I rescued the weekend from tragic anti-climax by heading out at 5pm on Sunday to the lakes at Prairie Oaks park, kayak in tow. Riding the rippled waves, I felt close in spirit to the egret who skimmed the same waters, similarly free to randomly travel the lake's surface (unlike those poor pedestrians on shore). No forest paths, no double-yellow lines, nothing to keep me from free-wheeling and figure-eighting. I ran the gamut past Dog Beach to Goose Poop island, by the shore of wild yellow flowers to mid-lake of glinting sunshine. Those diamond glints prompted songs to mind like "Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds", playing in the calypso silence. My biceps were complaining but I had the rhythm. I overcome the inertial, narcotic slouch of brew and book, as much as I like those things. Sitting under the welcoming shade of the umbrella, I salute the sun's slow descent while fingering the ocean's pulse from five hundred miles away: I can feel the salt in my blood and the brine in my brain.
The sky at 8:34pm is still bright. Humorously I see a shaft of light hitting the peach tree, a well-aimed sun-shot from between the obstacles of numerous trees. It lends a sort of ambiance to the festivities, a sun so strong it can burn through trees.
The yard looks exceptionally good. The flowers all in bloom and the garden laid out with landscaping material to keep down weeds. There's hope, for once, of a garden "under control" from a weed point of view. Normally what I do is simply allow the tomato plants to eventually shade out and dominate the weeds but I like this approach better. The black material makes it look like the garden is dressed for a black tie affair.
There's a great smell to the yard now after the planting of the herbs - rosemary, sage, thyme, parsley and such.
My work goal this week has been given unto me: to reconcile two reports. The problem, however, is that only one report exists, the other one being a rumor wrapped inside a vague recollection. Which makes this exercise sort of tricky.
I erroneously felt confident that addressing the underlining concern of the existing report would be sufficient. Wrong. So I feel a bit forlorn, having no one who can detect the smell of ridiculous and thus come to my aid. It's grist for a DILBERT cartoon which isn't a bad thing because I really haven't had grist for one in a long while. At least since my chair fiasco.
Besides, it is high time I start matching ghost reports. Phantom reports are reports too! In this climate of diversity, it's important that invisible reports be given the respect and acknowledgment that visible ones receive.
In my quest towards well-roundedness, read an article in AMERICA magazine decrying the Paul Ryan budget. I'm not that well-versed in social justice issues, finding church teaching on it confusing, but the article makes the claim that where people or institutions fail then the subsidiarity principle is abolished. It's an interesting difference in perspective: the Right sees subsidiarity as meaning what CAN be done on a local level should be done there. End of story. The Left sees subsidiarity as meaning that if someone can't (won't?) do something, then a bigger entity like government has to be called to action. I guess there's the rub. Who defines what someone (or some entity) can or can't do? One could say that the failure of that person or entity is proof positive in itself. But doesn't the foreknowledge that there's a safety net change the behavior of that someone or that entity such that it's more likely for them to need it? The problem is that as soon as the bigger organization kicks into action, the smaller organization (or individual) loses all incentive whatsoever. Anyway beyond my paygrade.
Absorbing television in the form of "Mountain Men", a story of these loners in the Alaska, Montana and North Carolina wilderness who live Thoreauian lives close to the bone. Then "Amish: Out of Order", the story of the spiritual quest of ex-Amish dude named Moses. To be honest, these ex-Amish - presumably the black sheep of their flock - look like darn good Christians (though admittedly the show is set-up to portray them that way so that you have a good versus evil where the good is the ex-Amish and the evil is their families). But assuming these kids are great the price sure is steep; shunning your own children if they leave the Amish is a hard and brutal thing. Speaking of kids, having them used to seem to me a vote of confidence for the set-up of the present society, when it could rather be seen as a trust in God that all will work to the good.
On the Kindle e-reader:
Shakespeare, Auden, Luse and Dolan
in the wink of an eye
brought to the eye.