One of the nuances of my writing aesthetic involves the method of construction.  My entries compose themselves nearly whole-cloth before I start the physical writing process.  As a consequence, I stumble through life distracted by my internal  voice, structuring sentences, editing grammar, rearranging phrases, and discarding weak words in favor of powerful punches.

By the time I sit at the laptop, I must frantically pound at the keys to record the passages before they vanish in the smoky depths of my brain.

As a result of this compositional reality, I sometimes think that I’ve blogged, or written an e-mail, or scribbled a note when I have not.  I certainly wrote the entry — letter — missive — did you not see it?  Read it?  Get the link? No??

It’s Monday morning, and this Missouri Mugwump woke with aching muscles and a nagging worry that I’d been neglecting my personal pledge to blog every day about my attempts to live without complaining.  So here I sit, watching the sun rise over the park, hastening to record some of my thoughts about #mytinylife.

Yesterday my friend Shari Morfin and I spent an amazing four hours driving around the California Delta taking photographs.  She’s the real deal, and as obsessed with the windmills as I am.  She suggested taking a tour of the area beyond Rio Vista where a long stretch of the creatures live.  I cast my eye sideways at her, “Windmills?  Like. . .which ones do you mean?”  I didn’t want to presume.  But yes!  She meant those windmills, my windmills, through which I wandered for endless enraptured hours during the first few months of my tenure here.

Later, she and her partner Eric Reynolds visited Angel’s Haven.  We made blended Margaritas, inspired by my newly ripe limes.  We shared cashew cheese and crackers.  They talked about their activism, their upcoming adventures on the road in their RV, and life as they know it.  We looked at some of the stellar images which Shari captured.

I’ll miss them when they take off next week; but I’m looking forward to hearing more from them and seeing amazing photographs.  I’m fortunate to have met them.  I’m honored to call them friends.  I feel certain we will connect again but if we don’t, the six months or so that I’ve been blessed to have them in my daily life will shine from the keeping shelf of my heart.

It’s the twenty-sixth day of the fifty-ninth month of My Year Without Complaining.  Life continues.