A carrot for the donkey

Spent the morning trying to get inspired to stand up and move. Actually, moving is one of the few things I still like to do. While making coffee, I do stretching exercises, make sure I can still touch the floor without bending my knees, etc.

Samuel Johnson said (I paraphrase), "Of all the noises, music is perhaps the least offensive." I still like some music, sometimes.

Food? Ho hum. Unless I get hungry, I don't care much. Yesterday I did make an effort, cooked squash and cornbread, and made a bowlful of corn salad. And a Great Divide milkshake for dessert. Food is pretty good, if you're hungry. Trouble is, after a great meal, you have to go to the store to replace what you cooked and ate.

Shakespeare is still worth moving for. But it's pretty exhausting, after most of a lifetime spent trying to straighten out the matter.

Writing poems? It's not something you can just sit down and do. You have to have some emotion to remember in tranquillity (Wordsworth--Bill or Dorothy).

I think the only thing that would make me holler, and jump up and down, would be for River City to call and say, "Mrs. Cage, we would like to publish your book."