Gibbous

Last night was a night to visit an old housemate that has since moved out to Kendall, a neat little town nestled in the foothills of the Cascades. The juxtaposition of the McMansions immediately next to run down trailers was quite uncanny.

And although there were "Conserve Water" signs all over the community, guess where the lawn sprinklers were operating unfettered? I guess when you have a huge mortgage, the rules of practicality and reasonableness don't apply to you.

But it was still a fun time, and the drive down from the Mt. Baker Highway is more beautiful than the drive out. With a wonderful tired dog sleeping on your lap, driving down the highway in a little pickup truck with the windows down and French Canadian jazz playing on the radio with a full moon (well almost - a waxing gibbous a day or two until the full moon, although it still cast generous light on the surrounding hills). Nothing could be finer.

Saturday morning and I sit here planning my day drinking coffee on a conference call typing away. Bike ride? Kite flying? Hike? Sail? Sit outside and read? Garden? Too many choices for a beautiful summer day in Bellingham.