On Chekhov and Michigan

Getting a little tired of sauna-esque Michigan. My girls have a "list" (places and things) and they've checked off most of the items.

Most likely (bow to the gods of Standby) we will be returning to Long Beach tomorrow.

Meanwhile I've again seen Chekhov in Michigan country life (sounds like the genesis of a poem or two). And that has inspired me again to put Quixote aside (about 150 pages from the finish line) temporarily. I finished off Edmond Jabes (the big book of everything), ping-ponged between Quixote and Panza (almost as if Cervantes is dragging it out for $$$), and then picked up (via Kindle) in succession: The Seagull, Uncle Vanya, and The Cherry Orchard.

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