Woke up yesterday morning to find a mass email from a woman – a Facebook friend I’ve never met – excitedly announcing her new book and outlining the various ways I can help her promote it on social media. Drove to Delray for lunch with Hania ($2 tacos at El Camino) followed by a visit to the dermatologist to have the last of my stitches removed. Drove back along A1A while listening to Louis Armstrong sing What a Wonderful World and Genevieve Leclerc sing Je Suis Malade. (The beautiful unpredictability of Sirius XM.) At home I assembled the new umbrella and put it on the balcony, then sat in its shade – not nearly as ample as that once provided by our now denuded palms – reading about Grant Wood in an old issue of The New Yorker. Hania called to tell me she was stuck in traffic on I-95, ending the conversation with, “Someone just hit me from behind.” She arrived home with a slightly scratched fender and four large mangos someone had given her at work. After dinner (salad and chili) I turned on the Marlins game to see Giancarlo Stanton’s return to Marlins Park. Coming to bat at the top of the first, he received a warm ovation, which he gratefully acknowledged before ripping a ground ball single into left field. I switched over to PBS to watch the special about Betty White. All those years watching Password I never knew she was married to Allen Ludden. Before heading to bed I caught Stanton’s extra innings at bat with the game tied and two men on. As if he'd been wearing his old Marlins uniform, he struck out.
