Slower.

    Let's slow the evening down
    Slow it down slow down
    Please slow down down down
    The stars are coming out


Last night found me on the porch swing, listening to the thunder roll in from the northwest, watching the rain pound straight down on the sidewalk and thinking if things didn't level out soon I might implode.

Jake came out with two mugs of tea and asked me what I was doing.

Craving mediocrity.

He gifted me with his larger than life laughter, which is a rare and wonderful treat. I used to get this vibe from him that underneath his laid-back mellow self lurked a really high-strung insecure fellow. That insecurity, and him being wound tight as a drum under the cool exterior is gone. He strung himself tight to get through encounters with me. He rarely laughed like this. It was hard on him. His life is easier now, so he says. That makes me laugh. As I look at the remnants of my injuries and a calender full of court dates and appointments I find it somehow priceless.

He should ask for his money back, I wasn't the picture that was painted after all.

He agrees that mediocrity would be wonderful. He suggested a trip to the library, peanut butter and jelly for lunch and old movies tonight on TV. I pointed out that that isn't mediocrity, that is heaven.

And the picture, Bridget? The picture I was shown is exactly what I received.