I'm getting ready to take my brother up on his kind offer to enjoy he and his wife's hospitality at the Jersey Shore for a couple of days. I'm not doing any of the preparation for the journey from The Rose of New England to his happy homestead (which is just as well, since we would never get there because of how I pack and then we'd never find it because of how I navigate), but I'd like to think I am helping best by helping not at all.
But that's not what I'm most preoccupied thinking about. And don't let today's title fool you either. I woke up with that phrase stuck in my head perhaps from something I was dreaming about (?) though I find that thought as disquieting as anything else it could possibly mean. Not sure what exactly might happen after ten paces, if we would throw them at one another, or butter them. Death by cholesterol?
Anyway. It's the first week of August. Already. A month from now, it's the end of the Labor Day weekend and we're closing the books on the Summer of 2017 for which we had so deeply and passionately yearned for months in advance of its arrival. And now, we're on the far side of the slide to the end. Helter Skelter. <sigh>;
-bill kenny
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