A Friday in July

Yesterday afternoon 

the clouds moved out.

Today the city was 

drenched

in

sun.

Not an optical illusion.

There were simply no clouds.

I lay on the Copley Square lawn tonight

after a windless, humidity-free 4-miler on the Charles

(in the sun, natch),

with my feet pointing to the library and my head to Trinity Church, and

I rolled my eyes back and 

discerned only the metal outlines of the Hancock Tower, 

the glass within them was so blue.

Here's how I knew I was in a good mood:

I dropped $16 at the 

organic food stand of the Copley Farmer's Market, 

bagging up

organic celery ($4) and broccoli ($4) 

and sugar snap peas ($2) and cousa squash ($2)

and, of course, unshelled organic fava beans ($4).

Which I'm sure I'll figure out to prepare tomorrow, 

somehow.

I didn't get crabby at

the slower-than-usual staff energy at Starbucks 

that kept me in line for 10 minutes this a.m. and 

made me late for work

or

the slow-moving tourists strolling 4 abreast down Boylston 

this afternoon

or

the super-slow-flow style of the substitute yoga teacher tonight.

I got my 3rd e-mail 

from a newish boy on OKC 

who is 30 and

who is dark and lean and

who loves nothing more than running on the Charles and 

who said, in reply to my last e-mail,

"thanks for making me laugh ... again!"and 

who wondered if

our paths could try and cross soon.

I wrote him back a few minutes later and said

"yes, please, I think they could try."

This is how all the Fridays in June should have been.

But I'm not complaining about July so far.