far too much writing, far too many photos

Outside, a beautiful August afternoon tilts toward evening. Indoors, I sit in front of my laptop scratching my head, trying to figure out (a) how in hell it got to be August and (b) how in hell the phone company that provided service out at the house I sold on June 1 has managed to continue charging monthly service bills to my credit card. That same phone company — the poor bastards who took over when Verizon bolted, making it clear they didn’t want to spend one sheckel more on the messy details involved in providing phone service to folks around this green, lovely state — has provoked a blizzard of consumer complaints to the state government. And now I’m one of them. After a phone call to the company itself that went south when they began insisting I needed to start jumping through hoops to get the money back that shouldn’t have been charged to my credit card in the first place, I got ahold of an extremely nice woman at the Vermont Dept. of Public Service who will act as my advocate. We’ll see where it goes from here.

And yes, it’s August. Far enough past the solstice that the sun now comes up an hour later than when I moved into my current squat, the evenings don’t stretch themselves out so luxuriously long and late. But I have no complaints. Enough rain falls that everything that should be green is vibrantly, lushly so, tubs of flowers along Montpelier’s downtown streets brimming over with color, foliage, blossoms. And the rainless days of July and now August (how exactly did we get to that page on the calendar?) feel so good to my bod that the prospect of autumn looming off in the distance is not a source of pleasure. So I don’t think about it. There is something to be said for being in the now.

A few days back, I sat in a cafe working on an iced coffee, watching the local world pass outside the window. A pick-up slowly rounded the corner, a white boxer-mix in the passenger seat, head out the window, eyes half-closed, mouth open, tongue out — expression serious in a blissful way that suggested (to my eyes) a transcendent state of being immersed in the moment.

My idea of a great role model.

EspaƱa, te echo de menos

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