During the Vachel Lindsay Architectural Tour, we were walking north on Seventh when we all saw a woman leading a big horse from a recently-parked trailer, I wondered to my friend Ed Gehlbach and his good wife how interesting it was that Paul Simon had mentioned “the horse on Seventh Avenue” in his fine tune The Boxer, and here we were witnessing the same thing. At least it was fun to imagine we were. Mr. Ed (the Gehlbach) replied he believed Simon was writing about something else.
Ed was right of course. Simon was talking Seventh Avenue, and we were on Seventh Street.
My “experiment” continues with excellent results. Last night during the 10p gnews (the “g” is silent) I finally gave in and consumed the last four slices of bread in the house, spread (Texan-spin)-liberally with Hellman’s mayonnaise and raspberry jam. It was an elegant repast. The iced tea was as wine.
Yesterday when contemplating Monday, I decided to end my semi-fast semi-soon this afternoon because since I had committed to taking a package to the post office as promised to an e-correspondent, I’d swing by County Market on the flip-flop. This yester-plan came to me about 2:30 today I scrubbed the mail run and delayed the food run until Fresh Air with Terri Gross who had promised an interview with Seymour Hirsch, an extraordinary writer for The New Yorker. The interview was so good, I’m going to listen to the repeat tonight at 7. It’s that good. Mayhaps later I will read his article. It didn’t GRAB my attention when the mag came in Saturday’s mail, but only because I didn’t notice Hirsch’s name which is PLATINUM in print!
I shall dine between Marketplace and the repeat in a few minutes.
For the past three days, I’ve been busting my buns working on my web sites, deleting more aviation pictures and a few arts pages that no longer as essential as when I was doing the CIVAG site. What do I mean by busting mon buns? I mean coming into the office today about 7:30, not leaving except to refill coffee and tea until 4p and coming back to work after half an hour suppertime until 8:00. I really need to get this work done, and I’ve almost concluded I’m going to have to buy more memory for the web pages.
As the new pages of new pictures get posted I will update you here.
Thanks for dropping by.
Live long and “don’t let the bed bugs bite” (<— frequent closing phone conversation wish implanted permanently in my brain by a woman I remember publicly as M.A.P. Heck of a good woman; just not good enough to put up with me for more than three years.)
