Saturday Morning Redux

I'd planned many activities today. I was going to paint two windows, run three miles on the trails, tackle two new books on blogging and RSS that O'Reilly sent this week and even catch up on a few work projects. But I wound up stealing a scene from my childhood.

I parked myself on our deck swing. The weather was beautiful, with a steady breeze. I heard the mailman's truck, and I'd been expecting an Amazon package. Low and behold it arrived. Soon I found myself reclining on the swing, Proust's Swann's Way in hand and a fresh pack of Necco Wafers by my side. This was just how I spent innumerable afternoons of my youth, lazing away fretless summer days of childhood with books from the Way Public Library and candy fromn Houk's Drug, which stately held its corner in the shadow of Commodore Perry.

I spent hour after hour in my parents' white-wooden garden swing, handmade like the model my grandparents frequented in "the country." I'd rock, ceaselessly working my way through the rainbow-colored packet of sugary discs while endlessly devouring novels. Rocking. Reading. Eating: multitasking was in my blood and in genes long before it became fashionable.

How appropriate, it occurred to me and remembering all the activities I'd planned, to be stealing more moments reading Proust, who's remembrance of childhood events proves a hallmark in his writing.

But reality intervenes. I'm reminded I must learn RSS, so I return to the plugged-in world of my PC. And the phone rings - a friend, good friend, reminding me how much I love to ride. So soon I'll load the bike on the Jeep and hit the trails. And I'll be glad I did.