The curtains are still down.  I tried valiantly last night to reattach the cable to the wall fixture, but every time I let it go it sprung back out, narrowly missing my eyeball.

So it goes.  Vitals intact, I’m sleeping in a glass house for one more night, and schlepping to a hardware store (do they have those in the city?) tomorrow morning.

Adulthood feels awfully adult-ish this week.

Also on my mind lately:

Reading: Jon Krakauer’s Into Thin Air and Bill Bryson’s The Lost Continent.  I don’t often go out of my way to read everything an author writes, but these two, I tell you.  They never get old.

Watching: Friday Night Lights on Netflix.  It’s a little sappy, a little predictable, but I love me some heartwarming sports drama.

Garrison Keillor’s retirement: Mr. Keillor narrated my childhood.  Every summer Sunday we would listen to A Prairie Home Companion in the car on the way home from “up north.”  Mom and Dad chatted quietly up front, my sister slept in the middle seat, and I — having surreptitiously unbuckled — stretched out in the back, one hand on a dog reeking of lake water.  The Northern Wisconsin woods turned navy as the sun set, and Mr. Keillor sang  low out of the speakers, his voice weaving in and out as we drove deeper into the trees.

I’m glad he’ll still be around.

My horror and disbelief at the United States’ lack of gun control grows by the day.  I’m ready for some candid dialogue in the upcoming presidential debates.

A review of Dr. Seuss’ new book, in Seussian.

Katherine Hepburn tells a young woman to stay in school.  And offers a superior brownie recipe.

A friend and I have gotten into the habit recently of trying different fitness classes around the city.  A few weeks ago was a “dance party” of Zumba, Doonya, and hip hop (my sister laughed for a long time when I told her I learned a hip hop dance routine).  This weekend we’re trying SoulCycle.

Because I like you and want you to be happy, here’s a dog dressed as an Ewok.

Have a great weekend!


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