"I know what a lessor Sorkin is... and I want to be one."

Ark Book IV: Chapter 5, Part 3

"How did they do?" was Genna's first question as I walked in the door.

"They're looking better each game. It should be a really fun season," I told her. " Cal and Phyllis would love to go to a game, but they're going to Bermuda, so it would have to be the week after next." I could see Genna was only half listening to me; staring intently at the Home and Garden network and fantasizing about a vacation dream home elsewhere in the world. I've joined in watching with her occasionally; a nice respite from the hourly regurgitation of the bad news around the world. This show was about a rental villa in Tuscany, Italy. Ever since I read Under the Tuscan Sun by Francis Mayes, and saw the movie I don't know how many times, I've been tempted to resettle there, where my Italian Nana was born. We visited there a few years ago, and I didn't want to leave.

"Let's sell everything and move to Florence!" Genna burst out. "Did you say something about Cal and his wife?"

I chuckled at her suggestion, knowing in the back of my mind, we may someday get serious about the concept.

"Yes, we'll get together the week after next."

"I forgot to look in the mailbox before I left for the game. You didn't take it in, did you?"

Her sheepish nod no was what I expected. "I'll be right back."

On my way to the mailbox in front of the house, I started to think about another way to spring myself, again, to get over to the Ark. Bingo, I think I found it.

The mail bundle was a little on the light side; this being very good, meaning less bills. Once back in the house, I saw a piece of mail from the fund raising arm of Sunnyside. I give what I can from time to time, and also have made a provision in my will. Suffice it to say, I'll never get my name attached to a building, stadium, or arena on campus; not that I'd want to. The letter concluded that I should soon expect a call from the signee, of course.

It's too bad everything is so money driven; like when you get a thank you letter for giving, and on the bottom there's a tear off portion of the letter asking for more.

"Genna, what are your plans tomorrow?" I asked without looking at the calendar.

"Donna next door and I are going to have lunch. She's taking the day off. I think she just wants to vent, that job of hers is stressing her. Then we'll probably window shop, what about you?"

"'Window' is the operative word, correct? Ken Blarney told me at the game earlier that some of the players on the team that can't play in the summer league are playing pickup games at the SAC. He said I could probably sneak in and nobody would bother me. Just for a couple of hours, then I'll have lunch and throw a pint down at Raffael's."

"Sounds like fun."

I really did feel bad about fibbing again and getting away with it. The Sunnyside Athletic Center is the venue that replaced the Ark for sporting events a couple of years after the 1971 team made history. The fib was that there was a small chance I could get in to watch, but not likely. Thanks to 9/11, I would most likely need a campus ID, and a reason for being there. Much more security was at the SAC than the Ark, it seemed. I would only be there for a few minutes anyway, before high tailing it over to the Ark.

"You always have a good time with Donna. Are you going to turn in soon?"

"Yeah, but first I want to finish cleaning up the kitchen."

I can't understand that about Genna. She turns kitchen cleanup into torture, doing it in installments.

Just get it over with.

"I'm going to wash and brush now, and turn in. If I doze off, and you need something, wake me up," I said with a smirk. The eye roll and sideward glance meant 'not tonight'.