Met my first blogger in person (except for Dancehall, who I've known for at least a couple lifetimes, it seems). Eric from My Heart's Porch came through our corner of the southwest on his way back from Monument Valley. He brought a fellow traveler with him, who we will call the Rock Star, as that is exactly how the little clowncars treated her. It was like having Hannah Montana in the house (except she's not a registered trademark of Disney; always a plus). She has a great love of bad horror movies, so she fit right in.
They were cold and tired and hungry from spending the previous night in 17 degree weather sans tent (they did have sleeping bags), and it felt good to be able to offer them tamales and green chile and a warm place to sleep. We drank a little bourbon, talked a little writing. We agree on a great deal (Cormac McCarthy, Marilynne Robinson, Hemmingway), disagree on a little (Don DeLillo, Annie Proulx). I attempted to turn him on to TC Boyle, he attempted to turn me on to Nick Acosta.
The subject of God and randomness made a brief but notable appearance, late in the evening, as it tends to do.
All told, it was Big Fun.
Sadly, the meeting was marred when I savagely beat him in Wii tennis, bowling, and baseball, back to back to back. He tried to hold it together, and almost succeeded, but his anguished, wrenching sobs filled the empty halls of our home as he cried himself to sleep that night. He was wearing an eyepatch the next morning. He said his eyes were bothering him, but clearly it was the result of psychic wounds sustained the previous evening.
We've fallen off the full moon wagon the last few months, so it was nice to go out as a family and see the first full moon of the new year, the wolf moon, this Saturday. It was also the biggest full moon of the year.
Though in my view, they're all pretty big.
The symmetry of having the setting sun at my back, just as the full moon rises, never fails to impress.