September Begins

I am back from a long, beautiful weekend spent with my sister. Four days, and so much done. And indeed so much more to do. When, oh when will I have time enough to do everything that needs to get done?

I took my car on his (I have decided that my car is a boy) maiden voyage out of Iowa. He held up beautifully and we drove all the way to Kansas, where my sister and I decided to embark on an impromptu visit to Colorado, and then he carried us there and back, and then me back home. In any case, I am glad he isn't spitting and sputtering and running up huge mechanic's bills for me.

Nisha and I had a lovely time. We decided on the spur of the moment to go to Denver, and changed our minds halfway there and decided to go to Colorado Springs instead. We did a bunch of wonderful things that I would love to write about, but I haven't the time or energy to. We did visit the "Garden of the Gods", and the "Cave of the Winds", of which we took a lantern tour with no electricity and actual kerosene lanterns stuck in metal buckets, and our guide told us ghost stories, and so on. We wanted to also go to "Pike's Peak", but were late and the road up there had closed for the day. But, on the whole, it was a thrilling experience.

Once I get used to being around my sister, it always is rather difficult to get un-used to it. We fight sometimes (it's all her fault), but are best of friends too. And she hero-worships me, and that helps a great deal. Today she won an award for being a wonderful listener and an ideal employee. I'm posting her certificate here. :) CLICK

I have finally finished reading The Way of All Flesh. The book could quite easily pass for my biography and chronicle of thoughts. I am the Salieri to Butler's Mozart. Except not jealous at all... but rather admiring. So I think a better analogy would be that I am the Mike Jackson to Butler's Psmith. No, that isn't it either. In any case I am Ernest Pontifex! I thought that the end of the book was very rushed, but it managed to capture the essence of my belief. Nothing else seemed to matter.

While in Manhattan, I went again to The Dusty Bookshelf and this time discovered a beautiful leather bound edition of The Oxford Book of English Verse. It was quite a find, and I plunged right in. I even persuaded Nisha who hates reading poetry to read me some while I was driving. I discovered a new love poem in it. It was written by Thomas Moore who also wrote one of my other favorites: "Believe Me... " I think this poem is beautiful!!!

"Come, rest in this bosom, my own stricken deer,
Though the herd have fled from thee, thy home is still here;
Here still is the smile, that no cloud can o'ercast,
And a heart and a hand all thy own to the last.

Oh! what was love made for, if 'tis not the same
Through joy and through torment, through glory and shame?
I know not, I ask not, if guilt's in that heart?
I but know that I love thee, whatever thou art.

Thou hast call'd me thy angel in moments of bliss,
And thy Angel I'd be, 'mid the horrors of this,
Through the furnace, unshrinking, thy steps to pursue,
And shield thee, and save thee, - or perish there too!"

~ Thomas Moore