When we were both ready, Nani and I set out for my favorite grocery store, Peshawari.
While I browsed downstairs, she climbed to the butcher’s shop on the second floor. For the sake of my readers who are vegetarian or otherwise sensitive-souled, I have not included the photograph I took there. I will, however, call your attention to the lentils aisle, arranged in rainbow order.
We also paused to admire the florist shop, and Nani posed with some flowers that matched her suit. Like grandmother, like granddaughter.
On our way home, we received a call informing us that the installation of our router could take another three days. Goodness gracious.
Back at House #1003, we ate lunch and then I experimented with an ayurvedic face mask, the removal of which felt like peeling a very stubborn bandaid off of my entire face. Next, I burned two music CDs for Deepu.
The first of these holds the 18 Ingrid Michaelson songs I know, in the order in which I first heard them (my favorite being The Chain). The second contains 14 of my present favorites, which are fairly diverse. This list includes:
1,000 Ships - Rachel Platten
Far Away - Ingrid Michaelson
Say - OneRepublic
Make You Feel My Love - Adele
Best Thing I Never Had - Beyonce
Folding Chair - Regina Spektor
Uncharted - Sara Bareilles
Danza Kuduro - Don Omar & Lucenzo
Mr. Saxobeat - Alexandra Stan
Fly - Nicki Minaj and Rihanna
The One That Got Away - Katy Perry
On The Street Where You Live - My Fair Lady
Quelqu’un m’a Dit - Carla Bruni
The Generous Mr. Lovewell - MercyMe
When Nani woke from her afternoon nap, I showed her the iPhoto album of my time in London with Laura. I then finished the chapter on Plato in The Story of Philosophy. As I’ve mentioned a few times now, this book is brilliant. Each page is like a birthday present. In an attempt to display some of its splendor, though there are little jewels sprinkled throughout, I give you the last paragraph of this first chapter. Durant says, of Plato:
“One of his pupils, facing that great abyss called marriage, invited the Master to his wedding feast. Plato came, rich with his eighty years, and joined the merry-makers gladly. But as the hours laughed themselves away, the old philosopher retired into a quiet corner of the house, and sat down on a chair to win a little sleep. In the morning, when the feast was over, the tired revelers came to wake him. They found that during the night, quietly and without ado, he had passed from a little sleep to an endless one. All Athens followed him to the grave.”
I feel myself becoming a better writer merely by reading Durant’s crisp and clever prose, and I’ve now eagerly started the second chapter, this one on Aristotle.
Nani and I went for our walk in the evening, feasted on a dinner of yummy chicken and yummier cauliflower, and now settle in for our soap operas.