I keep thinking that if tired were a color it would be gray. And then I think about what I know about auras and I think that white is pure and clean and that black is poison and wonder what that means about my sense of my life as the color gray.

I think all the rain and snow and clouds makes me feel gray, too. I drove up this weird dirt road with Mike the other day because he resented me being on the phone on the way home from town. So I took him up the hill a piece and we watched it storm on the Sierras and watched the rednecks crisscrossing their big-tired rigs and ATV's across the desert and we talked and held hands. Then we drove home and unloaded the groceries.