Do not interrupt the flight of your soul; do not distress what is best in you; do not enfeeble your spirit with half wishes and half thoughts. Ask yourself and keep on asking until you find the answer, for one may have known something many times, acknowledged it; one may have willed something many times, attempted it — and yet, only the deep inner motion, only the heart’s indescribable emotion, only that will convince you that what you have acknowledged belongs to you, that no power can take it from you — for only the truth that builds up is truth for you.
Soren Kierkegaard
Catching up with this man from my teenage days, Pat, and getting to know his awesome wife, Molly, and one of the sweetest dogs with a head bigger than mine, Valla. We’re in Forest Park here, on the climb back up to the car where we, more accurately, Valla, decided we all needed to rest. Pat commented at the absurdity of a dog bred for life in Africa should start to overheat in Portland, of all places. Pat is like that, clever expressions dropping right and left and making us all laugh, even those of the naughty and perverted variety. I decided that he’s the only person I know that can make almost anything dirty sound funny and bearable, like that scene in Three Men and a Baby when Tom Selleck reads about boxing.
Spending time with this pair was like stumbling upon treasure, where you can’t believe your luck that it was right there, ripe for the picking, and now it is yours. I’m so glad they were in our neck of the woods.
“Leroy bet me I couldn’t find a pot of gold at the end, and I told him that was a stupid bet because the rainbow was enough.”
I like that he said brown-ish at the ripe age of four, that he can see the nuance, that there is green and some yellow in there, too. I like that he can speak his mind with me, sharing what makes him nervous (big kids watching him go down the slide) and happy (sitting next to me during dinner, sweet sigh) and sad (his friend when he is mean). I like that I can be my goofiest, cavorting around the yard and house, in my usual way, with him in on it, making up stories during long piggy-back rides while I sing to Radiohead. The gorgeous alchemy of two happy souls moving in tandem before he rests his head on my lap and drifts off to sleep. Another play-date and sleepover for the record books.
Yesterday, in a serious bout of procrastination, I distracted myself with a series of mindless activities, culminating in watching James Lipton’s Inside the Actor’s Studio. As always with that peculiar man, it was interesting and illuminating and provided many laughs. It also inspired me to answer his Ten Questions.
Qui si convien lasciare ogne sospetto; ogne viltà convien che qui sia morta.
Containing one sunlit field
May day! May day! The first time I heard any variation of that expression was on the Hardy Boys Mysteries on TV as a kid. Man, did I love that show, and 
