Three New Records

1) Approximately 1/3 of my invited guests attended my party this weekend. My usual attendance is only 1/4, so I beat my record.

2) I ordered food for just 2/3 of my guest list, figuring that not everyone would show up. Although half of the people I bought food for came to my party, they didn't eat as much as the caterer expected Noogats to eat. I now have more leftovers than I thought possible, and I'm not sure it all will fit into my freezer.

3) I think I'm going to learn what the record is for how much leftover cole slaw and potato salad one person can eat before making himself sick.

I spent the day after my party goofing off: playing computer games and reading. I read Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury. (Note to self: Read first thing in the morning. That way, if you get another book that makes you think, you can spend the rest of the day in mindless activity, so you won't be thinking so much that you can't fall asleep.) I found a few paragraphs that almost meant something to me, but just this one made the cut.

Everyone must leave something behind when he dies, my grandfather said. A child or a book or a painting or a house or a wall built or a pair of shoes made. Or a garden planted. Something your hand touched some way so your soul has somewhere to go when you die, and when people look at that tree or that flower you planted, you're there. It doesn't matter what you do, he said, so long as you change something from the way it was before you touched it into something that's like you after you take your hands away. The difference between the man who just cuts lawns and a real gardener is in the touching, he said. The lawn-cutter might just as well not have been there at all; the gardener will be there a lifetime.

I think I've "gardened" enough trees and flowers to qualify.

Now what the heck am I supposed to do with three pints of leftover barbecue sauce?