53rd birthday; necessarily quiet one, given the circumstances (pandemic, dad, rain).

Up 6. Coffee. Read ch. of Middlemarch. Breakfast.
My uncle Joseph called from Montana; then Bree and her parents, for about an hr.; then I called my godsister Diane, whom I hadn’t seen on Christmas Eve; caught me up on her dad. (My dad told me later that she’s 70, which genuinely surprised me.)
Some of late morning occupied w/ a Facebook birthday post (pretext to talk about Susan Straight’s Didion op-ed) and responses. Also read 30 p. or so of a short book by Stuart Hampshire, Justice Is Conflict.
Got out about 1:30, went to the Barnes & Noble at Montclair plaza to take advantage of the half-price hardback sale; got the new Joy Williams novel, 2nd vol. of Lydia Davis’s essays, Claudia Rankine’s Just Us (cheaper w/ the discount than the paperback), and Stephen Pinker’s book on style (I know). Also the same weekly planner I get for Bree every year, not discounted.
Went to the Baseline Starbucks, struggled, finally wrote an even shorter, boiled-down version of some transitional material, and bits on “Doggie in the Window?” and “Que Sera, Se”
Picked up some rapini, angel hair pasta, and ice cream at Whole Foods.
Listened to most of the Spelling album between the various drives. Got back about 5:30, said hello to the substitute caregiver, rested in my room for about 40 min. and read just a little Brooks. Came back out and cooked the rapini and pasta w/ garlic & oil; did a decent job.
Played “Fascinating Rhythm” while my dad changed into his pajamas. Had some ice-cream. Jeopardy! Not done with all this until 9.

“I repeat: I am the writing project” (Carlos Lara)

“Poetry involves so much waiting” (Stephen Collis)

Petered out, couldn’t read more Brooks. Listened to the rest of a basic but good epistemology podcast w/ Liam Bright.
Poem in notebook, watched another 15 min. Safe. Emailed a covid attestation form (they’re needed weekly) to KSPC. Lights out 12:30.