Rest from after last night's concert; an easy start to the day; a nice, hopeful conversation with one of my favorite cousins who I'll get to see this weekend (yay!); a long walk for good, non-Stephen King reasons (heh) around the lake next to the Washington state capitol complex and then along the Olympia waterfront; a very satisfying late lunch of a ham sandwich (thank you, Aunt Nancy Walsh); reading; resting; more visiting with family; late snacking in the poster-festooned Old School Pizzeria (me, after looking at the 70s- and 80s-era posters and listening to the 80s-era rock: "Thank goodness the place doesn't feel the need to recreate the hair spray of the era"*); late-night ice cream on sticks for a final snack; and the happy reminder that tomorrow's Sunday New York Times crossword puzzle was written by my friend Adam Fromm...
...Yes. A good day. Proof of which doesn't have to be examined in a court of law. It can be a good day because I said so. And because I feel so.
* The sound system at Old School played a lot of hair band stuff. Whitesnake, that sort of thing.
