Where does the time go?
Click here to take my Online Golf Survey
And once you've done that, see if you might have made a good medieval soldier. Or if you should just stick to golf.
SO... its been more than a month. And "what has happened ?" you might be thinking, or perhaps you are thinking I'm dead... if that's the case, none of you are trying very hard to find out.
I am not Dead.
However, since my last post some one did kill the Mayor's wife. Its put our little dorf on the map at least for the 5 seconds it got on the national news.
Its been a little bit odd really. It was big news for a few days but now the pace has slowed and I think a lot of people have just gone on without much thought to the fact that a "high profile" person in this community has been murdered. (Especially since the police haven't made any statements.)
I have been busy with my research and with feeding Ma and Pa. I have been at the gym 6 days a week and I took up ice hockey after about a year off. I am studying Greenkeeping and Horticulture which means alot of reading and I planted a(n) herb garden.
At work I am Project Leader for a seminar of Youth at Risk (18-30 year olds) and how to better prepare them for life. I also had to write a comprehensive résumé and it turned out to be 8 pages.
posted by Joel Muller @ 12:38 PM
3 Comments:
Okay, I don't play golf, so my us eof your enquete probably won't help much. I only scored 1696 on the trebuchet, but had fun! And I like that I seem to catch your new blogs first! (of course I have a good 8 hours on some people)
Unwise Purchases
They sit around the house
not doing much of anything: the boxed set
of the complete works of Verdi, unopened.
The complete Proust, unread:
The French-cut silk shirts
which hang like expensive ghosts in the closet
and make me look exactly
like the kind of middle-aged man
who would wear a French-cut silk shirt:
The reflector telescope I thought would unlock
the mysteries of the heavens
but which I only used once or twice
to try to find something heavenly
in the windows of the high-rise down the road,
and which now stares disconsolately at the ceiling
when it could be examining the Crab Nebula:
The 30-day course in Spanish
whose text I never opened,
whose dozen cassette tapes remain unplayed,
save for Tape One, where I never learned
whether the suave American
conversing with a sultry-sounding desk clerk
at a Madrid hotel about the possibility
of obtaining a room
actually managed to check in.
I like to think
that one thing led to another between them
and that by Tape Six or so
they're happily married
and raising a bilingual child in Seville or Terra Haute.
But I'll never know.
Suddenly I realize
I have constructed the perfect home
for a sexy, Spanish-speaking astronomer
who reads Proust while listening to Italian arias,
and I wonder if somewhere in this teeming city
there lives a woman with, say,
a fencing foil gathering dust in the corner
near her unused easel, a rainbow of oil paints
drying in their tubes
on the table where the violin
she bought on a whim
lies entombed in the permanent darkness
of its locked case
next to the abandoned chess set,
a woman who has always dreamed of becoming
the kind of woman the man I've always dreamed of becoming
has always dreamed of meeting.
And while the two of them discuss star clusters
and Cézanne, while they fence delicately
in Castilian Spanish to the strains of Rigoletto,
she and I will stand in the steamy kitchen,
fixing up a little risotto,
enjoying a modest cabernet,
while talking over a day so ordinary
as to seem miraculous.
by George Bilgere
Hello, Herr Gruebermann. I subscribe to your blog, but for some reason it took Bloglines a month to post your latest update. So I didn't know it was there. Which is why I haven't commented on it yet.
So now I'm commenting.
I took your golf survey. I'm afraid I won't be of much help to you since I don't golf. But I tried to take the survey seriously. Meaning, I tried to be serious as I took it. Because I take it seriously. I hope you know what I mean, because I'm feeling rather flummoxed about what I'm writing.
I don't think I'd make a good medieval soldier, since I don't have the gung-ho to build a trebuchet.
I'm glad to hear that you are feeding your parents. Parents tend to get testy when they remain unfed. (Seriously, though, how's your dad?)
I'm sorry about the mayor's wife.
I also read your resume. Wow. You really need to be writing books. People who've had such variety of experience really need to write books. If you wrote a book, I would read it. And not just because I know you.
I'm looking forward to your next update. Hopefully, Bloglines will show it to me before it's a month old.
I apologize for the slightly edgy (that's the word, isn't it?) tone of this comment. I had coffee this evening.
Yours, wondering if I should take up golf someday,
Courtney
P.S. I really enjoyed the Bilgere poem.
P.P.S. As I write this, the letters in the word verification box spell "ootfledu." I'm highly amused by that. What do you suppose it means?
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