Journeys 3.1

Popped into Lunds & Byerlys to pick up a can of butter beans for a paella I’m making this evening to celebrate Friday. On the way out, I couldn’t find my sunglasses. Just glad I didn’t ask an assistant if they’d seen a pair of sunglasses. The answer would’ve been “yes.” Finally found them when I tried to put on my cycle helmet.

For 20 minutes I lie completely still, in a lie-flat seat on an A350, seven miles above the Bering Sea. Outside, it’s night: pitch black below, devoid of any lights from ships or the scattered islands far below. As the radiologist opens my bone scan, searching for points of light, I wish him that same quiet journey.

Arrived home to the smell of baking biscotti.

That was a nice surprise. Knowing I’m not firing on all cylinders, a friend just dropped off a book she knows I’ll love, showing she clearly has my number. I edit the world (I find typos on manhole covers), though over the years I’ve managed to rein in the obsession when avoiding overcorrecting English language learners. This will be a welcome relief after a tense novel set in WWII France, and I have a feeling I’ll be laughing at myself.

It was a day to lie on the couch and read. The study drug made staying close to home the wiser choice.

Minneapolis tap water tastes good straight from the faucet, but our plants disagree, so we run irrigation water through fancy filters. A year ago we bought the wrong size filters and missed the return window. Today I put them up for sale on eBay, with proceeds going to Doctors Without Borders.

Walked over to the farmers market. In the shade of the Guthrie, a painting class focused on a red food truck, its faint reflection visible in the windows behind them. This space is special to us. During COVID, we held our spontaneous wedding reception here, complete with lawn chairs, alongside the two friends who witnessed our vows in the judge’s chambers.