For health reasons, he decided to go on the wagon for a while. He does this periodically, just to keep himself honest. He doesn’t drink vodka or bourbon in the evening as usual.

In the morning, he looks forward to a cup of freshly brewed coffee from a local roaster ground at home with a bit of Hazelnut Cream added. For lunch, it’s ice tea, a lot of ice tea. In the afternoon, probably a tall cup of boiling hot rhubarb or one of the other oolongs and in the evening, some flavor of herbal tea.

He wakes refreshed and ready to go for a jog as he has four of five days a week for the last forty-five years of his life. He now wears joint saving new “maximalist” running shoes which are all the rage, especially on the West Coast, even if they look like clown shoes to most people in the Midwest and bright blue or orange compression leggings to stave off muscle fatigue.

Someone once stopped him, in a local running store of all places, and said, “Oh, I hope your legs are getting better.” In spite of the stares and comments these aids are important as he approaches seventy and hopes to keep jogging for a few more years, lord willin’ and the creek don’t rise.

It’s raining today, a bone chilling, blustery, fall rain best known for knocking down pretty leaves prematurely leaving the rest of October as but a preview of November.

His wife and dog jog with him, but not today. She’s snuggled up with Stuart Woods and the Chocolate Lab is just snuggled up.

He could still go but decides to have another cup of gourmet coffee while sitting on the couch looking like Bozo ready to juggle a Harlan Coben mystery in one hand and the cup of French Roast with a hint of Hazelnut Cream in the other.

His wife suggests that he go brush his hair.