Stopping the summer leak

August.  The summer is seeping out of the year like an pipeline leak - not enough to be alarmed, but enough to realize that  something is amiss.  With Forte Vento on "the ground" until the end of September, John and I are slipping from weekend to weekend letting the summer seep by.  There is no excitement and there will be no memories of it unless we get off our butts and take action.  So we did. 

We flew to Boston, stayed with our friends Bev and Rick and played tourist for four days.  We took the 31 bus and Green line "T" in the rain to  the Museum of Fine Arts (their American wing was very much a "must do");  walked in perfect sun and breeze around the North End and toured the US Constitution at Charlestown Harbor; were chauffeured by Bev and Rick to Salem where we toured the House of Seven Gables that Hawthorne made famous and  took a brisk late afternoon sail with 35 people on a replica of the privateer schooner Fame; and on Monday walked the Harvard Yard and ate lobster for the fourth time.

Our hosts had planned an informal small gathering with several neighbors in their building at 6PM the day we toured Salem.  However, because our sail would not return to dock until after 5:30, Bev called Larry to say we would delay the gathering until 7ish.  Larry was out.  She left a message.  He called back later to say that he had been playing tennis.  Nothing unusual, you might ask? Well, Larry is 88.  When we did finally arrive at his apartment (he decided he should host, not Bev and Rick), we spent several hours in rich conversation about politics and life. There is hope for our old age. 

It was a good trip.  Everyone should have such warm and welcoming friends.  Thank you Bev and Rick. The visit plugged the seeping summer.

I can't believe I spent the whole day...

We woke Saturday morning to low gray humid skies. There was no energy in the air, nor in me.  I dragged myself out of bed about 9AM.  John was up sitting in his favorite chair reading the NYT, coffee by his side.  He was wearing his Angry BIrds jammis bottoms with his ratty old sweathird zipped up to his neck.  His reading glasses were perched half way down his nose.  He was perfectly content.  He smiled as I slid onto the couch.  I pulled the waist band tie on my bathrobe and smiled back.  Obviously, I hadn't put my best face into it.

"You ok?  You look tired," he observed as he folded the large newsprint page in front of him.
"Don't feel like doing anything but laying around."
"It's a good day to do nothing."
"Nothing?  Do nothing?"
"Why not.  Sometimes you just need a bit of down time."
"I've never not done anything for a whole day."
"Maybe you should."

And so I did.  I fussed with a few papers.  Mailed some theatre tickets to friends.  Played with my Ipad.  Read the Times.  Read four articles in the latest New Yorker.  Read another chapter in the never ending "Team of Rivals" using my Kindle app.

For me, that's about as "doing nothing" as I can get.  It felt good.