Though I may be something of an intentional curmudgeon these days (a nicer way to say to self that I can be something of an intentional dick) there is always at least one thing that reminds us of just what we’re in this for.
Connections.
And not of the family type which are, at least I hope for you, a happy given or of the networking type which are usually nothing more than disingenuous ass kissings and glad jobs. No, it’s about connections, those that you make throughout your life that mean something more.
One of my best of friends stopped by yesterday to hang for a few and get lap sat by Mimi the Quirky and then Cricket the Blind and then Mimi the Quirky again (Bella hid as only she does best) and to check out this wonderful zoo that is my spot.
He had taken a morning skyline pic of our shared beloved Pittsburgh not too long ago and, knowing that I loved the shot, had it blown up, painting sized, and wanted to surprise me with it. Surprised I was, but not just from the painting sized picture gift that it was, but the thought. Man, the thought.
Even with being as solo as I am It’s all about connections that, if you’re lucky enough, become lasting, cut in stone friendships. Even the hardest edged of intentional curmudgeons would agree I think.
It’s not on a wall yet, but it will stand, for the moment, at the top of my stairs as a welcome with a couple of dusty flutes ready to be filled … most probably with cheap beer. Hey, even dreams gotta dream within their means.
Cheers Johnny and thank you.
Here’s to anticipating those couple of filled flutes … cheap beer or not.
(Thought of you with my use of curmudgeon by the way Russ Rose, ya salty old bastard you.)
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