My July Fourth

Up at 8:45.  Coffee, cigarette, morning prayer.  Shave; egg & toast & fruit salad that R. made for breakfast.  Strip the bed & launder sheets, mow front & back lawns, hang up sheets to dry.

Shower & eat lunch, chicken salad sandwich R. has made.  We listen to Fresh Air on public radio, an interview of country music singer Rodney Crowell about his memoir, Chinaberry Sidewalks.

Now what?  Take a walk?  It's too hot.  We decide to go to Governor's Square Mall, where we both buy new clothes at Dillard's.  I need new shorts, and we find pairs in khaki and blue in the Daniel Cremieux department.

Home.  Make the bed.  What shall I read next?  I had read about half the stories in William Boyd's collection, Fascination, before they became tiresome, Boyd seeming preoccupied  with what Crowley naughtily referred to as The Three Kings, (Smoking, Drinking and F__king).  If sex is the "theater of the poor", I think it must be the church of the intellectuals.

I had enjoyed Alan Bennett's biographical essays in Writing Home and Untold Stories, so I decide to begin reading Anthony Powell's memoirs, To Keep The Ball Rolling, in four volumes, beginning with Infants of the Spring.  Powell writes such delicious prose, with his endearing habit of describing something by what it is not:

If the Powells knew little, and cared less, about their annals, that was not equally true of the Wells-Dymokes, who were not at all disinclined to congratulate themselves on selected aspects of their lineage.

The July Fourth gathering in Tom Brown Park is notorious for being rained out, and though there was only a 20% chance of rain today, the sky turns dark, and at 5:15 the showers pour down.  We had planned to grill a steak for supper, with baked potatoes and salad.  The rain lets up in time for me to light the grill.  I grill the steak while R. makes a salad of tomatoes, lettuce and artichoke heart.

We watch The Journey Home on EWTN.  Tonight Marcus has a military chaplain, who reminds us of our new parochial vicar, Father Tim Holeda, a former Marine.  Then we say the rosary.  We watch Steve Martin play his banjo on PBS's Capitol Fourth, but we have to turn it off when they bring on performers from American Idol and Dancing With The Stars.


Steerforth said...

It sounds like a good day to me. I don't blame you for turning the television off at that point!

By the way, how did you get your Facebook/Twitter etc widgets to appear at the bottom of the post?

Brett said...

Heh, "A Capitol Fourth" is always pretty square. We just reached a point where we decided to give up being hip and join the human race, so we tune in. But there is still a line we can't bring ourselves to cross!

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