Friday Happy Hour Video: love is all I need (at the moment, anyway)
I've taken a lot of trips—a lot of long trips—but I've never been homesick like I was in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean. All that water—26,000 feet deep and infinitely wide—gave me a terrible sense of being impossibly, irrevocably removed from the place I where belong. Now that I'm home, I'm feeling warm, and soft. Forgive me.
Seven-hour night watches lead to new communication law
The floor is still pitching now and I'm walking the dog in my bathing suit in the shocking Chicago cold, so it'll take me a couple of days to get my docksiders off and my Writing Boots on.
The trip was full of communication insights, of course, those being the only kinds of insights I ever have.
But the main idea is that there is no interpersonal misunderstanding or suspicion or disrespect so great that it can't be ameliorated by a week of endless nights spent staring into one another's darkened faces in the cockpit of a sailboat in the middle of an infinite black ocean.
More on that soon.
Meanwhile, it's good to be back, my friends. Thanks for holding down the fort.