"But there are times of crisis in which only the utopian is realistic"--George Steiner
Dreamed of a new version of The Magnificent Seven set in Nazi-occupied Greece; Oliver Wendell Holmes' poem "Grandmother's Story of Bunker Hill Battle," with its line "To you the words are ashes but to me they're burning coals."
Dinner was steak.
At choir practice I told Giuseppe I was ready to start singing lessons again. (I also told him I'd read that playing a dijeridoo can help sleep apnea, which he suffers from.) Giovanni told me my audio tape was very helpful. They're having a rehearsal this Wednesday to make up for last week, but I can't make it.
Hardly anyone is coming to my first Lunch Club Meetup this Saturday so I've scheduled a second event for the following weekend at the Golden Griddle. (That's sure to be popular.)
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