My undercurrent: Still running x-miles in Dreamland (cemetery).

Observation of one man to another about women:  “You can’t figure them out.  Don’t even try.  If you shit all over them, they treat you like you’re a brand new puppy dog.  If you treat them good right from the start, they wonder what’s  wrong with you.”

(Okay. So I am one of the guys involved in the previous mention. I’m just not designating my role.  But it makes you wonder what was mentioned just prior to that generalization to warrant it, doesn’t it now?)

I thought with the arrival of fall weather and dwindling sunlight on the North Coast that I’d be spending more time indoors.  So much for ‘indoors thinking’.  I’m actually more engaged in the arrival of the new season and its manifestations outdoors than I was with this past summer in its most glorious stride.  I may just be transitioning spiritually from a summer-lover and sun-worshiper to an autumn activist spurred on by the quickening of all that’s in the air.  So as you near- and fellow-latituders cuddle in your houses in the hastening twilight of an imminent vanish-into-fall night seeking comfort from northerly winds pimping an ungodly upstart chill, just imagine that I’m somewhere ‘out there’ seeking new-found thrills.