Yesterday morning I put on headphones to lessen the volume of the knockings and bangings of the work being done on our balcony, then in the afternoon I drove to Miami for an MRI, where I was given headphones to lesson the volume of the knockings and bangings.
I spent much of the weekend trying to come up with an idea for a cartoon. For over two years now, I have been posting a cartoon on social media every Monday morning – the best of which appear eventually on this website. (You may have noticed the addition of a Cartoons section.) I usually have a couple in reserve – “evergreens” invariably featuring disgruntled writers – but I thought that recent events demanded one that was topical. But not TOO topical (read: political).
Yesterday morning an idea came to me and I immediately sat down at the drawing board in my office. Half an hour later I had a cartoon whose execution I thought – even though I’m not a great drawer – did justice to the idea, which was based on a controversial decision.
It’s set at Wimbledon, which starts today.
Best in Show at the Westminster Kennel Club last night featured some spectacular dogs, including a bloodhound, a Samoyed, a German shepherd, and a French bulldog. I was pulling for the bloodhound, but would have been happy with the Samoyed or shepherd; deep down I was pretty sure the Maltese would win, a dog that looked to be from a different planet.
But then the judge appeared. He was unshaven (except for his head) and didn’t look like the toy dog type. And sure enough, he picked the bloodhound. As the winner was coolly accepting congratulations, I thought of James Thurber. “I am pretty sure that Heaven,” the great humorist wrote, "will be densely populated with bloodhounds.”
Leaving the apartment yesterday morning I skipped down the corridor on my way to the elevator. It was my small act of defiance toward Father Time.
The nice thing about turning 70 is that it's only a few years before a truly landmark birthday.
Last night we went to a new restaurant in a half-deserted part of town and had a very disappointing meal. In the middle of it I received a rejection of my memoir. (Actually, a rejection of the idea of my memoir, as the email was in response to a query). Returning to the car, I found I had a parking ticket.