Caught In A Grecian Romance

Split at noon yesterday and headed for the coast. Left about 10 minutes before the Greece news popped. I’ve been calling it the Greek Romance, cause every time I hear about it I get that Lady Gaga song in my head:

Seriously. I mean, your moment of zen or whatever:

Miles from Athens or the electronic pit, it’s the Oregon coast. Hour and a half, my door to the sand. Climbed Tillamook Head. Counted rings on a felled sitka spruce – close to 200. Does that mean 200 years old or do they do two rings in a year? I can’t remember. At the hiker camp an owl hooted away, we found these old bunkers from the Rising Sun Terror days, some Italian tourists joined us looking out at Terrible Tilly. Then we hiked out and demolished a couple captain’s platters.

I miss creative mornings. Working the markets, fixing problems for my clients. I participate in the capital engine and I get to help people. It’s an awesome life. I should be shot for even contemplating complaining.

But there was something about Up at 6AM in Hillcrest, walk to Peets for a trad capp, fire a fresh horde of wordgame puzzles for someone to solve. Then drive to the office and write code until noon.

Grass greener. Try not be meaner. Breathe, be here not there. Summer days. This morning, I got away. Worked the open, then snuck off to one of the best coffee shops in the world for a macchiato, and more important than the macchiato, a deep breath or four and some playtime with the Mactop.

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