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Saturday, May 4, 2002

Sometimes when I have nothing to say, all I have to do is start typing and an entry will magically appear. That didn't happen today. I started writing about how after seeing Frontier House on PBS I decided I wanted a scythe for my yard (instead of hiring the mower guy again). That went nowhere, even though it's true.

The mail brought nothing more interesting than a list of summer community outreach classes offered by the junior college. I've decided not to take the workshop in Japanese side-sewn bookbinding (fee $127; bring lunch) or the introduction to the greeting card business (that one's only $60). But I'll keep looking through the brochure and see if anything turns up.

Even Datebook let me down. The weekday columnists don't write for the Saturday paper, and the first article I saw was about classical dance (of which I know nothing). I did learn that The Osbournes will be back for a second season, at least according to Sharon. I'm sure she knows. In fact, I'm sure it was her decision. Oh, and Phyllis Diller is retiring as a performer to write her autobiography. She's only 85, and her face is much younger.

After watching the game this afternoon I spent a half hour in the yard. Yesterday I worked for about that long after dragging the empty yard waste container in from the curb. It's taken me two days, at half an hour a day, to fill it to the top again. I have to hope the cuttings settle during the night, or I won't be able to do much more work until next weekend.

Thanks to Netflix, I'm working my way through the thirteen episodes of I, Claudius. I also watched Romeo + Juliet with Baz Luhrmann's commentary. His Strictly Ballroom was the first commentary track I listened to, and since then I never mail a DVD back to Netflix without checking out all the extras. I mean, if you're the kind of person who never leaves the theater until the end credits have finished rolling, you're probably going to want to know everything the filmmakers want to tell you about the movie.

One more thing. I finished reading Echoes, by Maeve Binchy, yesterday afternoon. So today was the day to get into a new book, and I wanted something different. I always want something different, and this time I picked up Chasing Redbird, by Sharon Creech. It's a young adult novel, written for a slightly younger age group than the target audience for Cynthia Voigt, my favorite writer of this type of book.


You probably can't see it, but there's an oriole in the tree.

Sometimes I try to disguise how little I do during the day, and how little one day differs from another. Today all I can do is lay it out in all its stark simplicity.

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One year ago: On Track
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Two years ago: Shot Down
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