Keeping the Plane in the Air

[mallorys_camera]

I did go out tromping yesterday.

It was like tromping on the first Monday of creation before God got around to separating out Light from Dark, immensely grey and featureless and inchoate.

Today, once again, temps are in the upper 40°s—which cannot possibly last (or so I keep telling myself), so I’ll feel compelled to go out tromping again.

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Aside from my daily tromps, my life is uneventful.

After I finished West of Sunset, I hunted down a copy of Nancy Milford’s splendid Zelda biography.

Zelda lives on for another seven years after Scott’s death before dying in a fire: She was back in the asylum, they’d locked her in her room, and the asylum caught fire. She was incinerated. A really awful way to die.

Somewhere in that last chapter, Milford writes something along the lines of, Blah, blah, blah. This was what her life had come to. Five-mile walks had become the centerpiece of her days. Blah, blah, blah; and I thought, Jeeze. I have turned into Zelda Fitzgerald!

But I am 70.

And she was in her 40s.

And my life will be exploding with activity in another couple of weeks.

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Also started reading Gabrielle Zevin’s Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, which is a novel about friendships between GenX videogame designers. It’s good!

And (of course) kept a close eye on California weather! Which was somehow akin to staring fixedly out the window on a plane flight because you have to keep the plane in the air! If I don’t keep a close eye on the California weather, then Ichabod will hydroplane on Highway 17—which, back in the day, when I was commuting from Monterey to San Francisco twice a week, I nicknamed The Thoroughfare of Certain Doom.

Magical thinking!

Ya can’t beat it, so ya might as well embrace it.