It's back (after the advocacy posting) to what has evolved into our regularly scheduled activities: bike ride, food, two walks, a few tears, sounds of ocean waves, snacks, sleep, wake-up time at 1am.
Charlie's in the brown chair listening to the Pogues whom we are all highly fond of and would I wiukd dance to under any circumstances in public or private.
For the moment, I'm sticking to the couch and what has become the backdrop to this summer, Homer's Iliad.
I once, a bit perversely, said I preferred Vergil's Aeneid when asked if I preferred the Iliad or Odyssey. I do love Vergil (quid facias laetas segetes... Sicelides Musae!... Sunt lacrimae rerum, the last being one of my all-time favorite lines from Latin -- "what do you do for fertile crops... Sicilian Muses! .. They are the tears of human things"). But I only have so much time for anything somewhat resembling classical scholarship and work on Greek poetry and oral composition speaks a lot more to me about, to be a bit grandiose, our existence than ruminations about the ruinousness of empire.
On a more mundane note, with "The Sick Bed of Cuchulain" playing, it's gone hot and humid here and it's better for Charlie to be on the first floor of our house than in his second-floor bedroom.
It's always epic around here ("If I Should Fall From Grace of God" in the background).