This Will Be a Good Day

It's already a good day--at least around here. Although it's a bit nippy outside, it is sunny and dry, making it safe for travelers, of whom, of course, there are myriads making journeys long and short. We wish safe arrival to them all.

I got up this morning at the usual time (around 6), fussed around in my study for a bit (reminding myself of the Food Duties I will have a bit later); Joyce, having done some Kitchen Fussing already, headed out to the health club, which (why?) was open this morning. (Mine was also open, but I have standards!)

So, for my exercise, I walked down to Starbucks (Open Door is closed today--standards!)--a walk of about a half-mile each way (says Google Maps); my backpack weighs about thirty pounds, fully loaded (as it invariably is)--so that walk equals a full-hour on the stationary bike, right? (It's polite to agree with Old Guys on holidays!)

There were only a handful of people there when I arrived about 7:15, so I got a primo chair. The place quickly filled, though, so I was ... lucky. I did my usual: read the New York Times on my Kindle, checked what was happening on email and Facebook (not much on a holiday), then read my daily quota* from the book I'll be reviewing tomorrow for Kirkus Reviews (it will be my 1429th review for them since March 1999, when I published my first). I called Joyce to see how things were going. (Okay, she said.) I read the Plain Dealer and the Akron Beacon-Journal on my iPhone apps, then walked back, entering a house that already smelled of holiday. (Is there a better?)

Joyce was fussing with the turkey (her job!); in a bit, I will peel five lbs of potatoes for my son to smash a little later. (I already baked some sourdough bread and some cornbread for the meal--and Joyce will use some of the latter for the stuffing.)

We're aiming to eat about 3-ish. Before then, our son (Steve), his wife (Melissa), his awesome sons (Logan, 12; Carson, 8), and his father-in-law (Bill) will arrive and the merriment and the guiltless gluttony will commence.

I will think all day long about those who are not here (see my post yesterday for details) and will hope for a call from my brothers, Dick and Dave, up in Becket, Mass. (in the Berkshires), where they will be able to go see my mom in nearby Lenox in the nursing home; I'm hoping they will call me from her room. I try to call her several times a week but rarely connect: She's 98 now and doesn't always know what to do with a phone when it rings. But hearing her voice? That is of the most immense importance. I have heard her voice since November 11, 1944; I never want to stop hearing it.

So, as I said, this will be a good day ... strike that. A great day.

You have one, too!


*I divide each book I'm reviewing into 100-pp segments and read one each day, almost always the first thing in the morning at Open Door.