Picaresque

Picaresque is the adjective to describe writings about a common or low character who survives the pitfalls of life through luck or good fortune. My travels, interests, my animals, my photographs, my wonderful friends and family are featured.

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Location: Arapahoe, Wyoming, United States

(Note: Blogs read from bottom to top; scroll down for beginnings, scroll up for most current.) After 30 years in public administration and four degrees, as well as numerous workshops with luminaries in Education and Public Policy, life in a slower lane became a goal. Most recently I have done policy writing and consulting for the Northern Arapaho and Eastern Shoshone Tribes. Mostly, I am just coasting slowly and gently downhill these days-seeking joy where I can find it before the glorious ride ends.

Saturday, September 27, 2008

Dinner and a Movie

This was a happy day that just happened. First, I got a decent sleep. I was just tinkering with stuff. Came a knock at the door and it was my good Jehovahs. We talked and laughed for 30 minutes easily. The "lad" Witness looks young for his age. He said he was a senior-I would have guessed freshman on the outside. Honey must have very sensitive antennae because she did not harrass these missionaries at all.

It was just a laid back day. Reading on the deck, being with the pups, beautiful fall weather and a certain stillness about the landscape.

I have been collecting some Foreign movies on DVD. Some are my favorites, a couple of new ones-surprisingly inexpensive. If I can arrange equipment, perhaps there will be an outdoor Foreign Film Festival at John Prince Park this winter. Curiously, a lot of them revolve around food-old person porn. I-re-watched Babette's Feast, winner of the 1987 Oscar for Best Foreign Fim. It is a Danish film thought-provoking and a stunner. While I was watching the preparation and consumption of Babette's feast, I enjoyed my own. A nice little pork loin, applesauce, Janet's new potatoes, and her corn, oven roasted in the shucks. Mighty tasty. A really nice time.

Memory Hook: Paul Newman died at age 83 of Cancer. Nothing to be sad about after a long and rich life but a whole lot to be grateful for. I'm glad we walked the planet together. He, charmingly discounted his beauty-he just didn't see it, and didn't take credit for his genetic or Providential gifts. There are probably a lot of men like me who wondered what it would have been like to be inside his skin looking out. Not really envy but admiration and a keen sense of the power of those looks. He was a prince of a fellow in later life.
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