A Dreary Day

When you're on the street, rain is not all that much of a blessing.

In fact, it can be downright depressing.  Especially when the tent managed to leak a bit due to the tarp not being hung precisely right.  From that comes the sleeping bag somewhat wet with no way of drying it.  So the Old Man is looking at a damp one tonight unless the chinchilla blankie can keep us warm enough.

Well, maybe body heat will eventually dry the bag?

The food truck won't be coming to Sunken Gardens this evening.  Nearest will be up S. Lamar near Maudie's--and that's a haul up a long hill. Hmmmm.  Still have some scraps from a couple of days ago, so it's not like it's the end of the world.

But on a wet day where do you go to stay warm and dry?  Lift Cafe has been one of those blessings that just keeps on giving, but I try to be careful about not abusing their hospitality.  Help clean up, put chairs away at closing time, etc.  So there is that.

And the McDonald's here at Barton Springs and S. Lamar.  Sitting here drinking my first cup of coffee of the day--and it's after 5 PM. 

Wes, the manager here, is a super guy, very tolerant and compassionate to the Old Man. And I do appreciate it.  Came in this evening and he said, "Welcome back."  Referring to the Not-so-long-ride-2009.

Ran into one of my followers, Loren, earlier, who had stopped in at Lift to see how I was progressing.  Always a treat to see him.

Dealing with some loss here as Jamie is moving on, leaving Lift Cafe.  And that is not good news for me.  She's one of those drop-dead gorgeous women just as lovely on the inside as the outside.  Big heart.  Compassionate.  Gonna miss her bigtime.

And so the beat goes on.  Haven't seen anyone from the little community that hangs out up by the Springs other than Old Man John (who is actually six years younger than I) who was eating breakfast at Taco Cabana earlier.

Where do they all go on days like this?

Haven't seen Smokie and KB yet.  They were planning to go down to Sixth Street last night and do their weekly hunting.  KB flies a sign which says, "Free Hugs/Tips Accepted" and pulled in about twenty bucks Thursday night.  Great young lady.  Love her to pieces.

She and Smokie are turning into little activists in the service of the Alex Jones paradigm.  True believers.  Smokie tends to get up on his soapbox given half a chance, but he's young and that's how true believers act.  They're both convinced the "New World Order" is in the works, although KB is quick to proclaim, "I hope we're wrong.  I really do!"

Me?  I believe in Aloha.  I have a great lady in Madame LaBelle, and she's an Angel of Aloha for sure. Planning to visit her next Tuesday and close out November with her.

But now the evening begins to come down as soft and gray as an old shawl.  The cars stutter by with their lights on and the horn at the ready.  Hook 'em, Commuters!

Weekend.  No commuters running today, Bub.  Just people moving hither and yon, moving toward goals of the interior.  Where are they going?

On an evening like this John Prine comes to mind.  He wrote:  I hate graveyards and old pawn shops/Cuz they always bring me tears./Can't forgive the way they robbed me/Of my childhood's souveneirs."

You rock, Bruddah Prine.  Sho nuff.

On my second cup of coffee and beginning to feel like a human being again. 

I am becoming quite fond of Willie, the owner of the building Lift Cafe is in.  He's just...the real deal.  A real human being with a real heart and a real mind to go with it.  Great guy.  His compassion is heart-warming, and I wonder:  how did he get it?  What forces have danced with his heart to make him an unspoken evangelist of Aloha?

I need to post this while the battery is still up and the connection is still humming.

You people...you're my tribe.  My 'ohana, extended family.

Peace, aloha, and warm and dry places from the rain,

Elijah