A couple of days away.

Happy solstice, all!

I'm writing this from lovely Brownville, Nebraska, in the very southeast corner of the state -- I can see the bridge over the Missouri River from where I sit. Just closing up a couple of days helping the Bookstore Maven at her satellite office. I'm not sure I was a very good sales surrogate -- three books in two days (though now that I'm ready to close up and hit the road, the shop is suddenly full for the first time).

But I've had a lovely, relaxing two days. I can see why Miz C loves it here. No cell reception, no errands to run ... nothing to do, really. Which suits me just fine after nearly a week of schlepping boxes one place or another.

After work last evening, I walked the little trail behind Brownville's historic homes. Peaceful.


But now I'm ready for civilization again. Stop in Auburn for a Diet Coke, blast some New Pornographers on the drive home, pick up my sis-in-law and finally go see the "Sex in the City" movie. I've heard it's really, really bad, but I don't care. I'm just in it for the fashion porn.

It's all downhill from here.

The days will begin getting longer again.

I'm not a religious person, but I do make note of the solstices. I like to get up early and pay some conscious attention to the cycles of nature that get us through everything. It's a tradition I started on a beach in Mexico at a pivotal time in my life, and it seems to carry me through every season. To remember all that has been so good, and to remember that everything ebbs and flows.

The precise moment of solstice was 12:08 a.m. central time. So, without even realizing it, I passed solstice by talking on the phone with one of the sweetest souls I know. Good karma, I think. Looking forward to being in this time and place next weekend.

I'm awake early, and alert, but with the sweet luxury of being able to burrow back under the covers and roll back into sleep.

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Last night was my last chance to catch the Tijuana Gigolos. Managed to squeeze into the Zoo just in time to hear them finish their last set. Not a bit disappointed, though ... you know how you need to be in a certain mood to hear certain kinds of music, or to have a certain experience? I wasn't in a Zoo frame of mind anyway.

Instead, the mood I was in last night matched the people I caught up with ... some of my favorite people in the world. Discussing music and politics and scatology and Dueling Penguins and family dynamics and the future and everything else there is to discuss.

Happy birthday, Podunk! And happy holidays to my book-clubbing chicas ...

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Politically, I'm not a fan of Hillary Clinton. I want an unapologetic progressive who doesn't equivocate on the need to get out of world conflicts. And is electable. Pipe dreams, and I don't even have a pipe.

But this Ellen Goodman column really pisses me off. Going off on Rush Limbaugh going off on how America can't handle a Miz Clinton presidency because she's getting older ... and no one wants to see a woman getting older.

She's a year younger than our current president. And only four years older than Limbaugh, who of course is such a treat to gaze upon.

Didn't hear him talking about Thompson's grizzled jowls or McCain's age spots.

How old was Reagan, again? And Bush I? And most of Congress?

Just some political ranting to start my day, get my own gray-haired, crow-footed juices flowing ...