At Bertram's Hotel, by Agatha Christie

I'm re-reading one of my favorite murder mysteries, At Bertram's Hotel. The people who stayed at Bertram's knew that,  (1) in 1955, it was still like stepping back into Edwardian England, and (2) they could afford it. The War had scarred but not destroyed it, and it had enjoyed a very expensive renovation.

"People of almost any [anatomical] dimension could find a comfortable chair at Bertram's."

"As for eatables, you could ask for anything you liked--and get it!"

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The past few days have been among the best yet. Jed came over Friday, and on Saturday we went to Moundville, Alabama, an astounding place. Many flat-top mounds, 3+ stories high, upon which "well-to-do" Native Americans (the Mississippian Culture) built their houses near the Black Warrior River, and the less affluent built on smaller mounds farther away from the river. Ponds in the spots where the peons dug up the dirt to build the mounds.

Ramey, Reed, and Philip's younger little daughter went with us and added to the fun. We ate lunch at an O'Charley's, then toured the archaeological park.

I'm thankful that I was in good enough shape to climb three flights of metal stairs up the side of the big old mound, where we're pictured above, without gasping for breath.

Some people were down by the river, fishing.

On Sunday, Jed, Pat and I had lunch at the Irondale ("Whistlestop") Café--and overate, of course.

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A sadder note: On Friday, we attended the memorial service for my former brother-in-law, Ron Channell, a very dear friend and relative.

Old Dogs and Children, by Robert Inman

That's our next book club selection. I finished reading it yesterday. It's a very good book, with lots of Southern "gloom, despair and agony, oh, me."

". . . Under a Cabbage-head"

Sometimes when something makes me sad, it starts some old sad song ringing in my head. Yesterday it was "Go tell Aint Rhody, her old gray goose is dead." The juxtaposition of the pitiful song with my situation strikes me funny, and then I'm not sad any more. At least not as sad.

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Another "Wish I'd Had My Camera"
One day I was driving down that little street from Montevallo Road to the Parkway, and a young black man was walking on the left side of the road. Close behind him walked two geese (or maybe they were ducks), one that looked much like the picture above. The one walking closest to the young man, almost on his heels, was the scariest-looking animate object that I've ever seen in my life.

It looked sort of like this, but looked as if it had been starved and run over by a truck several times. One of its eyes was off to the side, and the feathers on top of its head stood up as if it had been plucked. I paused the car, staring at that entourage, and the young man looked at me questioningly. I said, "Look behind you," and he turned around and shooed the geese. I drove on.

Revelation

Today I finished reading Dennis Covington's book, Revelation: A Search for Faith in a Violent Religious World, published in February of this year. The book turned out to be very readable; once into it, I couldn't quit reading until the end. He covers the years he spent out west and in Syria and Turkey, and news stories/events he has written about. Most importantly, I think, he writes about his efforts to understand and establish faith, in these modern times of violence and conflicting religions. He has led a harrowing life, the book is not a bit sentimental, and he doesn't come across as a religious type of do-gooder. On the other hand, it may turn out that he is a saint among us.

I remember reading Covington's book, Salvation on Sand Mountain years ago, with the same fascination. He is really a good writer.

"Jump, Alec!"

I woke up very early this morning, did a few chores, then sat down to drink my coffee and watch "The Spy Who Came in from the Cold" on Movieplex, one of the most complicated and best movies I've ever seen. Richard Burton, Claire Bloom and Oskar Werner are three of the best actors I've ever seen.

I've seen this film several times. It's better than John Le Carre's book on which it's based, better mainly because of those three and a bunch of other good actors. I like it better every time I watch it, because I understand it better and catch new details.

The doctors had told me to quit taking the blood pressure med. because I was dehydrated. So I stopped that pill, several days ago. Last night I had a spell of shortness of breath, and noticed that my ankles were swollen, so I weighed and took my blood pressure. I had gained nearly 10 pounds over my normal weight. So I ran and got a Lasix pill and washed it down. This morning my weight is down two pounds, and my blood pressure's just a little over normal, and I've got a call in to the clinic.

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I suggested taking half a pill a day. The doctor (Internal Med.) said no, take one pill every other day. He wasn't just trying to correct my dumb reasoning. He was saving me the labor of breaking a thin flat pill in half. What would we do without educated men to guide us?

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I look at this and ask myself, Do I really want to cook all these today?

Hurry Up and Finish the Ark!

I could have slept all day, with the rain doing its thing.

I did get everything done on Tuesday, and yesterday Cardiology phoned and said my blood work was normal.  So apparently, all of my innards are working normally, and I feel okay.

It was the best of times. It was the worst of times.

I just put the Chief's photo up today because I'm in a cranky mood, and endeavoring to persevere.

The book club meeting yesterday at Ramey's house was a blast. The book, The Great Big Doorstep, is so delightful.

I've got to enjoy a good lunch to strengthen me for the rest of the afternoon: Gas up at Chevron, meds from Walmart, vote in the primary, bleed at the UAB clinic, and the Lord knows what else. Probably sit in the garden and eat worms.