A Saturday in Houston in June

The fan on my VW is belching hot air and hot air only. I can't make up my mind as to whether I should put the windows down where the temp is already near 90 before 9 a.m. or keep waiting for the cold air to come.

I drive the almost empty freeway to my workplace where I am greeted by similarly clad folks in campaign t-shirts. I'm thinking that this will be my last blockwalk and while that pleases me the thought of the next few hours does not. The interns have the situation well in hand and I await my marching orders. A volunteer (who came to us in the last campaign and worked as she subsequently got the news she had lymphoma and then began treatment) and I have four streets to cover in Bellaire.

We take her car.

The process of blockwalking is well thought out. I have a clipboard of papers for one side of the street. She has the other. We knock. We wait. We greet. We tell what we are doing. We offer the brochure. We smile and go to the next house. Simple.

I HATE IT!

Who wants to be bothered by politics on a Saturday morning? Especially when the election isn't until November and this is a hot day in June. I did encounter one woman eager to hear me and even though she votes the other ticket most of the time, seemed to be open to what I had to say. AND she offered me water.

Two hours into it and I'm wet all over. Now, not only would I not open the door to me, I would be fearful of the sight if I happened to check out my window!

Finally, we've covered the route and head back to the office. Then I head to my next gig -- babysitting.

Brian asked me to come over because he now has twins and a 2-year-old -- plus he's giving a party that afternoon. I get a quick orientation as the moment I enter there's crying and changing and feeding to be done. They are big dollops of cuteness and despite my lack of experience with small versions of humanity, I walk away without traumatizing anyone.

Next up is a phone call that lasts two hours. Interesting ... Intriguing ... Not enough to write about yet.

And finally I head to see what Fiona needs. She's a friend who is a on a similar journey of discovering the next thing for her life. I wind up filming her on a graveled path with a great view of the city behind her (this after trying a rooftop and then climbing through a stranger's window to check out her "patio" view). She does several takes describing her passion for equal rights, equal respect, and equal responsibility. Then we head for a brief catch up that turns into a lengthy discussion of options, possibilities, and passion.

I realize that passion is addictive. I love the fire it puts in someone's actions, the light it brings to their eyes, the sense of purpose it provides. I want passion in my life and I am beginning to realize that mine is ignited by others'.

Nice day in the life of me . . .