I am writing, but there’s a lot of catching up to do. I’m posting filler funny (mostly) photos until I finish my current post.

I know you’re holding your breath to read about the wacky adventures of this “fool for the city,” so I’ll offer up a nugget of news: my two closest new friends are Andy, the manager at the local coffee shop (divorced male with kids, engaged, writes Christian-y young adult fiction, who shares my love of The Clash) and John, a homeless “regular” who pans the block I walk most days (soft spoken, kind, saving up to rent a place, afraid of spiders, avoids shelters ’cause the young guys steal, hides or snubs out his cigarette if he sees me coming, says he’s cut down a lot, exhibits hope and optimism that stun, calls himself a soldier, well known and liked by wrinklies like me). Surely, in one of the wealthiest DC neighborhoods, we can make his dream a reality.

Why guys aren’t asking out the girl in her Compassion Over Killing t-shirt chatting with a homeless guy is anybody’s guess. Maybe ’cause like most Washingtonians, she doesn’t smile at others much anymore.

Lack of communication is unhealthy.

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