Very little, as it happens. I was thinking of him as I started hauling out some of the summer clothes, because this astonishing cold and rain is going to go away soon. Isn't it? It has already massacred two of my hydrangeas which had come out into luxuriant leafiness in the dog days of March.
My summer wardrobe consists to a great extent of T-shirts. White ones. When I put them away in the fall, I always notice how grungy they are, but think they will do until I buy the next year's collection. But often I put off shopping and land up wearing the previous year's grunge all summer long. I try to comfort myself and think that it worked for Marlon Brando, but when I looked for an image of him, I found him looking immaculate in his T-shirts. Stanley Kowalski could have advertised Tide. I suspect it was written into his contract that while his characters could be sleazy, his clothes couldn't.
But spending a cold, rainy morning looking up photos of Mr. Brando isn't too bad an occupation.
A year ago we got the news
we had been dreading. The birth of a new grandchild should be a cause for
rejoicing, but the birth of this baby, our nineteenth grandchild, was a source
of apprehension for us all, not least for her parents, our son Andrew and his
wife Marcie, because this was April 18th—and her due date was early
August. Fortunately Marcie had been in George Washington University Hospital
for several days, so the very best of care was on hand for this little 1lb 4oz
marvel. "It's shameful." I have been hearing such complaints from he who shares the house since 7:00 last night when we lost power. The power company website assures us that normal service will be restored by 9:30 p.m. tomorrow. He's right, of course: after the brown-out which messed up the computer, the black-out will now melt the ice cream, sour the milk and make life generally miserable.
At least we can heat water on the stove and have this warm and comfortable branch of the library just half a mile away. Catch you later.
