60ºF, sun: dogchildren are frolicking in the backyard and by frolicking I mean that Kirby is trying to get his sisters to play with him and they're growling and lunging at his face. This is the way.

I've somehow managed to convince myself for the last three weeks that Labor Day weekend was two weeks away; clearly, school starting tends to warp my sense of time, which has a weird habit, here at least, of seeming to stand still and then move ahead in scattershot fashion to the next stalling out – even the local rooster can't get his schedule straight.

I think I'm going to let myself buy an electronic drumset (amazing how small and cheap they’ve gotten since I started playing 30 years ago) to start playing again without terrifying the dogs. Having fun with the warmup exercises and my little practice pad: first time playing not for a grade or as a fuck you or as an occasional job but for fun – with traditional grip, which I was never allowed to do in my more formal training – in longer than I care to remember.