Okay, gentle readers, I’m going to do a classic summertime the-cats-ate-my-homework-so-is-it-okay-if-I-pass-this-in-instead blog post. I have no excuses for where the hours, days and weeks of this season of sublet living, construction checking, bird watching, exercise sweating, book review writing, paint color picking, nephew transporting, pesto making and who knows what else have all disappeared to. I give up. Here’s some highlights, significantly boosted in my memory by whatever I’m finding on my cell phone’s photo albums:
The farmers’ market visits have led to an abundance of pesto in our little sublet freezer. No blueberries or tomatoes were harmed by this basil-binging fest. But I’ve definitely got the pesto situation under control, through 2015.
This crazy throwback to the winter of 1978-79 has nothing to do with this summer–except that I discovered this team photo on my first trip to my summertime gym. That’s me, in the snowflake sweater. I have no memory of this picture being taken. I have no memory of the names of any of the people in the back row–which is just plain embarrassing. What sort of a teammate was I? And how rag-tag were we? I see this photo whenever I walk the corridor from the indoor tennis courts to the exercise room, and trust me, this is the scraggiest team photo of any along that long walk. Apparently Harvard couldn’t afford uniforms for the ski team in the seventies. And yet, according to the other photos, they had no trouble underwriting snazzy outfits for the golf, squash and tennis teams…
Go get this book. Get it and start reading it, pronto. Best book I’ve read in a very long time. Just finished it, and am in that sad place where no book I might pick up will hold a candle to this story, and this amazing story-telling prodigy. I might just have to read it again, starting tonight. Seriously. Read it!
And wherever I go, weddings. This little procession went by our front door when I sat down to crank out some blog fodder. Since I’ve been sitting here, I’ve heard the bell ring from the little Jackson NH church, and have heard the band leader introduce the wedding party. Celebrate good times, c’mon!
That’s a little bit of what’s been going on these days. More essay-ish posts to come.