Cold weekend, actually, and I tailored my activities to match. Got back on the bike Saturday morning, but froze myself near to death doing 15 miles over both bridges and back. Then got some work done on the truck, had Subway, donated a double batch of blood, and headed home to crash. In the afternoon I took a luxurious, drool-producing nap on the sheepskin, then recovered and read some of "Pleasure of My Company" before making pork chops for dinner. Checked out "Lost in Translation" at Cobb in the early evening, which was fabulous. For whatever the ney-sayers say, I thought it was a terrific commentary on life and relationships. Sunday was A/V duty, football in the afternoon, more reading, a wonderful late-afternoon sojourn to Selby and Main Bookshop on what would would have been (in a previous life) a simply perfect fall afternoon. Temperature was just chilly enough to warrant bringing a jacket, but the sun was out and the gardens were empty. Since fall days are now a form of nostalgia, I got on the phone in the late evening and harkened back to the days of yore with the best of friends. Good couple of days. No regrets. Beauty.
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