I have been working on getting some family matters done, and hope to get more done today. Yesterday I took Beatrice for a morning walk, and in the afternoon went to Limestone Quarry Park in Frisco for a three hour walk. This time of year, I watch the butterflies and dragonflies as well as the birds. I walked back and forth on the Taychas Trail. I watched a murder of ten crows complain, and then saw the perched Red-Tailed Hawk about which they complained. A pre-teen girl asked me if I had seen her small, gray dog. I looked for it on the trail, but failed to see it. As I walked, I listened to a Linux podcast and then to the Arkansas v. Portland State football game .Arkansas won, but only by a small margin. One joy of being a fan of a team coming off a disastrous season arises from the realization that any win feels like a good win.
Saturday night we enjoyed "The Art of Racing in the Rain." I read the book some time ago. I find books about dogs and their wisdom irresistible.My wife arranged for our niece to visit us in October. We saw the film at Moviehouse Eatery, where I ordered a Southwest Chicken Bowl, but with instructions to hold the drizzled chipotle ranch sauce. In general, a dessert or two aside, I find the word "drizzled" a harbinger of restaurant doom.
My wife's work got very busy well into October, but we planned a late October three-day weekend, at a place to be determined. My reading on my current novel, Beresford's "Goslings", goes slowly. I like the novel fairly well so far, but I tend to space my reading efforts days apart. I formed a second item in the queue, Thor Magnusson's "Sonic Writing". The two books together threaten to consume much of my remaining leisure book reading this year. That sounds unfortunate to me--to read only two books in four months. My reading gears much more to the internet and to magazines now. But my progress remains for the future. I anticipate that over time, facts tell better than I foretell.
I dislike the convention of putting periods inside quotation marks. I thought to myself how I envision myself as a kind of small town person, but that facts show that I came into the world in a large city and that I lived in large cities and suburbs of large cities most of my life. Perhaps my quiver contains the argument in mitigation that my current city, Allen, ascends to the title "exurb,"
Lately I watch "Perry Mason" episodes. Raymond Burr's demeanor reminded me as a child and reminds me now of my late father, though the resemblance arises from the set of the jaw and from a sense of fearlessness rather than in similarities of manner. I find myself struck by how often Mr. Mason the television character skirts the ethical rules and how African-American people rarely found representation on the show,and that Latino and Asian-American people on the show appeared drawn with the brushes of stereotype.
Yesterday I watched an epidode of the sitcom "Julia.". I watched that show as a child. In its days, it proved controversial as sugar-coating a situation. But now I find it just a sit-com.
from Dreamwidth, because two posts of the same text are twice as nice