This is from midday yesterday as I was walking over to Mr. and Mrs. Sherlock’s house for lunch and a movie. I forgot my headphones, I have been preoccupied lately and tired and so traversed the city pondering how fast the peak of spring is barreling through this year with the wind and rain and slightly warmer temperatures.
I love how the new leaf green and lingering blossoms compliment the building color.
Spring is magical, every few hours a new delight out and about, the first flower opened yesterday on the pink to white rhododendrons that surround the front part of where I live.
We were talking about reading at lunch, the amazing capacity for a book to be there quietly, inertly and then a little while into it, if it is well written and compelling, it grabs you by the throat and drags you with the power of story to the end. That whoosh of engagement that is such an intoxicating joy.
We were having this discussion because we were trying to decide what movie to watch.
In the end we chose Out of Africa from 34 years ago. A movie made before Motorcycle Man was born but we won’t go there…
Mrs. Sherlock has been to Africa so we talked about her experience after and before. I hadn’t seen the end because way back when there was a fire drill in the theater when I was watching it with friends in Seattle and there wasn’t time to get us back in and make the next showing. I liked the lions hanging out on Denys Finch Hatton’s grave and was amused by the Finch in his name.
It is very romantic in a (cringe inducing colonial) way. Now I am interested in how WW1 was addressed in Africa.
I was absolutely exhausted yesterday. It pored in the morning so I skipped the gym and our long walk (I don’t consider the hour walk across town to their place a long walk) and when I got home I did a few simple chores and got into bed early and slept 10 hours.
The cats were restless and woke me up and after I fed them I went out to get my paper leaving the cupboard door where I keep their food unlocked. I have childproof locks on them. It wasn’t open, just unlocked.
When I came back I thought it odd that Carlo was banging against it with a front paw (he has learned that if he baps at it just right he can get it open enough to get into it) soon after eating.
I put the lock back on and then as I was wiping the rain off the plastic the New York Sunday Times was wrapped in I heard banging against the cabinet door but this time from the inside.
Diego was in there. And in a blink of an eye had managed to rip open the package of soft chicken treats I had bought to temp them during the worst of their illness.
There were still quite a few left and he doesn’t look like he is about to exhibit signs of eating too much too fast. But I had to grab the torn package with what was left and run into the bathroom and close the door, sequestering myself, to get them into a sealed container they can’t get into.
Who needs lions?
Wiley rascals. They are both crashed out sleeping here now innocent as can be.
My cat sitter wasn’t available for the whole weekend so one of my students who has been picking up a few cat-sitting gigs and can use the cash is going to fill in. It is extra work in the setup but I am most grateful that she is available.
I am not leaving until Thursday so I have time to get the parts of it all (cleaning) I haven’t done at a-nice-liesurely-pace…
Last updated April 07, 2019