17 daze

I think about things to blog every day.

I could write about how perfect fall is as a season, siting a combination of the way it looks, smells and feels and the food you eat. (cue pumpkin bars with maple cream cheese frosting, or chicken corn chowder with butternut squash)

I could write about the old man that has been sitting on midvale blv a block from my grandparents old house in his wheelchair for years just watching cars drive by. (Yesterday he was sporting a hunter safety orange winter cap with ear flaps and only in recent years has he made the jump from lawn chair to wheelchair)

I could write about how I keep forgetting halloween is happening because for me, it sort of isn't and I cope by dancing in my kitchen by myself to glee's mash up of head's will roll and thriller.

I could write about my 7000th trip to milwaukee this tuesday to get my visa squared away and how I got to see my two long lost cousins and their children (both born and in utero) and then went to the most beautiful old house on the lake and talked to the classiest middle ages italian woman and drooled over the old windows and violins on her walls.

I could write about the shirt I screen printed myself that was supposed to be a dino but the head didn't show so I added a robot head from another screen, thus creating my new motto: when life gives you a headless dino, make it a robot head, or something like that.

I could write about my dear friends that drove across the country to see me. (insert cute pics of us at an apple orchard or short anecdote about how much curry we ate in those short hours)

But instead I go to movies with little bro and get shots in my arms and talk my dog on walks and call old friends and make the previously mentioned pumpkin bars and reread to kill a mocking bird and start packing my suitcases for ye olde mission.

I've got a lot to fit in the next 17 days.