Is it wrong that I'm pleased the Houston Rockets are getting smoked because of these loud and drunk basketball bros? If it's wrong I don't wanna be right.

What is it with me and this world's forgotten?

I was out on the deck supervising Loki and the doves as this older guy is walking his dog down the alley. I know them by sight and sound well, they've both got a limp and have a distinctive shuffle. The Lokes starts caterwauling at his dog, who responded in kind, so we got to talking. I now know all his friends and family are dead, so he doesn't get to talk to people much, he's apologetic for talking my ear off, the cats and dogs aren't good conversationalist, his mother died from Alzheimer's, he grew up in a dying mining town, he came to Baltimore in the 70s and has lived all over the city, likes walks in this area best and likes searching on the Internet for stories of forgotten, dilapidated, abandoned or just weird places to live. His name is Richard and I'll make a point to look up his hometown and the names of some of the places I've seen photoessays on lost and abandoned places to mention to him next time.

I run into this so much. I'm like a magnet for these elders. Very often, there are reasons more complicated and difficult why these folks find themselves so isolated, so it's not as simple as leading them to one of the senior community groups at the Y or whatever. But if all I have to offer is a friendly conversation...well, it's not enough. But I can offer it.

And now he's not invisible. His name is Richard.

Sliced my thumb up pretty good taking the sheath of a paring knife. It's a good thing I haven't tried to do anything more hazardous than lie in a hammock or make dinner today.

I hope that any blood I dripped on the carrots was not on the remnants I gave to Lucy, don't want to give the rabbit a taste for human blood.

oh sara, you are such a good egg.

Shrift, want me to root for the Ducks and bring them Boston's doofy playoff bad luck by proxy?

It's frustrating because even if I were an extrovert with training and networks, it would be challenging, but I'm me and so I feel guilty about the boundaries I have to set. Like, I'd love to set up a semimonthly get together for a handful of folk I've met in the hood who are kinda shut ins but who also talk to me. I also know I am not the person to be organizing that. I'd fail them.

Shrift, want me to root for the Ducks and bring them Boston's doofy playoff bad luck by proxy?

The basketball bros are gone, at least, but we're 2OT and I would like to go home sometime soon where there will be blessed silence. So I would be grateful if you did.

Man, I'm just envisioning Chris Chelios screaming "SUPPORT YOUR GOALIE AND CLEAR THE DAMN PUCK!!!" to the Chicago defensemen, possibly while tearing the arms of his seat loose from their moorings.

Score!

Thanks Matt!