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Tuesday, November 15, 2011

November 16

I wonder if Zuccotti Park will be a name we remember in the future, as we do Watts and Woodstock and Ground Zero (and I'm probably forgetting a few). Location-based history.

Monday, November 14, 2011

November 14

People think they can't make a difference, but this group of nuns is single-handedly taking on the big financial corporations in an effort to get them to see what they do in a more moral light.  They play the God card, as it were, and good for them.  Maybe these folks need to feel the fear of God. Nothing else seems to work.

Speaking of work, I would like to reiterate my feeling that people spend too much time on their yards.  The couple across the street spent all weekend raking leaves and clearing their yard of debris, but guess what?  A little wind this morning and all the leaves are back.  Seriously.  Wouldn't you rather sit on the porch and read a good book?  Too many Americans neglect their inner lives. 

My inner life this weekend, when I wasn't sleeping through a sore throat, was focused on a couple of articles about Steve Jobs that I've finally gotten around to reading (Time and Rolling Stone) and now it's on to my new New Yorker. There's an interesting article on the history of Planned Parenthood awaiting me (Sanger, et al).  And after that (and a couple of hours of napping so I can get back to work tomorrow), it'll be the first Walendar series from PBS (can't wait), so I will leave it here.

Sunday, November 13, 2011

November 13, 2011

There won't be many days left this season that are filled with sunshine and warmth, and yet here I sit, with a sore throat, headache, and broken glasses.  I did take a quick ride in my dune buggy to the store to get milk and a few other things, but pretty much I'm just stuck inside on what may be the last glorious day of the season.  Plus I broke my glasses so I'm wearing old ones that make it hard to see.

But enough whining.  I can see the gloriousness of the day from my sick bed (couch) and I can hear the neighbors working in their yards through my open windows (which just begs the question, however: can these people never think of anything else to do on a beautiful day but blow leaves and cut their grass, grass, I might add, that at this point in the season doesn't really need cutting?).  If I felt well, I'd take a ride in my Bug with the top down, or sit on the front porch and read, or go to the park and walk and watch the children play on the playground, or go sit in an outdoor cafe and play on my computer.  ANYthing but yard work, you know?  And they do it EVERY weekend.  EVERY weekend.  And now I can smell the gas from the leaf blower.  More whining.

So that's the beginning of my new Life Journal.  Thoughts, feelings, whims, flights of fancy, and whines.  Plus the occasional photo.

Ending today with this: 50 Life Secrets and Tips.  Pretty good stuff.