Juxtaposition

Last week I sat in an arena and sang along to The National. They were in town, setting off on a US tour. The scene was hipster chic, something I wasn't even certain existed in Atlanta. Leslie commented that the lead singer wasn't really playing to the crowd, and he wasn't. "He's an artist, not a singer," I tried to explain. "And based on an interview I heard of him on NPR earlier this year, he's nowhere near as douchey as that three piece suit would make one think."

On Friday Leslie and I are taking the kids to Nashville to see Taylor Swift.

Two weekends ago, I was seated on a bench at the Ritz Carlton in Laguna Beach. I was sipping Cabernet out of a water-glass while nibbling on gourmet chocolates tucked within crumpled paper napkins, both courtesy of the general manager. The sun was slowly dipping closer to the horizon as surfers struggled to ride the nonexistent waves. I was calm and happy and couldn't be bothered by any of the chaos that was waiting for me at home. In that moment, the only thing that mattered was the breathtaking sunset.

Next week I'll be in Puerto Rico for work, four nights of coworkers, politics and Kool-Aid keg stands.

In July, I committed to reading twenty-four books this year. Though there had been a springtime lull, the summer got me back on track. I tore through The Mourning Hours (amazing).  Into the Wild required more focus but also left a more lasting mark than, say, Dad Is Fat. At the Facebook suggestion of MetroDad, I recently dove into Night Film. All of these books have kept me entertained and reminded me why reading can be so much more powerful than a film. It invites the audience to personalize the characters and participate on the periphery.

The dialog in The Ocean at the End of the Lane is painful but if I persevere I will have only eight books to go (though I might stab someone).

Tucked away on a quiet side-street in Asheville, North Carolina, is a charming dessert cafe. The theme is chocolate and Leslie told me not to come home if I didn't stop there before grabbing my Atlanta-bound flight after a work event. My belly was still full from lunch. There was still work to be finished.  At ten o'clock, I slipped into a cardigan, grabbed my wallet and made my way to French Broad Chocolate. The chocolate creme brûlée so delicious that each spoonful required a pause to savor the rich flavor and creamy texture.

I just ate a Peanut M&M I found in my work tote and I'm not exactly sure when I last bought Peanut M&Ms.