The Closing Days of Summer

Whatever you may think, we have not been frittering away our time in the back garden these past couple of weeks, quaffing pitchers of iced teas, cold beers, and grilling entire herds of cattle on the ancestral BBQ, which has been used for domestic grilling in this family since as far back as 1952.

No, sir.

We have been making a valiant attempt at organization. Organization is usually not our strong suit but we have been keeping it fairly simple. In a nutshell, this consists in getting the important and/or remunerative things done early in the day when it's still cool and brain is firing on all cylinders. Especially the pipe practice. That winter's worth of bronchitis - from the middle of last January well into May - did serious damage to the energy level and put a crimp in the piping quality. I haven't gone that long without intense, sustained practice in . . . well . . . ever. It's taking longer than I would have hoped to get the level of playing back where it was. Quality playing, like knowledge, maketh a bloody entrance.

And important and/or remunerative activities have, alas, all too often consumed the entire day. It makes for a guilt-free evening but The Inn has been sadly neglected. I did promise myself when I began this enterprise that it would not become yet another obsession, and so it hasn't. But I do feel a bit badly about not making more time for it. But other things do come up.

For instance, The Birthday occurs in the later part of August. Today, in fact, is the 7th day in the octave of my birthday. It's a double major of the second class in this household ecclesia. Some fancy new duds were added to wardrobe and a fair number of things to read, including "For the Love of Baseball", a great little collection of baseball pictures, history, records, and trivia. Everyone knows that William Howard Taft began the tradition of the President of the United States throwing out the first baseball of the season. But who knew that Taft himself was no mean pitcher in his youth and was himself offered a contract with Cincinnati until he threw out his arm. No Tommy John surgery in those days, I guess.

Of course, the BBQ hasn't been entirely neglected. It is still summer after all. And as we do live in one of the warmer parts of the erstwhile colonies, it's wise not to heat up the house more than necessary.

It's one of the pleasanter and more useful practices of the natives hereabouts.