a summer flurry

every once in a while, something in this town catches on fire and then seems to burn forever. Today, I walked outside my house and was greeted by this sight:



It seemed pretty far away so I didn't think too much of it and went about my chores of looking for a file cabinet and some new hinges for the kitchen cabinets.

But when I came out of the Staples and unlocked my car, I realized that it was covered in a fine, white dust. I looked up and saw that the air was filled with this same small, white dust, falling gently all over the parking lot. And it kind of reminded me of my home in upstate New York, where I'd walk out to find my car gently kissed by snow, the air crisp and clean. Only now it was about 90 degrees and I was inhaling ash and smog, somewhere deep in the valley.

regrets, I've had a few

and here's one:

The other day I was walking across the movie lot to the building I work in. While I won't mention the movie by name, production is currently underway for the next installment of a hugely popular franchise, so there were lots of trailers and tents and extras and all of that.

And as I walked, taking my time, not rushing to my desk, out of the corner of my eye, I saw a guy wearing a head set coming toward me. I kind of glanced at him and as he approached he shouted something to me.

"What?" I said.

"Are my hand double that I'm looking for?"

It was decision time - make something up and see what happens, or tell the truth and go about my life. Do I tell this guy, who's clearly frantic and needs someone right now, that I am indeed his hand model double and let him whisk me away to the soundstage where I'll be able to munch off the craft service table in between set ups where my hands will be gloriously lit holding goblets and small pieces of gold? Or do I tell him I'm not who he thinks I am and then go about the business of my day as if nothing happened.

"No, no," I said, shaking my head.

And I regret saying that. Only because I would have had a better story if I had said yes.