Chapstick

Yesterday morning, I awoke briefly in the predawn darkness. I was lying there, thinking about something or other, when Dave stirred, laughed softly in his sleep and said to me, "There's not enough Chapstick in the world for that." Then he patted my leg and rolled over.

I have no idea what that meant, but it didn't sound complimentary. It makes me wonder what else he says to me in the middle of the night that I never hear. Or what I say to him, for that matter.

So today is both the Summer Solstice and Father's Day. Appropriately I'll be Skyping with my dad later today. I haven't talked to him in months, though we've exchanged e-mails. When we were setting up this Skype appointment, he wrote, "You would not believe how busy we have been around here. We definitely would like to Skype so we can tell you all the ridiculous things we are doing."

That sounds ominous!

Otherwise, I've been catching up on things around the house, like re-ordering all my negatives after my archive-plundering book project earlier this year. I still have more negatives to get scanned. It never ends!

Finally, I can't say much about the events in Charleston, but I do think it's strange that the shooter -- full of all that misguided anger -- is so fascinated with Rhodesia. Apparently it's a phenomenon among American white supremacists to admire Rhodesia and Apartheid-era South Africa. Trés bizarre, as my French teacher would say.

(Photo: Near Oxford Circus, on Thursday.)