The Forgotten Arm

Listening to Aimee Mann's new album and thinking of Lu. She's away on seminar for a few days, which gives me time to reflect. And it strikes me how Ms Mann's music reminds me of dear wife. Neither trite nor in-your-face, instead continued company brings about a slow-burning addiction. Strong and articulate, tender and insightful. And there comes the day when it becomes part of you, when you feel nothing more comfortable than to sit and converse all day.

"Beautiful. I wish you could see it too. Baby, how I see you."

I miss you.

Sailing!

How could I forget - I actually took out a Laser last Saturday. I rigged it up according to the manual but of course the old hands running the place simply took it all apart and did it up again. We also met a car forummer there - his daughter sails every weekend. He lent me his gloves as well as a hand with rigging, launching and recovery - many thanks, Paul!

I was a little apprehensive at first but it all came back the moment the little boat set off. Practised several tacks, a few gybes (not fond of those) and had a fine time hiking out on the close-hauled points of sail. It wasn't a gusty day, and the sail was the smallest for the laser - a 4.7 sqm one, so I was never overpowered.

A pair of proper gloves are what I'll certainly need next, as well as a hat with a good-sized brim. Can't wait to go again.

The Boy With The Golden Gun

No, we haven't gotten him one, but Matt told us he wanted to dream of a gun. He always tells us what he wants to dream when he's getting put to bed. The same thing will usually last a short run. It used to be cars, for a good long stretch, then a purple sword, then a firey whip, thanks to the Balrog, and last night, a gun, a golden gun. I wasn't quite for it and asked him with a frown if he was going to kill anybody with it. Matt replied, "Noooo, it's for display only!"

De-bunked.

For now, that is, since Sarah is apt to climb and even more apt to fall. So their convertible new IKEA beds are currently set for singles. I had a grim satisfaction putting together what I could on my own yesterday, back aching, and they're finally sweet. Can't wait for Sarah to grow up a little (but I don't want her to either!) so the beds can stack up and increase the open floor space in their room. Feels a little like a watershed moment. They're simply two children now, not babies anymore.