Notes on a Foggy Morning

There are times that I have to remind myself why I write this blog.

On a different note -- elderly man is in a nursing home for the first day. He's in a chair, in a room that overlooks the garden and a small pond. Nurses stop by every so often to check on him, and notice that he is starting to tilt to one side. They straighten him, but when it happens again, they prop him up with a pillow. Then he starts to tilt to the other side, and so they prop him up there, too. That evening, his family comes to visit. "How do you like it, Dad?" they ask. "It's okay", the old man says, thoughtfully, "but they don't let you fart."

I'm cheered by articles like the one in the Washington Post about young entrepreneurs working to create LGBT-friendly environments. I'm not sure why. I'm also cheered by an article there about a local judge, a Muslim, who takes into account family structure when handing out sentencing. I'm not sure why there, either.

I've now got two serious books going - Army at Dawn and Audacity of Hope. That's about one and a half more than I can handle at any time. Sometimes I just need something light to read. Good guys, bad guys, that sort of thing. Not to say I'm not enjoying them -- I am. I have to read them slowly, particularly Obama's, but they're worth it. They're just a bit more of a simultaneous commitment than I normally make.

My daughter sort-of conned me into making a pie for her yesterday, for Pi Day. The first crust, made with Crisco, was awful -- like a brick -- but the second, made with butter, turned out pretty well. I made notes on the recipe, should there be a next time. Today she's going to a sleepover at a color-guard-girl's house. There's a mother with more stamina than me. Its not absolutely sure she's going -- we still need to talk to the mother -- but its likely.

And with luck, today we finish our taxes.