Cloister Commentary, Day 194: Lynda’s Birthday

Nicole and I strive always to get our days off to a great start, so bagging up the possum some driver hit right in front of our house around dawn ensured us an excellent start. Leaving it for the city or someone else to take care of was out of the question, because between 6 and 9 a.m. our residential street in Parkade is like the Indy 500, and the corpse would have been reduced to pulp. Actually, we triple-bagged that sucker and boxed it; now we just can’t forget to put it out.

Seriously, that wasn’t a bad start, and with the windows open and the fall breeze blowing through, everything we tried to do, including work, was pleasant. Also, it was Nicole’s mom’s birthday, and every year since she passed we make sure to celebrate it with things she enjoyed. We’ve been doing pretty well avoiding meat, but we tucked into some delicious Booche’s cheeseburgers with everything for lunch, and later drove out to the A-Frame in Rocheport to share a bottle–excuse me, one and a half bottles–of
Moscato and watch the river and its barges roll powerfully by and the sun go brilliantly, easefully down. We know we won’t be going anywhere for awhile, but for fun (but in seriousness, too) we planned our next three trips: road trip to San Diego, steamboat trip (don’t call it a cruise!) from St. Paul to New Orleans (then a week in the Crescent City), and a pond-jumper to the U.K. Yes, a couple can dream.

We had a blissful ride back to Columbia with Art Tatum and Roy Eldridge trading magic solos on the sound system. And we slept in til almost 6.

Streaming for Strivers:

Fats Waller, upon noticing that Art Tatum had just arrived to watch him play: “God is in the house.”

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