For the last two and a half hours I’ve been sitting on Bonnie and Todd’s porch. I can’t think that I’ve really done anything “productive.” It’s been great. Maybe one day I’ll have a porch just for this reason. Porches make you sit down, relax, and enjoy your friends. If you live in the hood, they also make you enjoy the announcer at the local high school football game, the neighbors fighting, and all the cars driving by with speakers blaring rap and mariachi music. But I think Bonnie went to get beer, so all of that is about to not matter so much.

About an hour ago the mosquitoes found me. I guess they’re not a big deal in the afternoon or late at night, but flare up during the interim. They’re like zits between the years of ten and thirty-seven, apparently. Anyway, rather than spray myself with Deep Woods Off, I turned on an oscillating fan that Bonnie and Todd keep handy. Well, the mosquitoes aren’t biting me, but the fan has blown all the moisture out of my eyes. I currently have tears running down my cheeks, and my eyeballs are as dry as the Sahara. I feel like a headache is about to invite itself over for dinner.

Rude, I know.

The state fair is in town, and it feels like I should be somewhere eating a fried turkey leg or ridding the Zipper and testing the constitution of my stomach. Each year I ride those things it seems it gets harder and harder to keep my lunch down. I’m sure it has something to do with my inner ear, but I don’t like it. I also don’t like the fact that I was recently in a public restroom with two safety bars on the wall and thought, That sure is nice, as I grabbed one and stood up from the toilet. I guess we all need help from time to time.

Before long my friends Matt and Jason should be here. Even as I type, they’re driving down from Missouri for dance lessons. Afterwards, they’re taking me out for my birthday. Bonnie will go too. I’m hoping to write as much as I can now so I can celebrate and not be distracted later. Uh–speaking of distractions–Bonnie just arrived with beer and pizza. In light of this information, I’m going to take a break now. But don’t worry, you don’t have to. Just skip down to the next paragraph, and even though there will be fifteen or thirty minutes between the end of this sentence and the beginning of the next one, you won’t notice.

Don’t you feel like a time traveler?

Okay, phew, I’m back. It’s actually been several hours. After pizza and beer, Matt and Jason showed up, and we all danced. When I told Jason that he’d improved since the last time I saw him, he said, “Really?” Yes, really. Jason said, “I’m usually pretty hard on myself.” I said, “Join the club.” I guess most of us expect too much of ourselves. I know I do. As one friend says, “Sign me up for the advanced course.” But they say it takes 10,000 for the brain to really master something. That breaks down to three hours a day for a little more than nine years. If that’s true, you really can’t rush success. You simply have to put in the time, recognize where you’ve made progress, and keep showing up.

After dancing we–Matt, Jason, Bonnie, and I–went to dinner. Somehow we started talking about my new jeans, and Matt said he heard that if you don’t want to wash your jeans because they’ll shrink or whatever, you can put them in the freezer. He said the cold air kills all the bacteria, so they won’t smell. This won’t work for stains, of course, but for everyday wear and tear, the denim deep freeze is a way to go. I said, “Yeah, but I don’t want to step into an ice-cold pair of pants. That’s just going to make my balls shrink.”

But Matt said, no, this is a real thing. You let the pants warm up before you put them on–of course.

Of course.

Recently Bonnie and Todd had a water leak in their basement. It happened while they were out-of-town and the water went everywhere, so now they’re having to have their kitchen floor redone. They’re in the middle of it right now, and everything is a mess. Still, they let me come over and dance. In my book, this makes them saints. Anyway, after dinner, we all went back to Bonnie’s house, and she showed us a ventriloquist’s dummy she salvaged from her basement–you know–because everyone has a ventriloquist’s dummy in their basement. As it turns out, the dummy’s name is Ezra, and he belonged to Todd’s mother. (I think that’s right.) I guess back in the sixties or seventies she signed up for a correspondence course, and her notebook was still in the case. How cool is that?

Unfortunately, the contraption that allows Ezra’s mouth to move was broken. I wish this were the case with a few people I know. Sometimes, I wish it were the case with me.

Tonight at dinner we discussed our experiences with a certain dance teacher. Hands down, they’re a fabulous dancer, but they’re often harsh, aggressive, and impatient with students. My therapist says you never treat anyone better than you treat yourself, so this person has my compassion. Anyway, the conversation made me realize that I’m often harsh, aggressive, and impatient with myself. I want to grow, to be better–whatever the hell that means–now! And whereas I do think I should work toward my goals and put in the 10,000 hours, I’m also reminded tonight that it’s important to be gentle with any process that involves people–and that includes me.

I guess at the end of the day, we’re all wearing out and wearing down. Our bodies are no better than a pair of jeans or an old ventriloquist’s dummy. Maybe you could throw yourself in a freezer and make yourself last a little longer, but you’re gonna need those toilet safety bars sooner or later. Basements flood, shit happens, and one day you, your 10,000 hours, and everything they produced will all be over. Perhaps the exception to this is the love we extend to others, the space and pizza we share on our porches, the holding of hands while we dance, and the encouragements we offer. Maybe these thing go on and on, traveling in time both backwards and forward, since it’s hard to say where a kindness begins or ends.