“He sketched for the sergeant a problematic career of the man before them, his hands drafting with a marvelous dexterity the shapes of what varied paths conspired here in the ultimate authority of the extant—as he told them—like strings drawn together through the eye of a ring” (Blood Meridian pg 84).This quote came to mind tonight as I was thinking of the wonderful way in which so many different blogs connect through each of the blogs of their respective owners. Buck has a post up today of himself in Russian hat similar to mine. Jay dropped in and commented on the golf post below and next thing I knew I was learning the recipe for a new drink (which I will report on as soon as I procure more peppermint schnapps).
Finally, back in that same arena where I saw James Taylor a few months ago, I managed to make it out on the ice tonight for charity sake. I didn't mind that I fell once. What I wish hadn't happened is that I took out my date on the way down. The funniest part was lying there on the ice, looking over at my hand pinned between her and the ice and realizing I'd actually tried to catch her. It seemed like the gentlemanly thing to do. If you're going to knock a woman off her feet on the ice, the least you can do is offer any body part of your own that may cushion the fall. I don't think that hand helped a whole lot.
Interesting instance of convergence though: later at dinner, we ran into a couple with whom I ventured onto the ice three years ago--the only other time I've done so in the last four years. Just figure the odds. Life is strange that way.
All in all, a great evening, from ice skating to wine, dinner, unexpected meetings with old friends, and hours of smile-driven conversation that I was frighteningly disinclined to see end.
Blue skies! Doc.