I got up and watered the plants in the back yard. I had made coffee for Malida before she left for work early, but by the time I thought about having a cup it was already cold, and I wanted to get out and walk before it got hot.
I took my usual walk in the park. Lots of people out walking again this morning. I saw one guy who looked to be about 10 years older than me jogging. My knees said, "no way man".
Some hand prints on the side of a storage locker at one of the baseball diamonds. The way the light hit it, it made me think of someone on the other side of a window, trying to get out.
I listened to music while I walked--The Loft, which is my favorite satellite radio station. The DJ who was spinning has been a DJ for years and years. I love hearing her tell stories about her experiences over the years.
I came home and did some work towards my doctoral project. I have a phone interview in the morning with a woman I have been trying to track down for a while, who did some work with diabetes in the Hmong community a few years ago, and is now focusing on cancer in the same community. I'm hoping she can give me some contacts in the community.
Being an introverted person, having to reach out to people I don't know is probably the most difficult aspect of this project. I hate doing it, but if the project is to succeed, I have to. And I have to be persistent about it. I'm trying.
I had some lunch and sat down in my easy chair and read a novel for a few uninterrupted hours. I read close to 200 pages. Reading for pleasure--such a luxury.
I mentioned that the book is somewhat dated. It was written in 1969. If the protagonist is out and about, he has to find a phone booth to make a call, and has to have a pocket full of change to do it, or at least a dime. If he is expecting a call, he has to hang around the office, or tell someone where he can be reached. Need some important papers in New York? Get on the redeye and fly there. No fax machines, no FedEx. Get there and find that someone swiped the papers out from underneath you? Find another phone booth to call with the bad news.
All the women are two-dimensional sex symbols, at least from the perspective of the protagonist. And everyone smokes, even in doctor offices. Oh, and three-martini lunches. No wonder the protagonist gets lost in thought so often. A captivating story, nevertheless.
Years ago, before Boz Scaggs was a smooth operator, he recorded his second album with a bunch of session musicians. One of the songs was a blues number that ran close to 13 minutes. The session guitarist for that track was Duane Allman.