SUNDAY: Running back from the Baptist Academy this morning, many cars passed me on the long, hilly, winding road, on their way to the Sunday service. Finally having been conditioned by my rural neighbors, after many years of living in the city, I raised my hand at each oncoming car and made a friendly wave at the driver. Now, where I used to be the one taken by surprise by such gestures, often ignoring them or making some awkward, stammering reply at the last moment, I became strangely invested in whether the drivers returned my wave. Most did, but only in that baffled manner that suggested they never would have acknowledged me with a glance, let alone waved in return, if they had not been prompted by me. Others ignored me or, worse, looked but refused to wave, which struck me as an obscure affront, as if to say "Why are you out here, running, when I'm on my way to church?"

But then there were those who waved with an easy flip of the wrist, affirming somehow as a handshake, or a slap on the back.

* * *

Dinner at Manuel's: A blue t-shirt:
"b -wling
--cks"

-- a black shoulderstrap crinkling the front so you couldn't read whether it says "sucks" or "rocks." The guy wearing it's skinny, somewhat nerdy; hard to tell what his opinion would be, or whether it's supposed to be ironic, or what.