13 May 2003 - 11:38 a.m.
I ate something that violently disagreed with me yesterday afternoon, so yesterday evening was given over to napping and watching an episode of Ken Burns' Baseball on PBS. It was fascinating, the glimpses of fans from the late 1940s - women in dresses and hats, men in shirts and ties - and the Jackie Robinson story is riveting. What an incredible man.
And then we left the television on, taking in part of a BBC news broadcast before switching over to The Tonight Show with Katie Couric. The BYM, on seeing her gown: "Oh my God, there is a wrong way to wear black!" The American Idol send-up was predictable, but I still cracked up at her first Paula Abdul impersonation.
Neither of us had heard of Robbie Williams, but he gets points for his lewd grinding against Simon Cowell's thighs - and Simon for looking like he was enjoying it.
Away from the television, I've been listening to a fair amount of folk-tinged music. On the drive home Saturday night, The Thistle and Shamrock played a Melanie O'Reilly piece called "This Place" that I found unusual enough to want to hear it again. Also playing: some of Cry, Cry, Cry; Steve Tilston and Maggie Boyle; and the Roches' rendition of On the Road to Fairfax County.
You have drunk a bitter wine
Taking it easy today because of the stomach (boiled carrots and rice, here I come), but given that I can't see my dining room table - and we've got houseguests later this week - some housework is definitely in order, regardless. I think the flooding in the basement has receded enough for me to do laundry again. . . On the lovely side, I pulled some tall weeds with delicate purple flowers out of our gravel driveway yesterday and stuck them in a jam jar. They look really good - and the dog hasn't tried to eat them yet. Time to see what the rest of the day holds.
One year ago: ". . .I with it moving."
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