Walking in the Presidio

It seems only slightly necessary to get out of bed.

Making oneself understood is only mildly interesting, at best.

The best that can be conjured to this point:the clouds look like white poodles being walked without leashes.

There aren't words for everything.

Possums got into the trash last night.

Nancy threw pots, pans and a muffin tin at the possums at 10:30 p.m. and was grateful the next morning to discover her next door neighbors slept right through the ruckus.

The baby possum has her mother's nose.

Once awake, and having that big first step out of the way, get out there and keep walking.

Someone or something is waiting for you.