Sweet Morning

Some days its just good to be alive. Optimism bubbles up unbidden and carries one into the sweet morning sky like a cartoon Zeppelin. What's different? It's Saturday, the sun is up in the blue sky, the temperature has moderated; nature seems less of an opponent and more of a caretaker. I'm listening to Boz Scaggs' first album, featuring one of my seminal guitar heroes, Duane Allman. Duane was Georgia boy with big fat mutton chops, who played slide guitar like no one else in the world. He died young in a motorcyle accident. I did get to see him play with the Allman Brothers Band, in 1971 at the Chicago auditorium, when they were the best band in the universe.

No plans today. I figure I'll just wander around, take in the vibe of the day. This is 'anything can happen day.' No matter what happens, it's all good. I figure, hell, even if the sun, moon and stars came crashing down around my ears, it'd be ok; the coffee is superb, the music sounds sublime. A bolt of lightening could come out of the sky and strike me dead, and I'm sure I'd still have a big fat smile on my humble mug.