Monday, February 22, 2010
Giving Yourself Permission
I hadn't been to the arboretum for a long time. The guy at the gate was really sweet and let me in at a discount because I didn't have enough cash with me - 8 bucks to go the arboretum these days, goddamn, you young whippersnappers with your 8 bucks, I remember when it was free - and I had a great wander through the woods, which were damp and surprisingly still snowy. I took pictures but most of them sucked: the woods are great but they are not photogenic. It's like, there you are with all the trees and the air smells great and there's a creek burbling away and all is good and you take a picture and it is. . . trees. Lot o' trees, there! Wow, sure are some trees! Yeah, well, some of my best friends are trees and I love them but en masse, they don't photograph so good.
After the arboretum I went over to the used bookstore where I had $42.50 worth of credit and I bought, by some miracle, $42.80 worth of cheap paperbacks to devour, including a book about a flock of sheep who solve a murder mystery, which I had to buy, obviously, because, well, how could I not? With numismatic luck like that, perhaps my lottery chances are not nonexistent after all. Right?