Not Much to Report

T'was an ordinary day, Ms J, despite extraordinary weather. The temperature reached 15C in Mimico this afternoon. That's nearly 60F. It was sunny as well, so I went for a bit of a walkabout after church. It felt wonderful to be outdoors in shirt sleeves, unencumbered by bulky coat. Environment Canada predict cooler temps again this week. March is such a fickle month, often teasing us with spring-like temperatures one day and then surprising us with a winter storm the next.

I went grocery shopping this afternoon. Navel oranges were on sale at Sobey's for $1.99 a four pound bag. I spent $94. and forgot the *&%*#@ oranges! My mind is failing due to a lack of bread in my diet.

Two hours were spent writing after lunch. I've written a couple of scenes for our play. I'd never written pure dialogue before. A script advances the plot purely by dialogue. There's no descriptive passages or third person narration to explain things. It's harder than it looks. At rehearsals, we've sat together in pairs and improvised conversation between characters.

I must tell you, Ms J. I've never experienced creativity, or at least the possibility of it, on this magnitude before. Indeed, because the options are so vast, I'm finding it difficult to strike out in any definitive direction. I feel like a man wandering about in the arctic. The landscape is so expansive and the view is the same in every direction. I wonder if the others feel the same way.

I haven't heard much from Jacqueline since our jazz concert. She has a daughter, Laura, attending McGill University in Montreal and she planned to visit her this weekend. We have tickets to see a play on March 25th. We're both very busy and I may not see her before then.

Scout and I still have not spoken. There's been this wall between us since January 23, when I asked her to try a little harder to attend school. I promised you yesterday that I'd phone her today. That's how I force myself to act when it's easier to do nothing. If I make a promise, Ms J, I feel compelled to keep it.

So I phoned. She wasn't home. Maxine said she'd gone to a friend's house.

"Is she spending the night there, Maxine?"

"Ummm .. I don't know."

"Will she be home tomorrow?"

"I don't really know."

"Tell her I called please. Tell her I miss her."

I'll try calling again tomorrow evening. It's bedtime now. 10:00. Night-night.

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