A Delicate Dance in the Pale Moonlight…

The sun was just rising over the horizon this morning as I looked at my watch. The hands read 7:15am.

“Damn, he is late,” I muttered speaking of George.

George was supposed to meet me for breakfast at the diner before his first patron of the day. He never showed. I could picture him still lying in bed with a hangover feeling terrible.

I went ahead, ordered, and quietly sat alone as I ate my fried ham, hash brown potatoes, and eggs. It was a sufficiently artery clogging meal that left me well satisfied. I pulled on my coat, and then my backpack as I started the walk home.

As I walked behind the shopping center to meet the road that runs to my house, good ole Dumpster Diving Dan was busily poking through a dumpster’s trash with his rubber hip waders on.

“Hello!” Dan said heartily as I passed by and stopped. “It is a brisk morning.”

The temperature was hovering around 40 degrees and it certainly was chilly.

“You haven’t seen George, have you?” I asked.

“I haven’t seen him in weeks,” Dan said.

“Oh, he is back in town after a vacation of sorts,” I said as I smiled.

“When he disappears, it always makes me think he is in jail.”

“You read my mind, my friend,” I replied.

I left Dan to continue on with his diving and walked on home.

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When I first awoke this morning, the house reeked of smoke; the kind of smoke that only a campfire imparts. It was like I was homeless all over again. After checking the house for fire, I looked outside to see a smoky haze throughout my neighborhood in the dim light of the street lamp next to my driveway. I got in my car and drove around in the predawn dark looking for houses on fire. I then drove out Spring Road to find those beautiful woods, where I so like to camp, ablaze. It looked like some scene out of hell with lines of fire running brightly through the forest alighting the burning trees in a hue of bright red.

I arrived home after my short drive to take a shower and get dressed to go meet George. My father called just about as I was stepping out the door to walk down to the diner.

“Did you smell smoke this morning?” Dad said. “I went out to get the paper and it looked like fog it was so thick. I thought your house was on fire. I walked around to the backyard to look and see if you were okay.”

“It’s out Spring Road,” I replied. “The woods are on fire. Some dipshit must have thrown out a cigarette.”

“Well, just glad you are okay,” My father said as we got off the phone.

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Late last night found me out in the backyard trying to get some pictures of the almost full moon with the new digital camera tripod Carolyn had bought me. It was a delicate dance in the pale moonlight trying to see what I was doing. None of my pictures turned out. I realized this morning my error. I had forgotten to set the camera to night scene mode which greatly increases the exposure time, reduces the ISO speed, and opens the aperture. I will try again tonight and hopefully some pictures of a star gilded moon will adorn my photo blog.

Well, let me go get some more lunch and coffee started. I think I shall have some bacon, lettuce, and tomato sandwiches for lunch accompanied by some French fries and a few kosher dill pickle spears. My stomach is certainly grumbling. Good day.