One-Sentence Journal, Week Thirteen

  1. 09/23/2013:  I’m feeling that weird “day before a trip” anxiety, like I should have departed already and forgot, or that I am forgetting some key detail that will reveal itself only at its last, worst possible moment.
  2. 09/24/2013:  Travel day to Wisconsin where, after two planes and an hour or so of GPS wrangling out in the corn field grids of Southern Wisconsin, I met up with Linda S. “Beast of Bray Road” Godfrey for an exciting tramp through a remote kettle in pursue of the ever elusive Blonde Bigfoot.
  3. 09/25/2013:  A work day amid high security where I was kept from seeing any secrets that could potentially be sold on the black market motorcycle racing underground.
  4. 09/26/2013:  After reflecting happily on how livable Wisconsin is, as I drove closer and closer to Chicago and became mired in traffic, I was reminded once again (as I often am in big cities) that life, mine in particular, is too short to waste somewhere so stupid: inside a little metal and plastic box surrounded by other faceless automatons similarly ensnared, hurtling along as if daring fate not to crumple us all up like balls of tinfoil in a giant, merciless fist.
  5. 09/27/2013:  It’s amazing how quickly the weather changes; still sunny and warm when I left, then cold, wet, and socked-in with mist that feels like it has been lurking for weeks instead of days for my return.
  6. 09/28/2013:  There is nothing quite like the unmistakeable odor of a billy goat carried on the wind from half a mile away, except for maybe the smell of that same billy goat at seven paces.
  7. 09/29/2013:  I know in the coming weeks and months that days like this may grow tiresome, but I love the fog and rain, a Sunday with no appointments, Julia cursing away on the Bernina, me crossing Ts and dotting Is on a few projects, football on TV more for listening than watching, and finally closing it all out with junk food in front of a movie rental.


4 thoughts on “One-Sentence Journal, Week Thirteen

  1. Ron Scheer (@rdscheer)

    Traveling into a major metropolis (NY, Chicago, LA), you feel like you’re being sucked into a black hole. Everything speeds up and becomes more frenetic. Might be OK for a ride at Disneyland, but everyday life? It’s soul-devouring. Thanks for another of your weeks. We would love some rain and fog if you can spare any.

    1. Chris Post author

      It really does feel like that. I’m happy for the base of operations I have — at least I can count on at least one reasonable airport on each of my trips.


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