irritated that she can't keep her voice below bar level. Today? I'm flying high in all senses, so she's off the hook. Then again, I've only been on the plane for about 30 minutes. And now a baby just started screaming.