Notes from the Red Bird House

I'm going to apologize ahead of time for what might be a questionably coherent blog post. I seldom write at home because of the inherent distraction. Like just now. I double-clicked on on Blogger then suddenly decided to sweep the floor. I'll probably start a load of laundry and feed my dog before all is said and done here. It's the nature of the beast. Why am I writing at home instead of at Lola Savannah Coffee Lounge, my usual writing haunt? My dog. Yes, really. The move is in full-swing; boxes are packed and stacked; all the living room furniture went to Goodwill this morning. Unlike her mommy, Dylan is forging on ahead sans medication. For the record, her brain chemistry isn't much better than mine. She is my Emotional Support Animal and I am her Emotional Support Human. We need each other right now so even though distractions abound, I'm working at my kitchen table this afternoon. It's odd, this brain chemistry thing. The fog has descended and my affect i...

I'm at Medici, a coffee place, on South Lamar in Austin. I'm here because I need someplace to go while the cleaning lady cleans the house I'm sitting this week. I had intended to write something today - at least that was the plan before a really shitty run this morning drained every ounce of water and motivation out of me - so being here is kind of a sign. There are signs I heed and signs I don't. This one... I'd really like not to heed. I mean what's the damage if I don't write today? Sure, I have no idea when I'll have the time ever again (No, that doesn't seem like an exaggeration at this point). And I do like to stay in practice. But seriously, on the scale of signs to heed, sitting in a coffee place poised in front a nearly fully charged laptop with nothing to do for the next foreseeable several hours, what havoc is it going to wreak in my life if I surf the web for Nevada specialty license plates and kitty condos instead? Alright, here...

"Hold onto me...cuz I'm a little unsteady..." It's the first song that popped up on Pandora tonight. Kismet? Serendipity? I don't know. I had another opening line all picked out (and I'm sure I'll get to it in a bit), but sometimes...sometimes the Universe has other plans. Other ideas. Other directions. And often it's right. Absolutely, perfect right. Like tonight...today...all of it... I was unsteady. I am unsteady. For the first time nearly five years. Five years . This, of course, isn't a lying, narcissistic girlfriend or a bad break up of any kind. And for that I am thankful (Not that I couldn't use a nifty stint on the Break Up Diet). In many ways, it's something worse. Much, much worse. I'm being pulled in two directions, veritably (though not literally...physically speaking anyway) torn in two. It's not news that I'm moving to Las Vegas next month. In fact, I leave one month from today with the first load of my life....

On long flights, I watch movies. I always say I'm going to read, then I see the movie screen and my book or Kindle goes into the seat pocket in front of me and I begin perusing the video catalog. I start with new releases. On my most recent United Airlines flight from Amsterdam to Houston, "Free Solo" leapt out at me. I'd wanted to see it on the big screen (It honestly would have been dizzying in IMax), but I happily settled for the tiny screen in the seat back. Before we even began taxiing, I'd hit play. It was an easy choice - I'm a fan of rockclimbing and, after seeing "Meru," I'm also a fan of Jimmy Chin's talents as a climber and documentary filmmaker. I expected soaring visuals and a physical and psychological study of the feat in question (a 'free solo' - no ropes, no belay, no net, no nothing - of El Capitan) as well as a portrait of the man - Alex Honnold - doing the climbing. I got all of that and more. Alex Honnold and I...

"Well, that was a steaming pile of poo..." This was my first thought as I stopped my Garmin and began walking to cool down. I'd just finished my morning run, my first in nearly a month, and I wasn't delighted. 8:46/mile pace over 7.5 miles. Pedestrian. Slovenly. Mistake-driven. We're on the cusp of summer here in Central Texas when warm soup and cool showers become facts of life for the near-interminable duration. Hot days followed by warm nights and even warmer mornings coupled with a nifty upswing in humidity make running - at least for me - complete bullshit. Look, I don't like running much even when conditions are perfect (45F with moderate winds) but at least it's tolerable. Summer in Austin, though... It's a wonder I ever leave the house from May to October. It's an even bigger wonder that I attempt to run through it.  Which I did begrudgingly this morning. I realized a couple days ago that I have a race in two months, a race I'm flyin...

Bedtime is a non-negotiable for me. Usually. I have to be up at 2AM which is in roughly six hours and I should already be in bed. If not asleep, reading while I wait for sleep to come. And yet, tonight, of all nights, I'm not. I'm writing. And truth be told, I haven't felt much like writing lately. So maybe that's why I decided to give into the words tonight. The truth is I really don't know. I just got home from a memorial service. A friend died unexpectedly last Saturday morning while showing off his brand new kick ass lawn mower. He had a heart attack and, despite the valiant attempts of his neighbors to resuscitate him, Mark died right there in his driveway. Arguably there are worse ways to go. He was surrounded by people who cared about him and he was mere inches from the lawn mower he adored. That would be the equivalent of me going while writing or just after finishing a spin class. So, I don't exactly know what I'm doing tonight. Drowning my sorr...

I did something this morning that I almost never do. I was going to say "that I never do" but, given that I did it this morning, "never" seemed an exaggeration. I suppose the list of possibilities is near endless. Maybe I skipped my morning coffee or I didn't eat right when I got out of bed. Maybe I didn't work out. Or maybe I rode a real bike outdoors instead of my spin one indoors. I suppose I could be writing this from bed, meaning I haven't yet gotten out of bed. Maybe I have a rip roaring hang over. Or, it is Sunday so maybe I went to church. Or - oooooh, this has to be it - I had morning sex. That's it! No, it's not...for many reasons. Going to church on a Sunday morning is more probable than me ever having an overnight guest to engage in morning sex with. Or any sex. At any time of day. Remember that I'm an atheist (and not currently doing research for a novel about a nun). Let that sink in. In my atheist life, church is a more...