“An ordinary man can surround himself with two thousand books and thence forward, have at least one place in the world in which it is possible to be happy.” — Augustine Birrell — British Politician and one of mine: “Zen is paying close attention to nothing.”

Mello and Fred are nesting on the couch. They haven’t quite given up on the chipmunk yet, but she or he was nowhere to be found.

Even Echo is napping on the cedar chest.  Ptolme is probably upstairs napping. I guess I am the only one awake.

It was a beautiful day. Larry from around the corner peddled by and stopped to say hi and mention the warmth; however, he said that is scheduled to change soon.

By the time this makes it to print there might be snow on the ground, but I doubt it.

I’ve been spending much of my time reading my book and preparing for a couple of sharing events. Quite a few months have passed since that book came to be as I’ve probably mentioned a number of times.

When I share my book with pending readers I will also bring the slipper I acquired from the Papason in Vietnam. He measured my foot and said it would be ready in “two day” with his two fingers pointing to the sky. And sure enough they were. However, one of them drowned in a lake where I dove off the diving board. That was my last dive, and I still have the slipper that sits across from me when I put my brief column together for the Herald.

In world news, I have even less to say. I read in the StarTribune that society stars are famous for getting drunk, and this behavior is leading to thousands of deaths a year.