November 10. Thursday Night.

Hi Journey.

I wanted Jim Hanson to call and then it happens and I can't pluck a thing to say out of my head.

Guess it's OK, since he rattled enough for both of us. Mostly he kept the conversation going with small talk. The usual: weather, sports, a bit on the stock market, movies. A tad heavy on sports for my liking. But, not condescending at all. Plus, he's also into being fit. I can't stand being on the phone with guys that blab on about how some quarterback or pitcher is making way too many millions and all the while they are forcing their face full of Tostitos and Guac dip as I hear the background noise of their oscillate up and down as the channels shift while they troll.

At least Jim's interest in swimming gives us a little commonality.

We set up a second date for this weekend. We'll see how it goes.

Work went well today. Last night after I wrote I went out for an unscheduled run. Slower pace than usual; didn't push myself but instead just focused on the world around me. I love autumn days like just now; it's just brisk enough I use a sweatshirt but still run in my knee-length cutoff sweats. No need at all for a hat or a hood yet. I loved the crunch of the leaves under my Nikes last night. For nearly half the run I didn't think about work at all.

During that run I saw with clarity an aspect of the interplay between Mom and Carmen. Mom loves those kids of Carmen's so hugely she is compelled to prattle on about minor minutiae because that is exactly the same thing she did with us kids when we were growing up. We were her full-time job, and so she tended to over-engineer everything in our lives. She was always happiest when she was pushing beyond the routine family obligations and volunteering in the community with the PTA or some empty slot that needed filled at Church.

Predictable that Mom should dote overmuch on the grandkids. Carm can't see it because she's too close. Hell, in some ways she's living it. Maybe that's why she keeps holding those Longaberger parties.

But work was good. Some new Parquet samples were late from Munellio's and I didn't once feel like calling Roger Munellio on the carpet over it. Progress, girl, progress.

And Dakota Elton rang me up not fifteen minutes ago, Journey.

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