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Genesis of a Historical Novel

Thursday, April 13, 2006

a wintry day in April

I felt good when I rose around 6:20 this morning, but somehow my mood again fell while I footled with my notes over coffee. Dissatisfied, I moved from one thing to another while rain fell heavily from the cold gray sky. I keyed some more notes from Us and Them by David Berreby, but that wasn't quite fitting the bill for me. I keyed notes on Philistines and Phoenicians from Peoples, Nations and Cultures, some notes from the November-December 2005 issue of Biblical Archaeology Review that I got for Christmas, and eventually wound up going through my notes from A History of Technology, volume 1. I found I could barely look at my chapter notes, although I opened the document.

Kimmie and I went out into the morning rain to have breakfast at the Corner Cafe on Pemberton Ave. For some reason the owners had staffed the place entirely with new people, possibly family members, and service was terribly slow, even though there were few customers. They had to bring me my two pancakes separately, one at a time.

We went up to the library, but did not find anything we really liked in the TV section, or among the books (looking for vampire and fantasy material for Kim). Later I decided to return the book I'd been sent in error by the bookseller in San Antonio (I bought Book 3 of Copleston's History of Philosophy; they sent me Book 2). Kimmie kindly wrapped it for shipping, and we walked through the cold rain up to the post office. It cost $16.53 to ship! I was shocked, disgusted.

"This book is going to wind up costing me a fortune," I muttered as we left the store, "even assuming I can get the right book from them, or that they'll credit my Visa card."

We stopped in at an optician's so I could look for a new nose-pad for my eyeglasses: the right pad fell off, I think while I was in the bank, about two weeks ago. I have been meaning to replace it. The woman in the store, trim, friendly, and professional, glanced at my glasses and said, "I don't have any Zeiss nose-pads."

"Oh," I said, taken aback. "They're that special?"

"They have to be Zeiss or Zeiss-compatible. One hundred percent of the glasses in this store do not use that type of nose-pad. But I can phone up the street and see if they have any."

"I did get these glasses in 1992," I admitted.

No, even the European optician up the street did not have any.

"Okay," I said, "thanks for your effort. I appreciate it."

We made our way home, watching wintry rain pound pink cherry blossoms and white magnolia blooms. So many things I should be doing. I can't be bothered.

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