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Last night I hardly slept a wink. A cup of tea this morning didn't even put a dent in my exhaustion. I can't recall the last time I was this kind of tired - normally I can sleep through anything. However the usual activity in the neighborhood (traffic, an outdoor cookout, motorcycles, bars closing up for the night) kept waking me up. This combined with a week of never quite catching up on my sleep finally zonked me. It took several doses of caffeine before I even felt my brain function.

Sadly, caffeine has never been a reliable source of energy for me. Although it prevents me from falling a sleep and in the right doses can stimulate creativity and productivity (which do not always go together), the wrong doses gives me weird perspective changes (messing with my sight, balance, and head pressure) and can make me feel (and appear) tired on the outside while continually pacing inside. I much prefer to use this drug optionally.

So I made it through the day surprisingly well - I always wonder how new parents do this on a regular basis. This evening I managed to play an enjoyable game of kickball - even if I did look like a zombie.

The night was gorgeous and our team worked hard and did well. It wasn't until I saw the moon rise over the horizon, gorgeous big and orange, that I realized where my insomnia came from.

When I was a child lunar cycles affected my moods regularly. On full moon nights I would stay up and clean my room - rearranging all my furniture - or I would be deep into a novel reading as if my life depended on it. The sun would rise and I would blink surprised at the night that had disappeared so rapidly.

Now days I am not always so in sync with the cycles of nature. Yet in the last few months, between the Fairs, festivals, parties, kickball, walks, scooting around for work, and excessive bicycling (last week I covered over fifty miles!) I may have spent record time outdoors. I tried hard (and failed) to not get a tan and have managed to keep off at least five of the ten pounds I lost while being sick. During this incredible summer (one of the highpoints was when I drove a 90-year-old Stanley Steamer) perhaps once again I fell under the influence of our natural satellite and the rhythm of the seasons. All I know is that, riding home on a bright clear September night with the cool wind whipping my face, all felt right with the world.

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