Don't Be Afraid Of Your Freedom

[Halfway thru my only paid week off from work in way too many years, the following thoughts:]

[1. I think I'm enjoying my vacation more than the friends I've invited to share parts of it. I suppose that's better than the reverse.]

[2. Sunscreen expires. Ow my belly, my left foot, and my thighs.]

[3. Sonoma...eh. It resembles someone's wine-soaked storefront fantasia of a charming small town crossed with a Tuscan/Provencal stage-set than the real town I remember from my childhood. But that's OK. For one thing, it's been like this for a while now, and while I still complain about the change, I am used to its boutiqued uselessness. Also, I'm pretty good at reading the authentic past beneath the palimpsested layers of cutesy-twee to reassure myself that there once was a there there.]

[4. The back roads at least are the same, and I love driving them.]

[5. Alone time must not be what I was looking forward to, despite my private plans at the beginning. I traded Allen and Max for Sean on Monday, and the latter's still here. And it's been good, but see 1, above.]

[6. It takes me a day or maybe two to get used to the idea of freedom.]

[That's all for now. Happy Independence Day. Whatever was born on this day back in 1776, we're stuck with it for the foreseeable future, so we might as well celebrate it, and do what we can to see that, even if the ideals written of in the Declaration have never been realized (and were never intended to be by its author), we can keep trying. (And rereading point 3 above, and applying it to my stalled self, I realize the point about keeping trying can be applied this particular American, too.)]

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