I spent the morning on idle detours, went to the Connemara nature preserve retreat five minutes from our house, but the retreat parking was pretty crowded, and as my idea of a retreat involves actual escape from others, I contented myself with stopping by Target discount store, and then with driving to the K Mart, whose going out of business store placed an instamatic camera at virtually give away pricing, listening to a church service on the radio, from a church that eschews musical instrumentation, a gorgeous a capella congregational refrain "Are you washed in the blood of the Lamb?", but I only caught a part of the sermon, which began "I want to speak to you today about something you may not like to hear. That something is Sin. You hear folks call it nowadays Error or Mistake, but the Bible is clear, and the Bible calls it Sin", and I reflected on what I call it, and then went on to a stop by the Dollar General and the Big Lots, in search of bargains in merchandise so unpopular that even Wal Mart didn't move it, landing it in the dollar stores, then I heard part of a different sermon by a sonorous voice about raising my children, which was good, though I'm childless, and then driving about listening to Odetta on Prairie Home Companion, not twelve hours after declaring that though I'd never seen Odetta, I think she's be a concert worth flying to, planting a post in my back yard, and re-hanging the bird feeder, in hope of attracting a bird or two, watching my marigolds in the terrarium, which are not thriving two weeks into the project, and may be on their way out, placing it in the sun for a final attempt to rally them, failing in my quest for a dirt cheap twin deck cassette boombox, instead settling for 15 dollar single deck number, wholly inadequate to any recording purpose, but in fact I recorded both a series of kazoo ambient sounds and my delicate autoharp rendition of "Kum Ba Yah", to the accompaniment of an impressive amount of cheap cassette recorder tape hiss, and soon I'm destined to mow, so that the neighbors don't post "wild weed refuge" signs on my front yard, not that they would, but it's a nice image, I think. A yard mow, a quiet walk in the neighborhood, a second walk for my little pal lhasas (never my *children*, by the way, notwithstanding the trite phrases when I pick them up at the vet's, but always my "friends" or "our pals"), and then some document drafting for work, and some rest, I'm eager to rest, but now the mower calls.