24 December 2009

Same Old Stuff



As I have pointed out so many times here, old people love food, don't they? The career is behind them, and they have the pension, or what is left of it. No more fast cars or motorcycles. They no longer play touch football or anything of the sort. Lucky still to be able to walk around after a fashion. They listen only to music in 3/4 time. They have lost interest in recreational drugs except for that one glass of wine that is good for the heart. The sex has dwindled to one or two false starts per month. Life has boiled down and boiled down to one thing. . . . . food. They love to watch television programs about it, love to read about it, love to talk about it, and love to eat it.





The tennis courts campground has filled up with winter people. For a long time it was only Joachim and Bärbel and I. Now it is lacking only one site of being full.




This afternoon was the big Christmas potluck dinner. Vermont, Maine, Texas, Michigan, Arizona, New Mexico, Québec City, Montreal, Iowa, Germany, and México. Señora Maria, Hans, Walter, and the whole staff join in for this one, too.

There will be the once-a-year bonfire there tonight, but I shall be elsewhere.

Eating again.



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