I thought I was getting better since my symptoms are decreasing a bit. I rested all day yesterday and resisted doing the work that I needed to do but could put off. Poor Eileen took up all my slack and visited Mom and did the grocery shopping.  We ordered take out form 8th Street Grille. I was really in the mood for crispy Fish and Chips for some reason. I called it in. Eileen picked it up. It was terrible, dry and stiff. It tasted like it had been sitting under one of those restaurant heat lamps for longer than it should have been.

I had a bad night. The good news is that now I have listened to most of Scott Martelle’s book on Detroit. He tells a good story leaving out copious stuff but leaving in what one needs to know to understand what’s happening now in Detroit.

The worst part of last night was when I came out of a sleep (not particularly a deep one) wheezing and unable to breathe. It was like an asthma attack and scared the wits out of Eileen and me. I was thinking of the death last year of my cousin who was my age. He choked to death in front of his wife. Nice stuff, eh?

After I recovered and we decided not to go to ER (feeling better), I googled some stuff. I suspect I have bronchitis.  Prognosis is ten days. Treatment is rest, lots of liquids. Eileen and I talked about over the counter inhalers. I googled that and found that they are not recommended for people with high blood pressure like ME.

I dragged myself out of bed eventually. Put on some William Bolcom and Vaughan Williams on my computer to listen to. Took a long hot shower. Drank some hot lemon and honey water.  Cleaned the kitchen and made coffee listening to the relaxing music (Graceful Ghost Ray by Bolcom, Oboe Concerto by Vaughan Williams, Mexican Seranade by Joplin).

I feel pretty good right now. Planning to take it as easy as I can until this abates. I need to go post hymns for tomorrow. I’m late sending in the music for next week’s bulletin but that can wait until Monday if it has to.

Apparently, tomorrow will be another world premiere of a Steve Jenkins piece. For her birthday, I wrote my friend, Rhonda, a silly organ piece. (link to Google pdf thingo of it) It’s sort of a Paul Manz, fake Bachian, treatment of the hymn tune, CWYM RHONDDA (get it?). I wrote new words for the hymn tune. It surprises me that she is actually going to use it. It was more of a concept gift.

Ahh. Fame at last!

I finished Morrison’s  The Bluest Eye last night. I think it’s a solid book. She has her prose under control. In the afterword she takes herself to task for this first novel, but I think it’s a good one. I’ve order a copy of her next one.

Her story in The Bluest Eye is brutal. She talks about it in the afterword. She set out to write something from the point of view of victims like children.

The novelty, I thought, would be in having this story of female violation revealed from the vantage point of the victims or could-be victims of rape—the persons no one inquired of (certainly not in 1964): the girls themselves.

I was drawn in. Not too many characters to really like but I like Morrison prose.

Obama Apologizes After Drone Kills American and Italian Held by Al Qaeda – NYT

I was gratified to read Naureen Shah’s comment that it’s not just the loss of American lives that are important. This is something I think as I hear news reports. I often think I hear a bit of a subtext that the Americans are the “human.”