I hope to watch the PBS special about the vanishing tallgrass prairie. Then at 5:30 a.m., I have an exciting work-related conference call. At 8:30 a.m., I attend a brief court hearing. By noon, I'll be on a plane, winding over the desert back to Dallas.
We flew over Lake Powell, and I saw a huge boat in the water. Serene, pleasant, and far away from the Airport Hilton. I would enjoy a nice desert trip soon.
I read Texas Monthly's list of the 100 top Texas songs, which only missed 97 or so of them. Too many graven images, not enough fun pop tunes. How can one leave off The True Believers "Ringing a Bell" or Sara Hickman's "Last Night was a Big Rain"?
I once lived much of my life during business travel in hotels. They're old friends to me. But hotels are no longer home. I wish I were home. Thank goodness for the Elizabeth Gaskell novel. Lately I feel a burst of tactlessness, and a retreat to a comedy of manners is just what the doctor ordered.