Chow.
I phoned one of my buddies, and at the end of the conversation – in which a number of points were discussed and issues resolved – in less than two minutes – to ring off the phone, he said, “Later dude,” to which I responded, “Ciao.”
That is just so wrong, on my part, on so many different levels. When addressing someone who can easily be called “Bubba,” and I mean that as a term of manly endearment amongst manly men, using a colloquial expression like “ciao” \\just doesn’t fit\\.
After I hung up, I thought about it for a minute, grinned and laughed. To be honest, I had every reason to be a little lightheaded. I walked over Barton Creek, went for a swim, walked to Jo’s, had a muffin and a tall coffee, and then made my way back home.
After a dunk in the creek’s cold-as-can-be water, and after watching some really young kids cavorting in the water – apparently, with a running start, you can do a really neat cannonball into that portion of the creek – I was in the epiphany mode. Looking for signs in the everyday events. It was also quite cool-like. Hard to believe it was this nice on a summer’s afternoon in August, barely broke a sweat, don’t think it got much above 90, and with a few clouds scudding by, the hint of a threat of rain, I was doing fine. Better than fine.
I thought about it, and afterwards, I was quite happy, as I’d made it a whole day with having to change more than once, and never having to wear a shirt.
It’s no wonder most of my close friends consider me a little weird, even at the best of times.
