The weekend that started off so well on Saturday just kept rolling through Sunday. The kids and I caught the end of the soccer game on the tube, and then I headed out to do battle with our tall, prolific rose trellis. It took forever to shape it up, but excellent tunes got me through some hot and squinty ladder work. Quincy Jones's Jook Joint, Cream's Disraeli Gears, the Stones's More Hot Rocks, and some fine KMHD jazz, including an hour of the opening night at the new jazz facility at Lincoln Center. Everything from Tony Bennett to "Have You Seen Your Mother, Baby (Standing in the Shadows)?"

The beautiful reward for an afternoon at hard labor awaited at the dinner table. The Mrs., who humors me way more than I deserve, succumbed to my suggestion that we make salmon with a fresh raspberry-balsamic sauce. I pulled a couple of recipes off the intertubes and did the grilling, at least, but the rest was her responsibility. The meal turned out spectacular, aided considerably by a fine Oregon pinot noir that I recently received as a thank-you. Life is indeed good. But I doubt that I'll be able to raise my arms above my shoulders again for a couple of days. My hedge clippers and I are hitting that Ben-Gay vintage.