Stopping for Now

Inspirational song: Lonesome Highway  (Rory Gallagher)

It's another one of those nights when I fantasize about just writing a paragraph to say I'm tired and going to bed, I need a night off. Every time I have myself talked into doing that, I manage to draw out a little bit of expository writing. Let's see how well the pattern holds. I am coasting on the fumes left from 4.5 hours of sleep last night. I wanted to sleep in, and I made a good show of climbing back in bed after the dogs went out. But then I started texting, and downloading television apps so I could watch shows on a tablet. (Turns out watching the entire Tony awards eats up about 1.5 gigs of data. Good to know...) Sleep was impossible after that.

Mr S-P visited the Mother Park today, on he way across the country. It was the first time my mom's side of the family has gotten to see him since he returned from the other side of the world, if I am not mistaken, so I am glad he was able to swing through. He returned some of the gorgeous art that I had on loan in this house. I couldn't justify keeping it, knowing that the next house we buy will have significantly less wall space (and space in general). My stepfather has been very busy setting up gallery shows, and I couldn't sit on paintings when he needs to have enough inventory to keep three shows at once (and sell, sell, sell!) I really liked the art I returned, but I figured if it was meant to be mine, it would find its way back to me. Otherwise, it is destined to enrich someone else's life.

After a solid hour or two with my parents, and a photo to show me that he got to go to Braum's and I didn't, the man kept moving down the lonesome highway. He's made the last major turn to home, and he should be there by tomorrow afternoon. He stopped a little farther down the road than he wanted, but there was no room at the inn when he first tried to pack in for the night. By the time he stopped, he was sending me pictures of cankles and heading for a hot tub. Maybe now that he's felt it first hand (foot), he will understand why I've always been so distraught when my feet swell like that. There's a reason my feet are elevated most of the day.

I'm trying not to dwell on the sad thing that happened today. I played mah jongg for the last time with my dear friend and mah jongg master. I am not done with the game. When I get an address to have a set shipped to, I will buy a vintage set of tiles, and start playing with a new group. But nothing will compare to the experience I had with this first group. These women were the best ever. I learned so much, laughed constantly, and I still love them all--the ones who already left, the new ones who joined recently, and most especially, our master.

The last game I played went well, but I couldn't win to save my life. I was complaining about my hand, and said it was so bad, I probably couldn't win with two jokers. The last two tiles I picked up were both jokers, and damned if my prediction wasn't true. I didn't win. I was one tile short. What a way to go out.