I have found a social justification for Stella chasing squirrels: Dogs
chase them in the company of humans. Therefore squirrels keep their
distance from humans as well as from dogs. This occurred to me this
morning as I approached the front stoop, and the squirrel that was
sitting there, intent on munching on nearby pumpkin, didn't move. Took
long enough to move, anyway, to give me the chance to think "we're too
close" before the squirrel did bolt under the porch. If not for
Stella's tireless dedication, maybe the squirrel would have attacked
me, charged me, like a bull elephant.
Of course I rue the day that Stella might actually catch one of these
tough little bastards.
What I need in my head is a stenographer.
One hour in the rub-a-dub tub with this thing and the front section of
the NYT. Kiss My Face Peaceful Patchouli was my companion. I stayed in
the tub until the water began to feel too cool. The "this thing" part
was pretty brazen. I am not sure what would happen if this thing
dropped in the tub while I was in that tub. Couldn't be good, though.
Also, I was fortified with the following queue: the NYT magazine; the
business section; and the Week in Review.
On Friday, Dorothea and I had a bit of a raugh in that she wanted to
go to her brother Joe's to get help with code for the Honda Civic car
radio, which hasn't worked since she'd gotten a new battery, and
which, because the Civic is a repairable like all our cars have been
for twenty years, no longer had with it the code to get the radio to
work. (Boy, does that sentence need editing.) Anyway, she wanted
everyone in our little nuclear family to go. But Liam had baseball
practice in the early afternoon, which I insisted the he not skip. So
we were to go later in the afternoon until Dorothea decided on that
day it was too nice, and postponed until the next day, Sunday. Now she
and Liam have gone. I get to go to the Meeting for Business at the
Quakers this afternoon. Madeline was still in bed. And we feel that
she needs some down time after the intense initial rush of 9th grade.
Yesterday, I went on a cleaning tear, to the point of eventually
re-arranging furniture in the livingroom and dining room.
I am now in the under-utilized, remodeled attic, sitting on the futon.
The order of the narrative gets a bit mixed up. For example, last
night, while sitting in front of Brits Pub, I made the entries below.
Properly, they should have gone on for the 13th, but I had already
posted for the 13th.
It is Saturday night, and Dorothea and I are in downtown Minneapolis,
having just finished Stella's on the second-story of Brits.
Grieg and Stravinsky. Fireworks. Pretty easy. I hear a lot of Gershwin
Rhapsody in Blue in the Grieg. Also a piece by Crumb from 1984,
Haunted Landscape. Lots of percussion, gongs and what not, sounding
like Star Trek music, but there was nothing to inform of the time it
was created; as far as I could tell, the composition could have been
from fifty years ago as well as twenty. In fact, in the older, the
better.
We were sitting in seats that cost us a total of $5, and were just a
few rows behind what image to be the block of more expensive "sweet
spot" seats, which were mostly empty. Maybe this was a second-string
game of little interest to those holding season tickets. The average
age of the audience members had to be pushing 70. Though I will say
that I would be interested in orchestra season tickets over sports
season tickets.
--
David
www.schons.net
