Sunday, December 8, 2013

One sentence journal, Dec. 1-7

The neighbors' Christmas lights

Time marches on . . .

 12/1, Sunday. Looking over the backyard fence after nightfall and watching the slow crawl of headlights along the interstate, folks headed home from the holiday.

12/2, Monday. So great seeing Clark Johnson again in a TV series (amazon’s Alpha House), and in a comedy with John Goodman.

12/3, Tuesday. Nicked my thumb carving Thanksgiving turkey with a newly sharpened knife, and the darn thing still wants a bandaid.

12/4, Wednesday. Getting yet another Privacy Notice from yet another service provider, I have to wonder whether I have any privacy left.

12/5, Thursday. There’s a mesmerizing light show on the wall as late afternoon sun slants through the window blinds, throwing flash-dancing shadows of the windblown palms outside.

12/6, Friday. I guess it was time for a remake of that recurring dream of missing a flight—always either to or from Heathrow, and this time a little red sport car I once owned figures into the plot.

12/7, Saturday. The neighborhood Christmas light show has begun.

Image credit: Ron Scheer

Coming up: Trails of the Wild


  1. Replies
    1. The time is coming when people will read 1984 and say, what's the big deal?

  2. Ron, I agree with Charles. Blogging has taken away what little privacy I had left! I didn't know Christmas lights were put up this early.

  3. Privacy was a beautiful thing once upon a long ago.

  4. I hope you yelled, "Go on without me!" when you nicked yourself.

    1. I staunched the blood and kept right on going, Chris.