What I learned today: I am now told that the correct way to say aluminum is to use the English enunciation -- al-u-min-i-um, so I guess one must add the extra 'i' also. Strange. And what dictionary told us this... I have no idea. I guess I wasn't listening that intently.
I still cannot put any weight on my right foot without great pain ensuing. Have just about decided that it is a recurrence of the gout I had so many years ago, so I shall avoid all innards and all the other things one must eschew (have to look on the Internet and get a list) and hope it will stop stabbing me constantly and waking me up in the middle of the night. Most annoying. This would happen just when I was getting out and getting some exercise... now I shall have to begin again, if the stabbing stops. I found the elastic stockings from the knee ops, so I shall use them when I go out. I do want to go to some of the things in the S.F. Fringe Festival. Have been trying to find Joe Bullock as he usually knows all these people, but he has disappeared like all my friends seem to just when I need them.
At least I have written the bit I do with Mel for the Poetry Reading on Aug.25 in Yerba Buena Gardens... and the new 'Health Care' nursery rhyme for same. Hard to write when in pain. I do hope it is gone before Labour Day weekend and the 3-Day Novel Writing Contest, as I am determined to enter that this year. Which reminds me... I had better fill out the entry form, write them a check and get it in. Then I will surely write. So, off to bed now so I can get up early and get all the other stuff done -- letters to kidlets and clear out all the pileups of unopened and unread mail, both snail and emails -- too damned many of both for one person to handle. I need a secretary again... or a 'wife' or a bonfire... or perhaps all three.
Today I received something in the mail I have been wanting for a long time... of course, the mail people ran over it with a truck and broke the case, but the CD is OK, I'm pretty sure. It's a copy of Lee Wiley's "West of the Moon" album. Oh, if only I had that voice. She could slide from note to note like no one ever has... her phrasing is astounding, and that soft, almost Memphis accent, backed by some of my old Dixieland buddies from NYC... perfect. I'll listen to the whole thing tomorrow and feel like I'm back in New York. This is the album that all the musicians love... me too, me too. The title song just knocks me out.
Having spent the day not only getting my poetry writing done, but also working on getting the word out on health care reform, I am very tired... and so to bed... but before I leave, a quote of Mel Books' from an old favorite film, "The Twelve Chairs": "Hope for the best, expect the woist!"
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