I talked to my sister today. It doesn't happen enough. In between all of this am and am-not and frustration over what I can and can't do with my life, I am happy about that and some million or so other things that happen regularly but do not get the weight they deserve in the continual self-accounting that seems to exist on almost a separate plane of mind from which the merits of moment-by-moment life are not visible, or only from a long distance.

For example:

Holding keys and a camera and taking pictures of clouds in a car window in the middle of last August.