If you've logged in at any point in the last few weeks, you probably noticed that things around the offices of starfish and waffles have been pretty quiet. Chalk it up to the late summer doldrums or a wicked bend in the space-time continuum but, in any event, we're back now. And we're glad you're still here with us.
Take time to enjoy the last bloom of summer before it inevitably fades into fall. In the picture above, the famous editor of felix's daily starfish and waffles shows you how.
May 2006. Flying at 37,000 feet over Greenland, en route to Boston from Reykjavik. Seated next to me in the coveted window seat is Ladawn, the blonde-haired / steely-blue-eyed / warm-hearted / outgoing head nurse of the massive NATO air force base at Keflavik, Iceland. I envision scenes from M*A*S*H, with scores of war wounded. No, Ladawn says - it's basketball injuries - I'd ban basketball, she says. This girl is a year younger than me but even at 37,000 feet, she's at least a summer wiser.
As the shadows grow longer and the days grow shorter, somewhere in this August the answer lies. Finding and/or believing it, however, requires a reach of sorts, a leap of faith. Maybe it depends on how you view things. Maybe it was never meant to be. Maybe things change in September.
I daydreamed that there were reporters asking me questions, and I only replied with two answers, more or less. Specifically: "I'm human. But I'm a good one." I woke up in a daze, which is weird, because I was never asleep to begin with.
They explained it to me this way - of course time moves faster as you get older. When you're only a year old, the summer that's just passed you by comprised 25% of the life you've already lived or, relatively-speaking, a really long time. When you're 28 years old, the summer that's just come and gone ... well, that's less than 1%.
Time. Like the last bloom of summer, it feels like I'm running out of it.