Bob Walmsley and his construction guys were making such a racket I couldn't hear myself think. But I had to learn how Freda Samuels is doing.
Here she is at her former home.
Outside I went, phone in hand.
She actually answered the phone!
What an ordeal she's been through.
Can't remember the name of her problem but she has water in her heart. Is that right? I believe so. She has to measure every ounce of water she drinks. And she is terribly thirsty.
"Freda, it is so good to hear your voice. You sound so strong."
"I love you, Ruthie, you are precious to me," she said.
She lives at Paul's Run in Philadelphia.
I told her I was spending a fortune to fix up my house.
"Good for you," she said. "You deserve it."
I promised to visit her.
Will send her a card tomorrow!
...
There is no sound on my downstairs laptop.
Asked Scott to put on a mask, come over and see if he could fix it.
As I was watching the PBS Nightly News with Judy Woodruff, he clumb up the steps with his mask on and said he couldna fix it.
Thanks for trying, I said.
Darn! Darn! Darn!
Then I ran downstairs so I could wave goodbye to him, but he had gone.
A nice ritual that began when I did an Art Matters interview with the late Sam Maitin.
...
So I watch movies and such upstairs here in my office.
...
I am hooked on a few books.
WEATHER by Jenny Offill is fun to read.
Discrete paragraphs that make it easy to comprehend.
...
ACTRESS by Anne Enright.
Told you about this yesterday.
Can't remember a thing about it.
...
POEM: BOOKS DEFINE THE WORLD
Dear Reader, between you and me, I have no idea
what I mean by this, but we will come up with
something. Books make it okay to be ourselves,
to be different, to be gay, miserable, filled with
jealousy, like Snow White's stepmother, we may
develop a love of nature, of statuesque trees that
tower to the top of the forest floor, we may terrify
ourselves when we read early Christian books
like The Robe or Quo Vadis and find what it's
like being a martyr. And then, if we're ever
in that spot, we may reach inward for unexpected
courage and belief.
A simple walk in the Willow Grove mall
turned into a betrayal of pain until I got home
and finally to the hospital.
...
Whilst filling up my tiny snack bowl, I glanced out the kitchen window. There was Patrick, striding up the street, arms akimbo, saluting hello to one of his neighbors. His wife, Sue, looked like a skinny little boy. Up close, she is a soft-spoken beauty, her dark hair falling to her shoulders.
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