The boy jumped out from behind a tree when I got home.
He wasn’t wearing a shirt. He had a giant rip in his pants, at the knee.
He ran around the yard, brandishing the handle of a shovel.
“Michael!” I said. “You look like a feral orphan.”
Wednesday was a surprisingly delightful day. I know that springlike weather in February is a sign of doom down the road, but the warm temps and sunshine lift my spirits despite my pessimism.
I knocked out a blog post for work within an hour. I knocked out some other work as well, before noon. We nailed down marketing plans and campaigns.
I learned my work is being recognized and rewarded.
I knocked out more work, and went home, driving home while it was still light outside.
Changed clothes, cooked dinner for my children, chased down Kate in the neighborhood and told her to head home.
I went to meet friends and my husband at a local brewery, The Grist House.
Here I was, going out to socialize on a random Wednesday.
Life happens after 40; life happens after children. Don’t ever stop moving, people. Do new stuff.
The Grist House is awesome. If you haven’t been yet, GO. Unpretentious environment, eleven taps of delicious beer, a food truck for vittles. Outdoor area. Babies and dogs. Delicious craft beer. (Oh, I said that already, didn’t I?)
Met two friends as planned, two other friends were there by chance, and met new people. Good friends, good drinks, good food. In the middle of the week.
This is oxygen.
Watch for the new, live release from Feral Orphan, Post Viral Cough Syndrome. If Michael is ever in a band, that’s its name.
Thank you, and good night.
How do you spend a random Wednesday?