The weather doesn't seem to know what it wants to do. First it's raining, then it's sunny, then it's raining again, now it's quiet, but the sun's not out, since it's quarter to ten here.
The Braves are on in ten minutes from Seattle. I may make it through part of the game. I've never been to Seattle, unless you count the airport on my way through to Medford, Oregon. I did have coffee there, at the airport, so I feel like I at least participated in the culture, whatever that is.
Mary's feeling a lot better now; she has the odd coughing jag, but she slept most of the day without coughing, she had something to eat, and she's talking on the phone with her friends, which is a good sign. She has a stronger antibiotic and a cough suppressant with codeine in it. I think that's the big difference.
I've been working through several music books, including Mick Goodrick's The Advancing Guitarist. I've had the book for close to fifteen years, and I'm just now starting to make sense out of it. He has a wonderful line in there: One of the few things worth taking seriously is humor. I like that. I should tape that up over my desk, or these tables that I use as a desk.
Time to shut down and relax. Just want to recognize the death of a legend in the news business, David Brinkley. Good night, David.