Diane And Jeanne

Walked the walk, ate the breakfast, and fooled around on the computer, continuing the picture project. Left for town about 11:30, parked and walked the scant mile to the park. Diane was already there, we opened our lunches, poured our wine, and enjoyed lunch.
We also, of course, talked and talked and talked. Topics? Our early lives--mine in Ventnor, hers in Chicago; our extended families; our religion and lack thereof; Buddhism and quantum physics (a big bore, if you ask me, but whatever turns you on); Einstein and his ceramic cat, which I own*; and poetry, of which Diane knows little and I a lot. She asked me to bring some Yeats next week, which I will. After a leisurely time, we strolled the block to the library, she to set up her laptop and peruse her esoteric--or goofy, depending on your point of view--interests, I to read a bit more about the Casey Anthony case. Left after an hour and walked back to the car, and home.
As I pulled in, I saw Don, who said his rent had been raised by $80 a month, and he'll have to leave, although he's been here eleven years . Another neighbor came up and Don introduced met to Earl, who is was born in Hawaii. We chatted a bit, then I moved on to prepare the laptop to see Jeanne, my adviser--or something--from Toastmaster.
Jeanne heads up the therapy unit at a "post high school" facility for teens and up to 22-year-olds who need some kind of  special ed. I suppose it was a useful session, but I continue to wonder how much time I want to spend on it.
* Years ago, my friend, Elaine, and I went to a house sale  in Princeton. It had been Einstein's house before he died, and I bought the ceramic cat I still have here. I'm pretty sure it was Einstein's. Well, I think it was Einstein's. Okay, it may or may not have been Einstein's, but that's my story and I'm sticking to it.