The end of August always is a little depressing to me. I get so geared up for summer every year and have so many plans for adventures. Inevitably, some of those plans fall by the wayside, as there are a limited number of weekends and Company Policy dictates I be in the office if I intend to get paid for the portion of my life I've agreed to sell them. Damn The Man. Write that down. Put it on a t-shirt. Damn. The. Man.
I so love kicking back, sweating away a hot summer evening sipping a drink and disengaging my mind. The orange glow of evening coaxes the fluids from your pores almost as soon as you raise the glass to your lips. Add in some good friends and you've got your world right where you want it for a few hours. But the thing that puzzles me about those slow-burning summer nights is that the more of them you have, the faster the summer goes. How can a summer of slow nights pass so quickly? I didn't keep a journal last year, nor this year. But as I'm taking inventory of how this year has passed me by, I realize I've kicked a not-insignificant amount of butt. I need to put pen to paper and capture the details of these adventures before they get caught up in a brain dump.
Now that September is here, maybe I'll find the time to catch you all up.
With as much death as I see... I see we take 3 things after death.
ReplyDelete1-Relationships 2-Memories 3-Knowledge
So if you knock out 2 out of 3 on a blissful summer night... you still get to wake up to be a slave to the man!!
Brad is full of it, I did some work with the mortuary too and most people take their dentures with them.
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