It is the final weekend of summer. 89th day of summer, it is the last Saturday. Five days until Fall's beginning.

It puzzles me to no end. How can it be forty-four degree outside and my interior be eighty-degrees? I have to open a set of windows to bring the temperature down to sleeping temp. The blue of the sky lightens. The seventies is the high mark for a day's temperature. The green trees have autumnal highlights, just as my hair has a touch of grey. Grey or gray, that is the question. I actually ab-ended a road trip plan. I was to drive to Indianapolis this morning around three to make a day-long seminar. I hate myself for rolling back on that plan. Advance relentlessly, an adline from Johnson Controls, comes to mind, but reversion is the movement of the Tao. I still might be crossing the state today. I have promised to visit my mother on Sunday, and that means driving to Lansing. My daughter is marching with her band at Wayne Memorial High School, which means she's sitting in the stands in Wayne, Michigan this moment. At least I know where she is sitting. However, she is busy today, not leaving the marching exhibition until later and then clanning with her friends later. She has just turned fifteen years of age. I have once heard that young female manatees form tight schools, and then swim with their sisters until motherhood arrives. Until motherhood is achieved? One verb is better than the other, but what verb would a feminist use? I always think of female manatees when she's hanging tightly with her closest girlfriends.. I have noticed they are sitting in the stands trying to write a poem about infertile turtles. I have posted the following poem to her Facebook, which surely these keen English students know? So I think they are like manatees, and they are writing about turtles? How delightfully ironic. I never post to her Facebook, usually. Usually I send my responses by text. Then she calls me Stalker Daddy.

 

The Turtle
by Ogden Nash 
  
The turtle lives 'twixt plated decks
Which practically conceal its sex.
I think it clever of the turtle
In such a fix to be so fertile.

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