So we’re back at it again. Another late, late night in the newsroom. This was the view when it was still daylight outside. I did make it outside at some point. Some days it is difficult to know for sure, but here is documented evidence:
Sometime I think I should walk around to trees and just start yelling “Quitter!” at them. That wouldn’t be strange. Would that’d be strange? That’d be strange. Right?
A few more photos from the weekend. We ride bikes through here. It looks different at dusk and at different speeds. And it is dark enough and we’re fast enough here and I was maybe just hasty enough that it makes everything look soft and blurry and distant. But look at those colors:
We went to the movies this weekend. We saw Creed, which was emotionally impactful in ways that I wasn’t expecting. And no one saw that happen, either, since The Yankee didn’t glance over at entirely the wrong time or anything. It had nothing to do with an aging Rocky or mortality, but probably had something to do with thinking of Mickey Goldmill. (Did you know there’s a story about Mickey being written? You want this one to make it.)
Walking out of the theater this little girl saw this poster and walked up to it.
“What’s this movie about, Mommy?”
Mom walks over, reaches down for her hand and says “You wouldn’t like it.”
Don’t worry, kid, no one is going to like this one.
This weekend we also learned that Allie likes cupcakes, or at least the paper.
