|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Sunday April 22, 2001
"Do
I contradict myself? Walt Whitman, Song of Myself
Zoey trees a squirrel
eclectic entrances in Clarksville
|
|
the east It was very hard to get up today. Very, very difficult. Perhaps harder for SuRu because I finally phoned her to see how we were doing in progressing toward a dog walk. We convinced ourselves we'd walk a bit and have a snack. That it wouldn't be too hard. Clarksville was our target. It was windy. Then sunny and windy. It looked like it might rain. It didn't. We had to stop in a crosswalk for a Suburban turning with the young woman holding a cell phone to her ear. As we skidded ourselves and dogs to a stop with our clear 'walk' signal, I said, loudly, 'Oh, she can't stop, she's talking on the phone.' She found a free hand to shoot the finger as she sped down Sixth Street. Bravo. Good performance. Received a couple of notes (email) from friends in the last few days. One indicated reading the journal. One didn't but referred to my catchy title (Visible Woman) for the journal. It makes me a little nervous, actually. That people read it. People I know. But probably not for the reason you think. You see, if people read it and then think, "OK, that's what LB is up to, I see." and then don't ever write or call or stop by, it's this one way communication. I don't know they are reading. I don't know what they are up to. Then I start to wonder about people who aren't dropping a note and if they are reading and satisfying their need for LBness. But what have I of them? Silly. Perhaps. One of my longtime email companions has been very silent lately. It's gone beyond 'not writing for a few days' but I don't know if it has reached 'never going to write again.' Other people don't have a journal where I can catch up with them. So this is an online journal danger. An interesting, unanticipated and (probably) unfounded fear. I have a long 'to-do' list. But not much of it is getting done. I try to throw out a few things. Organize a few things. Learn a few things. The evening takes us to the Orient. The music of Hotcakes. Great decorations. (Great use of unwanted bamboo from our yard, neighbors.) Yep, it was Opera Ball time. I didn't take any pix because I neglected to take my camera. We did a good job of charity shilling without getting anything we bid on. (Oh, maybe we got something...we were beyond checking..they'll have to call us.) Anyway, good food, good company and people danced. A lot. Us, too. Home again. Sunday night. Man, where does the weekend go?
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
