I’m in Omaha, where it is currently 10 degrees outside. Because reasons.
Due to travel (which went fairly well, minus a few bobbles) I did not get to sleep until a little after midnight last night. Even allowing for the two-hour time difference between Pacific and Central, this is staggeringly late for me. It is probably no coincidence that I slept solidly for nine and a half hours.
The downside of that is due to a lunch date with a friend, my morning has been very rushed and out of sorts, where I’d expected to move slow and fly low today. Hence also the late blogging.
The Omaha Beach Party meets tonight at 6 pm at Zio’s on Dodge. If you’re within striking distance of Omaha and would like to see me, feel free to drop by. It will be a bunch of writers and friends eating pizza and yakking for a couple of hours.
Meanwhile, being here is bringing a bunch of my mortality thoughts hurtling back to the surface. I’ve spent the years from 1999 to 2013 working jobs either based in Omaha or with a strong connection to Omaha. I’ve visited this city at least a hundred times, literally so — that’s not hyperbole, that’s 8-14 trips a year across most of those 14 years. Omaha represents one of this big parts of my life that has already sloughed away in the face of cancer’s mortal decline.
Still, weather and ruminations notwithstanding, I am happy to be here. I will see my old work friends, and spend the weekend with some of my dearest friends in the world. That is a goodness.
Back to Portland on Monday, and a medical appointment on Tuesday regarding one of my possible avenues for a clinical trial. No rest for the weary. (Well, except that long night’s sleep.)
See some, all or none of you tonight.