Snapshot: 032912 1300 PST

Sipping on a delicious tuxedo and snacking on some coffee cake at Star Bucks while my tire is being repaired at Evan's.

And the repair is free!

seasons

"Will you tell him about the seasons?" she asks. She sits on a bench, a dear friend, and before her stands a great tree. Under the tree, my wife lay in the grass, holding a baby. It is not ours. It must belong to the woman on the bench. I step under the canopy of the tree. I look up and notice the branches are divided into three sections. The first is bare, as though in the dead of winter. The middle of the tree is budding. The furthest branches are adorned with deep green leafs, and it is under these branches my wife lay with the baby. Instead of approaching her directly, I make my around the trunk of the tree first, looking up into the canopy. "These are the seasons," I thought, as I noted the bare, budded, and fully leafed divisions of the tree. Behind the tree I notice a light. It's upwards a bit, just above head level. It appears to be emitting from where a branch begins at the trunk. The light is beautiful, swarming, like hundreds of thousands of tiny lights coming together. The light remains as a conglomerate, no larger than my fist. I pull a camera from my pocket and try to take a picture of the light, but the camera won't take the picture. I look through the camera screen and see that the light is dull and not nearly as beautiful as seeing it with my own eyes. Another dear friend steps behind me, the husband of the woman sitting on the bench. We begin to speak....

It all goes dark. Everything around me fades.
The tree. The branches. The woman on the bench. The man standing with me.
The light. My wife laying in the grass. The baby in her arms.

All fading. I am waking. It's gone.
A dream.

smack-down of truth/love

There are certain kinds of conversations I'm good with. Then there are others that.... well, lets just say it's a good thing I have guys like this as role models to learn from. I'm not there yet, but God's still working on me.

Snapshot: 032712 1700 PST

I was primed and prepped.
Actually pumped for school.

I had my notebook.
I had my laptop.

I had my research paper I've spent way too many hours writing.
My research paper that is due tonight.

I stepped out the door and saw it immediately.
My flat tire. My super flat tire.

Primed. Prepped. Pumped. Paper.
POP!

Oh, well. Thank God for great Triple A service.
And for professors who accept assignments via email.