Caught the sunrise this morning as I walked sock shod in my new sweat pants, a gift she heard me wish for aloud and noted (nothing to pad around the house in at leisure when even the binding of belt or denim is too much for weary flesh - but don't wear these out with me, she warned), unsure if the cement walk out front was wet or dry, it still being quite dark and the rain frequent these last few weeks. Stepping onto it to grab the blue plastic-clad paper I felt no moisture seep through, saw the asphalt grow lighter and lighter shade by shade of gray, looked east down misnamed Bayview avenue and caught the sunset, a little earlier than yesterday's.

My vacation's already started, in my mind. Sure, I'm still working, but I'm enjoying it, working at a reasonable pace, and clearing up a lot of old clutter, mental, organizational, financial, and otherwise. It feels good, solsticially speaking - this tilt-a-whirl globe's great exhale at the shadowy-est time of year.