There's so much I want to say, so much to share with you. There's thoughts and notes and pretty words lined up nicely and waiting patiently to be transformed from ink scrolled on napkins, notebook paper, the back of a magazine on my bedside table, into Lucida Grand font right here on this screen.
I want to tell you about walking down a hall in my father's footsteps last week, about picking something up where he left it and carrying on with his efforts. I want to tell you about Central Park and an email I received that answers a question I put out here a couple years ago. I want to write about last night and how awesome to witness this first for our country.
There are lessons in my mind and stories in my heart and I miss sharing them with you.
I try though. Every day I try. But I cannot get on the internet at home and Comcast, though having been to my house no less than three times in the past two weeks, is unable to locate and fix the problem. Each day, hope renewed, I flip open the laptop and, hope dashed, shut it down again. Can moods be dictated by the internet? Sometimes, the answer is yes.
A Comcast technician is at my house right now. My friend is there with them while I'm here at the office with my fingers crossed.
I hope to get back here on a regular basis very soon. In the meantime, I don't know if you follow Opus or are a fan of Berkley Breathed's but now that it's over (again) I'm happy knowing that Opus is napping. "He sleeps in peace, dreaming of a world just ahead, brimming with kindness and grace and ubiquitous bow ties."