my steak lunch

Another late morning of sleeping for Pop. I actually favor having the house kind of to myself in the mornings, but I don't like it on Grocery Day. I got into the routine of cooking my steak lunches when Pop was in an earlier routine, when he would usually leave the house before nine. Now he barely leaves before ten. The grief: this really jams up my steak lunch. I have to count myself lucky if I can start cooking by one o'clock.

Mr. Guinea and Al

Mr. Guinea is back. He did not drop a comment, but it has been weeks, maybe a couple of months, since he has posted anything. Funny, it takes me a moment to separate my memory of him from my memory of Al (Antilapsarian). I remember when I used to constantly struggle over whether to unfriend him Al, as I could hardly bear the superior attitude of that somewhat zany neurotic, but I do miss him now. As for Guinea, the interaction with him has always been quite minimal, but he has been on my friends list from my earliest days at LiveJournal.

Casanova

Now that I am getting into the body of Casanova’s memoirs, having put the preface behind me, I am having a hard time coming across something that is worth typing out. Feeling demoralized in this effort, I am seriously considering dropping this book. I can only book-blog a few books, and it should be easy to come up with a few that I can find wholly fascinating. On the other hand, I still take it that Casanova’s life and times are hardly cold soup, and I worry that I am just letting a slow patch in his childhood get me down.

Sammy's Yowling

One can only hope that Sammy will give up his yowling one day, that he will see that he is not getting much from it, and will tire of it. But you would not bet on it. At least not for this year or next year.