the a/c in my house has been on again off again (mostly off again) the past two weeks. until the landlord replaces the condenser, i'm doomed to fitful sleep on sweaty sheets. sounds restful, don't it? this has only increased my fantasizing about moving to another house in the neighborhood.

in the current fantasy i have a broad wooden front porch lined with honeysuckle that sits up a small rise from the street. i'm swinging in a hammock in the night breeze, the sky doing that after-dusk-indigo-fade-to-black thing. i can hear crickets and frogs. a neighbor passes by on an old creaky bicycle. fireflies swim lazy figure-eights below.

i've run the neighborhood a lot this month looking for new "for rent" signs. nothing yet. maybe the porch will have to stay a fantasy for another year.

without changing anything, though, my neighborhood is pretty sweet. i'm about a mile from a great swimming lake, a mile from my office, biking distance from good coffee, good indyfilms, and good friends. last night i walked over for a hitchcock movie in the park (very reminiscent of austin, without the parking nightmare).

i'm trying hard to recognize the salad days and enjoy them in the moment. nothing against shakespeare, but every time i use that phrase i thank the coen brothers for raising arizona. brilliant in so many ways. i tried to find the one specific clip from the movie, but if you care to watch, it's 3/4 of the way through this one.



seize your salad days.