I like to think that my foot has been plenty of places, and I hope to take a few more before all the places I’ve been catch up with me and make me stop for good. But it hurts like Hell right now and I’m not going anywhere, so I’m in my office at home nodding back and forth to Robert Johnson, feathery on painkillers, staring at a shadow that has become a tiny mouse; a Christmas Eve harbinger of the wilderness and the Beautitudes.
I had more to say tonight, but I scrapped it. It was too good of a day and too comfortable of a state to hit the “Submit” button. I deleted a depressing post last Christmas, too. It might make a good tradition.
Just know that this is a terribly important song to me and it makes me happy when I’m sad. Christmas Eve is no time for frowny faces; thinking about family and friends made me too happy today; the only dogs put a paw on my foot for reassurance, some sloppy pooch smooches, and a small but welcoming snore coming from the bedroom down the hall.