Carolina football returned to its modus operandi: breaking my hopeful heart. Already I find myself looking forward to next year's opener against LSU. Sigh. Tear. Lip quiver. Someday we will play for more than our pride, and I will be proud. Right now I need to get up for tomorrow's upset bid.
Life is good elsewhere. My girlfriend moved into a log cabin sans logs on a gravel road in the heart of Chapel Hill. The homes in her hood were for soldiers returning from World War II in the 1940s. These were the houses where the babies boomed. She has wood floors, a fireplace, a storage attic with drop-down stairs and a large screened porch. I thought about beautiful small places like hers when I named this blog.
My high school friend Nolan sent me a traveling journal that belongs to his groomsman's younger brother of Omaha, Nebraska. It's a sort of middle school project, a twist on the pen pal. Nolan wrote about "testing unmanned spy planes like the Global Hawk." I will settle for writing about a redemptive win at Virginia Tech and another chicken-cheddar biscuit from Time Out.