Happy Valley

Capitalism calls, and I am ready to serve. This moring, I write from my perch in the little convenience store in Happy Valley where I used to help out a friend once in a while. He is out of town and asked me to help him out to keep the gears of Mother Commerce greased and turning smoothly. So here I sit listening to a 9/14/88 Grateful Dead concert on Sirius Radio. (I was at this run of Madison Square Garden shows, but not this specific one.)

In additional to manning the helm of this ship, today I will be writing one of two business plans on my plate – one alone is usually a daunting task. But as is typical, the preceding trepidation of nearly overwhelming tasks frequently outweighs the act of actually preforming them. Will I ever grow out of that? But this morning, in spite of being out way too late last night at the Wild Buffalo, I feel content. An old friend came in from out of town last night, so it’s always nice to show a vistor around your funky town. It’s hard to be humble when you live in one of the coolest towns in the U.S.

Day Five of the cleanse, and all is well. I’ve been strict on my raw fruits and veggies intake (except for those two lonely bite-sized Three Musketeers I found abandoned in the back room) and dropped six pounds so far. But it’s back to oranges, pears, carrots and miscellanoeous smoothies.