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I was given an award at a dinner I was once accused of sneaking into without paying. I didn't steal the last dinner, but I think we can all agree it would've been funnier if I had. The acceptance speech would've just written itself! But since I did pay for it last time (promise) it's kind of serving sad metaphor. And I'll have none of that here!

Here's a picture I took on the way to the dinner, when I was still living life unawarded.

Biking home the other day I heard three teens crossing the street talking about this summer's hottest topic: the patriarchy. One of the teens said, "All I'm saying is that a matriarchy wouldn't necessarily be better than a patriarchy." I thought of yelling while passing them, "You're presuming that the end of the patriarchy would necessarily create another oppressive hierarchy!" But I have a good feeling they'll figure it out on their own. I think if you’re young teen already working through those thoughts there’s a good chance you’ll survive having a few bad ideas. Summer is still young. Plus I was biking and there’s a good chance all they would’ve heard was the “oppressive hierarchy” part.

I had my last day of physical therapy last week. I told my therapist how grateful I was that my wrist could open a bottle again. "This was miraculous! Bones are wild! Couldn't have done it without you!" I told him I said the same thing to my orthopedic surgeon the previous week when he also gave me a clean bill of health. They both smiled at me in the way I've probably smiled at clients dozens of times over the years. It's nice to be give a compliment but responding to one has its perils. You don't want to be a terrible ham about it, but you don't want to be too dismissive either. A smile works well because it's both an answer of gratitude and it's like a compliment for the complimenter. "Look, you did it, that compliment made me smile! Here's my teeth!" Compliment loop closed. No need to give it extra relish like, "Oh no, you're just a great client." Nope. You got a clean break there with that smile.

Maybe I liked being a patient? Having a regular appointment that I don't really have to prepare for. A good excuse to go on a bike ride in the middle of the work day. Generally being told that I'm doing a good job with what I was tasked with at the last therapy session, like picking up water cups more or stretching a bright orange lump of putty. I haven't put this much conscious effort into picking up water cups in probably ever.

Here's another picture I took, post-award. This is what the world looks like to someone who has an award now.

Said something to the news recently. Same as it ever was: the City was up to some nonsense and I likely had an opinion about it. Growing up I would've thought these kinds of conversations with journalists happen in hushed tones in bar rooms and alleys with me trying to hold on to a bundle of manila folders hastily bound with a large rubber band slipping out from under my armpit. My experience is that it usually happens when I'm walking the dog. I'm assuming this is a well-known journalistic tactic because they all do it. Depending on the season I'll either be too cold or too hot to say something diplomatic or well-thought out. I'll be too busy wiping away sweat or keeping Lottie from getting too friendly with a dead worm to think about hurting a politician's feeling. "So why do you think they did that?" "Oh, I'm guessing it's that they're mean and wrong... oh, oh no what do you have in your mouth?" You can't call yourself Deep Throat unless you're talking to a journalist with your fingers chasing a sidewalk leftover BBQ rib quickly moving deeper into your dog's mouth.

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