I had soaked my beans overnight and put them in the slow cooker with chicken broth and veggie "juice." (I freeze the water in which I cook some things and use them in other dishes. Why? Because so many of the vitamins and minerals get leached out and I can retain them that way.)
Betty called several times, as usual, first to tell me she couldn't find something, then to tell me again, then to say she had found it. Nancy called to ask if I wanted to do a virtual Happy Hour yesterday. I begged off, though--I'd like to if we could see each other on Zoom or Facetime, but she doesn't know how and I really don't enjoy it when it's just by phone. I suggested next week and maybe we can connect visually.
Shari, from Dudley House docents, called to say she had gotten a bogus message, too. We chatted for fifteen or so; she and Ken are still stamp aficionados and active in a variety of civic endeavors.
I went over my past blog entries and picked out the ones that mention Tristan, starting with August of 2007, when he was born. I transferred it to a Word document and Suzanne printed it for me, as my printer seems to be kaput. (See yesterday's blog post.)
Walked to the P.O. and sent it along with a card, a tee shirt, and some dough to that sweet kid--entering teendom!--and hope it gets there by the second. (It's incredible to realize I not only remember his Dad's thirteenth birthday, but his grandmothers, too.)
I walked to the Market for produce, then took the bus part of the way home. Combined with my afternoon excursion, I think I got my daily five miles in. That one was a part-bus, part shank's mare trip to Office Max to look at both their printers and their filing cabinets. I was pleased to hear I could order it on-line and have it delivered free, but I'm not sure if I care for all theirs; I'm going to look further.
Took the bus to the foot bridge street, then walked over that home. On my way, Betty called yet again and we chatted a bit.
I watched the last, plus "bonus material," of A Beautiful Mind. Boy, talk about nostalgia: Princeton U. plays a major part, of course, and to see again that historic and lovely campus--the library, the dining hall, the chapel, and all the rest--just thrilled me. California is wonderful, but I sometimes think "historic" means it were built last year.
Re the subject, John Nash: I was shocked to read that both he and his wife were killed in a crash five years ago on the Jersey Turnpike. Also, their only child, a son, suffers from the same schizophrenia his father did. Sad and tragic.
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