Barbara J. Hamby

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A Slow Day

One of the best things about being retired is being able to sleep when the urge strikes. When I don’t have any commitments, I nod off any time of the day for a few zzz’s. At this moment, I’m fighting sleep because if I nap this late in the day, I’ll probably not get back to sleep tonight, but sometime in the wee hours of the morning. I may have to give in however and sleep through the six o’clock news.

The New Yorker fiction edition arrived in the mail today and is calling to me with its alluring stories. There is so little fiction in magazines today, that it is as tempting to this sometime writer, as the Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue is to a jock.

I recently submitted a caption for the cartoon contest in the New Yorker, and am anxiously waiting to see if it even makes the finalists. I’m sure they must receive thousands of entries, but of course, I thought mine was perfect for the cartoon.

Not a very exciting day today--probably the highlight was a call from Al’s youngest son, who’ll be visiting us next Saturday. He talks to his oldest son often on the phone since they are collaborating on a writing project that may become a book.

Al called the parking facility in San Francisco where we’ll leave the car while we’re on our cruise. Their fees are a bit steeper than other cities we’ve driven to and departed from, but he assured us it’s only about a hundred steps to the ship from there.

Before I fall asleep with my head on the keyboard, I’d better post this.