The landscapers have come and gone, did a good job. Weeds won't be a headache, nor eyesore, quite as much. I like Lamb's Ear and the lemony stuff, but not so uncontrolled and mixed with the really prickly stuff that bites back.
The power wash might be delayed (truck troubles), plus I didn't make it in to the conference room office, owing to Dawn's longer-than-expected pulmonology appointment.
They're talking about weaning her from O2, which is interesting -- the shortness of breath is more from being out of shape than from encroaching cancer, is what the scans currently suggest. Sounds like a plan.
I let Alexia and Dawn handle the meeting, cruised around outside listening to Robert Thurman's meditation on death from Tiger's Nest, Bhutan (a podcast, one in a series), using my new 60 gig iPod.
Then I adjourned to American Dream pizza, where Dawn and Alexia later joined me. When Phyllis showed for a business meeting, I returned to my gnu math station (with Alexia, in Razz). I like Roots Red, an organic beer.
Over on edu-sig, teachers are ruminating over whether jettisoning raw_input from Python was a good idea -- well after the fact (per usual with slow-chewing cows). I'm like: who "prompts themselves" anymore? Just use the namespace directly, don't hand-hold yourself.
Within the family, we're debating on paint color for "PWS 3745" (a personal workspace, a 1905 dwelling machine). Dawn likes "NATO blue" for a main color, where I'm pushing for something darker (Tara: "deep ocean"), but I'm OK with a lighter trim.
I feel bad about what the stingray did to the crocodile guy, whom I liked as a TV personality, though we never met in person.
Robert's prayers were helpful. We part company in death, and that's sad, but many of us vow to meet again, and that's exquisite, as he puts it. That man's love of Nature endures, and that includes for his family and friends (also in Nature).
We love nature. Nature loves us. And yes, she gets violent. Mommy has a tough job.
Follow-up: OK, so were they planning to power sand it? Feathered edge means sanded from paint edge to wood, no? I left a voicemail, on the sabbath (for some Americans anyway). R.M.T. Painting, CCB171529. So far, I like their energy.