Black Friday. Well, maybe not so black after all.
Nice, quiet Thanksgiving yesterday. Guests for dinner. Wonderful food, good wine, great conversation. Cooked my first rotisserie turkey, and it was everything I'd hoped for, a beautiful, bird. Will never go back to oven roasted again.
Had a dream last night where my dad came looking for me. He'd brought my old German shepherd, Buck (died April 15, 1995), with him. I called the dog and he ran to me and put his paws on my shoulders the way he used to do. I was overcome. I couldn't breath. I woke from a dead sleep and sat up in bed and tried to settle my mind, but here it is, early evening, and the dream is still with me. As strong as ever.
Cleaned K's gutters this afternoon, then went off to run errands. Bought a Christmas tree at the Good Earth just before closing. Beautiful Nordmann. Nine feet in height. Silver green needles. Got some writing in earlier--some reading, too. Came across a deceptively good fist-fight scene in Alan LeMay's The Searchers.
Hope to clean the garage tomorrow, box some books, make preliminary measurements for a new construction project. Need to keep looking ahead. Dreaming, no matter what.