Sunday Mornings: Elevated Recalibration.
The creative space that is Sunday morning is sacred. Nearly every Sunday, George lets me sleep in until about 6:30 a.m. without stirring. By then, she’s almost always found her way into a “little spoon” position as I sleep on my left side. “Good morning, George,” I’ll say. That’s her permission slip to rise. Followed by a biiiggg stretch in a downward-dog-like pose toward me. At least we start the day with her knowing I’m the alpha. It lasts only a few moments, of course. Right up until she’s been fed in some form. We putter to the kitchen. I grind beans and get the Moccamaster humming. Collagen, peptides, superfood creamer, half and half, and a splash of pumpkin spice creamer (hey, it’s organic). Then we settle into the living room. George eats a cookie shaped like a chicken pot pie. I reach for my iPad and open the New York Times... Games, Style, Real Estate, Tech, Magazine... the key content, in that order. My brain starts tossing around ideas: clips of scenes, one-liners,...
