An odd couple and keeping up with the Times …


What goes together better than diamonds and container gardens? Truly an odd couple but such disparate topics and more are all in play for the weekly letters.

As it is, the kids read all the news that’s fit to print (with apologies to the New York Times). Speaking of the Times, it is all it’s cracked up to be. I can hardly get through the weekend editions. In fact, I’m not. Sections yet to be perused are stacked up like cordwood next to the couch. I wish the kids would subscribe to the paper versions of the St. Paul Pioneer Press and the Chicago Tribune. It would do them good. 


March 27, 2017

Ellen/Reid: Our collective karma didn’t seem to work too well for the Bulldogs last week. North Carolina rolled them and I thought Butler would be the one team that might be peaky enough to give them a go. But for a small school to reach that far says something about the basketball culture in Indianapolis. I watched the games yesterday on ESPN which had a link to the CBS broadcast. It’s really the one time of year I wish I had a TV. Otherwise, I’m good without it. In secret, I am a Carolina fan among all the teams down in these parts so here’s hoping the Tar Heels can go all the way.

The container garden is already going great guns. The romaine and arugula are already sprouted and growing nicely. The cilantro has yet to emerge. If the temps hold true (and warm) later this week the basil and maybe a small tomato plant will go in the ground. While golfing this weekend, there was a stand of bamboo adjacent to one of the tee boxes and I plucked a bunch of dried stalks and stuck them in next to my golf bag. Those will make good guides for the tomato.

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A couple of years ago, the HOA ‘Garden Nazis’ called me out about the evil of veggie plants on the front porch. This year the container garden next to the back driveway got an upgrade.

It took me most of the day yesterday to wade through the New York Times. It really is one hell of a newspaper. The conservative side rags on it as a ‘liberal’ paper, but it’s not liberal, it’s just straight forward, honest reportage. I don’t see much of a reportage bias in it at all. The editorials thump Trump but that’s the role of the Times and other papers; play the devil’s advocate and be a counterweight to the BS that’s spewing out of this White House – or any White House for that matter. What people don’t associate with it is the arts coverage, the food, the culture and other national reporting. They had a great, great piece on Mt. Rushmore from a tangent I’d never seen before. Ellen, I should send you the book review section. It’s stellar.

It’s pretty early in the day right now, and the coffee is strong. I’ve been getting up a bit later, perhaps as my body clock adjusts to the retirement regimen. It doesn’t mean I’m sleeping solidly through the night but it is what it is.

There shall be no mention of the hernia. Other than to say it is extremely frustrating. I really miss going to the YMCA.

I found a diamond ear stud the other day. It was tossed in a box with the other jewelry I’ve found on my walks over the years. Some of it is sterling silver, a little bit of it is gold. This is the first real diamond I’ve ever come across. The stem is damaged a little bit so I may take it in for an appraisal to see if the piece is worth anything.

Landed a freelance photo gig next Sunday at a local Presbyterian church. Hopefully there will be a few more of those jobs since I’m spending too much time idling on the couch and not enough working out. I told the woman who hired me that I’d love 6 – 8 – 10 hours of a week of photography or writing. It would keep me occupied and save my brain from not atrophying much further.

Had a beer with John last week. He’s such great guy. Things seem to have settled down at Caldwell over the recent months. The church will have a couple of interns this summer and they put out a call for temporary housing. I offered the spare bedroom and bath although I told John I would understand if a woman intern might be reticent to stay with a single guy. There’s a chance I’d start doing a mini-newsletter or something similar. That means I’ll have to start going to church again for the first time in nearly 18 months.

Okay, in a half hour I speed off to a local muny to play golf with my friends Gary and Doug. No fishing this week; I won’t go again until the Medicare Part A and B card is in my hands. I’m out.

Love, Dad

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