I'm feeling disgustingly needy today...loser.

There are sailboats floating past and the gentle rhythm of waves slapping sand helps to ease the chill of a weak but cold easterly breeze. Living on the lake can be remarkably cold even as the rest of the people you know bask in backyards filled with sun. It's not something that you can complain about though, not if you have any hope of sympathy. You won't find any here on this stretch of sand...probably on any stretch of sand.

Staring out into what feels like blue everything I'm feeling the need to be filled back up after this person or that has emptied me out.

I need to hang out on the rail in front of WIllie Horton at Comerica Park with little Harmon running laps around Phil Newhouser's feet.

I need Andrew Cooper's honest, innocent enthusiasm just to see me.

I need Uncle Ian here to laugh with -- at dumb stuff, especially the really dumb stuff.

I need June and Zo and a background of Encinitas cliffs.

I need Scott and Smitty, and Big Jimmy with nothing but stupid stories bouncing between the crowded space between us.

I need to see Rosie grinning his drunken face off at a golf course tailgate.

I need M. Smith to stumble into the open door of my office and genuinely ask, "How are you doin'?"

I need to post a comment from John or MaryAnn

I need to walk all the way to Diamondhead and back with a sleeping Zo.

I need to fall asleep in the hammock with the sun on my face and a finished book all askew on my chest.

I need a haircut...what? I do.