I did a chunk of editing in the morning, then spent the afternoon in the kitchen, baking two loaves of oatmeal bread and a plum upside-down cake. Dinner was salmon patties, a tian of baby chard, carrot and cilantro salad, and fresh greens.

Paul has been applying for jobs, and keeping me apprised of the comic possibilities. Would you perhaps like to be a writing assistant for WWE fight scripts? Or an understudy for Wally the Green Monster, mascot of the Boston Red Sox? The entertainment industry offers many career paths.

Today I have a load of fresh soil to move out of my driveway. I also ought to do a lot of weeding. The air feels cool and fresh this morning; I think it will be a beautiful day to garden.

Teresa and I finished our Rilke project yesterday, and now we are moving on to Blake's Songs of Innocence and Experience, which I know very well and T knows less well. (The Rilke sonnets were the opposite: T knew them better than I did.) Then after we finish Blake, we're going to move on to a poem that neither of us knows well at all: T suggests Byron's Childe Harold. I think reading Byron is a brilliant idea, and I can't wait to get started. (We may be the only two people on earth who are all of a-flutter over the idea of reading Childe Harold. But that is why we love each other.)