Every time that I walk past the sprinkler that blocks the small path in our back yard that takes you to the deck, I think of Kevin, because he put the sprinkler there on Saturday and turned it on not knowing, and neither did I, that there was a ban on watering out here in Demorest.

Kevin helped me move on Saturday, from the city(Atlanta) where I have lived for the last twenty five years to the near country(Demorest) where Love wrote on our message board, "Welcome to the rest of your life!"

Helping someone move is a sure sign of friendship. Moving your own things is a pain in the ass, moving someone else's things is being a Saint. Kevin has been a Saint, in my life, for nearly two decades. He was a father to my son for the first three years of my son's life, when I was still "out there," still drinking and trying to be some sort of poet rockstar in the clubs of Atlanta. And when I sobered up, Kevin was still there, a step-father(I hate the word step) to my son, a friend to me. Kevin was there this past Friday night when my son graduated from high school.

What a beautiful man
........

The dogs now know that when I put on my sandals, the ones that I leave by the back door, that we are soon headed out the back door, and down the small path to the deck. The dogs get very excited when I put my sandals on. They love going out the back door and heading towards the deck. They love hanging out on and around the deck. For the greater parts of the past eight years, my two dogs have lived in the city in a very cramped, small apartment. Now, they live very close to the country in a house that has a very nice backyard, a very nice deck. They get to stare at squirrels and listen to birds. They are very happy.

.......

A little dog just walked up, from somewhere down the street. He stopped and looked at my two dogs and I for a minute or so, probably trying to figure out what our dog Morisson was going to do. Morisson didn't seem interested in doing anything.

I was wasting my time telling Morisson "no."

The little dog continued down the street. He seemed to have purpose, seemed to know exactly where he was going. He stayed to the side of the street, much like a human on a bicycle or a person walking down the street alone or with his or her dog might do. I would never let my dogs get out of my sight to do such a thing, and I wondered about the person or persons who would.

The street in front of our house is not a highway, but the few cars that do travel on it, daily, seem to think that they are running in a Nascar race; I mean they haul ass. I wish the little dog well; may he get where he is going safely.

......

It's 8:21am. The birds are really going at it; they seem very happy to be alive, this morning. I'm happy to be alive, and I hope that you are happy to be alive.
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The first day that I was here, living in sin with Love, in the near country, Love asked me if I was doing ok?

"Yes," I said. "Why do you ask?"

"Well," she said, "I just thought that you might be depressed, having left your old home and all."

I wasn't depressed. I was happy with my new environment. I was in love with a great women, and I was away from all the traffic in the city, the panhandlers, the lousy attitudes. Out here, in what I am calling the "near-country" people smile at you more, the pace is slower, there is almost no traffic. True, there is no Starbucks or Caribou or Java Lords to get cappuccinos at, but I'll live.
.......

I have started timed writing this morning. I will write The Daily K for 45 minutes, each morning, and then I will write poetry for 45 minutes each morning. I will devote an hour to editing "I Am The Female Anne Lammot and I will devote a half hour to re-editing "The Delivery Guy."