Happy Friday, finally.

The air on the walkway is scented with plywood sawdust as one of my downstairs neighbors undergoes a bit of renovation - and I might have stayed longer at the lake if I had brought my PFD instead of just a sandwich, and taken a dinghy out for a sail, dipping my flip-flops in the brackish bay-water.

In the opposite direction behind trees and sloughs, on the other side of the hill with my back to it about a mile away, is gigantic old Hanger-1 that harbored the Macon. My dad's buddy from the Academy - his dad was the skipper of that - after he crashed the Akron anyhow - the Past is like another world to this one.
And I found out that a friend has just 2-6 months left.