Saying Much of Nothing

With the wind gusting at around 16 mph and a feel like temperature of 39°. My stupid ass is sitting outside waiting for the clothes to finish washing. With my chair turned towards the sun, you have to wonder what’s wrong with me. Opting to spend my morning sitting here in the cold freezing my fingers off. Typing jibber jabber into my phone, not saying much of nothing. I guess I should look at this as either my reward or my sentence for a life lived in service.

But the sun feels pretty good warming my face, as I listen to the sound of our small town coming to life. But it’s still quiet enough to hear the branches rattling against each other in the sycamore trees. I don’t know what else to tell you other than I’m feeling pretty good. I know that most of us like to tune in to the drama but isn’t it nice to get a genuine response that someone actually feels fine. Telling stories is fun, it’s a legacy that both sides of my family engrained in me. It’s an art that seems to be lost in this modern world.

I’m glad to see this upcoming generation seemingly embrace their past. The vintage appeal of vinyl records and Friendsgiving’s does my heart good. It reminds me of my youth before the advent of smartphones and social media. When my friends would gather at the river or go on a bar crawl just because that’s all we had to do. But over the decades we walked away from that, opting for collecting junk all in the name of convenience. While I’ll be the first to say, I love the convenience on my smartphone, especially when writing. But I’m getting kinda tired of that being a focal point of my life. So maybe it’s not so stupid just to sit out in the sun. Taking in what life has to give and breathing in the spirit of old friends.