Δαφνη Ευτυχια Αρθουρος

There is a tail lying on my kitchen floor. A silver-tabby tail with long fur, curled into a perfect candy-cane shape, lying on the floor next to the oven. And until the mouse inside the stove moves again or Perrine gets bored, that's as much cat as I've got tonight. At the moment Perrine doesn't seem to be getting bored, so I guess we're both waiting for the mouse.

But one of these days I simply must get video of her emerging from under the oven.

About twelve hours from now is my uncle's funeral in Alexandria. Transportation for me from Baltimore has been worked out. I'm going to go crash now. Oddly enough, I wound up spending a chunk of the morning talking to anniemal about losing Jo-Bug, and Jo-Bug's memorial service, wake, and ashes-scattering; and not much time talking about my uncle. But I was thinking about him.

Later I'll have to babble about brass. But now it's time for sleep.

(Thanks to browngirl for providing this one:

"Correction: We have learned that the obituary for Erik Humphrey Gordon '95, which appeared in the July-August '01 issue, was based on false information provided by the subject himself in an effort to get off Harvard's mailing list. Mr. Gordon is alive and well in New York City. We apologize for the error. See www.crabwalk.com/misc/harvard.php for Mr. Gordon's side of the the story." -- Harvard Magazine, July-August '03

I'm at my mother's house, after having gone to my uncle's funeral. The preacher conducted a very good service. At the gravesite, after folks had started wandering away, I fetched my guitar from the van and played "Lamento di Tristano", and then let my fingers wander looking for some musical phrases that seemed to be right just for uncle Ted.

The preacher said we should each grieve in our own ways. I'm a musician. This is what I do.

I didn't feel much like talking to folks earlier, but it was good to be with people at the reception afterwards (at an aunt's house), and I felt more talkative then.