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Just put up, fresh after midnight…

November night

via November « a night kitchen.

Sophie the dog was exceptionally nervous all night, wanting to be let out and in, and whuffing and barking at me the rest of the time. Just now, I heard the reason for all of her nervous energy: coyotes, the local pack, at least five of them and probably more around ten. Their yelps are somewhere on the continuum between dog-bark and siren. Once you hear them, you can’t mistake them for dogs barking.

Then, a few minutes later, sirens. So, Sophie is inside, and we are shut away from their howls, and from whatever caused their howls.

I sit here late at night on a cold and rainy midnight, readjusting my fingers to the Macintosh’s keyboard. I am not yet ready to hunker down into the partial hibernation that one goes into in the winter time. I look for color when the outer world is drained of it. Today there are maples whose color is so full of flame that the sight of them startles you even when you are expecting to see them.

The boiler is clanking away down in the basement, and now the house feels like the inside of a great tea kettle just about to boil.

Satchel the Cat was visiting the vet’s today — his stomach has been bothering him a bit, Buck says, but he eats just fine when I feed him. I might think that he was going to miss summer as much as I do, but he never goes outside, so the notion of what season it is is moot for him.

And now, sleep.

This was exactly my opinion last night while I was watching the debate. The constant repetition of “my friends” was spooking me out, but I didn’t think anyone else had noticed it, until I read the following.

Via The Volokh Conspiracy – Dear Senator McCain:

Dear Senator McCain:

Repeatedly calling me and everyone else in the United States “my friends” is extremely annoying. In part, it’s just an irritating phrase. Beyond that, I’m not your friend. I don’t know you, and, from what I know of you, I don’t even really like you. Sorry to focus on such superficialities when the world economy is going to Hell, but you probably lost more votes with your constant repitition of “my friends” than from anything Obama said.

Sincerely,

David B.

One thing that I have learned this past week, when I have been busy not posting to the blog, is that Boulder has to be the capital of sushi-making in the world. I think that we here have to have more sushi restaurants per capita than, say New York City.

Our current favorite sushi restaurant is Sushi Zanmai. We have been there for dinner the past two nights. They make a lovely Kobe beef sushi, and I must have eaten them out of their stock of Kobe beef. We sit at the sushi counter so we can keep an eye out on our food while it’s being made.

I also love this city because I’m believing this place is imbuing me with health. I look and feel healthier than I looked and felt before the cancer diagnosis. I figure that that’s a good thing no matter how you look at it.

Tea is coming, and then I decide on a yoga class. Yoga helps me to write; at least, that’s the story that I’m going with now.

(ps: that’s not my own picture at the top… I’m trying a new service called tagaroo.)

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