lions and lambs

I've been re-reading an old edition of Thomas Hughes' Tom Brown's School Days. I believe it's roughly the same version that I read when I was perhaps 13. I never appreciated until now how deep an impression Thomas Hughes' life and writing had upon me. This was the first book I discovered through the Alastair Cooke version of the televisino program Masterpiece Theater. Not much of my school days were much like Tom Brown's at Rugby, but the villain Flashman exists everywhere. My mind is alive with those curious Victorian terms--"muscular Christianity", "Christian socialism", and "sixth form". My reading of the preface's appreciation of Thomas Hughes sent me off on a wikipedia surf among all the fascinating personalities of his generation--a series of social reformers determined to use democracy and good will rather than weaponry to change society. I had not read up on this in years--perhaps I should begin reading the non-fiction things these writers wrote.

Last night my wife made a delightful celebratory dinner--leg of lamb, new potatoes, blackberry cobbler, and
green beans, served with Parker House rolls. Nobody I knew ate lamb when I was growing up. I think I had my first lamb meal in the college cafeteria. It's therefore got that twin delight of being exotic and traditional for me, all at once. Lamb reminds me of a wonderful mutton stew that I had during my college days. It's funny how individual meals become part of one's memory.

Today I took a hot dog, baked chips, and a diet root beer to the local park for a quick, solitary picnic.
I loved walking with my Mikona .3 mega-pixel camera, framing and photographing fields and creeks. I am eager to get much more work done in the coming days--but perhaps I am taking a slight glance ahead at Saturday, and hiking ahead.

Ever since I gave five dollars to Carnegie Hall in appreciation for their modern music concerts available for free downloads under Creative Commons licenses, I am on their mailing list. Yesterday I got a catalog of all their upcoming concerts for months on end. It's like day-dream candy--shows I will never see, but they cause a mental shiver of delight. I like the idea of the one next year when the audience comes at 1 p.m., makes hand-made instruments, and accompanies the Kronos Quartet. This is what I call fun rather than practice, practice.

I believe that minor Olympic events should get more coverage, and human interest stories and replays of preliminary rounds far less. I long for a day when diplomacy matters more than territory.

I'm suffering from insomnia too often lately. Hopefully, increased exercise will help. On the other hand, during wakeful moments I do some lovely reading.