And we all go down together

I practiced yoga this morning and then watched Mad Men but before that I worked on music for about an hour. Got all that? And right around the time I was settling down for a nap, Spira called and asked me if I wanted to go to the beach with her and Missy D. Sounded good to me, though I lamented the nap I never got to take.
We walked along the beach in Revere. The signs read "No Dogs Allowed Until September 30th" and we took heed but eventually decided to abandon the sidewalk for actual beach. It was a good plan. Not one person gave a shit and Missy got to run like a launched missile. I benefited too; I was starting to get a serious blister from my shoe and being barefoot in the sand was a comfort.

By the time we made it back to the car, we were all pooped. When we got back to Spira's, Missy D went right to her bed and collapsed before I was able to get her leash and collar off. Spira and I let her sleep and went to the City Slicker Cafe for dinner. Spira found out they didn't have public restrooms, so our order changed to takeout. We brought the food to her studio down the street and pigged out because neither of us had eaten in hours and the walk took it's toll.

And then we practiced our art. She painted and I played and sang. I realized at some point that Spira's probably the only person to see my writing process. Last week, the first time, was a little awkward at first, but I relaxed into it eventually. Tonight it felt natural all the way through.

Alright, it gets late and I want to read from Wolves of The Calla and possibly squeeze in some Mad Men.

Pleasant dreams, rascals.